May 30, 1998
I accepted a lunch invitation from Quinn, Wade, and Rembrandt.
It was at a McDonald's near Quinn's house.
I got there at 11 AM. It looked like a typical McDonald's; nothing out opd the ordinary. I got myself a Big Mac meal.
We all sat down together.
"I can't believe how expensive everything seems now that I'm back home," said Rembrandt. "Ninety-nine cents for a small hamburger?"
"Yeah," added Wade. "Then again, I remember how I thought earning twelve dollars including tips was a good night at a bar."
"It will take some time to get acclimated to the new routine here," I said.
"I went to ther library reading everything published before '94 to verify I was really home," said Quinn. "Still, I haven't had McDonald's in years. There's no McDonalds on that world we lived in for the past three years."
I can understand why they would miss this place, miss what they grew up with.
And so we continued eating, and chatting. The three of them were focused on getting their legal affairs in order; they had been missing for three years.
It was then I decided to tell them about my true origins. And so I briefly explained my story about I slid from dimension to dimension for twenty months.
"So there are other uses out there, lost," said Quinn.
"There could be a thousand uses lost out there," said Rembrandt. "Maybe over a trillion people sliding from world to world, like you were."
I told them about Marc LeBeau, and my other self-sliding self, and that their other selves anaged to slide home.
"So those other selves you traveled with, they're home now, said Quinn. "What of your other self? I wonder how he was doing."
"Marc told me he sacrificed himself to save their lives," I said. "That was in February of last year."
"I believe him," said Wade. "Your other self must have gotten attached to our other selves after nine months of traveling with them."
I did not tell that that marc told me my birth world was conquered by transdimensional invaders.
They wanted to know about my sliding experiences, and I shared a few stories, including that time Quinn was shot in the back, that time we invented penicillin, that time we developed an atomic bomb to save the world from an asteroid.
And I did relate a story of how I met an interdimensional half-sister of mine, back in late '95. We went to visit the native Quinn, but he hadn't finished the sliding generator so he couldn't help us get home. He referred us to a Professor Arturo. We visited the professor, and it turned out to be Professor Joanna Arturo. She was of course surprised to see two Quinns. I saw a picture of her parents in her office. Our fathers were duplicates; our mothers were not. Anyway, we invited them to witness our slide to the next world.
"We could have literally hundreds of thousand of interdimensional siblings, half-siblings, and stepparents," said Wade. "Imagine the family reunion."
"And interdimensional children or stepchildren," said Rembrandt.
I looked at my watch. "We spent three hours having lunch at McDonald's. I never did something like that, even though I spent twenty months' traversing the Multiverse."
"One place I'll miss from the other world is Captain Kirk's," said Wade.
"Like in Star Trek?"
"It's a seafood chain. The best place in that world. That was one of the places I worked at. I wish I could have one last meal there before going home; I love the popcorn shrimp for forty-nine cents! A whole plate with cocktail sauce!"
"Could be the best seafood in all the worlds," Rembrandt said, smiling.
"There were places on that world I would have wanted to seen," said Wade "There's this forest in South America, with trees as big as skyscrapers. People there actually built a city among those trees."
"Yerba Buena now has access to that world," I said. "You may have a chance to visit again someday."
"A bunch of friends of mine arranged for a weekend trip to Tahoe to celebrate my return," said Wade. "We're staying at Harrah's. You could book a room there. I do need to be leaving soon."
"My mom and Cezanne are flying in tonight," said Rembrandt. "I'll just have a quiet weekend with them, maybe go to Fisherman's Wharf tomorrow for lunch. Too bad there's no Captain Kirk's here except old Star Trek reruns"
"I can go," said Quinn. "I can book a room and be there in six hours. We got to celebrate our homecoming."
The rest of the day was unremarkable.