You Must Be Kidding Me!

“Give me a double-shot of your best whiskey, Andy.”

I normally drank a beer or two when I sat at the bar after work, but the success of today’s experiment called for something a bit stronger. I knew I should draft a report to General MacIntyre, but I couldn’t face that chore without some liquid courage. The truth was I was torn between wanting to celebrate, and needing to commiserate. Pride and fear battled for control.

“Tough day?” Andy asked, as he poured golden fire into a crystal glass. He was the closest thing I had to a best friend; the fact that he was my bartender says either something wonderful about him, or something pitiful about me. Hell, probably a little of both.

“You have no idea.” I slammed the whiskey all at once, and felt my eyes turning red as the heat settled in my core and spread through my body. “You ever wonder if maybe life would be better in a different reality?”

“I have enough trouble dealing with my actual life, let alone an imaginary one.”

That was the problem, though. I now knew there was more to the idea of alternate realities than imagination. Knowledge may be power, but the revelation of some secrets can make you wish for the bliss of ignorance. That was the double-edged lesson today’s results had taught me.

“Thanks, Andy.” I laid a twelve-dollar bill on the bar. “Keep the change.”

I stood to leave, and saw Nora Kimble come through the door. She never came in here, and I was afraid that she had even more disturbing news—a thought reinforced by her locked eye contact when she saw me. I made my way over to her, as the whiskey traveled deeper into both my body and my mind. “Nora... what’s wrong?”

“We’ve had another transfer.”

I blanched. This could be bad. “Should I go back upstairs?”

“It won’t matter.” She tipped her head, and I followed her to a table. “Look David, We both know that stream 841-C is the only viable doorway, and this newest transfer is worse than we imagined it could be. I am afraid that when we opened it we may have let in more than just particles and elements from the other stream.”

“It is the only viable doorway SO FAR, Nora. We still have lots of vibrasyne wavelengths to try.”

“Come on. What have we gotten so far? A handful of streams with audible transmissions, and a couple that have picked up some sort of keyed signals that may or may not contain visual data.”

“But finding the doorway to 841-C… Nora, the ability to transfer actual matter changes everything!”

“That’s the whole problem, David, and you know it.” She gave the bar a quick once-over with her eyes, then leaned her head closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “How long do you think MacIntyre and his committee will let us keep working on the project? They will want to explore the military potential. Or even worse, they’ll just bury it all, like they do everything that could upset their power-hold on the country.”

“Why do you think I’m here, and not writing a report?” After-Hours was located in the lobby of the building that housed our work, and was a favorite of many of the staff—a place where the beer and alcohol tasted good, and Andy ruled supreme without dictates and oversight groups. “I’m curious though… what happened that has you so anxious you ventured in here?” I knew Nora didn’t drink, and this was probably her first trip inside the bar.

“I knew you’d be here, and I had to tell you about this...” She reached into her lab coat pocket, and brought out a folded piece of paper.

“That looks like an old sheet of infopaper. Where did you get it?”

“David, it IS an infopaper, but it came from the other stream!”

“WHAT?” The room seemd to tilt a slight bit off center. “All we got the first time was some air and water… and the samples looked promising. No known pathogens, and the same chemical composition we would expect to find anywhere.”

“Read the topline…”

I picked up the paper. It was thicker than it should have been, with an odd texture and a strange gray cast to it, but the words were in English. The message however, was terrifying: COVID-19 PANDEMIC CLAIMS ANOTHER 200,000 LIVES.

“What the hell is COVID-19?”

“I’m afraid it is a new, and potentially very deadly, virus.”

“Nora, does this mean—”

“I’m afraid it just might. We may have infected the world with something that could kill us all.”

I started to read the article, but something else caught my eye. A small story on the second sheet made me catch my breath. “This can’t be right.”

“What?” Nora craned her head to look at the page.

“We thought 841-C might be what we needed to escape our political and environmental woes, but Nora…”

Her eyes begged me not to give her even more bad news.

“According to this, these idiots not only have a major pandemic, but they elected Donald Trump president!”

Her expression of stunned disbelief spoke volumes. So much for a perfect world.