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Wander

Wander

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Published by fetfet50
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http://soundcloud.com/fetfet50

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Published by: fetfet50 on Feb 20, 2014
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02/20/2014

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From grey comes white, and a chill that I can feel through my insulating layers. Is this radical? In this moment I don't know. I'm still getting used to this, and I am nauseous. I look around, searching for something to ground myself, to a place, a time, a relative. Something relatable.I find it below me. A young man, hastily bandaged. He's holding as best he can to a rope secured around his waist. And mine. I've got two hands on it. I'm hauling him up. Up where? Past his shaking body I can see a jagged rock face, unending in the snow.I don't know this man. I'm learning more and more that I never could. But this is a difficult situation. Every second I spend hauling this man to safety is a second I am losing to time. It's not something I can afford to have happen. I can't.I look at him, and like all of us, he realizes. He looks me in the eyes. I can see his nose is broken, and it might never heal correctly. Or it might.I try to communicate what is about to happen, why I am here instead of the woman he knows, where he will end up, but the best I can manage is a shrug. So I shrug. And I let go of the rope.He falls slowly, his eyes wide. I fumble for the device, flick the switch, and the world is grey again.*“My father used to tell me that there were infinite infinities.Mr. Morton is not impressed.“Um,” I say, “what he meant by, uh, by that is that every, every second. We, uh, humans, he believed that every second, humans would choose from infinite universes, until we found the universe closest to ours overall, and where we were still alive, and then we'd poof, appear in that universe. I mean we wouldn't like magic ourselves there, he thought we did it without thinking, just by existing and observing, we would, I mean, travel to the universe where we were alive. Forever.He's still not impressed. “Ms. Davis, I'm a busy man.“No, no, I understand!” I take a sip of water. He hasn't moved for over five minutes. He barely blinks. “I'm getting to it.If you insist.“There are a lot of people who believe it, well, not a lot, and they believe something like it, but it's not justmy father and me who believe it. I believe it too, by the way. I mean, there's research that backs it up. It's conceptually sound. And...I take another sip of water. Mr. Morton watches me. I look into his eyes. He's staring at my shoes. Then he's looking right into my eyes. Oh. Should I look away? I'm already looking away. I'm looking straight up.Why am I doing that?
 
“Ms. Davis,” says Mr. Morton. He looks like he's trying to conserve energy. Is he running a marathon today? “You've stopped talking. Am I to assume that you've called me out to Los Feliz so we could talk about science fiction?”“It's not science fiction, sir, respectfully. Lots of these formulations are provable.” I try to drink some water. My glass is empty. Would it be so bad if I left the room to get another cup? Yes. It would be. “What I wanted to talk about is... a unique investment opportunity? Is that what you'd call it?”“I might call it a lot of things.“I – well, there's, I've developed a theory, a theoretical device, that would remove the unconscious aspect of travelling through these infinite universes.He stares at me. Right in my eyes. I think.“I'd buy a ticket to see that film.Sir, it's not a film - ”“No, no.” he says. He's still not moving. “It's a film. It's a film or you just told me you've invented a machine that lets you travel to alternate dimensions with a straight face and asked me to give you a couple million dollars to build it. So I'm going to say that it's a film. And it's a nice idea. I'd watch it. Could be interesting for the younger crowd. But I'm not going to give you my money. Good day, Anita.Mr. Morton rises and is gone.I stare out the window for a bit. I let some Curtis Mayfield play through the speakers, and I hear him tell me to move on up until I feel well enough to call up another investor. It might be a while.*The glare on the glass is caught in my faceplate. I close my eyes, stumble in my disorientation, sit down. The ground does not move under me, no dust stirs. After a second, I open my eyes, get my bearings.A vast plain of cloudy glass, extending far into the horizon in every way. The sky is pale, and the sun bearsdown. I would be hot, but I cannot feel here. There is nothing of me here to influence this place, and it leaves me alone.This is an extreme extrapolation.In the distance I see a shape. This must be the nearest thinking thing. I walk towards it, taking care with my steps. You never know what could happen.The shape is a man. A human. That's all I can tell, really. This person is skin and bones. They probably haven't eaten in centuries. Or longer. It has been quite a while, at the very least. They are curled in the
 
fetal position. Unmoving, except for small breaths.I don't really what to do here. I put my hand on their shoulder, it is as hard as stone. They do not feel it, couldn't. I wish I could take my helmet off, I would suffocate, but I could speak. I didn't put a microphone in here.I lie down. I press my body as close to this figure as I can. My body stuck in my suit, pressed up against the granite of the figure, and the glass of the ground. It is the most uncomfortable I have ever been.Their chest heaves, Or it feels like it does. I can hear them, a bit. Crying. Just a little bit. I want to brush away their tears, but I am so very ill equipped to do so.This is their forever, I think. They'll be here forever. Or as here as possible. This is just how they will livetheir lives. Until the universes give up.Still on the ground, I activate the device, back to the grey.*“You're wondering why I got in touch, aren't you?”I was, but I'm not going to admit it now. So I just kind of stare ahead and let him talk for a bit. That's probably what he's used to.“I'm just going to talk for a bit. I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Davis. Can I call you Anita?”I nod. He nods back.“I've heard a lot about you, Anita. You're getting big in my circles. Do you know what kind of circles those are?”Is this going to be a participatory conversation? I take a sip of tea, getting ready to speak.“The affluent, the monied individuals, the rich in Los Angeles, are starting to spread the rumour of Anita Davis, who wants to go to other dimensions.” Oh. No, it's not. I drink more tea, which is surprisingly  good for tea.“I just had to meet you. I wanted to probe your brain. And while you were on your way over, I realized why. Because I feel like there's something special here. It's something that I might have to dig out of your skull, but there's a piece I'm missing. Because I see you here, with me now, and you're one hundred percent serious.He looks me in the eyes. I look away. It's like his eyes followed me, though. I'm still looking in them. I don't know how this is possible.“Do you have something to say, Anita?

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