"Butterflies and Wormholes" by David ChangThis is a sci-fi short story I wrote in a summer writing course. It isrelated to the World Trade Center bombing. Please e-mail comments or reply's so that I know how many people actually read it. Thanks. One Although he would not remember it in the morning, the dream went like this. A small room, perfectly cubic, is painted white on all six sides. In the center of the room is something that looks like a dentist's chair and on it lies an old man. The old man is balding but has a white shaggy beard that looks forgotten and unkempt. He wears ragged clothes and his body is decorated with bruises and contusions, as if he has been tortured for a long time. His wrists and ankles are covered with circular electronic pads that hook up to a larger computer in the back. Although his voice is hoarse, he tries to scream, "Please, I don't know anything! I don't know who you are. I don't even know who I am anymore. Leave me alone!" Behind the large computer panel stands three strange creatures, dressed in gray robes with hoods that cover their faces. They ignore the man's screams and study the various computer screens. Finally, they seem to come up with a consensus. They are disappointed and even seem angry. One of the creatures walks towards the old man who looks at the creature with a frightened yet sullen face. The creature shoots him cleanly four times, once on each wrist and ankle. The boy does not dare see the man's reaction, nor can he look at the blood spurting from each limb. He only stares at the hands and feet lying immobile on the floor. A second later the creature shoots the man in the chest, and he is dead. The boy gasps. The creature turns around and raises his phaser to the boy's head. This is when he usually awoke, startled. Fear would tingle in his spine as he jerks up in his bed. The fear would then turn to embarrassment at his own apprehension as he reaches the half-asleep, half-awake stage. The dream is all but forgotten as he reaches the realization of the security of his bedroom. He can never remember the dream. When he awakes, he remembers only one thing. He must go to Ohio. And so it had been for three weeks. Each time he would laugh at the utter lunacy of the thought. How would I get there? Where would I go? But though he dismissed the ludicracy of going to Ohio with unanswered questions, morning after morning he knew, somewhere deep down, that he was meant to go there. It was only after the bombing of the World Trade Center that he finally went. Two It had been a morning like any other. Same dream, same thought, same dismissal. Jack dragged himself out of bed and walked across the hall to the bathroom to relieve himself. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice while setting the toaster to high. His mom was asleep, as usual. She didn't get up until noon, since she got home so late from the nightclubs where she worked. Jack didn't mind so much that his mom waited at tables at nightclubs downtown. He was old enough to know what went on at those nightclubs, but he knew that she did the best she could for both of them. He just wished he could see her more often than a few hours after school. It would be nice to have breakfast with her every now and then. But at least they could afford a two bedroom apartment. He knew that Johnny B had to sleep in the same room as his parents since they could only afford a place with a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. After he got dressed he noticed that he was fifteen minutes early for school. Pleasantly surprised, he threw down his textbooks and plopped on the couch. His math homework rested on top of a scattered disarray of other papers and books on the table. He didn't have too hard of a time with multiplying three digit numbers but left a few blank on purpose. He knew how dangerous it was to be too well liked by his teachers and sometimes he would fail a test or say something rude on purpose. Jack hunted for the remote control and clicked on the morning news. It was an editorial by a sociologist on the Tower bombing. Lying on the table in front of him was yesterday's mail, still unopened. He flipped through a series of bills and catalogs until he reached what looked like an official letter from the government. He didn't have to open it to know what it was. It was a message from the government telling his mom that she was in danger of losing him. If she didn't get a steady, better paying job soon they would put him up for foster care. Jack had been through this before. Five years ago when his dad left and his mom had to file for bankruptcy, the government made her give him up to her brother Fred. Uncle Fred lived in a nice house upstate but often he would come home drunk and beat the crap out of Jack. He was in jail now. Jack hated Uncle Fred. By the time the police found out what was going on, his mom was doing better so they let him live with her again. That was five years ago. As Jack held the unopened envelope in his hand, the feelings came back all over again. But the feelings did not last long. What Jack saw as he glanced at the TV screen made him immediately forget about the letter. The envelope fell unobtrusively from his hands onto the floor. Jack stared at the screen a moment longer then robotically walked to his room. Ten minutes later, with a note hung on the refrigerator, clothes and food packed in a bag, and all the money he could gather in his pocket, Jack went out the door, on his way to Ohio. What he saw on TV was what he had already seen a hundred times before. It was the scene at the bottom of the skyscraper. The road was damp and the sky gray. Police cars and ambulances stretched down the street seemingly for miles. People dressed in uniforms were frantically running about, screaming into walkie-talkies. Occasionally someone would be running out of the building, coughing and smothered with smoke, and immediately be surrounded by paramedics as well as TV cameras. But this time, on the bottom left hand corner of the screen, Jack caught a glimpse of a strange creature, dressed in a gray robe, with a phaser in his hand. Three "...nothing to give and nothing left to lose, with or without you... with or without you oh-oh, I can't live with or without you..." U2 blasted from the radio of the pick-up truck from which Jack hitched a ride. The trucker's name, Jack discovered, was Dennis, and he was on his way to Altoona to deliver some manure to a local farmer's market. Between the pungent odor of the manure and Dennis's own scent, Jack was anxious to get to Altoona as fast as possible. He sighed as he looked out the window to the mundane view of stagnant farms. They were in hibernation just like the rest of nature, but spring was just around the corner and already he could tell that they were about to wake up again. It was a chilly March morning, two weeks since he had left New York. He had traveled through New Jersey and into the heart of Pennsylvania in those two weeks. Not once had he had the dream again since he left the apartment. He wondered if he was really supposed to be here, wondered where here was, wondered what his mom was doing - he was sure they had declared him missing by now. Jack sighed again. He knew that he would not find answers to his questions. He could only stare out the window. The drizzle that had been coming down sporadically turned into a hard rain that battered the roof of the truck. Bono bellowed high notes on the radio. Jack found it curious that such a typical hick from Nowheresville would listen to the same music he did. His mind kept going back to the image on TV. He knew that the gray creature was the same one he had seen in his dreams, but why? It was the last unanswered question he thought of before he fell asleep to the beat of the raindrops hitting the roof of the truck. Four He made it to Pittsburgh before running out of money. He spent his last few dollars on some Coke and Wheat Thins at a grocery store. He knew that it could be his last meal, but he had stopped worrying about those things a while ago. He sat on a green park bench by a hilly road and started eating. After a few minutes a beggar came up to him. "Spare any change?" "I'm sorry," replied Jack, "I don't have any money but you can share some of my Wheat Thins." The beggar greedily accepted the generous offer, to Jack's delight. She was an old lady, dressed in a ragged Pitt University sweatshirt and torn blue jeans. There was a scar on the left side of her black face, and her teeth glowed when she opened her mouth. The two ate in silence for a while. Jack wondered what to say to her when she interrupted his thought by speaking. "What if," she said, "you're a butterfly dreaming you're a human dreaming you're a butterfly dreaming you're a human?" "What if," answered Jack, "the earth is just an electron, the sun is a proton, the galaxy is an atom, and the entire universe is a molecule of a person or fish or desk lamp in some other universe and each of our own molecules is a universe in itself?" "You're going to Ohio." "You've had the dream." "I have." "What do you know?" asked Jack. "I know that you have to go to a small city called New Waterford about 10 miles south of Youngstown. There you will meet a professor who lives in an old white house on the corner of a road by a Methodist Church and a YMCA. I can recollect that it is across from a baseball field where children play Little League in the spring. In front of the house is a white fence covered by trees." Fifteen minutes later, the Coke was drunk and the box of Wheat Thins empty. For the beggar it was finally over, for Jack it was just beginning. But was it? Jack knew that in some ways it was just the opposite. At least now he knew where he was going; he had direction. She would still have to worry about her next meal and where she would sleep. She had these dreams that come from nowhere to torment her, and now she may never know what they were about. "I'm sorry." "Good luck, Jack." "Thanks, Maria." Five hours later, for the life of him, Jack could not remember what the beggar's name was. Five He walked for three days straight without food or sleep, stopping only occasionally to get water at a fountain or river. He collapsed in front of Youngstown Community Hospital, mumbling only two words, "New Waterford." When he awoke, he found himself lying in a hospital bed with a tray of food in front of him. He ate voraciously. A nurse walked in. "Hello Jack. How are you feeling?" "Dizzy. What happened?" "We found you lying unconscious in front of the hospital. You were exhausted and gave us quite a scare, but you'll be all right." "I have to go to New Waterford." "Oh no you don't. You're not going anywhere, Jack." "How do you know my name?" asked Jack with curiosity. "It was on your ID. Jack Russell Gibson. From New York City, eh? What are you doing all the way out in Youngstown? Your mom and dad must be worried sick." "No. Just my mom." "What happened to your dad?" "He ran away with a girl named Linda to become a dealer in Atlantic City when I was six. He said he was tired of his life in New York and wanted to find some adventure or something." Jack didn't know why he was suddenly telling his life story to a stranger, but it did get his mind off the creature and his dream for a while. He could tell that she probably asked patients about their lives to help them relax. It was working. "Mom called it a half-life crisis." "You mean a mid-life crisis and I'm very sorry. Anyway, doctor's orders are to keep you around here until your mom arrives." Jack suddenly became alert. "My mom's coming?" "We called a few hours ago. She's flying over here now." The nurse's beeper went off. "God dammit! I've gotta see what this is. I'll see you around, Jack." Jack could feel his heart thumping. It hurt him to betray his mom. They'd gone through a lot together and he always told her everything. But he knew that not even she would believe him this time and if she got to him... Jack was a small boy, but was also quick. When the nurse returned to the room, he had disappeared with his bag. The window was open and a small breeze blew the striped curtains as the sun beat down on the empty bed. Six The beggar was picture perfect in her description, almost. The large white house next to the baseball field in New Waterford was indeed by the Methodist Church and YMCA. There was a small white fence in the front lawn largely covered by drooping willows. One thing she had not mentioned, however, was how lonely and disconsolate it looked. Somehow it seemed out of place in the otherwise amiable atmosphere of the neighborhood. Kids frolicked near the house on the sunny, cloudless day, but none dared to cross near it. The large 'DO NOT TRESPASS' sign on the lawn helped make it uninviting. Jack had no idea what he would say to the professor, but knocked on the door anyway. An old man with a shaggy unkempt white beard answered the door. "Yes?" he said in a scratchy, impatient voice. "Hi, I'm Jack Gibson and I-" "I just bought some girl scout cookies last week. Christmas wrapping paper is out of season, and I don't want whatever you kids always sell anyway." "No, I-" The door slammed shut. Could he be wrong? He knocked again. "What?" cried the old man. "I came here from New York. I was told to see you." "Is that so? By who?" "Uh... that is... Well I just had this sort of feeling." "You had this sort of feeling. Well that's very fascinating but I don't know what you're talking about. Now I'm very busy and you must leave me alone." The old man tried to slam the door again but this time Jack got a hold of it at the last second. He tried to think of something to say when he remembered the beggar and the butterfly. "You're Professor Albert Huxley and you're working on a machine that will go to different dimensions!" cried Jack at the last second. The door slammed shut. Silence. A second later it opened again as the professor gave Jack a bewildered look. Seven "How much do you know?" asked Huxley to Jack as he entered his house. The house was a cluttered mess. An array of gadgets and gizmos were spread across the living room. The furniture looked as if it hadn't been dusted in months. Jack told the professor his story. Huxley listed with patience and understanding. When he finished talking, Jack noticed that he had broken into a sweat while he was talking, even in the cold weather. The professor was silent for a few minutes, digesting everything that had been said. He stared at a large portrait above the cluttered fireplace and squeezed his fingers to his wrinkled forehead, the classic concentration pose. "Jack, what do you know about the World Trade Center bombing?" he finally asked. "I know that it was two or three weeks ago and the police haven't found the suspects yet." "Do you know anything about what actually happened?" Jack wasn't sure what the professor was getting at, but he thought it was about the prematurely ignited bomb. The driver of the van with the explosives accidentally hit a speed bump which set off the bomb. Theoretically, he had been planning to ignite it in one of the corners of the building possibly taking the whole skyscraper down. He told this to the professor. "Yes, that's right." More silence followed. the professor searched in a cluttered bookshelf and found a dusty old book. "Jack, do you know what a parallel universe is?" "Kind of," replied Jack. "Well, not really." "There is a theory that was first developed by Albert Einstein that says that this is not the only universe around. In fact, there are other universes just like ours, but in other the dimensions. Now, we've never been able to see these other universes before, let alone enter them but," continued the professor, and he whispered the next part, "I think I can." Though Jack still looked perplexed the professor was as giddy as a child. "Come with me," he said as he walked towards the basement. It was dark, like a cellar, in the basement, but unusually dry. The professor reached for a light switch which turned on a light bulb hanging loosely from the ceiling. "You've had dreams, haven't you, Jack?" He nodded. "Yes, so have I. Terrible nightmares. Horrendous." "What happened?" asked Jack, suddenly curious. He still wondered how the professor could possibly enter parallel universes but was more interested in the subject of the dreams, which he could relate to. "Remember the World Trade Center bombing? What if the man driving the bombs actually did succeed in collapsing the skyscraper, and even taking down the second Twin Tower with it? Imagine the consequences." "That's terrible." "It is indeed," said the professor. While he was talking he seemed to be flipping switches and dials of a quirky electronic panel. On the panel, various dials suddely jumped to life and bounced to and fro. There were four rectangular LCD screens, and different numbers were being displayed on them at a furious pace. "And what if they didn't stop there?," he continued. "Who knows, it could be the Sears Tower next or the Empire State Building. They could have destroyed entire cities, Jack. Think of what that would mean. New York City is destroyed. London, Paris, Tokyo, all eradicated." Jack shuddered at the thought of losing his apartment. It was then that he remembered his dream. Everything came together. The old man in his dreams was the professor but in the other universe. The old man said he couldn't remember anything. His memory must have been erased because he knew something that he didn't want the creatures to know. Jack told the professor about his recurrent nightmare. He was vivid in describing the details, even the gory ones, but the professor did not seem disturbed. "Jack, the dreams that we've had are of a different universe. It's a parallel universe very similar to ours except that in the other one the earth is terrorized by these gray robed creatures." By the electronic panel was a large, tarp covered structure. The tarp had small hooks attached to the bottom and the hooks were tied to the floor. The professor began to unknot the hooks. "But how can we help them if those creatures already destroyed the world?" asked Jack. "Remember, these are only possible futures. If you can go to the alternate universe before the creatures destroy the world, everything could be saved. "You see, Jack, I've been expecting you. Not you personally, of course, and hardly someone so young, but I knew that there would be a person who would be chosen to go." The professor uncovered the tarp. Jack knew that it was the dimension traveling machine but was a bit bewildered by what he saw. He saw a mirror. "How does it work?" "Oh, it took me thirty years to build this machine and it would probably take me thirty more to explain it. Suffice to say that if there is a direct ray of sunlight hitting the mirror at just the right angle, the refracting light should create a wormhole. If you set the machine to the correct parameters, you can travel through hyperspace to anywhere in the universe, or any other universe for that matter." "Oh." "At exactly 2:07 PM today there should be enough sunlight for it to work." Jack glanced at his watch. It was 1:58. No time to lose. Eight Exactly nine minutes later, everything was set. Jack stood in front of the mirror and faced his own reflection. Suddenly a surge of fear flooded his body. Again he questioned everything they were doing and doubts crept in his mind. The wormhole appeared. It was simply a dark spiral where light, trapped, could not escape. For a moment, Jack felt frozen in time, too scared to move or care. But as the professor admonished Jack that the light was fading away, he remembered Eight Infinity is a state that is incomprehensible to man. It is simply too large. To us, it would look just like a flat black pancake. Likewise, all dimensions above the fourth dimension, time, are invisible to us. When Jack entered the wormhole he reached the realms of the eighth or ninth dimension, inconceiable to humans. If the professor was to have follwed Jack through, limiting himself to the dimensions of man, he would have seen the same black plane. Nine Jack stared into the wormhole and jumped in. There was a brilliant flash of light. Eleven As Jack regained consciousness, he could see nothing but darkness. He had broken into a cold sweat and collapsed as he huddled on the ground. He felt nauseated and his stomach whirled. The orange juice and eggs he had eaten that morning at the professor's house suddenly turned upward in his digestive tract. He leaned over and vomited. He could feel the sharp stinging of stomach acid in his mouth and began to cough. He kept coughing, louder and with more force, until blood spurt into his hands. He fell silent and collapsed again on the cold floor as blackness encompassed his body. As he regained his sense of smell, he detected the pungent odor of the blood mixed with vomit on the floor. He quickly jerked away from the stench. As he regained his hearing, he heard traffic coming from a distance, as if outside a window, and a news commentary coming from a reporter just to his left, as if on a television. As he regained his vision, he found himself sitting in the living room of his own apartment. There was a jingling of keys behind the front door. A figure unlocked the door and entered the apartment. It was Jack's mother, carrying two bags of groceries which she promptly dropped upon seeing her son. "Jack! What happened to you?" By now, Jack had recovered most of his wits. "I'm okay, mom. I just got a little-" But she was already heading toward the medicine cabinet. Jack heard the clinking of the various bottles as the rummaged through the cabinet in a state of semi-panic. "...sick." "Are you bleeding, Jack? Does your head hurt? I can call Dr. Mackenzie if you're really hurt... Where's the damn Pepto?" Jack looked around. Everything was exactly the same. Same house, same appliances, same mother... It was as if he was just transported from Ohio back to New York. But wasn't he supposed to be in a different universe? What he needed was more facts. The professor had said that this parallel universe was almost the same as theirs, but there were differences. Maybe most of the people here were left handed. Maybe there were no mosquitoes. There could be an infinite amount of variations. But in this universe, the difference would have to involve- At that moment Jack heard the loud whirling of fire engines. Instinctively he glanced out the window but saw nothing. Hearing it again, he realized it was coming from the television. A reporter who was talking was muffled by the sound of the engines and horns. Quickly, the station switched to a helicopter shot while the trucks passed by. It was then that Jack saw the difference. They, whoever they were, had succeeded. The creatures had managed to collapse the World Trade Center, taking down a dozen other skyscrapers with it. Twelve After much coercing, Jack convinced his mother that he was healthy enough to go outside, but he had to be back by dinner time. She collapsed into bed. How would he know where the professor was? Was he in New York or did Jack have to go back to Ohio again? Before, Jack had strange feeling, as if he just knew where to go. But now those feelings were gone and suddenly he felt quite alone. plot summary for the next few chapters: [Jack eventually meets the professor. As it turns out, the prof. has complete amnesia and cannot remember anything. The only thing he knows is that strange creatures sometimes follow him and he doesn't know why. It is revealed that the prof. inflicted himself to amnesia to secure the secrecy of the location of the microchip, in case the creatures ever caught him. After Jack and the prof. make this discovery, Huxley is caught by the creatures but Jack manages to escape. He follows them and sees the prof. strapped to a chair as in his dream, but this time they both escape. Eventually, the prof. uses the microchip to extract info from a computer about the creatures that is used to create a strategy to defeat them. He gets the info and is about to deliver it to his superiors when there is a sudden ambush by the creatures. All Jack sees is a flash of light before losing consciousness.] Thirteen (or later in the story) Jack returned from the wormhole in another brilliant flash of light, two minutes after he jumped in. The professor had timed it so that his departure and return would be almost at the same time. When he returned, he had no recollection of what had transpired. Later in his life, he would have vivid dreams of his adventure in the distant universe, but would never remember them when he awoke. Fourteen He awoke inside the professor's house. It was disturbingly quiet and he was alone. This time he did not get sick but again it took him a few minutes to regain all his senses. He walked upstairs and saw the professor in the living room with the same classic concentration pose that he had the first time Jack saw him standing by the giant portrait. "What happened?" asked the professor. "I was hoping you knew," replied Jack. "The last thing I remember is seeing a bright light that knocked me out. When I came to, I was back here." "So you have no recollection of what had transpired? Not even differences between the two universes? Surely, you must remember something." "It was like a dream," said Jack. "I mean, if I wasn't standing here right now, I honestly couldn't tell you if what I just went through was a dream or reality. I only remember one thing." "What?" asked the professor eagerly. "On my way back home, I heard someone, or something, saying that it was dangerous for us to know too much about their world." The two sat in silence. "I was expecting more than this." There was a knock at the door. It was a police officer looking for Jack. Jack's mom stood behind him. She looked tired and had a sullen face, like she had been crying. "Hello, may I help you?" asked the professor. "Excuse me, doctor, we were just looking for-" "Jack? Jack is that you?" All were speechless as Jack's mother ran toward her child. Jack stood motionless as she hugged him and cried on his shoulder. He was happy and relieved to see her but at the same time still disillusioned by what had transpired. Slowly, his mother recovered from her burst of emotion and simply said, "Let's go home." Questions could wait for later. As they headed for the door the professor looked at Jack. "You know, it's okay. We did our best. We may never know what really will happen to them, but we know that we did everything we could, and that's all anybody can ask for." "It's not good enough," Jack replied. "It's just not good enough." Fifteen As March turned into April, spring finally arrived. Jack stood dismally in his room. He was packing again. This time he was heading to Little Rock where he would meet his new foster parents, Fred and Jill Robinson. The government decided that it would be best for him to stay with a more adequate family for a while. Jack filled his bag with his favorite belongings and looked out the window. He would miss the city deeply. He glanced at his watch. They were fifteen minutes late. "It's time to go mom!" he shouted. "Is it time already?" she asked dismally. "Grab your bag then, honey." Jack reached for his bag and found a blank white envelope lying on top of it. He had not seen it there before. In it was a short message. THANK YOU JACK GIBSON FOR HELPING US AGAINST THE MONOLITHS. THROUGH YOUR ASSISTANCE, THE MONOLITHS WERE NOT ABLE TO ORGANIZE THE TERRORISM AND EARTH IS NOW SECURE. WE DEEPLY APPRECIATE YOUR SERVICE. GOOD LUCK WITH THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Jack smiled as he read the note. So we did pull it off, he thought. He wondered if the professor knew. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had a feeling that he did. He sighed deeply as he picked up his bag and glanced at his bedroom one last time. He tore up the message and put it in the wastebasket as he headed out the door. copyright 1994 |