Sam tries again to save Mirabelle and the Underground.
Entering the Wish Machine compartment, I sat in the chair and fastened the restraining strap around my chest. If I entered that reality too late and I had already been captured by the police thugs, I needed a weapon.
Recalling Horace’s keys and the Little Giant locomotive, the Fifth Law of Material Feedback suggested I might be able to take a weapon with me. I placed my trusty .357-caliber hand gun on the cot beside me. This time I would warn them about Theocracy’s attack in York City. I would save Mirabelle from torture and death.
When the Wish Machine was warmed and ready, I focused my mind on the moment when I came to that underground basement hideout beneath the ruined house and before I met the conspirators … The transition was as effortless as the first. My hopes were realized.
There, a few paces ahead, striding swiftly ahead of me, was the same Mirabelle I remembered. She wore the same blue dress. But when I looked again I had a surprise; she was not the same Mirabelle. The Mirabelle I remembered was blonde.
The woman ahead of me had black hair — and her hair was longer.
This was not the same reality. Although nearly the same, it was definitely different in small ways. It was one more piece of evidence that every reality, even those close to one another, was different.
No matter the changes, I was here. There was nothing I could do about it except to carry out my plan to warn the rebels.
Everything was nearly the same, but with disturbing differences. Now, the building had three stories instead of the two I remembered. The faded painted 10-foot metal sign on the littered front yard in front of the boarded entrance read words that were also different from my first trip to that other Theocratic world. They further confirmed the Third Law; Once having entered an alternate reality, you cannot enter again. This was another, but nearly the same, world.
The Mirabelle that walked ahead of me had the same slim body and the same pretty face as that other Mirabelle I knew. Only her hair was different.
I hoped that there were no other major differences that would thwart my plan. The original Mirabelle and Sam Candel were doomed, of course. There was nothing I could do about them. I could save these conspirators in this world.
Just as I did the first time, I repeated the Fourth Amendment to the conspirators in their underground hide out. The tears in my eye came unbidden. It was a great document. There was the same light on the faces of my listeners. The dark cloud of suspicion lifted. The tenseness and suspicion eased. I had been accepted but I was still on probation.
“My name is Saul. You will know the names of the others later.”
This startled me. Now he was Saul; no longer Paul. Saul/Paul warned me of the consequences of my defection.
“If they catch you, you will go right to security headquarters. In case they never told you that modern inquisition make the fifteenth century Holy See seem like child’s play.”
How well I knew. My experience in the First Theocracy was still painfully fresh.
“I am going to send you with Mirabelle to Headquarters in New York.”
Now was the time for me to speak of the treachery.
“I have heard rumors. The state will be waiting for you in New York (now it was back to New York again). Someone has betrayed you.”
In the semi-darkness his face grew pale. He was stunned, and he knew I was right.
“Thank God Mirabelle found you. I will notify all our cells immediately”.
I had saved one Mirabelle and lost another. I wondered, could one R-Track affect another next door R-Track? Material objects, like the Little Giant locomotive I sent in the Wish Machine, had returned … different, so did Horace’ keys, Homer Camoda’s blue apple pie seeds and Wanda Benoit’s Guess What prize that followed me back to the lab.
It’s been said that a butterfly’s wing in Borneo may cause a mighty rainstorm in Michigan. Perhaps all happenings in the universe, no matter how small, affect all other happenings, no matter how far away or how unrelated. Saving the brave souls in the Theocratic World, might be the saving of other rebels against a ruthless dictatorship in other similar worlds. Moments later I translated. I was satisfied. I had done something right at last.
Next time: Sam tries to convince his friend, Charley, his two Cago episodes were true. Charley doubts the Wish Machine works.
Gene Paleno is an author and illustrator living in Witter Springs.
