My name is Terry Blanc. Political-correctness pundits would call me a 'sufferer of hypercognitive disorder'. More colloquial types would say 'hypercog'. But really, I'm what you'd call a mad scientist.
I'm a young one, admittedly, but no less powerful a mind for it. I've been running Technophilia – my high-technology electronics store – for a couple of years now, and I'm still not quite due for my nineteenth birthday. Sometimes business partners and rivals – as if there's any difference between the two – use my age as an excuse to underestimate me, but I soon show them that I live up to my reputation.
That night, I was working in my personal lab. It's a messy affair, kludged together from various ill-fitting components. Oh, it was elegant when I first started out: blue carpeting with every other surface made of gleaming, stainless steel; desks all along one wall to hold a network of uniformly magnificent computers (hand-constructed by yours truly, of course); one long workbench along the opposite wall, the steel shielded by a top layer of insulating black rubber; a human-adult-sized bench in the room's centre, almost like an operating table, for android work; drawers set into the walls themselves, holding all manner of electronic components.
Things have changed. The basic arrangement is still there, of course, but the steel has dulled, losing its lustre as chromium oxide formed to protect its surface. Several more computers have been added, as new requirements arose and new breakthroughs developed. Wood has joined the metal, with shelves built into previously-empty spaces on the walls and dressers constructed to create more storage space. Surfaces are cluttered with half-finished devices, staring back at me with a hundred accusations of procrastination.
Anyway. I was in there, working. Recent events – in particular, a movie I'd watched – had me interested in the idea of parallel universes. So, where other people would be watching more movies or maybe reading a nonfiction book or two, I was doing
science.
Inter-universal travel is an interesting idea, and a complex one. It's complex enough that the term '
parallel
universes' only captures a small fragment of its essence. The geometry is much more in-depth than that; inter-universal travel is like the flip side to time travel, with time and possibility each being like an axis in a grand grid, a Cartesian coordinate system. Or, if you feel like being coy about the existential questions raised, call them Descartesian coordinates.
I was still in the middling stages of research. The first thing I'd done was build what I called a Doorway – a tall, metal archway with a blue-glowing interior edge. Theoretically, I could choose a destination, step through, and enter another universe... but it would be a one-way trip. For the time being, it just stood in the back of the lab, across from the more normal doorway. It would be ready when I was; in the meantime, I was working on something I could take with me to create a way back, as well as fifth-dimensional sensors so I could look before I leapt.
It was the latter that woke up and started screaming at me. They were responding to several kinds of input, echoing the information in a dizzying clamour which roughly translated as 'incoming!'
The signals were centred on the Doorway. I turned to watch and wait for the climax. I probably should have been more worried, but it's an established fact that hypercogs have difficulty feeling fear. We tend to replace it with curiosity.
The air around the Doorway started crackling with static electricity, bright blue sparks flashing and illuminating that end of the room. The Doorway itself was dormant; it had nothing to do with what was happening.
I didn't flinch until the last moment, when a big, blinding flash and a rush of air flooded outward form that central point.
While my eyes recovered, I heard a light, feminine voice. "Hm. Just as hypothesised. The two labs are
identical
, right down to the Doorway. That's good. I
do
have a way back."
I opened my eyes, my vision clearing. Even with that clarity, it took me some time to really take in the visitor.
She was a pinch shorter than I – about 5'10" or 11" to my 6'1". Lustrous, jet-black hair fell down to her shoulders, the strands soft and smooth. Her skin was similar in its silken texture, even as its colour was so different: her pale, ivory-white skin-tone was a direct contrast to her hair's darkness. Her bright, sapphire-blue eyes were the cornerstone of her pretty face, even as they were walled away behind her oval-lensed glasses. She had fine features, a balance between cuteness and prettiness: a small, upturned nose; defined cheekbones leading down to a narrow chin; small but soft lips, coloured by nothing more than their natural pink flush.
My eyes slid down to her body. She was very slender, her curves smooth and subtle: narrow shoulders gliding down to a thin waist, then back out slightly onto small hips. There was an exception, however; her rounded breasts were a fair bit larger than you'd expect from such a slim frame. Oh, they weren't
gigantic
, but they were certainly ample. She wore a white labcoat above a black blouse with the first few buttons undone, coupled with black slacks (well-fitted to her curving legs) and clashing white sneakers.
I recognised her, of course. She was my direct mirror image; we were even dressed almost identically, though my shirt had all its buttons closed and I had no need for the bra that was probably holding up those lush breasts. It wasn't left and right that the 'mirror' inverted. It was gender.
We both smiled as we met eyes, and I somehow sensed that she'd been checking me out just as I had her. There was a whisper of shared thought between us, barely more conscious than pure instinct, and we unanimously decided to step closer. We were in arm's reach, but not actually moving to touch each other. Yet.
