It’s a Brave New World

I sat there, facing Professor Harold Williams with a million questions, and having no idea where to begin. I just remained in my chair, still stupidly gaping at the man. Harold eyed me silently for a moment and then moved to take the seat next to me.

"I suppose," he started with a slight grin, "the most obvious one would be- why are you here?"

"Yeah," I finally managed to get out. "Why did you bring me to this Earth?"

Harold's answer was straight forward. "To protect you."

"From what? What is my father mixed up in?"

Harold looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then sighed. "That is a very complicated answer. And to be honest, I don't entirely know myself."

I felt one of the deepest frowns of my life form on my face. Here was the man who had dragged me into this upside-down world, and he sat there not even sure what was going on. "What the hell do you mean you don't know!?"

Harold held up a hand. Pleading, he said, "Easy, Jason. I know you're frustrated. Please bear with me as I try to clarify." Pausing, he leaned back in his plastic chair and caused it to squeak with his shift of weight. He looked deep in thought as though he was gathering himself to fully answer my question.

Then he started to explain. "Consider a world. It is made up of billions of people. Thousands of cultures. Hundreds of nations. Many voices vying for control. Any number of factions form and fragment. It gets complicated very quickly, wouldn't you agree?"

He did not wait for my response. "Now, multiply that by a million. A million different Earths. Each with different cultures, wants, and needs. Sometimes they can have very similar values to one another. And other times very, very different. Then tie them all together by a network of quantum tunnels through higher dimensions few actually understand. Some worlds trade technology and resources, exchanges of ideas and philosophies. Others go to war. The net effect is that almost everything going on in the Consortium is very complicated."

I tried to digest what Harold had just explained to me. A million Earths. I suppose it stood to reason. If I even remotely understood the concept of the many worlds theory of quantum mechanics, there should be a near infinite number of alternate Earths. I had been struggling with the differences between just two worlds. A million seemed an impossible task to comprehend.

"What's the Consortium?" I finally asked.

A smile crept its way onto Harold's face. "The Consortium is an attempt to give some order in this corner of the multiverse. Don't think of it as a government really. Just a collection of factions that tend to agree with each other more often than not. We do our best to keep the chaos to a minimum."

"And you're from this Consortium?"

"Yes," answered Harold with a nod. "And to a certain extent, so was your father."

I was not surprised by his revelation about my dad. My father had somehow got involved with very powerful people. This Consortium seemed like it was the perfect candidate. But I picked up a keyword in Harold's answer. "Was?"

"Well, obviously, he left. He traveled to the unclaimed Earth where you were born and grew up."

Everything Harold was saying just generated another thousand questions. I struggled to put them in some sort of order to further this very strange meeting. I gave up. It was just too much. Like a dam bursting, they flowed unchecked out of me.

"Unclaimed Earth, what's that mean? Why did he leave? Are he and my mom alright? Whose after us? Why are you helping him? Why did you put me in Abby's room? Do I go home? Stay here?"

Harold eyed me again with a silent stare. He made a little click noise with his teeth. A sound of impatience. "Jason, I should have come to you sooner. For that I am sorry. In my defense, bringing you here set off a whole host of problems. I've been rather busy keeping several authorities off your back."

Puzzled by his explanation, I asked, "Who? Campus Security? The cops?"

Amused laughter came from Harold. "No...No...Not that type of authority. I mean those with real power. Most of whom aren't even on this world."

Getting irritated, I shot back, "You know I'm just taking your word for all this. How do I know you're telling me the truth?" I scrutinized the bearded professor, hoping I could somehow tell if he was lying.

Not appearing to mind my accusation, Harold answered with a thin smile. "Ehh, never mix alcohol and quantum tunneling through space-time. It's one of the first things you learn." He began digging around in his pants pocket. "I showed you this when I came to get you. But like I said, your memory is a little shot."

He finally produced what looked like to me a thin, clear piece of plastic or glass from one of his pockets. It was rectangular in shape and roughly a little wider and longer in dimension than my iPhone, but only about half as thick. Harold must have operated some sort of unseen control for it was suddenly beginning to glow. Going from transparent to a solid white. He held it out to me, and I watched transfixed as the washed-out gray object started playing a pixelated video. The images were fuzzy for a moment, but then stabilized and the resolution dramatically increased. Clearer and sharper than nearly any video I had ever seen.

A very familiar face looked out from this amazing device. "Hello, son," said my father.

"Dad..." I whispered.

His image froze, and Harold instructed, "Listen to the video. Your father explains a bit of what's going on and confirms I am who I say I am and my good will towards you."

Then the video un-paused and my dad continued speaking. "I don't know if you got my earlier email. The hunters only knew of my approximate location, so they closed off all normal means of communication in the entire neighborhood. Luckily I still had a way to send for help. You can trust the man who brings you this video. His name is Harold Williams. He's a friend."

The image shifted and went out of focus for a moment. When it cleared, I saw another person had joined my dad. Mom. Her eyes were wide, anxious, but she managed a nervous smile for the recording. "Hi honey, don't worry about us. We're safe."

My dad nodded and started speaking again. "We were able to get away. But we couldn't get to you in time. I know you have so many questions, but you need to go with Harold. And you need to go right away." He let out a long breath, a deep sigh of tired triumph. "To try to explain what's happening would take hours. But a quick summary goes like this -- There are parallel worlds. Each with a different time line. A lot of them. I don't understand all the science, but there are ways to travel between them. When I was in college, just about your age, I was recruited by Harold. He represents a group trying to protect many of these 'Earths.' I didn't exactly know this when I was signed up. Just that Harold was working to prevent some people on

my

Earth from hurting others. They're called the MHS."

Dad stopped and shook his head. "It's complicated. Very complicated. Harold can explain more. But sufficient to say I stole some very import information from this group. They will do almost anything to get it back. In taking the MHS's data, I put a rather large target on my back. Big enough even Harold and his people couldn't protect me. I had to go on the run. And now so do you."

I watched my father began to tear up. I almost never saw him cry and I felt a painful lump start in my throat. His voice grew unsteady. "I'm sorry son you got caught up in this. I should have told you about this sooner. Please forgive me. Please stay safe."

The video stopped. It returned to looking like a clear piece of plastic and Harold put it away. I swallowed down that lump in my throat over the fears for my parents. It landed in my stomach and twisted uncomfortably. I sat for a little while as I let my emotions see-saw all over the place. But then I started thinking. Something did not add up.

I turned to Harold. "The MHS. As in the Management of Health and Sexuality? That's who my dad is running from? And you brought me here? Where they're at? And they're what...reality jumpers like you?"

Harold shook his head firmly. "No, not like me. You need to understand Jason, that your father only knew so much about this conflict. That what he thought was his enemy was merely a tool on this world used by another faction from outside the Consortium. Ninety-nine percent of the MHS has no idea who or what they serve. Like all good authoritarians, you give them a little a bit of power, tell them their working for the greater good, and they'll line up and do almost anything you say."

"It is safe for you to be here, Jason, because the MHS has no idea you exist. You're nobody to them. That is why in my note I asked you to stay away, less you

become

something of interest. Those who are searching for your father don't know you're here. You are, for lack of a better term, hidden in plain sight."

I worked through what Harold had told me. It made sense, at least as much as I could understand. I was hiding in the last place anyone would look for me. However, his explanation still left me stuck over one thing. I remembered my short run in with Becky Walsworth and her unpopular MHS meeting.

"Okay," I said slowly, "but this MHS, at least what I've seen of it, doesn't strike me as some nefarious organization. Just some conservative movement on campus. Health and Sexuality? What part of that are they managing?"

"Many parts," replied Harold. "The MHS have direct controls over hospitals, doctors, and the pharmaceutical industry. They have deep financial resources and many government officials in their pockets. And while you have been here and doubtlessly heard some students reject their philosophies, do not discount the MHS's effects on this world. It is a truth on many Earths that those with the real power are rarely the ones seen in public."

"And you're fighting them?"

With a slightly self-conscious smile, Harold nodded. "In a way. As I said, the MHS is a tool. Just a piece of a much larger power. And you could say the Consortium is attempting to blunt that power on this world." He paused, and his little smile went away. He pursed his lips and looked like he was trying to come to some sort of decision. Eventually, he added, "Ever since it was conquered."

I worked my face through more frowning. "Conquered?" I questioned.

"This world was taken over nearly a century ago," said Harold evenly.

"Look, I don't know this world's alternate history that well. But I'm pretty sure I don't recall there being an interdimensional invasion."

"Jason," said Harold with a grim shake of his head. "Not every battle is fought with soldiers and guns. Millions were killed on this Earth, and they didn't even know they were at war."

I sat there, likely looking quite stupid as I tried to work out what the hell Harold was telling me. And then all the pieces fell together, and I felt an icy chill run down my back.

"The Pale Plague."

"Exactly," confirmed Harold. "A bioengineered virus. Delivered to kill and devastate the population. Sending society into a free fall. And a genetic alteration that would ensure a level of control over succeeding generations. And in all the chaos, comes the MHS. Delivering promises of stability and security. An order they have maintained for decades."

I sagged into my chair, utterly stunned. The Pale Plague had directly killed over two hundred and fifty million people. In the ensuing anarchy, nearly another two hundred million had died from starvation, civil wars, and other strife. In all, almost half a billion dead.

"How could anyone do such a thing?" I asked in a whisper.

Harold's response was unnerving. "Very easily. I am talking about powers far beyond your common understanding. Where whole worlds can be little more than bargaining chips or collateral damage in one faction's power struggle against another."

He let his alarming answer hang in a sullen silence for a few beats before continuing. "And truth be told, I am a just a bit player in all this. So is your father, and so are you. This particular conflict has been going on for centuries, across nearly a thousand worlds. That is why when I say I don't know all the details about what's happening, I am telling you the truth."

"My dad didn't know about the Pale Plague, did he?"

"No," said Harold with a firm shake of his head. "Learning the truth could be very damaging to people on this world. As much as we are trying to help them, we don't intend to disrupt them to the point where their whole society could collapse."

"I am telling you because you aren't of this world and the situation has grown more precarious. Those hunting your father have become very determined and are threatening to escalate hostilities on multiple worlds if he isn't turned over. And we don't know why. The information your father took was important, but not to the point where an armed conflict would result. Or so we thought. Something has changed, and we may need your help, Jason, to figure out what's happening."

I felt like I was being buried in an avalanche of information. I had sought to find out what was going on and now I had learned more than I ever wanted to know. I let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. A desire to leave here, find Abby, and just hold her was quickly growing in me. Just forget about Harold and all his talk about interdimensional wars and horrific bio-plagues. But then I remembered Abby was in the hospital. A place, apparently, where the MHS had complete control. That thought dragged me back to one of my original questions. One Harold had seemingly avoided explaining.

I turned back to Harold and asked, "Why did you put me in Abby's dorm room?"

Up until this question, Professor Harold Williams had been calm and collected as he explained to me the truths of the multiverse or whatever you wanted to call it. But at my question, he then turned red in the face and wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Well...You see..." he stammered. "As I said...I've had some issues bringing you from your Earth to this one. And I needed you...distracted. You were so intoxicated I didn't know how much you even understood when I collected you. So, you see..."

Interrupting his stuttering answer, I said flatly, "You knew what would happen when you put me in her room. Was this some sort of experiment to you? See how much sex we could have?"

He turned even redder in the face. "No! It just was..." He stopped and took a moment to collected himself. "Jason, I did not mean to insult you or Miss McGillen. I will admit I knew she was at the height of her estrogen cycle. That an outcome of intercourse would be highly likely. It would be a way to keep you occupied for a time. Ultimately, it was harmless, and you needn't have worried. I had the RA of the floor, Lawrence, watching out for you." He gave me a little shrug of his shoulders as if to say this wasn't a big deal and I shouldn't get too upset over it.

I was out of my seat in a flash and thrust an accusing finger in his face. "She's in the hospital because of me, you jackass!"

Now it was Harold's turn to look confused. "What? What do mean? What did you do to her?"

"Oh, you know," I snapped back sarcastically, "Pheromonal bonding. Extending and increasing Abby's estrogen cycle to the point we couldn't keep our hands off each other and then going through some type of withdrawal when we are apart for too long."

Harold had been shaking his head back and forth as I cynically explained. Now he took on the guise of a professor lecturing an unruly class. "No. You don't have the ability to produce pheromones women of this world would respond to. Beyond their heightened sexual need, they will have no interest in you. You would just be a temporary diversion."

"My dad is from this world and has the genetic alteration. Is it so hard to imagine I would inherit those changes?"

More shaking of his head. "The DNA trait is passed down through the mother. And your mother is from an unchanged Earth. So, you don't." Harold crossed his arms as if to say his verdict on the subject was final.

"Well, I don't know what it is, but somehow I'm affected by the women on this world, and I affect them. I sent Abby's friend Cindy into heat after an extended tasting session. And before that I was sick as a dog, going through some sort of withdraw. Are you sure I can't have the genetic change? Or I'm some kind of a hybrid?"

Harold looked uncertain. "I suppose it's possible you could be a receptor of their pheromones in great enough quantities. But to produce your own...I just don't see how."

I sat back down and tried again. I began to explain what had with Abby and Cindy. How length of time I was around a woman was a factor. My theory about my sweat being a carrier of my own pheromones. And then the results of my little shower experiment. Even as Harold continued to protest, I felt confident I was right. Everything neatly fit together. I might not understand the overall DNA and how it was inherited, but he was wrong about me.

"I know I've bonded with Abby and Cindy. I've been with women before on my Earth, it's never felt like this," I contended to Harold. "Maybe you don't understand since you've been with these scents all your life, but the emotions that come with them are powerful and very different from what I'm used to. I don't know how else to explain it."

A laugh escaped Harold. "I really wouldn't know. I'm not stimulated by any of these sexual pheromones."

"Huh? Why not?"

"I would have thought it was rather obvious," replied Harold. "This is not my Earth. I, nor any of my lineage, have been altered by the DNA retrovirus."

Given all his talk about the size and scope of the Consortium, it

was

rather obvious Harold was not from this universe. My dad had just been a local recruit. But Harold was something else. Someone who had been brought in to help fight the MHS. The way he had treated the whole Pale Plague infection with a certain cool detachment now made more sense.

Harold continued, although it appeared he was speaking more to himself than to me. "There could have been a mutation in the L3 genome. It would propagate through his production of androstenol. But still, the chances of that are tiny."

I interrupted. "Look, Professor Williams whatever I produce is not the issue. Abby is in the hospital going through some sort of withdraw. And you've told me the MHS essentially controls them. We need to get her, along with Cindy and Mandy out of there."

He arched an eyebrow at me. "We most certainly do not. I'm trying to keep you away from the MHS. Not delivery you to their doorstep."

I was beginning to get annoyed with the man. "They are only there because of what you did. You dropped me in Abby's room under the screwed-up idea of keeping me 'occupied.' Which was a shitty thing to do no matter your intentions. We need to fix this."

Harold let out a long sigh. "I will admit my judgment on delivering you to Miss McGillen's room was poor. But if she is indeed suffering from some sort of pheromonal disruption it would be best to let her receive treatment. Exposing her to you is a bad idea."

I refused to give up. "We talked Abby and me. She knows I'm not from this Earth. What if the MHS questions her? I would have thought you wanted to keep something like that quiet."

A scowl grew on Harold's face. It looked out of place on friendly grandfather expression he had been wearing. "Damn that Lawrence. He should have been reporting this to me. I could have prevented all of this from getting out of hand."

For a moment, I was confused by the professor's irritation. Harold had been working with Lawrence, but must not have realized the RA's betrayal. I leaned forward in my chair, suddenly pleased by the fact I had a piece of the puzzle that Harold didn't. "Maybe there is a good reason for that."