Parrajeep

I waited for a parrajeepney with a route from Greenbelt 1, Earth-44 to Greenbelt 2, Earth-89. One came but it was full. I held on the steel bars on the door to hang but the driver stopped me.

'Bawal ho ang sabit. Pasok ho kayo, may isa pa.' [You are prohibited from hanging. Please come in, there's one seat left.]

I was grateful that there indeed was one small space left for one passenger. I squeezed my self into the seat. It was too narrow for me. Only one cheek of my butt is sitting on the seat. But the jeep has already started running so I have no choice but to endure.

Along the way, I felt too uncomfortable that I decided to get off.

'Boss, para na ho dyan.' [Boss, I'll get off here.] I recon we might be at Earth-56 by now but it doesn't matter. My leg muscles are cramping due to my impossible position. I have to get off. But the driver stopped me.

'Bawal ho bumaba dito. May ParraPolice'. [You are prohibited from getting off here. There are ParraPolice in the area.] So I endured.

At long last, we arrived at Earth-89. It was a great relief. The passengers started getting off. I follow suit. But the driver stopped me, to my irritation.

'Bawal ho kayo bumaba. Hindi pa kayo bayad.' [You are prohibited from getting off. You haven't paid yet.]

The Waiting Shed at the Border of the Blackhole

"Going South?"

"Yeah. How do you know?"

"My gift." She said, while pointing to the thin, pink almost gelatinous antenna on her forehead. "They call these caldousil. It's like an advance nose in your race."

I looked at it with feigned amazement. I've never seen it in person but I have read about them before, sometime over the last 40 years during one of my Xenopology classes. 

"I'm Klathykksi. You can pronounce it Klat with your tongue." She offers her hand to shake. But I know she's not shaking hands. I've read it before. So I pull my hand out, spit on the back of my palm and slaps it to the palm of her outstretched hands. She seem quite surprised by what I did, her black eyeballs widened. But her eyes then start to close into a slit. She is feeling the spit with her hypersensitive skin.

She is a Krayohian. From the 178th quadrant of the Andromeda galaxy. Marine-based lifeform. Salt-based. The have highly enhanced senses of smell and feeling. But almost completely blind. Life span of 255 Earthian years. Only female exists. They reporoduce asexually via psychomitosis. 

I learned it all from college.

Our race is one of the weakest lifeforms in the universe. We don't have special organs or body parts. We did not evolve any extraordinary appendages. Even the lower lifeforms in our planet are more equipped with special organs than us. What we excelled in is learning how to use tools and using them to our advantage.

That's why the Earthian government decided that we should excel in knowledge. But not the knowledge to exceed the Wikians. Their mental prowess are far, far superior than us. Almost infinite brain capacity. What we did focused on is on the 'street  knowledge' of the universe. What things do we need to know to protect ourselves. How can we survive out there. 

You may think it's almost combative and competitive in nature. Learning how to survive by finding out things about other races. Learning other's weaknesses.

But it's how we survive. How our species will survive.

'Nice meeting, you. You have a nice life ahead of you.' The Krayohian greeted as a warpbus docks. 'And by the way, if you happen to pass by 178th, just spittulate and they will know that we are acquaintances. See yah!'

In that entire conversation I said exactly only 5 words. And yet I have forged an alliance between two races from different corners of the world. My mission here is accomplished.

Another warpbus arrives. Time to proceed to the next target.

DELAYED

"The flight to Earth-203 has been delayed".

The huge speakers on the altport blared.

"The flight to Earth-203 has been delayed".

The huge speakers repeated.

I looked at the giant Jumbotron and searched for my flight. EARTH-203 slid on the ticker. DELAYED followed it.

I't doesn't bother me really. I have all the time in the world, or at least in the world I'm going to. I had an x-deal with self-203 last year. He likes to be alone, (I believe he is a painter) and he needs to be in total solitude while doing his art. But he have many very cheerful relationships in that world. ANd relationships means noise and distraction.

Good thing, I happen to be a loner in this world. A lone wolf going wherever I wan't to, doing whatever I want to. But loneliness gets wearisome at times. Depression is my enemy here. And I have resolved to be in good terms with everyone I know now.

But I don't want to start from scratch, start rebuilding bonds. It's too tiresome. Hence the x-deal.

I'll live his life of endless ruckus. He'll live my life of infinite solitude. And I'm fine with that. I'm tired of being alone.

"The flight to Earth-203 will proceed in 0200 hours".

I saw my altplane materializing on the dropway. As soon as the door opened, I saw many people got off. Most of them looks familiar but different.

Then I saw myself getting off.

 I look so goddamn awful.

When he looked at me, I feel like he's thinking the same thing.

Tales from the Snowflake

This Earth is a tiny crystal on the snowflake of the multiverse. We are all living an alternate life, a parallel reality with another 'us' on another world on the other  side of the snowflake.

We are the stories they write. We are the parallel worlds. We are the imagined possibilities. This earth is what the beings on the other side tell tales about.

There, in the earth where computers were not invented. There they write with pens and papers about a world where magic square boxes can show moving images and can magically speak. There they write about us.

There, in the earth where telepathic communication technology flourished. There they mind-talk about a technologically backwards world who communicate with noise. They mind-talk about us.

We. Here. This world. Our reality is their fiction. We are all fiction in their heads.

Tiny Cars and a Yellow Curtain

It's just 10 in the evening and I had 6 cups of coffee already. That would last me another half-hour at least. It's been 10 days -- two hundred and thirty nine hours and fifteen minutes to be exact -- since I last saw you.

'I'll see you on the next iteration,' you said, as you turn the lever to full throttle. In an instant, your time bubble vanished and what's left in its stead is a yellow whiff of smoke and some tiny sparks.

You said you'll send an indicator if you will arrive soon. Soon. I don't know how that concept applies now. Here I am waiting for sometime now. Anytime now, that is soon, for me. But you have the entire universal timeline to traverse. How long is 'soon' if you can outlive the universe itself? What is 'time' if you can come and go as you please?

'Just look at the things that make you safe, at this instant of time.' you had said before you left. 'Just look at them and you'll know when I'll arrive.

What makes me safe at this instant? Coffee? Well, it keeps me awake but not safe. My yellow curtains? Probably. It keeps me safe from perverts looking into the room with their powerful telescopes from across the building. (Yes, I'm that paranoid.). My 1:64 die cast cars on the drawer? They keep me sane, that's for sure.

Seventh cup. The waiting is killing me. I go out to the balcony. It sure is so bright tonight and noisy. Or is it just the coffee? From up here, the ground looks so near. It would be so easy to jump, except that I'm 19th floor high and I'm not insane. I feel nauseous all of a sudden.

I went inside. I closed the door and windows and just opened my orange curtains. When did I change curtains? And when did I start collecting 1:50 die cast cars?

A whiff of yellow smoke appeared in front of me. And some sparks.

Hopes and Dreams and the Parallel Universe

"I only need eight hundred grams of Cesium to maintain the field! I have given you proof and evidence that it works! Why do you deny me of such small amount?!" 

The man in a dirty white lab coat stands up to approach the bench. The sergeant-at-arms on the corner raises his arms and gives a  sign to the man to stay on his seat. The man looks at the sergeant-at-arms and sits down slowly.

"Dr. Bishop, it's not whether  your experiment will work or not. We trust in your skills and intellect and we know that it would work",  the Supreme Judge answers. Ten judges sit behind the bench as the Science Tribunal. They are the ones who regulate, monitor and decide on ethical and moral scientific dilemmas and related cases. Today, they are hearing the fifth appeal of Dr. John Bishop requesting for 800 grams of pure Cesium for his experiment. 800 grams is above the legal amount which is 200 grams for private experiments.

"Dr. Bishop, what we are doubting is your motivation for this experiment. For the benefit of the new Jury before us right now can you please explain your experiment again?"

"It's very simple really. I've created a Torsional Proton Accelerator that can reach energies approaching the Schwartzchild magnitudes. This device, once fully operational can create a gravitational force field that could create a miniature black hole with a picometer radius. That's not the breakthrough though, any undergraduate physicist can do that on his basement. What I've done is I coupled the black hole's radiated dark energy with a Picolaser Pulse synchronised via a superconducting crystal lattice of inert Uranium-230 to produce a dark gravity field with a radius of 2 meters. The problem is, once the inert uranium-230 is exposed to the pulse laser, it instantaneously decays into Plutonium-210 which immediately dissipates the dark gravity field.

But if I have 800 grams of Cesium, I can use it as a catalyst so that the laser pulse interacts with it instead. The Cesium's excitation energy will be the one to trigger the Uranium's radiation of the dark gravity energy without it decaying into Plutonium. It's pretty straightforward and simple. It's non-hazardous and very stable. I can't think of anything that could go wrong", Dr. Bishop explained.

"Please tell us the impact of this experiment" said the Supreme Judge.

"The dark energy field generated serves as a thread that links asynchronous quantum states. A bridge between two different quantum spaces." said Dr. Bishop.

"And what does that do?"

"In layman's term it connects two different configurations of a single particle."

"What is the significance of that?"

"It is a portal between two parallel universes. But it's a one-way portal, we can cross but the other side can't. So there is no risk."

The Supreme Judge pauses for quite a while to read a document in his desk giving way to a complete silence in the room. The Judge then flips a page and looks at Dr. Bishop.

"I see no risk in this. My question is why would you want a bridge to the other world?"

Dr. Bishop bows his head. He takes a deep breath and stands up to speak.

"Imagine the possibilities of a different but similar world. A world with different but similar people. A different environment, different circumstances. It is a world where you made completely different decisions. If one can go to that world, he can have an entirely different life but very familiar. One can start over again. Don't you want to have that possibility?"

"I know that it is a very good thing to have to start over again. Everyone makes mistakes. Maybe everyone have a regret or two in their lives. Let me ask you, Doctor, would you cross the other side to start a new life?"

Dr. Bishop stares at the Judge as if calculating if this is a trick question or what. After a few minutes of silence, he answers.

"Yes. I would."

A silence once again covers the court room.

"Why can't you just move to Boston or Australia? Why can't you start a new life here?"

"Because it would be different if I move to Boston. Different people, different places, just different."

"Then if you want the same set of people why do you want to cross-over? Why can't you just create a new life here with the same people that you know? Start over again with them. Why not here?"

"Because they're dead here!" Dr. Bishop exclaimed to the judge while teardrop rolls down his eyes to his cheeks. He then sits down and bows his head.

"I'd like to call a fifteen-minute recess. After that, we will read our decision," the judge declares as he slams his gable.

The Judges stand up and move as a line to the exit behind the bench. Every one in the room began to leave one by one. Only Dr. Bishop remained in his seat.

After the fifteen-minute recess, all the judges began to return. All the other people also went back to their seats.

"The court is back in session", the Judge said while slamming the gable. "Plaintiff, please read the decision."

Dr. Bishop remains in his seat with his head bowed down and his arms wrapped around himself. The Plaintiff walks to the center and speaks.

"Yes, Your Honor. For the appeal of Dr. John Bishop for the request of 800 grams of pure Cesium, the Tribunal has rejected. The Tribunal however approves 300 grams of Cesium to be granted to Dr. John Bishop for his experiments. This decision is final."

"With that this session is adjourned." The Judge slams his gable. Dr. Bishop remained motionless in his seat. Everyone begans to walk out again. But the Supreme Judge remains on his seat. After a while only the two of them remained in the courtroom.

Dr. Bishop speaks without raising his head to look.

"You are also a physicist. You know that I can't stabilize the field with just 300 grams. What's the point of giving me that amount?"

"With 300 grams, you can sustain a 6-inches radius non-reactive window to the other quantum space. I want you to look at them. Look at what they are doing, how they are living their lives. I want you to ask yourself, are you willing to alter those lives in a very major way just to make your grief go away? You are being selfish, doctor. Those are people with their own lives. You can't just go there and change everything and make them live your life. You have to make do with your own life here. Move on."

A long silence lingered in the room.

Finally, Dr. Bishop stands up and walk toward the exit door without saying anything. He grabs the door latch and pulls the door open. As he walks out the door, he looks back to the Judge and smiles;

"250 grams can do."

Dr. Bishop walks out and closes the courtroom door. The Judge smiles.

Anecdote: Ice Cold

A man is dying of heart failure. He has a heart disease with no cure. His wife decided to have him cryogenically frozen, to be thawed only when the cure for the disease is available. The wife, with her love and devotion, also asked to be cryogenically frozen herself, to be thawed when his husband is cured.

The cure was developed 500 years later. The man and his wife was thawed. They went to see each other. But as they met, they have become very far apart. There was no more warmth and affection, no more love and devotion. So they consulted the doctors about it.

The doctors have no solid explanation but they have a theory. They think the couple have been frozen for too long. Their hearts have grown cold.