Call Me Ishmael

Chapter 28

Author's Note: Do not hold the wrong end of a chainsaw. "Call Me Ishmael" is available on Smashwords for any device, and on the Nook, the Kindle, and in paperback. Hardback and engraving on grains of rice are in the works.

My head felt like a cat caught in a dryer.  A cat must often have that feeling, knowing it is doomed, but it still tries to find a way out.  The astounding thing to me was that so often, cats were able to do just that.  I had opened my dryer once, never suspecting that my neighbor's cat was inside.  The cat leaped out, glared at me as if to say, It's about time, and stalked off. The Swarm waited for us to emerge, and would either capture or kill us when we did.  On the other hand, if we sat tight, we were safe, but only until the implosion took place and everything that existed, everywhere, was destroyed.  Our options were not many. 

"Could we call in to the Base for help?  Maybe a nuclear bomb, or a neutron bomb, or something like that?"

Finnie shook her head.  "No way to get through.  No bombs, either.  We're not permitted to stock them."

"Oh.  Does anyone have any ideas, at all?"  No one answered.  It was like sitting in one of my bank's long, boring meetings.  Toward the end of meetings, the boss always asked for volunteers to do whatever he had been discussing.  It was never good.  It might be to clean bathrooms, because we had to let the janitorial staff go.  Or maybe working on a holiday to better serve our customers.  Whatever it was, it was never worth volunteering for, and no one ever did.  I  usually gotten stuck with it.

"Come on, someone must have something.  If this were a movie, someone would come up with a world-saving notion.  Anything must be better than just sitting here and letting the clock run out."

Niles yawned.  "It would be easier to get parents to watch a dozen or so youngsters at an overnight party," he said.  "There just isn't anything to do, old bean, but sit here and wait patiently for something to explode, or implode.  I'm sure the distinction is important, but I fear the effect on yours truly is going to be the same."

I refused to give up.  I was surprised.  I had never been afraid to admit surrender, to give up and live to try another day.  But there was too much at risk here.  Everything was at risk.  Finnie was at risk.  I had to try, or die trying.  Everyone else seemed to be content to merely sit and wait for the inevitable.  But I knew there was no such thing.  The decisions and choices made by one person could change not only the world, but the nature of reality itself, turn everything upside and inside out.  And as these very deep thoughts ran through my mind, I suddenly knew what to do.  It was like the cat in the dryer, when the door opened. 

"I've got it," I said, my voice firm and strong.  I not only had figured it out, I knew my idea would work.  If mighty forces were working against me, mighty forces were no doubt working for me as well.  I had to try, and it had to work.

Everyone was looking at me, their eyes wide with expectation; Finnie's the widest of all.  Those golden-brown eyes of hers were all the confirmation I needed.  When I looked into her eyes, I knew that she knew that I knew what to do, and that she knew that I knew, and...well, so on.  With a supreme effort, I tore my eyes from hers.

"Well, let's have it," said Splice. 

"Is there a way to open that other dimension, from here?  Could we generate our own reality, on the fly?"

Splice frowned.  "If there's a computer terminal, here, I should be able to get it going.  The connecting link is probably still strong.  But how's that going to help?"

I was going too fast to answer her.  "Finnie, you said this house sits on the intersection of three dimensions.  If this is one, and the Jungleworld is another, what's the third?"

Finnie answered.  "It's an anti-matter dimension.  We can't go there, Ishmael; we'd..." She stopped, put her beautiful hand to her throat.  "I think I see what you're up to, Ishmael.  But this could get icky.  Really icky.  And who wants that?  Not me."

"Anti-matter? Come, come Ishmael, do you know what you're doing?  Do you even know what you're saying?  Good heavens, man, anti-matter!"  Niles was beside himself.

"I don't see any other choice, Niles.  We have to get back to the Base or everything is going to go boom.  We can't get past the Swarm without becoming lunch, so we have to deal with them once and for all.  Now listen, here's my idea."

I was surprised at the attention the notion of anti-matter had with each of them.  I remembered that anti-matter was simply the opposite of everything that existed.  If my father was right, there were multiple dimensions splitting off from each decision ever made.  The collision of those dimensions created the grind between dimensions, and I had already seen the destructive force the grind was capable of creating.  The interaction of matter and anti-matter would be violent in the extreme.

"We're going to create our own reality, one made from anti-matter.  We can hold that together as long as we're here, generating our own reality on the fly.   Is that right, Splice?"

She hesitated.  Her hair glowed bright pink.  "It should be.  But no one has ever tried anything like it.  It might hold.  Or it might not."

Bertram spoke up.  I had nearly forgotten he was in the house.  "As you say, Ishmael, we have few options.  I understand there is great risk, but without taking the risk, we lose everything.  We can but try."

Bruce nodded.  "I'm in.  Try it.  For my wife.  And my kids.  Go ahead.  And if it works, I won't blow your head off.  That's a promise."

I swallowed, and continued.  "Once the anti-matter dimension is open, we allow the Swarm to step in as we step out.  Once we leave, and we stop generating an alternative reality, the matter of the Swarm will touch the anti-matter we've generated.  They'll explode.  Won't they?"

Splice calculated in her head.  "They should.  Finnie?"

"They'll explode.  The only problem will be if we explode with them.  Because that could happen, too.  Ishmael?"  She looked at me.  Her eyes, her face, her shoulder...each part of her exquisite and perfect, and together, they combined to form the perfect woman.

I couldn't speak, so I nodded.  I'm sure I looked like a trained chimpanzee, but my emotions were high.

Finnie took my hand in hers.  It was the first time, I realized, that she had touched me with a purpose.  Well, a purpose other than to kick me, hit me, or shove me, that was. 

Finnie squeezed my hand a bit.  "You know, Ishmael, I told you a while ago that there was no 'us.'  But I wonder now, somewhere, in some dimension, right now, if there is an 'us.'  If somewhere, right now, two people identical to us, but who made different decisions, aren't touching just like this."

This should have been a bright spot.  I thought she meant it to be one, maybe just to give me courage, or hope.  But it wasn't.  "There's only one of me," I bit off.  "Remember?  You told me so yourself."

"Oh.  Well, then, that's that."  She dropped my hand.  "Splice, there should be a computer in the study.  See if you can get it to start generating some on-the-fly reality."

"Sure.  But there's just one problem with Ishmael's little plan.  The Swarm can't see us, so how are they going to touch the anti-matter?"

Finnie smiled.  It was a wicked, yet tender smile.  "Simple, Splice.  I'm going to open the window."

This is the point at which the author steps in and says, "It was all a dream." But not here. Kindle, Nook, Smashwords, and of course, right here on Wattpad. "Call Me Ishmael": the book that keeps governments up at night.