Music - "Rearranged" by Spock's Beard
***
David's POV
I'm floundering, flailing, groping for something to hold onto. I think my hands and the rest of me are gone, I can't tell. A million colliding pieces of thoughts are drowning me in nothing and everything . Up is down and up and sideways and there is no up, and I'm going somewhere. Falling in all directions at once. Maybe my molecules are shattering, and I'm about to see God.
Emma...
My body jerked so hard the whole futon rattled. Shit, I hate those kind of dreams! You've had that happen, right? Just as you're getting to sleep, you feel like you're falling and then WHAM! Wide awake and your heart's pounding.
And this time I was really, really awake. And sick to my stomach. So I figured to hell with trying to sleep, I'd get up and get some air. But something was bugging me. The edge of a dream started coming back to me as I got up and started walking around my little dump of a crash space.
The experiment!
But nothing was different. Well, except I was in my apartment now, and the last thing I could remember was being in... the lab? Or was it... It all seemed so dreamlike, part of my memories and yet kind of not, with this distance to it. Like off a little ways in a fog, the way dreams are.
I had no idea what time it was, only that it was dark, so I flipped the light switch and then just stood there, kind of disoriented. Nothing happened. What? I flipped it off and on a few times, and nothing. Well, great. Bathroom? Same thing. Motherpussbucket, the landlord probably just took my money and kept it, and never paid the back bills. And since it was cash, I didn't have any proof I'd ever paid it. Wasn't Pepper supposed to take care of these things for me?
I turned the handle of the bathroom faucet and all that came out was some groaning squeaks. The toilet lid was down, and there was no way I was lifting that sucker to see what was in there.
I sniffed my clothes and decided that, for everybody's benefit, I better put on something clean. I threw on a Futurama tee and skinny jeans, then threw a plaid shirt over that since the air coming in the bathroom window was kind of chilly. At least they smelled halfway decent. Deodorant, yeah. Check. Then I started fishing through the closet, looking for my denim jacket. It was completely MIA, along with my good leather one.
"What the hell!" I yelled into the empty room. I must have been robbed on top of everything else. I looked in my wallet, and would not have been surprised if cartoon moths had flown out of it, because it was completely empty. Robbed and probably drugged and left there to rot on my goddamn stupid futon in the dark with a fridge full of stink and a toilet full of worse than that. Fuck. My. Life.
I jammed on my old boots since my good Converses were gone too, and stormed out the door. I had to clear my head, and the cool night air seemed perfect for it. That, and I had to find food and a bathroom.
A familiar cloud of exhaust hit my lungs and somehow it made me feel a little better. No matter what the problem was, Los Angeles had everything a person could possibly need. Okay then, first order of business, food. Then bathroom. Wait... bathroom first. Definitely... yes, bathroom.
A few minutes later, in the back of a familiar coffee place, I'd managed to do a quick commando wash job on my stinkiest parts and do a lightning round on my hair, fluffing it out the best I could under the air dryer. Mission accomplished! But damn, that coffee smelled good, and the breads...
My stomach growled loudly, so I punched it a few times to shut it up as I headed for the lab on the off chance somebody, probably Pepper, had stashed some crackers in a desk drawer or something.
As I walked, the dream about the experiment kept coming back to me. It seemed pretty logical and concrete for a dream, and I went over the steps I'd taken. After all, a lot of artists and inventors had come up with some amazing creations that they'd first seen in dreams.
I stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change, and rubbed at my stubbly face with a sigh. What had I been reduced to? One step away from being homeless, squatting in a disgusting apartment, scrounging for food, and for what?
For her. For Emma. I would move heaven and earth to find her. The experiments had to go on at any cost. Maybe I could live at the lab for a while, if I was careful. I could make a little hidden sleeping space behind some cabinets...
My stomach cramped painfully, pushing me on toward the store's glorious promise of expired foods. Why was I so damn hungry?
Walking by the news stand, I glanced at the headlines like I always did. The usual doom and... wait. Not gloom? Wait, what?
"Peace in Israel?" I said aloud. The guy who ran the place stared at me. Albert, I think his name was.
"Well yeah. You been under a rock?"
"I... maybe. I feel like it."
"You look like it, too. Here," the guy said, getting up and unfolding one of the papers. "Just keep it neat."
I blinked at him in surprise. He'd never been this nice to me.
I devoured the headlines. Peace in Israel, holiday charities doing nearly twice as well as ever before, gun violence way down... it was like I was reading about some strange utopia that was being created all around me, and I had no idea about any of it. Had I been that oblivious because of all my work? Because of obsessing about Emma?
Or could it be...
I looked around. Everything was the same. I was the same. My hands and jeans and the sidewalk and Al the newspaper guy and everything looked exactly the same. But what if that's what a parallel universe looks like? How would I even know if I was in another one, if it was so close to mine that I could get into it in the first place?
I had to get to the lab, to see if anything was different, or...
I rushed around the corner, cutting close to the building, and slammed right into some tiny little Asian girl in her 20s, scattering her stuff everywhere and nearly knocking her over. Great job, David!
"Shit! I'm sorry," I said quickly, bending over to help pick up the mess. Papers and junk from her purse were all over the sidewalk. I caught some kind of lipstick or perfume thing before it rolled out into the street.
"It happens," she said, her tone polite yet irritated. Then she stared at me. "David Blunt? Is that you?"
I looked up at her. How did she know who I was? I'd never seen her before in my life. Man, she's pretty. "Huh?"
She flashed me a smile as we both stuffed things back in her purse. "Come on, David, it hasn't been THAT long. No, look, I've got the rest of this... it's okay."
We finished up and I just stood there on the sidewalk, looking at her awkwardly. I really had no clue who this was, but she seemed to know me. And maybe even KNOW me, like Biblically. Geez, David, you're just not that much of a ladies' man, get your head out of the gutter.
"So how have you been?" she asked. I still didn't even know her name.
"Uhm... good?" I fudged. She started fiddling nervously with a piece of hot pink paper in her delicate little fingers, and for some reason I couldn't keep my eyes off it.
"I'm surprised to hear that. You seem kind of..."
Dirty? Smelly? Starving to death? So distracted that I crash into strangers on the sidewalk?
"...out of sorts," she finally said, choosing her words carefully. But I could tell she meant all of the above. She started glancing around and seemed to be getting more and more jumpy.
"I feel totally out of sorts," I admitted, hugging my stomach after a particularly loud growl. Who the hell was this?
"Well, it's no wonder, after what happened last month. I didn't think I'd ever see you again, to be honest. But she said you'd turn up because you always do," she said a little too quickly. The pink paper in her fingers flipped and twisted this way and that, and she began to shift her weight from foot to foot. Something was up.
"She?"
Mystery Girl said nothing, looked around, then shoved the pink paper into my hands.
"I have to go. Talk to you soon," she said under her breath, then jaywalked right across the street and kept going, disappearing up an alley. I stared after her until she was no longer visible, then finally remembered to look at what she'd given me.
There, slightly crumpled in the palm of my hand, was a hot pink paper origami fortune cookie. Suddenly, I wasn't hungry any more.
I slowly opened it as if it were made of glass, as if it held the secrets of the universe inside it. There, written on the crinkly shape, was an address. It was only about ten blocks from where I was standing. A little breeze came up behind me then, almost as if pushing me that way, and I started walking.
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A/N:
Ok, so this weeks author's note isn't really an authors note at all. Willow launches us right into our new series of guest writers, and does so brilliantly. I love the mystique that she brings to the mix with this chapter, and there is more where it came from!
What did you think of Willow's chapter? How do you think David handled the new reality? Let us and Willow know down below in the comments, I know Willow will be aching to answer any questions you might have!
//Tom
About Willow:
In her 25 years of writing experience, Willow Polson has penned everything from non-fiction articles to scripts that have been praised by industry professionals across North America. Willow is a skilled transmedia writer, creating material for comics, digital novels, television and film. She has also done freelance script doctoring, rewrites, and ghost writing for private clients.
Willow manages and coordinates talent and crew at every stage of production, including television, films, live concerts, talent meet & greet events, and variety shows. She is rarely at rest, and has been a special guest speaker at conventions and live events as well as for newspapers, books, magazines, blogs, and webcasts.
Please see for further information.
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//
All Your Fates © 2012 Carrie Cutforth, Jim Martin and Tom Liljeholm. All Rights Reserved.