“The needle and vials are in the outer pocket of your pack,” Rutger said. “They’re bubble-wrapped for protection, but please be careful. You have only a couple of extras.”
George grunted, but Sato wasn’t sure what that meant. “We want you to get in and get out. You’ll be winking to the original Reality, the . . . host Reality where all of this nonsense began. It’s not one of the major branches, and it’s fragmenting as we speak. Still not sure of the event that was so powerful as to make them completely unstable.” He shook his head. “I need not remind you of the necessity of caution.”
“In and out,” Sato said, staring at the wall in front of him. An old picture of Muffintops hung there, a close-up from when she was a kitten, licking something that looked suspiciously like George’s foot. “The first crazy person I meet. No problem.”
Rutger cleared his throat. “It might not be that easy. Most people won’t let you walk up and stick a needle in them.”
“’Specially the crazies,” Mothball added.
“Then I’ll use the . . . thing you gave me.” Sato jerked his head toward the top of his backpack.
“Only as a last resort,” George said, holding up a finger. “A last resort.”
Sato shrugged. “Last resort. What does it matter—they’re all crazy.”
“It matters because we’re trying to save them, find a cure,” George answered.
“But it’s a fragmented Reality,” Sato countered. “Again, what does it matter?”
George shook his head. “It’s not our place to determine the value of their lives, Master Sato. They’re people, just like you and me.”
“Chances are one of ’em is you, actually,” Mothball said with a quick snort of a laugh. When no one responded, she continued, “His Alterant. Get it?”
“Yes, Mothball, we got it,” Rutger muttered as he shot a look at Sato as if to say, just humor her. “Good one, very funny.”
As for Sato, his head spun; it was impossible to wrap his rational mind around the confusing facts of how the multiverse functioned. “I’m ready. Wink me away.”
George held up the Barrier Wand in both hands. “You’ll appear on the stone outcropping of a mountain; it’s soaked in Chi’karda, for reasons we don’t know. Return there when you’ve obtained the blood sample. Rutger will have his eyes glued to the command console and will wink you back the instant you’re ready. Your nanolocator is in good working condition.”
“Okay,” Sato said, taking a deep breath as he reached out and clasped his hands around the bottom of the golden cylinder. Just do it before I change my mind.
“Best of lu—” Mothball started to say, but she was cut off with the click of the Wand ignition button.
Sato winked away.
~
“Mmm, this rabbit food ain’t so bad,” Paul mumbled through a bite of fancy salad—walnuts and pears scattered over dark green leaves.
They sat at a table in the hotel restaurant, the last gloomy glow of sunset painting the large windows a sleepy amber. They’d spent most of the day walking, making three complete trips around the main road that circled the town—aptly named Circle City. They saw nothing new—more buildings, more nicely-dressed people, more glittering fountains, more eerie opera music—as they discussed the riddle and the possible hidden meaning behind it between long bouts of silence.
“This Reality must not have an Italy,” Sofia said. “Nothing on the menu even comes close to real food.”
Tick nodded, too busy eating to say anything. He’d ordered something he couldn’t pronounce but which looked and tasted like pork chops, and he was loving every bite. Sofia, stubborn as usual, hadn’t even ordered yet, still staring at the menu like an impossible homework problem.
“Just get the chicken stuff,” Paul said, wiping his mouth. “They eat chicken in Italy, don’t they?”
“Well . . .” Sofia said, her eyes focusing on one item. “This one does have some kind of cheese on it.”
“Really?” Paul said, leaning over to take a look at where her finger pointed. “Chicken and cheese. I’m getting that next time.”
Tick quit listening to them, having noticed a strange man enter the restaurant, looking about as if he was lost. He was heavily built, head shaved bald, and dressed in a suit as fancy as any Tick had ever seen worn by Master George. The man’s eyes finally fell on Tick and his friends, and he started walking directly for them, stumbling twice in his polished new shoes.
“Uh-oh,” Tick whispered. When Paul and Sofia looked at him, he nodded toward the stranger.
“Who’s that guy?” Paul asked.
Tick only shrugged.