Double Trouble
by Nigel G. Mitchell

Copyright July 1996

This document can be freely distributed with the condition that it is not modified or sold in any way. Some characters and elements of this story are the property of St. Clare Entertainment, used without authorization. The author receives no compensation from the distribution of this work.

Author's Note: The following story takes place sometime between "As Time Goes By" and the third season premiere, "Double Cross."

PART ONE

The morning sun was just beginning to cast a shimmering haze over Golden Gate Park when the wormhole formed. It seemed as if a gnarled oak tree collapsed on itself, erupting in a circular blue hole in space. One by one, the Sliders emerged from it, tumbling onto the lawn. When all four of them were free, the wormhole closed again with a sucking noise.

Rembrandt staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach. Arturo was yawning and stretching as Quinn stood, looking at the timer in his hand.

"How long we got in this world, Q-Ball?" Rembrandt asked.

Quinn looked down at the display, then closed his eyes. "One minute, eight seconds."

Wade was just beginning to sit up, but at his words, flopped back onto the grass. "Aw, man, not again."

Rembrandt held up his hands in mock surrender. "I can't take much more o' this, guys. I mean, I've really had it. We been slidin' nonstop for two days."

Quinn stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back. But he was so tired that he could barely lift his arms. "It's just the way it is, Remmy. For some reason, the windows have been a little short lately."

"A little short," Wade said from the ground. "Quinn, in the last two days, we haven't been in any world for more than two minutes. On the last one, we were only in it for three seconds. No time to eat, no time to sleep...oo, I'm so tired."

She closed her eyes, spreading her arms out to lie spread-eagled on the lawn.

Arturo sat down on a park bench, breathing heavily. "I must concede with the others. Though I am aware that the time between our windows of opportunity is supposed to be random, this is becoming a rather disturbing turn of events. Perhaps in the next world, we should investigate if the timer is malfunctioning."

Quinn tapped a few buttons on the timer to perform a quick diagnostic check. "I wish I could, professor, but we never have time. I'll need at least fifteen minutes to take this thing apart and put it back together again. It could just be a lousy coincidence."

Rembrandt leaned against a tree and slid down the trunk to the ground. "Well, come on, guys, can't we at least stop to take a nap?"

Quinn gently kicked his foot. "Come on, you know we can't. If we miss the slide, we're stuck here for thirty years."

Rembrandt looked around himself at the trees and cobble-stone sidewalks in the park. "Well, maybe this is home, you ever think o' that?"

"We don't have time to look around. If this isn't home, we'd be stuck here. Now come on, everybody, the next slide is in ten seconds."

Wade groaned, then sat up to glare at Quinn. "Slave-driver."

She began pushing herself to her feet.

Rembrandt slid up the tree-trunk, leaning his head back against it, as if trying to squeeze every ounce of relaxation he could out of the moment. When he was standing, Rembrandt staggered away from the tree, then looked out at the fairgrounds nearby.

"Can we at least slide somewhere else?" Rembrandt asked. "I'm gettin' sick o' the scenery around here."

Quinn aimed the timer at the point where it had materialized in this world. "No time to go sightseeing, Rembrandt. Look on the bright side. With the amount of sliding we've done lately, we should be glad we can land on grass instead of concrete."

Quinn pushed the button on the timer.

The wormhole formed with a hollow roar. As the winds from its interior blew back Quinn's clothes, he turned to the others.

"Okay," he yelled over the noise, "who goes first?"

The roar of the wormhole turned into a loud screech. Quinn looked back at the vortex buckling and twisting like a flag being manipulated by a stiff breeze.

"What's happening to it?" Wade asked.

Quinn shook his head. "I dunno."

The wormhole's distortions grew faster and faster. Then one side of it seemed to explode. Like a cell dividing, the wormhole abruptly expanded into two wormholes, side by side, their sides touching as a vague connection. The winds which poured from the wormhole had doubled in ferocity.

"What's the deal?" Rembrandt asked over the whine of the vortexes.

Quinn looked down at his timer, which was beeping furiously. "I dunno. You think this has something to do with the shortened windows, professor?"

Arturo opened his mouth to speak.

The wormhole on the left flashed with light. An object came flying out of it. It was a person. A thin woman. She landed on the grass next to Wade, rolling on impact, until she came to a halt. The woman looked exactly like Wade. She winced, then said, "Oh, man, what a ride."

The second Wade opened her eyes. She looked up at Wade. Her eyes widened in shock and amazement.

The left-hand wormhole popped again, disgorging a black man who looked like Rembrandt. He landed on his feet, but the momentum caused him to go sprawling.

"Man," the other Rembrandt said. "I thought these were supposed to be soft..."

Then he looked up at the Rembrandt Quinn knew. His mouth fell open. He looked at Wade, then back up at his double.

"What," Rembrandt2 stammered. "What's goin'..."

Quinn felt like something snapped inside him. The shock of what he was seeing was overridden by the realization that their wormhole was only going to be open for a few more seconds.

"Let's go, guys!" Quinn yelled. "Everybody into the wormhole!"

Wade looked at the two wormholes, looking from one to the other, breathing fast. "Which one?"

The wormhole on the left flashed and shot out an Arturo. This one was wearing a set of gray overalls. He collided with the alternate Rembrandt. The two of them crashed to the ground.

"Mr. Brown," the second Arturo roared, "how many times must I ask you to stay out of my way when I..."

Then he caught sight of the other group staring down at them. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of Arturo.

"Good heavens," Arturo2 whispered.

Quinn tried to stay focused. These Sliders were coming out of the wormhole on the left. So...

"The right," Quinn said. "Everybody into the wormhole on the right!"

Wade ran towards the wormhole and threw herself into it. The flash of light that followed carried her away. Arturo followed, then Rembrandt, who only paused to give his double a thumbs-up.

Quinn ran towards the wormhole. As he leapt into it, he caught a fleeting glimpse of another person exploding out of the wormhole on the left. It was a second Quinn. As the mouth of the tunnel closed behind Quinn, enveloping him in hyperspace, Quinn's last view of their former world was of the second group of Sliders watching him go, their jaws hanging open in amazement.

*

Quinn came flying out of the wormhole. A park bench was directly in front of him. He only had time to throw out his hands before he crashed into it. Quinn tumbled over it to land on the grass in an ungraceful heap.

Quinn lay where he was, groaning. He looked up at the lightening sky, turning from gold to blue as the sun rose. Rembrandt leaned into his view.

"You okay, man?" Rembrandt asked.

"Yeah," Quinn sighed. "I just need to lie down for a minute."

Wade's head slid into view beside Rembrandt. "Quick, Quinn, check the timer. How long before the next window?"

Quinn closed his eyes and groaned. As he held the timer in front of his face, a sense of dread tingled through his body. He was just as tired and hungry as the others, and hurt a little more than he let on. The thought of having to do another slide in his condition made the idea of getting stuck in a world of monsters for thirty years sound good.

Quinn forced himself to open them and read the timer's display. His heart skipped.

"Fifty-two minutes," he whispered.

"What?" Wade asked.

Quinn sat up, his eyes locked on the glowing numbers. "We've got fifty-two minutes in this world. Well, fifty-one and forty-two seconds to be exact, but..."

Rembrandt threw up his fists in the air. "Yes! Thank you! We got some time on this world!"

Wade threw herself into his arms and the two of them danced a little around the park. The professor slumped into the park bench and closed his eyes. Quinn closed the timer's lid, almost caressing it, he was so happy.

Rembrandt broke away from Wade's embrace to lean against a tree. "Man, all I wanna do in this world is take a nice, long nap."

Wade ran over to Quinn. "Not me. I gotta get something to eat. I am starving with a capital 'S.' Come on, no time to lose."

Wade took Quinn's arm and began pulling him to his feet. Quinn winced as his leg sent out waves of pain in protest.

Arturo stood, rubbing his hands together. "An excellent suggestion, Miss Welles, and I know the very place, if it exists in this world."

Quinn brushed off his jacket with a free hand. "I think we should try to make sure this isn't our world. Or try to contact my double here. Maybe he can help us."

Wade winced. "Oh, I thought we weren't gonna do that anymore, not after that Sorcerer guy botched up."

"I know it's a risk, but I'd still like to try."

Rembrandt shook his head. "I'd rather get some shut-eye at the Dominion. Maybe we should split up."

Quinn folded up the timer and tucked it into his pocket. "You're right, Remmy. Okay, we'll take a cab, it's faster. We'll drop you off at the Dominion, then go to the professor's place. Professor, you and Wade can eat while I check on my double in this world."

Wade grinned. "It's like we're planning a football play or something." She clapped her hands. "Break!"

The four of them charged off through the park to Lincoln Way, a street running alongside Golden Gate Park. A taxicab was parked on the curb, the driver reading a newspaper. Wade, Arturo, and Rembrandt climbed into the backseat while Quinn circled around to the passenger side. He leaned in to speak to the large driver. "You know how to get to the Dominion?" Quinn asked.

"I believe so," the driver said in a deep, gruff voice. "I mean, I am a cab driver. It is my job to know how to get there."

"Great." Quinn climbed into the passenger seat.

The inside of the cab smelled of pine trees from an air-freshener hanging from the mirror. He buckled himself in, then looked at the driver, who was folding up his newspaper. Quinn lunged back in shock.

The driver looked exactly like Professor Arturo. The only difference was that he was wearing a gray shirt open at the collar, and a gray cap.

The driver shifted the car into gear, then looked at Quinn with a curious frown. "Is something wrong, young man?"

Quinn looked back at the others. They all were looking at the driver with amazement. Arturo settled back in his seat and shrugged. Quinn realized his point. Either the driver hadn't noticed Arturo or the resemblance hadn't registered. There didn't seem to be any point in drawing attention to it.

Quinn forced a lopsided smile at the driver. "Uh, no. No, nothing. Nothing at all."

The driver grunted, then began to drive away from the curb.

Quinn settled back with a grin on his face. Seeing their doubles in other worlds was something he was still having trouble getting used to.

PART TWO

They rode in silence for a few minutes before Rembrandt glanced back at the others. He let a mischievous grin spread across his face as he said, "Hey, uh, pops..."

"My name is not Pops," the driver growled.

"Yeah, whatever. Uh, you notice anything about this guy sittin' next to me?"

Wade jammed an elbow into his ribs, whispering, "Remmy! No!"

Rembrandt shielded himself with a hand, laughing softly.

The driver looked at Arturo in the rear-view mirror. "I can't say I do, sir."

Quinn waved a hand at the driver, smiling. "Never mind, sir. We're just, uh, worried about him, that's all."

The driver grunted, then turned his eyes back to the road.

Quinn settled back into the leather cushions, then joined Wade and Arturo in glaring at Rembrandt.

"Mr. Brown," Arturo whispered, "why on Earth did you do that?"

Rembrandt shrugged. "I was just curious, that's all. Seems a little weird, doesn't even notice that another him is sittin' in the backseat."

"Well, just let it go, Mr. Brown," Arturo whispered. "We're not looking for trouble in this world. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better."

Rembrandt looked out his window at the rustic street whisking by. "Right, I gotcha, guys. Keep a low profile. Well, at least we know we ain't home. Unless there was another Arturo runnin' around our world we didn't know about."

The cab pulled up in front of the Dominion Hotel. Quinn, Wade, and Professor Arturo got out with Rembrandt, who was pulling out his wallet.

"Okay," Wade said, "we'll swing by and pick you up in about twenty minutes."

Rembrandt held out a hand. "Wait a minute. While we're all here together, can somebody tell me what happened back in that last world?"

Arturo raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought it was obvious, Mr. Brown. Apparently, another group of Sliders entered that world just as we were leaving."

"Well, what was with all the fireworks? Why'd the wormhole go haywire like that?"

Quinn stuck his hands in his pockets, looking out at the city street that was just coming to life with people. "I think the other Sliders opened their wormhole at the exact same spot as ours. The two must've screwed each other up somehow."

"Wild," Wade said. "I mean, what're the odds, huh?"

Rembrandt began to pat himself, running his hands over the sleeves and chest of his coat. "Hey, is that okay? I mean, you think it did somethin' to us?"

Quinn was about to speak, then thought about it. He had been about to say no, then realized he had no idea what effect that could have on them.

Quinn pulled the timer out of his pocket to look at the blinking display. The numbers counted down softly. "I don't think so. Timer's still working. We're all here. Anybody feel funny? Headaches or anything?"

The others shared curious glances, then shook their heads.

"Other than extreme hunger," Arturo said, "I feel no ill effects. That's a hint, Mr. Brown."

"I gotcha, I gotcha," Rembrandt said. "I can't wait to pile into bed myself."

Quinn patted him on the arm. "Get some rest. Looks like you could use it."

Rembrandt nodded and headed into the Dominion. When Quinn was certain he would make it, he headed back to the cab. He climbed into the back this time to join Wade and Arturo, who leaned forward towards the driver.

"Pancake Paradise, my good man," Arturo said. "And do not spare the petrol."

"Very well, sir," the driver said. He pulled out into the road, apparently still unaware of his resemblance to Arturo.

*

The cab dropped them off at Pancake Paradise, a restaurant shaped like a gingerbread house out of a fairy tale. The delicious aroma of baked goods drifted down the block, bringing a smile to Quinn's face.

Arturo charged up the sidewalk to the door, rubbing his hands together. "Ah, now this is more like it. I believe I shall have an an order of Fruity-Nutty Flapjacks. A ridiculous name for a delicious meal."

"I haven't tried that," Wade said.

"Then you, Miss Welles, are in for a treat. They make pancakes filled with a cinnamon-strawberry-almond paste..."

Quinn looked down the street to catch sight of a payphone on the curb. "Perfect. Hey, guys, go on ahead. I'll see if I can call my double on the phone, try to work something out."

"Okay," Wade said. "Want us to order something for you?"

"Uh, yeah," Quinn said, but he wasn't really listening.

He headed over to the phone while the others went into the restaurant. The roar of people talking inside grew, then faded as the door shut.

Quinn picked up the phone and slipped a quarter into the slot. He punched in his number, then waited, tapping a finger on the glass booth to try to ease his impatience.

After a few rings, there was a click as someone picked up. "Hello?"

Quinn's breath caught in his chest. It was his own voice. "Is this Quinn Mallory?"

"Yeah," the voice on the phone said. "Who's this?"

Quinn closed his eyes. "Okay, buddy, have I got a story for you."

*

The inside of the Paradise buzzed with conversation from crowds that packed every table. Everywhere Wade looked, people were laughing, chatting, and eating pancakes in an incredible variety. Arturo found an empty table for the two of them, and they sat down.

Some menus were tucked into a jar in the center of the table, and Wade skimmed the selection. A young woman in a blue waitress uniform approached the table, drawing out a pad and pencil.

"Welcome to Pancake Paradise," she said. "Can I take your order?"

"Yes, you may, young lady," Arturo said. "I shall have one order of Fruity-Nutty Flapjacks."

"Make it four," Wade said. "One for each of us, and one order to go. And make it fast, we gotta take off real soon."

The woman carefully wrote it down. "You got it. Back in a jif."

She headed off through the crowds.

Wade checked her watch. "Oh, man, I hope we have time to eat. I am starved."

Arturo took a sip of his water. "Likewise, still it does feel good to be able to sit down again, eh?"

Wade leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. "Yeah, no running around. For once, we can just sit back and relax."

*

Quinn listened to his double on the phone, then nodded. "Right. I guess that makes sense. Okay, but you'll probably want to start working on the Grand Unification Theory before you try building a sliding machine. I used it to correct some of my mistakes."

"Got it," his double said.

"Great. Well, thanks, anyway."

"No problem. Just wish we had time to meet face-to- face."

"Ditto." Quinn looked through the scratched glass of the booth at the people wandering the street. "Maybe if I get home, I'll come back."

"Hey, maybe I can get things working on my end and come get you."

Quinn grinned. "Maybe. Thanks again. Bye."

He hung up and sighed. No good. His double in this world hadn't even thought of building a sliding machine, let alone gotten far enough in his research to help Quinn. They had spent their conversation discussing ways they might be able to boost their chances of getting home, but had ended with only a little more information than when Quinn had started. Oh, well. Maybe next world.

Quinn opened the phonebooth and stepped out. He began sifting through his pockets. He hoped he had enough left over from paying for the cab to get breakfast. At least...

He collided with someone walking down the street. Quinn grabbed the person's collar, stopping him from falling.

"Hey," he started, "sorry, man, I..."

Quinn looked at the man's face. It was like looking in a mirror. The man was another Quinn, glaring at him with an annoyed expression.

"Hey, pal," the other Quinn said. "Watch where you're going, huh?"

Quinn stared at his double, his mind spinning. "How'd you...how'd you get here so fast?"

The second Quinn glared as he brushed down the front of his suit. "What're you talking about?"

Quinn jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the phonebooth. "I was just...I was just talking to you."

Quinn2 picked up a briefcase that had fallen out of his hand, and charged past Quinn. "Sorry, buddy, you got me confused with somebody else. I'd love to stay and chat, but I got a meeting."

Quinn watched his double march off down the sidewalk. His mind was spinning as he tried to sort things out. He had just spoken with his double in this world on the phone. His double was home, miles away. But now another Quinn was here. That wasn't possible. Unless...

"I have two doubles in this world?" Quinn whispered.

PART THREE

Wade was talking with Arturo about Lottery World when the waitress interrupted them with three plates of pancakes balanced on her arms. She set the dishes down in front of them.

"Here you go," the waitress said. "Three Fruity-Nutty Flapjacks. I'll get your 'to go' order in a second. Back in jif."

As she walked away, Arturo picked up his knife and fork and began to cut into the pancakes. "Ah, now, Miss Welles, you are going to learn what noble heights the simple pancake can achieve."

Wade smiled, then cut a piece of her pancake. She took a bite. She nodded. "Hey, this is good."

"Indeed," Arturo said. "You see..."

Quinn dropped into the empty chair at their table. He was breathing hard. "Hey, guys..."

"Ah, Mr. Mallory," Arturo said. "Just in time. Pull up a plate and join us."

Wade pointed at her pancakes with her fork. "You gotta try this, Quinn. It's the best."

"I'm not hungry." Quinn held out a hand. "Guys, the weirdest thing just happened to me. I just ran into my double outside."

Wade cut another slice of her pancake. "What's so weird about that?"

"You mean besides the fact that I was on the phone with my double at the time?"

Arturo was bringing his fork to his mouth, but halted. "I don't understand."

Quinn held up two fingers. "I was on the phone with my double. He and I talked about the sliding machine. He couldn't help."

Quinn lowered one finger, leaving one still in the air. "But as I was hanging up, I ran into another version of myself. He was like a businessman or something. The double I was talking to was at my house, miles away. There's no way he could've gotten to me in the time it took for me to hang up."

"Weird," Wade said. "So...so maybe you've got two doubles in this world. Maybe you're a twin."

"Maybe. But get this. He saw me, he brushed past me. But he never seemed to notice the fact that I looked just like him."

Arturo put his fork back down. "Just like the cab driver. He seemed oblivious to my resemblance as well."

Quinn held up his hands. "I think something weird's going on around here, guys."

Wade screwed up her face. "What because there are two Quinns in this world? I dunno. Doesn't seem worth worrying about. I mean, we'll be outta here soon, anyway."

A woman in a waitress uniform made her way through the thick crowds to their table. She was holding a paper bag with the Pancake Paradise logo on it.

"Here you go, guys," she said. "One Fruity-Nutty Flapjack to go. That'll be ten thirty-five."

"Great." Wade fished some bills out of her pocket. "My treat, guys, okay?"

She held the money out to the waitress. The waitress took them from her.

The waitress' face seemed to grow hazy. Wade's eyes widened as the waitress' nose shrank. The woman's long hair retreated up into her head, turning from blonde to brown. Her pupils swam. Her body compressed, growing shorter.

Within a brief second, the waitress had transformed into an exact duplicate of Wade.

The waitress was still smiling as she turned and walked away. "Have a nice day, guys."

Quinn wondered if he had been seeing things, then realized from the expressions of the others that they had seen it, too.

All the same, he asked, "Did you guys see what I just saw?"

"Yeah," Wade said in a throaty voice. "She turned into me."

"This does not bode well, my friends," Arturo said.

Quinn looked around the crowded room. His eyes roamed the tables until he found what he was looking for. At a table in the corner, a couple were eating and laughing. They looked like Rembrandt and Wade.

"I'm not sure," Quinn said, "but I don't think I have twins in this world, after all."

Wade pointed at a man at the counter, buying a slice of pie. "Look, it's Rembrandt."

And it was. Except this Rembrandt was wearing a set of yellow overalls.

"That's not him," Quinn said. "Guys, I think something's wrong. We gotta get Remmy."

"I'm with you," Wade said and stood up.

"Just one moment." Arturo pointed at his pancakes. "What about our meal?"

The people at the tables around them seemed to shimmer, growing hazy and indistinct. Then they all transformed with an unearthly hum. Women turned into Wade. Men turned into Quinn. The buzz of conversation continued as if nothing had happened.

"Ah, on second thought, my appetite seems to have diminished." Arturo quickly climbed out of his seat.

The three of them headed for the door. It chimed as they pushed it open. They rushed out onto the street. Thick crowds of people moved on the sidewalk from one place to another.

"Good heavens," Arturo said, "I have never seen San Francisco this active."

"I know," Quinn said. "And it worries me. Look at their faces."

Everyone on the street looked like either Quinn, Rembrandt, Wade, or Arturo.

"What's on Earth is happening?" Arturo asked.

Quinn drew his timer out of his jacket and checked the display. It had only twenty minutes left. "I dunno, but we gotta get Remmy and slide, fast."

He ran to the curb and hailed a cab. Climbing into the back-seat, Quinn noticed the familiar smell of pine trees. Then he looked at the driver. It was Arturo again.

"Where to?" the professor's double asked in a bored tone.

Quinn shifted over as Wade and Arturo climbed in next to him. "Uh, the Dominion Hotel. You took us there earlier."

"You have me mistaken for someone else." The duplicate Arturo shifted to drive. "I've never seen you before. Dominion it is."

Quinn leaned back in his seat and looked at the others. They looked back at him with eyes widened in fear.

"Mr, Mallory," Arturo whispered, "I find myself at a loss for an explanation for this."

Quinn closed his eyes, trying to think. There had to be some explanation for this. Something. It was in the back of his mind...then it hit him.

Quinn opened his eyes. "The second wormhole. Of course. The second wormhole that opened up over ours. Maybe... maybe the two wormholes overlapped. Maybe we were affected, after all. Maybe the two wormholes did something that's causing us to duplicate."

"But we're not just duplicating," Wade whispered. "People are turning *into* us."

"I know. I...I don't have a clue why this is happening." Quinn closed his eyes again, feeling sick. "But something's telling me to be glad we're leaving this world so soon."

Arturo looked out the car window at the thick streams of people walking the streets. They all looked like the Sliders. An Arturo carrying a boombox. A Wade wearing a business suit. A crying Quinn being led by the hand of another Wade who was scolding him.

"Incredible," Arturo said. "The streets seem even more congested than before."

Wade peered over his shoulder. "Hey, you're right. It's like New York City out there."

Arturo looked past her at Quinn. "I must offer the suggestion that this congestion is connected to our mysterious dilemma. If so, I'm afraid this situation may grow worse before it gets better."

*

By the time Quinn got out of the cab at the Dominion, the sidewalks were so thick with people that they could see nothing else outside the window.

Quinn spoke to the driver. "Keep the engine running. I'll be right back."

"It's coming out of your wallet, young man," the driver said.

Quinn turned to the others. "Okay, whatever's going on, I think it would be faster and easier for just me to go."

Wade just nodded. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion. Arturo only looked out his window, muttering to himself. Quinn didn't blame him. It was getting pretty freaky seeing hundreds of copies of himself trooping past.

Quinn tried to open the door, but there were so many doubles walking by that he had to shove some of them aside. Quinn elbowed his way through the crowds to the door of the Dominion.

The lobby was just as crowded as the street. Quinn forced his way through hordes of Wades, Rembrandts, Arturos, and Quinns to reach the front desk.

The clerk looked up at him. It wasn't Gomez Calhoun, the usual manager of the Dominion. It was Professor Arturo.

"And what can I do for you, young man?" the double asked.

"I'm looking for a Rembrandt Brown," Quinn said, trying to be heard over the roar of conversation. "He checked in about five minutes ago.

"Certainly, sir." Arturo flipped through a large book on his desk. "Ah, he's in room 3B."

"Thanks," Quinn yelled.

The double's smile wavered. "No need to yell, sir, I can hear you quite well."

"Right. Whatever." Quinn shoved another Quinn out of his way, struggling not to be knocked over as he headed for the stairs.

Quinn fought his way upstream in a river of Rembrandts descending the stairs. By the time he reached 3B, Quinn had to hang onto the doorframe to keep from getting swept away. He hammered on the door with his fist.

"Remmy!" he yelled. "Open up! We gotta slide!"

The door opened. Rembrandt stood in the living room of an empty hotel room, yawning.

"Yeah, thanks for the wakeup call," Rembrandt sighed. "Must've overslept. Hey, what's with you? Look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'."

Quinn lurched as a Wade's elbow jammed into his back, then said, "We got trouble. Something's wrong."

Rembrandt frowned. "Wrong? What's wrong?"

The air next to Rembrandt grew hazy, like waves of heat rising from hot metal on a summer's day. The haziness seemed to congeal into a definite shape that Quinn recognized before it even solidified.

A duplicate of Rembrandt materialized out of thin air with a popping noise.

Rembrandt lunged back, slamming into the wall behind him, his eyes wide as he stared at the double. The second Rembrandt calmly turned and walked into the apartment. A third Rembrandt materialized in the living room, then a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth.

Quinn pointed at them. "That's what's wrong."

The new Rembrandts didn't seem surprised by the fact that they had materialized out of thin air. They were calmly wandering around the hotel room, watching TV, looking out the window, waiting in line for the bathroom, and pouring themselves glasses of beer. And more Rembrandts were popping into existence. The formerly empty hotel room was becoming crammed with duplicates of Rembrandt.

"Man," Rembrandt whispered. His eyes were almost perfect circles as he looked at Quinn. "What's goin' on, Q-Ball?"

"We're not sure," Quinn said. "But I'll explain in the cab. The slide's coming, and I don't think we wanna get stuck in this world for the next thirty years."

"I heard that." Rembrandt forced his way past one of his doubles out the door.

Quinn and Rembrandt fought their way down the stairs, swept along by the never-ending flow of Rembrandt duplicates. They were carried out into the lobby where they made their way out of the front door.

The street was even more crowded than Quinn remembered it being. A Wade or two was even crawling on top of the swarms of doubles that walked the sidewalks. Quinn could see duplicates literally being squeezed out of windows of buildings they passed, as if the structures could no longer contain them.

The cab was still waiting for them, and was still only inhabited by the real Wade and Arturo, as well as the double of Arturo who served as their driver. Quinn was relieved. After what he had seen in the hotel room, he was more worried than ever.

Once they had managed to get into the backseat of the cab, Quinn slipped the driver a few more bucks. "Get us to Golden Gate Park as fast as you can."

The driver nodded. "You've got it."

He pulled the cab out into the street, which was now flooded with pedestrians. The driver blasted his horn as he made his way down the street to clear the way.

Quinn pulled the timer out of his pocket again to check it. "Not much time..."

"Why're we going to the park?" Wade asked. "Why not just wait here until we slide?"

"Because I think maybe we should leave this place at the same location we came in. Maybe that'll help. Unless..."

"All right, Q-Ball," Rembrandt said. "Lay it on me. What's the deal around here?"

Quinn slipped the timer back into his pocket. "Okay, we think it has something to do with the second wormhole that overlapped ours. At first, it was just doubles of us that kept popping up, like the driver. But then we saw a normal person change into Wade. And, guys, in the hotel room, doubles of Arturo appeared out of thin air. I think that's where all these people are coming from."

"What kinda freaky world is this?" Rembrandt asked.

"I have no idea. But I think we created it. I think...I think when we exited the wormhole, the pattern of our reformation into this world got frozen in space-time, duplicating over and over again."

"Okay," Rembrandt said. "Now can you give me that in English this time?"

"Look, in the last world, our wormhole overlapped with another, right? I think the two rips in spacetime interacted with each other and somehow changed them, altered them on a quantum level. Now when we left the wormhole to enter this world, we left hyperspace and reformed into normal space, right? Well, I think our exit through the altered wormhole created a sort of a pattern in the fabric of space-time, a mold that keeps getting stamped onto this reality again and again."

Rembrandt nodded. "Awright, that's a little better. I guess."

Quinn held up a hand, bending his fingers to illustrate his points. "First, our physical shapes materialized over people who already existed in this world. Notice that the cab driver turned into Arturo when he was around, and the waitress turned into Wade when their fingers touched. But then when this world ran out of people, it started forming doubles out of thin air."

The space over the passenger seat congealed into a Quinn Mallory.

"This does not make sense," Arturo said. "It violates every known law of physics. Matter cannot be created or destroyed."

Wade grimaced as she watched the cab slowly plowing through streams of their duplicates. "I don't think physics means much in this place, professor. In fact, I think sliding chucks all your precious laws out the window."

"Exactly," Quinn said. "I never really got a chance to study the wormhole and how it works. Remember the time it got hit by lightning and turned me into a ghost. But this...I just wish I could stay long enough to analyze this. It could change everything we know about science."

"Well," Rembrandt said, "I just wanna get outta this world as fast as I can."

The cab pulled up in front of the park. Quinn slipped the driver some money, then handed his double in the passenger seat a dollar, just for the heck of it.

The Sliders pushed and shoved and kicked their way up the sidewalk into Golden Gate Park. Even the vast spacious lawns were now carpeted with doubles of themselves. It was getting so crowded that no one even had room to move. The sea of bodies moved back and forth like waves, the inhabitants simply staring into nothing like zombies.

Only Quinn and his companions made their way through the ocean of their counterparts. It got harder and harder as Quinn pressed on. It took all his strength just to move two Wades aside to get through them. Then he had to summon more strength to get past two others. By the time he reached the gnarled tree that had seen on their entrance, Quinn was exhausted.

The others were, too, breathing heavily and gasping for air.

"All right, Mr. Mallory," Arturo wheezed. "How long until the slide?"

Quinn managed to get his arm past a Rembrandt next to him to reach the timer in his pocket. Then he had to yank it back until view. With barely enough room to move his fingers, Quinn folded the timer open to read the display.

"Ten seconds," Quinn yelled.

Wade gasped, her face twisted in pain. "I...I can't breathe."

"Me, either," Rembrandt grunted. "We're bein'...crushed to death."

A Wade congealed in the air above Quinn. It landed on top of him, twisting his neck, and sending shooting pains through his body. Quinn managed to shove her off.

All Quinn could see of Arturo was his arm waving in the air above the crowds.

The timer beeped. Quinn could only move his fingers enough to aim it into the air, and press the activation button. The beam of translucent energy shot out to puncture the sky. The wormhole formed in the air with a roar, blue light rushing into itself.

"Everybody up," Quinn managed to say.

He began to pull himself up the bodies of those around him. The doubles didn't seem to mind. They seemed to be like vegetables, unseeing and unknowing.

Quinn climbed up onto the shoulder of an Arturo. Wade was pulling herself up, too. Rembrandt and Arturo rose up from the crowds. They all balanced uneasily on the heads and shoulders of their doubles to reach the wormhole.

Wade jumped. She was sucking into the wormhole, disappearing in a flash. One by one, the others leapt into its depths, disappearing into hyperspace.

*

Sliding out of the multicolored tunnel, Quinn sailed out of the air to crash and roll onto a grassy lawn. There were no people anywhere, no doubles or himself. Just the park he had always known.

Quinn sat up. "Everybody okay?"

Rembrandt winced as he touched his ribs. "Yeah, but I got bruises on top o' bruises. All those elbows and knees jammin' into me..."

"Indeed," Arturo groaned. "I ache in places I never knew existed."

Wade eased herself to her feet, slowly to ease the pain. "But...at least we're out, right? We got away from all those doubles."

Rembrandt looked around the park. "Yeah. Safe and sound. Think it'll happen again in this world?"

"I think not, Mr. Brown," Arturo sighed. "If Mr. Mallory's theory is correct, then sliding through an intact wormhole should have removed our stamp on space-time. How long do we have until the next slide?"

Quinn looked down at his timer's display. "Eight minutes."

Rembrandt nodded and threw up his hands. "Well, it's not great, but at least we're gettin' some time again."

"Indeed," Arturo said. "Perhaps that last world did us some good, after all. It seems to have broken the neck of our frenzied sliding pace. Perhaps we'll be back to normal."

Wade rubbed her eyes. "Such as it is. Think we're home?"

Arturo glanced up at a bird sailing overhead, then did a double-take. "Look."

Quinn and the others followed his gaze as they watched the bird land on a nearby branch. Its four pairs of feathered wings fluttered, then the bird took off again.

"Okay," Rembrandt said. "On this world, birds've got four wings. I can live with that."

"Agreed," Arturo murmured, "after what we've just witnessed, a world filled with rabid dogs seems the next best thing to heaven. I believe it's time for brunch, my friends. Shall we?"

Arturo marched off across the park, followed by Wade, Rembrandt, and Quinn. The wormhole's roar faded as it closed behind them, leaving only the blissful silence of a new day dawning.

The End