Reverse Psychology
by Nigel G. Mitchell

(zikzak23@aol.com)

A single word drifted up from the streets below, chanted by the crowds over and over again.

"Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!"

Arturo cupped his hands over his mouth, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Would you all cease your infernal caterwauling! For the last time, we are not trying to commit suicide!"

He leaned back, the winds rippling his clothes as he looked back at the others who stood alongside him.

Quinn tried not to look down as he yelled, "I don't think they can hear you, professor!"

"Well, I had to do something," Arturo roared. "Those bloodthirsty monsters are trying my patience!"

Rembrandt dug his fingers deeper into the rough concrete of the wall behind him. "So I guess the fact that we're on the ledge of a building fifteen stories up is just a bonus."

He looked down at the crowds gathering in the streets below, being joined by fire-trucks and police cars. He groaned, then said, "I guess this isn't the time to mention it, but...I'm afraid o' heights."

"Hang in there, Rembrandt," Quinn said, trying to shift his feet into a more stable position. "We've only got a few more minutes left to go."

"Well, that's a few minutes too long for me!" Rembrandt yelled. "How'd we end up here, anyway? I thought you said we'd always end up at the same place we leave or somethin' like that!"

"Yeah," Quinn said, "when we slide, we don't move in relative time or space to the next dimension."

"So why'd we come out up here?"

"If I were to wager a guess," Arturo said, "I would say that we are in a world where sea-level is several feet lower than in our own world."

"What?"

"I think the professor's saying," Wade said, "that we didn't move. The ground did. Just be glad we managed to grab onto this ledge when we slide out up here."

"Whatever," Rembrandt said. "All I wanna know is what we're still doin' out here. I'm gonna try for one o' those windows again."

He began to make careful steps sideways towards one of the windows on the building. As he did, the ledge dripped chunks of concrete and plaster.

"Don't, Remmy!" Wade yelled. "This ledge wasn't built to hold our weight! It could break off any minute!"

"So we just stand here and wait for it to snap off on its own? I tell you, man, if I have to hang out here any longer, I'm gonna go stir-crazy!"

"Just a few more seconds," Quinn said, looking down at the timer's display.

Rembrandt heard a loud groan. Everyone looked down at the ledge beneath him. A large crack was forming in it, one that spread to the wall. More plaster came loose to break apart on the street below.

"Aw, man," Rembrandt murmured. "I hate days like this."

The ledge broke away.

Rembrandt screamed as he fell. His arms and legs pinwheeled as he dropped away from the others.

"Rembrandt!" Wade screamed.

Quinn's timer beeped. He aimed it down at Rembrandt and turned the dial.

A beam of rippling light formed from its end that lashed out to implode the air under Rembrandt. Space collapsed into the mouth of the dimensional tunnel.

Rembrandt fell into it and disappeared with a flash.

"Everybody out!" Quinn yelled.

Wade jumped off the ledge, falling into the wormhole. She vanished as quickly as Rembrandt had. The crowds below were screaming and yelling in shock and horror as Arturo dropped as well. When he was gone, Quinn joined him in the depths of hyperspace.

*

Quinn fell out of the gateway onto a bed of well-trimmed grass. He landed on his feet, stumbled, then righted himself to take stock of his surroundings. He was in Golden Gate Park again, at exactly the same location from which they had left their previous dimension. Wade and Arturo were helping up Rembrandt, who groaned as he rubbed his back.

"You okay, Rembrandt?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah," Rembrandt muttered. "Just twisted somethin' when I landed. That was quick thinkin', Q-Ball. I owe you one."

"Least I could do for gettin' you into this in the first place." Quinn looked around. "Anything."

"No visible differences so far," Arturo said. "Of course, we will need to get a clearer picture of this world before passing judgement."

Quinn looked at the timer's blinking display. "Well, we've got about an hour to do it in. Let's make the best of it."

They headed across the park, bound for the street.

They stepped out into an open road of San Francisco, their pace slowing as the world came into view. Quinn's eyes widened as he took it all in.

It was all normal. Completely normal. Men, women, children, pedestrians young and old walked the streets. Cars, billboards, stores, everything was familiar to Quinn.

"It's home," Rembrandt whispered. "We're really home."

"Perhaps, Mr. Brown," Arturo said. "Then again, perhaps not. We must find more information on this world."

"Then let's go. A newspaper'll do it, right?"

"Quite."

"Then away we go. I'll spring for it this time."

Rembrandt walked at a quick pace to Bernie's, a small newsstand along the street. He handed the vendor a dollar bill as he took a copy of the Chronicle and a Milky Way bar.

"Just these, my good man," Rembrandt said with a grin. "And keep the change."

"Thanks," the vendor said, then frowned. "Hey, you look familiar. Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

"Uh, maybe."

The vendor snapped his fingers. "Hey, yeah, now I know. You're Rembrandt Brown, right?"

"Yes!" Rembrandt yelled. "That's me, man, the Cryin' Man himself! You've heard of me?"

"Well, sure," the vendor said. "I get around in those circles. Wow. Nice meetin' you."

Rembrandt shook the man's hand, ferociously. "And it's a pleasure meetin' you, man. A real pleasure."

He rushed back to the others, laughing and running with a skip in his step.

Arturo stared at him. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Brown?"

"Better than all right, professor," Rembrandt said. "I am on top o' the world. That guy's heard o' me. I'm famous here. The Cryin' Man is back!"

Arturo snatched the newspaper from him, and began thumbing through it. "I am very happy for you. Now perhaps, we can find something a little more concrete to substantiate our presence here."

Wade patted Rembrandt's arm. "Well, I'm happy for you, Remmy."

"Happy for me?" Rembrandt said. "Don't you guys get it? Look around you! Everything's the same here! Streets, people, stores, me! We're home, guys! We're home at last!"

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Rembrandt," Quinn said.

"On the contrary, Mr. Mallory," Arturo said. "I believe Mr. Brown has a point. This newspaper seems identical to one which would appear in our world, at our own time. President Clinton is still president, although the elections are coming in November. All the countries have the same names, as well as the same problems. I cannot find a single variation from our own world."

"You mean this is it?" Wade whispered. "We're home?"

Arturo folded the newspaper and handed it to her. "As far as I can see, yes, I believe we are."

Rembrandt gave out a high-pitched laugh, clapping his hands together. "Yes! We did it, Q-Ball! We did it!"

"Not so fast, guys," Quinn said. "I think we should look around a little more first."

"Aw, man, what'll it take to convince you?"

"Home," Quinn said. "I think we should check out our places first. If we've been gone for a year in this world, too, then I think that'll nail it down."

"Okay, whatever," Rembrandt said. "We'll swing by your place, say hi to your mom, then I'll call my manager. I hope I'm still booked for that gig at the Astrodome in April."

Quinn led the others to the corner, where they hailed a cab, and headed off through the city.

*

The cab dropped them off outside the quant two-story house Quinn called him. He searched its exterior for signs of change, but there were none. The front gate squeaked as they pushed it open, bringing a knowing grin from Wade.

"Now are you convinced?" she asked.

"I'd like to be," Quinn murmured. "I'd sure like to be."

He ran up the front walk to the door, jamming his thumb on the doorbell. The others gathered around him as they heard someone approach from inside. The door clicked as the lock was disengaged. It swung open on whining hinges.

"Quinn?" the person asked. "Are you okay?"

Quinn could hear sighs of disappointment ring out from the others.

"Oh, no," Rembrandt whispered. "No, no, no. Missed it again."

Quinn swallowed a lump in his throat, then said, "Uh, yeah...I'm fine... Dad."

Quinn's father grinned at him from the doorway. "Well, what're you doing out here? I thought you were in the basement working on that junk of yours."

Quinn's father looked at the others, his smile twisting in puzzlement. "Wade? Brown? Nice to see you again. And, uh... you are?"

"Arturo," the professor said, "Professor Maximillian Arturo. I take it...you don't know me?"

"I'm afraid not," Quinn's father said. "But then I don't know all Quinn's friends."

A woman's voice called out from inside the house. "Honey? Are you gone yet? You'll be late for work."

"I'm leaving now, sweetie," Quinn's father called back, then clapped Quinn on the arm. "Sorry, guy. Love to stay and chat, but I gotta go."

"Wait, Dad," Quinn started.

His father brushed past him out the door, running up the front walk. "Can't talk now, son. I'll see you when I get home."

"Wait!" Quinn yelled, but his father was in his car and gone in a matter of seconds. "I just wanted to...tell you..."

Wade rested her hand on his shoulder.

Rembrandt threw up his hands. "Well, that's just great. Looks like home, feels like home, but it ain't home."

"Indeed," Arturo murmured. "But it seems to be quite close to our own world. Perhaps our next slide will take us the rest of the way."

"So what'll we do now?" Wade asked.

Quinn ran his fingers through his hair. "I dunno. We've still got forty-eight minutes. Dad said my double was working on something in the...basement."

Wade met his eyes, widening hers in response. "The sliding machine. Maybe he can get us home!"

Quinn bolted into his house, almost colliding with his mother, who emerged from the living room.

"Whoa!" she said, laughing. "Slow down, Quinn. The world's not going anywhere. Oh, hi, Wade. Nice to see you again. I..."

"Mom?" a voice called up from the basement. "Is Dad gone yet? I wanted to..."

The basement door flew open. Another Quinn ran up the stairs, coming to a halt in the doorway. He stared at Quinn. Quinn stared back.

Quinn's mother looked from one to the other, her eyes wide with shock. "What...what..."

Quinn grinned, holding up his hands. "Uh, okay, this is really complicated, and I don't have much time. Mom, uh, me...Wade, Arturo, Rembrandt, and I are from a parallel dimension. We slid into this world through a..."

"Einstein-Rosen-Podalsky Bridge?" the other Quinn asked.

"You know of it?" Arturo asked.

"Sure. It's like a gateway between dimensions, right?"

Quinn grabbed him by the shoulders. "The sliding machine. It exists?"

"Well, sure," the other Quinn said. "But..."

Quinn ran past him down the basement stairs. He plunged down them, two at a time, into the basement. But he slowed to a stop at the end.

There was no sliding machine. There was no blackboard. There was only a ratty sofa, a poster of Green Day on the wall, a shelf covered with baseball trophies, and a large pool table in the center of the room.

"What's going on?" Quinn asked as the others joined him. "What is this?"

"It's my den," the other Quinn said. "Cool, huh?"

"But the sliding machine," Quinn said. "Where's the sliding machine?"

"I tried to tell you," the other Quinn said. "It's at Wade's house."

"Miss Wells' house?" Arturo asked. "What the devil is it doing at her house?"

"Well, where else would it be?" the other Quinn asked. "She invented it."

Quinn sat in the passenger seat beside his double, who drove the beat-up car he knew well in his own world. Arturo, Rembrandt, and Wade sat in the backseat, trying to take it all in.

"Boy, that was a scene," the other Quinn said. "I thought you guys'd never clear things up with Mom."

Quinn held up a hand. "So let me get this straight. In this world, you didn't invent the sliding machine?"

"'Course not," the other Quinn said. "I'm just a salesman at Doppler Computer Superstore. I never even passed math class, let alone any egghead science stuff. Nah, Wade's the smart one. She does stuff on that blackboard of hers...goes way over my head. She's so smart...and funny...and beautiful..."

"Look out!" Rembrandt yelled.

The other Quinn came to his senses just in time to swerve back into his lane. The oncoming truck blared as it roared past them.

Arturo mopped sweat off his forehead. "Mr. Mallory, would it be too much to ask for you to keep your mind on the road?"

"Sorry, sir," the other Quinn said, hunching over the wheel. "It's just that...I started thinking about Wade, and...everything else kinda fades away, you know?"

"Yeah," Wade sighed.

The other Quinn pulled his car up to the curb. "Here we go. Wade's house. Everybody out."

Wade climbed out, looking up at the building they were parked in front of. "Wow. Nice place. Nicer than mine, anyway."

"Yeah," the other Quinn said. "She bought it with the insurance money when her parents died."

Wade was headed for the door, but stopped to look at him. "What? My parents died? When?"

"A few years ago. In a car accident. But you knew that... oh, wait a minute. This is one of those alternate-reality thingys, right?"

Wade stared at the sidewalk. "Right. In my world, my parents are still alive."

"Wow," the other Quinn said. "That's wild. I bet Wade's gonna flip over this. Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay," Wade said. "It's just...weird, that's all. Let's go."

They headed up the front walk. Quinn came up alongside Wade and put his arm around her.

"You okay, Wade?" he whispered.

She nodded. "Yeah. It's just...I've never lost my parents in any of the dimensions we've been to. For the first time, I really know how it must be with you and your dad."

Quinn slid his hand into hers.

They followed the other Quinn to the front door, where he was knocking hard.

"Wade?" he yelled. "Come on, open up! It's Quinn!"

He looked back at the others with an apologetic grin. "Sometimes she gets so wrapped up in her work, she doesn't hear anything. World could end, and she wouldn't know it."

Wade smirked at Quinn. "Now where have I heard that before?"

The front door flew open. A duplicate of Wade was on the other side, wearing a grease-stained smock.

"Quinn," she started, "I told you not to bug me when..."

Her mouth dropped as her eyes roved over Quinn, Rembrandt, Arturo, and Wade.

"Wade," the other Quinn said, "meet our interdimensional counterparts. Cool, huh?"

"What're you talking about?" the other Wade whispered.

"We're from another dimension," Quinn said. "One parallel to yours. We came on an Einstein-Rosen-Podalsky Bridge."

"You're kidding," the other Wade said. "It worked? You mean it actually works? It's not just a theory?"

The other Wade pushed past Quinn to take Wade's hand. "That's fantastic! How'd you do it? No, lemme guess. You reversed the polarity on the exotic matter's containment field, right?"

Quinn raised his hand. "Uh, actually, on my world...I invented the sliding machine. And the answer to that question is yes."

The other Wade looked from him to Wade, then said, "Oh. Sorry. Of course. Minor variations in the timeline of one world creating ripples of cause and effect that render them unique to all other dimensions. I should've expected that."

"Wild, huh, Wade?" the other Quinn asked. "It's like... it's us, but not us at the same time. It's like, in another world, you and I could be married or something."

The other Wade laughed, heading for the door. "Oh, come on, Quinn. I couldn't marry you. I mean, we're buds. You're like my brother. It'd be like incest. Come on inside, everybody. I think I have some sodas in the fridge."

The other Quinn followed her inside the house, his shoulders drooped as he sighed, wistfully.

Arturo glanced down at Wade, then folded his hands over his chest. "Well, it seems that in this world, Mr. Mallory and Miss Wells' roles have been...reversed, as it were. In every respect."

Wade looked up at him, then did a double-take. "Oh, come on. I'm not like that. Am I?"

Rembrandt laughed. "I dunno about you, but it was like somebody put your head on Quinn's body to me."

"Oh, gimme a break," Wade said as she charged into the house.

They all headed inside to a large studio apartment. It was sparsely furnished, decorated mostly with random bits of machinery. Quinn turned in place, looking over to a blackboard covered with scribbled formulas in chalk.

"Wow," Quinn said. "This place is great."

The other Wade emerged from the fridge with four sodas. "Thanks, but I bet it's nothing compared to your spread, right?"

"Uh, actually," Quinn said, "I just have some junk in my basement. This place has got it all."

The other Wade handed out the sodas, then raced over to the only empty space on the blackboardl. She picked up some chalk and tapped a space next to an equal sign.

"Hey," she said, "right here. This is the key. I've been working for months on this formula and haven't cracked it yet. Did you?"

"Well, sort of," Quinn said. "My interdimensional counterpart came along and did this..."

He took the chalk, then wrote in a few numbers, filling the empty space. Then he wrote a happy face next to it, just for fun.

The other Wade nodded. "Yes, of course. Why didn't I think of that?" She popped open her soda can.

The other Quinn gulped down his, then said, "So, what brings you 'round here? You guys just cruise around other dimensions for fun? I bet that's awesome."

"Uh, actually," Quinn said, "not quite. You see, there was an accident with our first slide, and we're sort of...stuck. We can't get home. The guidance system on our timing device got busted, and without it, we can't control where we go next, let alone back to our dimension."

"Hm," the other Wade said. "So you jump...slide from one dimension to another? Why didn't you just fix it?"

"We haven't had much time. We're only in this dimension for an hour before we have to go. And I haven't been able to figure out how to fix the thing."

"Let me see." The other Wade took the timer from Quinn, then turned it over in her hands. "Hm. Interesting construction. I'd have used a gigafarad capacitor right here, but other than that, it's not bad. So this thing times how long you spend in other dimensions?"

"Sort of," Quinn said. "Originally, it was connected to our machine at home. It counted down how long we programmed it to leave us in a dimension. When the time ran out, the machine took us back home. But it got broken, and now it's rigged to tell us when the next dimensional window opens up."

"I don't get it," the other Quinn said.

"So it's kinda like the launch windows NASA uses," the other Wade said. "It tells you when the next best time to slide will be."

"Yeah," Quinn said. "The problem is that it used to be connected to our dimension back home. But when the connection was severed, the timer lost the ability to tell which dimension was ours. So we just have to pick a dimension at random and go there, hoping its home."

The other Wade grinned. "Hey, I've got an idea. I have a sliding machine. It was originally an antigravity generator, but I think I put it together wrong. Anyway, all you need to do is figure out which dimension is yours, right, then slide into it. Suppose we fed your quantum signature into my machine's database, then set it to randomly sort through every dimension using the Earth's magnetic field until it found yours?"

"Huh?" Wade and the other Quinn asked.

"I get it," Quinn said. "That's not a bad idea, either. It could work."

"Yeah," the other Wade murmured. "But it'll be tough, even with your help, and we only have a half-hour to pull it off. I'd better bring the professor in on this one, too. Let's go."

She headed for the door as Arturo cleared his throat, loudly.

Quinn got the message. "Oh, yeah, uh, Wade, we don't need the professor. He's right here."

The other Wade looked at Rembrandt. "Oh. Is he a physics professor in your world, too?"

"Me?" Rembrandt asked.

"Sure. Professor Rembrandt Brown, regents professor of cosmology and ontology. You've been in all the papers and TV shows. Even Letterman."

"No!" Arturo said. "Mr. Mallory was referring to me!"

Wade stared at him. "You're kidding. You're a physics professor in your dimension?"

Arturo drew himself up. "Of course I am. What else would I be?"

Wade walked over to a bookcase containing rows of CDs and records. She selected one of the CDs and held it out to Arturo.

"My favorite tenor," Wade said.

Arturo snatched the disk from her hand and read the cover aloud. "'Maximillian Arturo Sings. A selection of his most famous arias from La Boheme, Carmen, Pagliacci...'"

"You're an opera singer?" Wade asked. "I thought you only sang in the shower, professor."

"I do," Arturo said, "but apparently I made a career out of it here. Now look here, young lady, are telling me this...person standing before us is a noted physicist on this world, and I am merely a...a musician?"

The other Wade shrugged. "What can I tell you? Professor Brown is the best physics teacher at C.U., and Arturo...well, he...uh, you...are right up there with Pavarotti. Or at least, you were. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still think you're great, but your career...well, it's been in a bit of slump since you lost your voice in the seventies. But I hear you're making a comeback."

Arturo closed his eyes. "Good lord. This is an absolute nightmare."

"Oh, cheer up, Mr. Arturo," the other Wade said as she headed for the door. "You hit a mean high note."

Arturo stood beside the others in a corridor at California University, glaring down at the floor. "In all my life, in all our travels, I cannot remember being this insulted."

Quinn looked away from the classroom door to him. "Insulted? By who?"

"By the universe!" Arturo yelled. "In my own world, I am a noted physicist, renowned for my theories on superstrings and alternate dimensions. Here, I am nothing more than a...a washed-up opera singer from the seventies."

"Hey," Quinn said, "how do you think I feel, professor? I'm not even a genius on this world. I'm just a lovesick computer salesman."

He cast a withering glare on his counterpart, who was standing aside with this world's double of Wade, engaging in a whispered conversation.

Rembrandt grinned. "Well, hey, I'm startin' to like this world. I mean, me, an egghead teacher so famous even that newspaper guy recognized me. Never knew I had it in me."

"Yeah," Wade said. "Me, either. It's weird seeing me so smart. Makes me wonder if I missed out on something, you know? If maybe I should've taken that physics class instead of poetry. Who knows? Maybe this world isn't that different from ours. We just...took different paths with our lives."

Arturo snorted. "Me, a singer. Mr. Brown, a professor. Mr. Mallory, a salesman. Miss Wells, a genius. If you ask me, it's like a sick joke being played upon us. If this is the kind of indignity I will be forced to endure in our travels, then I am all the more eager to return home."

A loud bell rang in the corridor. The door to the classroom opened, and students began to file out. They could all hear Rembrandt's voice inside.

"Okay," he was saying, "now everybody remember what I said about the physics exhibition at the museum. I wanna see everybody there this Saturday. It's gonna be a blast."

Another Rembrandt Brown strode out of the classroom. Quinn almost didn't recognize him in his brown suit and glasses, but his grin was unmistakable. Professor Brown stopped short when he saw the doubles of Quinn and Wade.

"Hey, Wade," Professor Brown said. "Quinn. Missed you at class today, girl."

"Sorry, professor," the other Wade said. "We've been kinda busy. We, uh...made some new friends."

She pointed. Professor Brown followed her gaze to the four people standing in the hallway. Brown's eyes widened.

"What..." he whispered, then took a step towards Rembrandt. "What's goin' on? Who's that guy?"

The other Wade sighed. "Walk with me, professor. I'll fill you in on the way."

As they headed down the corridor, the other Wade began, "Well, it's like this, professor. You remember that machine I was building in my basement?"

*

Wade lay back on the couch in her double's apartment, wearing stereo a headset. In a corner, Arturo, Rembrandt, Quinn, and their duplicates including Wade, were gathered around the large mass of machinery that made up the sliding machine. Their murmur of conversation was punctuated by the occasional clink of tools on metal.

Rembrandt broke away to head over to the couch, wiping his brow. "Aw, man. I'm tapped."

"How's it goin'?" Wade asked.

"Not bad," Rembrandt said. "At least, I think so. I'm pickin' up some of this science stuff. Maybe you were right. Maybe I could'a been a egghead. But then I would've disappointed my legions of fans back home."

Wade smirked. "Yeah, wouldn't wanna deprive the world of the Crying Man."

"Got that right. Whatcha listenin' to?"

"The professor's songs," Wade said. "He's not bad, for opera. I'd like to hear him belt out Guns'n'Roses."

Rembrandt laughed. "Yeah, I'd pay money to see that."

The group around the sliding machine broke up with a collective sigh.

Quinn looked at his timer. "That's it. If we're gonna do this, we'd better do it now. We've only got a few minutes before the next window opens up."

"Okay," the other Wade said. "Let's go. Switch on the timer."

Quinn turned the dial on his device. It hummed, pouring out energy from its end to form the interdimensional gateway.

Professor Brown turned dials on a console. "Setting the quantum signature. Activate the magnetic field conductor."

"This is so cool," the other Quinn whispered as he flicked switches.

The gateway rippled, then began to flash different colors within its interior at blinding speed.

"It's working," the other Wade said. "More power, professor!"

"You got it," Professor Brown yelled.

The colors came faster and faster, blending into a rainbow that formed on the gateway's edges. Then the cone of light from the timer began to twist. The hum of the machinery swelled to a roar.

"We're losing it!" Quinn yelled.

"Hang on!" Professor Brown hollered. "Just gimme a few more seconds, baby!"

The other Wade rushed to her desktop PC, punching buttons. "It's not working! The fields are collapsing! We can't lock on!"

A portion of the machine exploded in a cloud of sparks. A nearby curtain burst into flame. The other Quinn rushed over to it with a fire extinguisher.

"We can't hold it!" Professor Brown yelled. "We're gonna burn out!"

"No!" Quinn screamed. "Please, just a few more seconds..."

The other Wade jumped back as one of the pipes connected to the machine cracked, releasing a cloud of steam. "It's overheating! Shut it down!"

"No!"

"Shut it down!"

The other Wade ran to a switch on the wall, yanking it down. The machine powered down to a soft whine. The gateway that had formed collapsed into a point of light that disappeared.

The other Wade pulled off her smock and threw it to the floor. "That's it. It's over."

"What went wrong?" Quinn asked.

"I dunno. I think our machine's quantum ion field is incompatible with yours. The two generators were like positive magnets, pushing each other apart. They wouldn't stay in sync."

Wade stood up. "But we can fix it, right?"

"Maybe," her double sighed. "We could try to adjust the resonant frequencies of the exotic matter, but...it would take time."

"Hey, Q-Ball," Rembrandt said, "how much time we got left on the timer?"

"Fifty-two seconds," Quinn said.

"It doesn't matter," Wade said. "I mean, we could just skip the window, right? Stay here and work on this machine. Then we could get home on our own."

"Maybe," Professor Brown said. "But what if we can't get the fields in sync? We're talkin' polarity on its most basic level, like tryin' to turn apples into oranges. I have some theories we could try, but if they fail...you guys could be stuck here until the next window opens up."

"In twenty-nine years," Quinn said. "Well, I guess that's the question, guys. Do we stay here and hope we find some way of fixing this thing? Or do we slide out now, and hope we find some way home on our own?"

Wade looked at Rembrandt. Rembrandt looked at Professor Arturo. Arturo looked at Quinn. Quinn looked back at him.

"Well," Arturo said, "I cannot speak for all of us, but I myself want to get home. And I would rather take the gamble of sliding into another world right now than risk having to wait another thirty years for another try."

"I'm with the professor," Wade said. "I mean, who knows? Maybe the next world'll be home."

"Remmy?" Quinn asked. "How about you?"

Rembrandt spread his hands. "Hey, Q-Ball, take me away."

"Then it's settled. So I guess this is goodbye."

He shook the other Wade's hand. "Thanks for the effort."

"Hey," she said, "it was the least I could do. And I'll keep working on this end. Who knows? Maybe I can get this thing to work, and get you home from here."

The other Quinn shook hands with Wade. "Great seeing you. You're just as beautiful as the Wade in this world."

Wade blushed. "Kinda weird, huh? I've finally met a Quinn who loves me as much as I love him, and we've never even met before today."

"I know. It's too soon. But maybe there's hope for me and my Wade. And it gives me a chance to do something I may never do in this world."

He pulled Wade close, kissing her hard on the lips. When they finally broke the embrace, Wade's eyes were wide.

"Wow," she whispered. "You're an even better kisser than my Quinn."

Professor Brown shook hands with Arturo and Rembrandt. "Nice meetin' you guys. Hey, uh, Remmy, lemme ask you somethin'. What was it like? You know, bein' a singer?"

Rembrandt grinned. "Aw, man, when I was on stage...it was like bein' in heaven on Earth."

"That's what I thought," Professor Brown sighed. "Maybe I chose the wrong profession."

Rembrandt clapped him on the shoulder. "Are you kiddin', man? At least you've still got a job."

Quinn's timer beeped loudly. He turned the dial on its face. It formed the gateway once again, suspended in space, energy flowing into itself.

"Well, gang, let's go home," Quinn said.

Wade ran forward and dove into the wormhole. She was followed by Arturo, then Rembrandt. Quinn gave the others a thumbs-up, then followed.

"Wow," the other Quinn whispered. "That was awesome."

*

Quinn landed on a hardwood floor. Clouds of dust surrounded him that forced hacking coughs from his lungs. He found himself in the same studio apartment, one that showed years of neglect. Sunlight shone through boarded-up windows onto Rembrandt, Arturo, and Wade, who lay nearby.

"Oh, man," Rembrandt wheezed. "I hope I made the right decision."

Arturo got to his feet, brushing off his clothes. "Only one way to find out. Lend me a hand with this door."

The four of them got to work on the front door, ripping off the boards that sealed it. When it was freed, Quinn pulled the door open, exposing the city.

It was a normal street in San Francisco. They could hear the whine of horns in the distance as a young woman skated past on inline skates.

"Looks good so far," Rembrandt said. "No dragons or Martians that I can see."

"Let's try it out. Uh, excuse me," Quinn called out to the woman.

She stopped and frowned at him.

"Hi," Quinn said as the others smiled. "I was wondering if you could tell us who the president is?"

The woman spoke. "Hatway idday ouyay aysay?"

Quinn's face fell. "Uh...excuse me?"

"Iay ancay nderstanduay ouyay," the woman said.

Quinn looked back at the others. "I think we have a problem here, guys."

Wade caught sight of a newspaper under the woman's arms. "Uh, can we see that?"

The woman stared at her, then pointed at the newspaper. When Wade nodded, she handed the paper to her, then rolled away.

Wade unfolded the newspaper. She read the headline aloud. "'Residentpay Lintoncay Nnouncesay Ewnay Radetay Actpay Ithway Ussiaray.' What is this?"

"It is pig latin," Arturo sighed. "Apparently, we are in a world where pig latin is the official language of the United States."

"Great," Rembrandt said. "You were sayin' somethin' about bein' close to home, professor?"

"I stand corrected," Arturo murmured.

"You think we made the right decision?" Wade asked.

"I guess we'll never know, Wade," Quinn sighed. "I guess we'll never know."

*

In the dimension they had left, the other Quinn was still staring at the zone of open space where the gateway had formed. "That was incredible. Just... incredible! I mean, it was there, and they...they went whoosh! And...and they just...took off!"

"Yeah," Wade sighed. "I just wish we could've helped them."

Quinn turned to her. "Hey, this gizmo you got here. Does it work?"

"You mean, can we use it to slide into other dimensions? Sure. Your double rigged it up for us."

"So we could do that? Just pow, and we're on another planet?"

"Nope," Rembrandt said. "Same planet, different dimension."

"So let's do it!" Quinn said. "Come on, let's take a spin around the universe!"

"I dunno," Wade murmured. "It could be dangerous. Remember what happened to our doubles."

"Aw, come on, we'll be careful. Just a few minutes in another dimension, then back again. Hey, it'll help you guys figure out how to get the others home, right? I mean, how can we help them with something we've never experienced?"

"He's got a point," Rembrandt said. "I mean, in the interests o' science."

Wade bit her lip, then said, "Yeah. I guess so. But just a few minutes, then we come straight home, got it?"

"Oh, yeah!" Quinn said. "Scout's honor! All right, let's do it!"

Wade picked up the makeshift timer the other Quinn had installed. She began punching buttons. "I'll set it for five minutes. That should do it."

She turned the dial. The beam of light reappeared, a slightly darker shade of blue. They all looked into the fluctuating mouth of the wormhole.

"You think it's big enough for all of us?" Rembrandt asked.

"I dunno," Wade murmured. "Maybe I should...turn up the power."

She turned the dial even further. The wormhole grew. Torrential winds rushed out of the gateway, then pulled hard at everything in the room. Wade, Rembrandt, and Quinn screamed as they were sucked into the rippling portal, disappearing with a flash. Then the gateway began to drift out of the apartment.

*

Maximillian Arturo fumed as he drove his Mercedes through the streets of San Francisco. He had the radio on, tuned the Giants game that was still in its pre-game show. The announcer was rattling off players in a high-pitched voice.

"Yes, yes," Arturo growled. "Get the singer. No one wants to hear about those steroid-popping muscleheads. They want to know who is singing the National Anthem, you blistering idiot."

He flicked off the radio in disgust. He couldn't fool himself any longer. No one cared about his debut at the stadium, any more than they cared about him. He had once been one of the world's greatest tenors. Now he was reduced to singing at sporting events. But he would return. As sad as it was to contemplate, this was his big break. Perhaps this would put him back in the public eye, enough to revive his career.

Arturo cleared his throat. Maybe he should warm up before the game.

He sang, "Oh, say can you seeeeeeee!"

He screamed as a rippling pool of light drifted out of a building nearby into the road. Arturo tried to swerve around it, but the gateway came to him. It moved into his path, and his Mercedes drove right into it. It disappeared with a flash, and was soon lost in another dimension.

THE END