Weightless

by Nigel G. Mitchell

(zikzak23@aol.com)

Classical music played from the front of the Bountiful Bistro, a fine restaurant in the heart of San Francisco. Men and women sat in the tables out front, dining contentedly on exotic dishes, and laughing over private jokes.

Rembrandt Brown walked out of the door of the restaurant, groaning. "Now that was a farewell meal. Oh, man, I am stuffed."

Quinn Mallory staggered out after him, clutching his stomach. "Yeah. I can't remember the last time I've eaten so much."

Wade Wells followed close behind him, her arms folded. "I do. Last night." Professor Maximillian Arturo followed the three of them down the sidewalk with a broad smile on his bearded face. One hand was tucked into his vest pocket, while the other held a small paper bag. "Indeed. We have eaten well in the past few days. At last, I believe we have found paradise."

"Yeah," Rembrandt said, "it is pretty nice here, ain't it? Clean, well- run city. People are well-mannered, the architecture is awesome..."

"Yes, Mr. Brown," Arturo said, "that is all well and good, but the food. The food! We are on a world where everyone is a gourmet cook, and even the worst dishes are a hundred times more delicious than in our own. And the best..."

He dissolved into a sigh. "...is heaven on a platter. Caviar, champagne, filet mignon, all are mere trifles to me now. I have tasted pure ambrosia in the form of a saltine cracker."

Wade stepped forward a little to pat Arturo's ample stomach. "Well, if you ask me, you could have laid off on the ambrosia a little bit. One more day here, and you'd have exploded. You must have gained thirty pounds."

"Fifteen," Arturo said with a scowl. "And it was worth every inch."

Wade tucked her hands into her jean pockets, putting a skip in her step. "Well, I for one am glad we're sliding out of this world. It's hard enough to stay on a diet under normal circumstances. I'll be glad to get back to my own world, where chocolate cake is temptation enough, thank you very much."

Arturo chuckled. "You have no appreciation of the finer pleasures in life, my dear."

As they crossed the street to the entrance of Golden Gate Park, Wade shot back, "And you have too much of one."

Quinn, Rembrandt, Wade, and Arturo walked among the well-trimmed trees and grass of the park, enjoying a cool summer breeze. Wade smiled at a group of laughing children who scampered through a sandbox.

Quinn was busy operating the timing device he drew from his pocket. After reading the digital face, he began punching in the reset code.

"All clear, guys?" he asked.

"Yes," Arturo said, glancing around. "This would seem to be a secure place to slide without drawing undue attention."

"Good. Well, everybody, now that we've enjoyed a farewell lunch, it's time to go home in...twenty-four seconds."

They all took their positions in front of an open clearing that Quinn aimed his device at. As Rembrandt moved beside Arturo, he looked down at the paper bag in Arturo's hand.

"Hey, professor," Rembrandt said, "whatcha got there?"

"Merely a sample of the native cuisine," Arturo said. "I do not plan to leave this world without preserving at least a small amount that I can enjoy at a later date."

Rembrandt gave out a high-pitched laugh. "Well, if that don't beat all. I'll bet that's the first doggie bag in history to get carried to another planet."

Arturo glared at him. "Mr. Brown, this is not a 'doggie bag.' I am not a dog."

Quinn nodded. "Here we go, gang. Heads up."

He twisted the dial on the face of his device. A conical beam of light jumped out of the front of the timer, stopping short in midair. The end of the beam collapsed in on itself with the sound of rushing air. It formed a hole in open space into which light flowed like a horizontal waterfall.

"Yee-ha!" Rembrandt yelled as he jumped into the wormhole. He disappeared with a flash.

Arturo roared as he followed him into the light. Quinn followed, blinking out of existence. When he was gone, Wade glanced back over her shoulder at the world they were leaving behind, then crossed her fingers.

"Please let the next world be home," she whispered, "or at least somewhere as calm as this."

Then she threw herself into the wormhole, and was lost in a tunnel of pure light.

Wade screamed as she came flying out of hyperspace into thin air. The wormhole had materialized in the new world a few feet off the ground, and Wade landed on hard soil with painful impact.

She groaned as she sat up, mentally checking herself for injuries. Other than a sharp pain in her ribs, she seemed none the worse for wear.

Wade looked around her. It was Golden Gate Park again, exactly the same location as where they had left. Quinn and Rembrandt were already up. They were watching Arturo who was storming around the grassy lawn, shaking his fists and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"No, no, no!" he screamed.

Wade got to her feet, clutching her aching side. "What's with him?"

Rembrandt grinned at her. "The professor lost his doggie bag in the slide."

Professor Arturo aimed a trembling finger at him. "I swear, if you call my meal a doggie bag one more time, I shall thump you on the skull! And I only lost it because you kicked it out of my hand while we slid!"

"Hey, professor," Rembrandt said, "I told you, I was in front of you, sliding feet-first. How could I have kicked it outta your hand?"

"Well, something knocked it away," the professor snarled, rubbing his temples. "Good lord. I feel as if I won the lottery, only to get mugged on the way out of the bank."

Wade ran her fingers through her short black hair, trying to bring it back into shape. "Calm down, professor. You had enough of that food while we were there."

"You can never have enough of such fine cuisine," the professor sighed.

Rembrandt brushed dirt off his coat as he said, "Okay, Q-Ball, give us the bad news. How long we got in this world?"

Quinn read the face of his timing device, then folded it into his pocket. "Twenty-three days, fourteen hours, and eleven minutes."

"Twenty-three days," Rembrandt said. "That's almost a month. I sure hope this is home."

"Well, we can't tell standing around here," Quinn said, and began to walk.

The others followed as they began making their way through the park. Wade looked up at the sunlight filtering through the trees, following the shafts of light down to...

"Oh my goodness," Wade whispered.

The others stopped to look at her.

Arturo frowned. "What's wrong, child?"

Wade pointed at two women crossing the park a few feet away from them. "Look."

The others turned. They all saw the women, who were fashionably- dressed in business suits, walking along a cobblestone path as they chatted with each other. They also saw that the women were extremely overweight.

Wade couldn't suppress a giggle that burst from her lips. "Those are the fattest women I've ever seen in my entire life."

Then one of the women stopped. She looked at Wade and the others staring at them. The woman frowned and poked her friend with one hand as she pointed at Wade with the other.

Wade clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, no. Oh, I didn't mean to insult them, I just...I'd better go apologize."

She took a few steps towards the women, planning out her apology in her mind.

One of the large women grinned and said something to her friend. Then the two women burst into gales of laughter. Wade froze in her tracks as the women continued on their journey, laughing so hard that they could barely walk a straight line.

Wade blinked. "What's with them?"

"Gentlemen," the professor said, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Check your flies."

All three men checked the zippers on their pants. When they were sure they were all in good standing, Quinn shook his head.

"Maybe they just thought of a joke," Quinn said.

"Maybe," Wade said, but couldn't shake off an odd feeling.

She walked down the cobblestone path after the others, who were heading for the edge of the park.

All four of them slowed as they crossed into a more populated area. Wade's jaw dropped.

They were looking out at an open expanse in the park, where a typical Saturday afternoon was being played out. Picnic tables were occupied with cheerful family members. Children played in the sandbox. Couples walked hand-in-hand, and arm-in-arm across the dewy fields. But every single one of them was overweight.

"What's going on here?" Quinn asked. "I've never seen so many fat people in all my life."

"Maybe it's a Weight Watchers convention," Rembrandt said.

The four of them emerged from the bushes to cross the expansive lawn. Wade watched as activity around them slowed to a crawl. Every eye turned to stare at her and her companions as they came out into the open.

Quinn smiled and waved as he murmured, "Why is everybody staring at us?"

"I am not entirely sure, my boy," Arturo whispered back. "Just try to remain calm and friendly until we can get a clearer picture of this world."

The four of them moved on down the path to an open square that connected to a busy street of San Francisco. As they came into view of the square, filled with pedestrians, cars, and shoppers, Wade didn't see anyone below two hundred pounds. She saw a woman as large as the women she had seen in the park. Then she saw another and another and another until she stopped counting.

Rembrandt watched a car drive by that was twice as wide as any cars in their own world. "Okay, would somebody please tell me what kinda world this is?" "Well, it's not ours, that's for sure," Quinn said.

"Perhaps," Arturo said, "I could venture a guess that this world is one in which Americans are even more apallingly unhealthy than in our own. Something I never believed to be possible."

"But it can't be just that, professor," Quinn said. "Look."

He was pointing at a billboard that overlooked the square. It was an advertisement for Budweiser beer that featured a group of women in bikinis hugging a giant beer bottle. At first glance, Wade thought it was the usual sexist advertisement. But then she saw that the women were much larger than any bikini women in her own world.

"Well, that is very odd," Arturo said, then turned his attention to a newsstand nearby. His eyes light up as he said, "Ah, but Bernie's is quite familiar, home of the greatest pretzels in the known universe."

Rembrandt shook his head. "Haven't you had enough to eat, professor?"

"Mr. Brown, your clumsiness caused me to lose the greatest meal in the universe. At least do me the honor of allowing me a single pretzel."

As Arturo began a march towards the newsstand, Rembrandt chased after him, yelling, "I told you, I didn't kick your stupid doggie bag!"

Wade followed the others to Bernie's, where Arturo was counting out change into the vendor's hand. Wade noticed that the vendor was staring at her and Quinn as if they had just crawled out of a sewer. When Wade caught his eye, the vendor turned away quickly with an air of guilt.

Arturo took the pretzel the vendor gave him with a broad smile. "Ah, yes. I believe this will help me through my period of mourning." He took a bite with his eyes closed.

Wade looked around at the magazines on the stand. She caught the title of one called Vogue, and drew it out of its slot. Her eyes narrowed. The glamorous woman on the cover was so huge that she filled the entire page. "That's funny," Wade said. "Why would they put such a big woman on the cover like that?"

She flipped through the pages, her eyes widening even further. "Hey, guys, you gotta see this. Every ad has fat women in it. And look at these articles...'How To Gain Ten Pounds In Ten Days.' 'Dressing To Show Off Your Love Handles.' 'Lipoinjection, the Secret Of The Stars.'"

Arturo wiped off his mouth with a napkin. "Lipoinjection? You mean liposuction."

Wade shook her head. "No, I mean lipoinjection. It's an operation that injects fat *into* your body instead of sucking it out."

Arturo tucked the pretzel under his arm to snatch the magazine out of her hands. "Let me see that."

Wade looked over at Rembrandt, who was shaking his head in misery as he flipped through another magazine.

"Aw, man," he said. "Not again. Can't I get a decent copy of this thing anywhere in the universe?"

"What's wrong, Rembrandt?" Quinn asked.

Rembrandt turned the magazine around for them to read the cover. "It's the Sports Monthly Swimsuit Edition. But look what they did to it."

Quinn took the magazine to skim through the pages as Wade smirked at him. "What's the matter, Remmy? Too much airbrushing on your bathing beauties?"

"I wish," Rembrandt said.

Quinn held up the magazine so Wade could see that all the models were just as large as the women in her Vogue, some even larger. And Wade could read some of the captions that told their names.

"That's Kathy Ireland?" Wade yelled.

"And Naomi Campbell," Quinn said. "And Elle MacPherson. And Kate Moss. All big." Arturo approached the others with his thumbs hooked in his vest pockets. He wore a stern look on his face. "Lady and gentlemen, I believe I have a theory as to the world we are presently in. Apparently, we have slid into a world where America considers fatness as attractive as thinness on our own world."

"That's weird," Quinn said.

"Not really, Mr. Mallory," Arturo said. "There are cultures on our own Earth where larger women are more highly-prized than smaller ones, especially in deprived countries where obesity is a sign of prosperity. In parts of the Middle East and South America, the view is especially common. Really, Americans have always been the more fat-conscious of all our Earth's societies. It could be that, in this world, America has simply...caught up."

Rembrandt looked down at Wade, then did a double-take as he caught the broad smile on her face.

"What's with you, girl?" he asked.

"Nothing," Wade laughed. "It's just I think I'm really gonna like it here."

The four of the them moved off across the square, marvelling at the crowds.

Behind them, the newsstand vendor was shaking his head as they moved away. A woman came up to buy a newspaper, then followed his gaze to the Sliders. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my goodness," she whispered. "That is the skinniest woman I have ever seen in my life."

"I know," the vendor murmured. "Disgusting, isn't it?" Wade rubbed her hands together briskly as she walked alongside the others. "So, whadda we do now?"

Quinn moved aside to let a large woman and her baby carriage go by. "Well, we're gonna be here a while. Might as well find a place to stay. I'd also like to check on my double here, see if he can help us get home."

Arturo nodded. "Then it's settled. To Mr. Mallory's house."

"Roger," Rembrandt said, jogging to the street. "I'll hail us a cab."

Rembrandt stood on the edge of the curb, watching the wide cars drive by, then caught sight of a Yellow Cab. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and gave off an ear-piercing whistle.

The taxi immediately pulled up alongside him.

"Good job, Remmy," Wade said as she approached the cab.

Rembrandt adjusted the lapels on his coat. "Hey, singing is only one of my many talents."

Quinn approached the door of the taxi, shaking his head. "Man, look at the size of this thing."

"Yes," Arturo said, "it would seem logical for things in this world to be built for the larger individual."

Quinn opened the door, holding it open for Wade, who climbed into the backseat. It was comfortable, but much wider than in any cars manfactured on her world.

"Wow," Wade said. "I feel like Gulliver in here."

Rembrandt climbed in next to her with plenty of room to spare. After Quinn moved in with them, Arturo settled himself into place. He shifted around, then gave the others a satisfied smile.

"Actually," he said, "I find this seat to be quite comfortable. Better than the cars in our world, which aren't designed for the more stately man."

Wade found her seatbelt and pulled it around her body. She locked it into place, then leaned back to find the belt slipping down over her shoulder. She found the tab and tried to tighten it, but even at its fullest, the seat still didn't restrain her.

Wade leaned forward towards the large man sitting behind the wheel. "Uh, excuse me, your seatbelts don't seem to fit."

The driver shrugged, but remained silent, glaring at her in his rear-view mirror.

Wade slumped back into her chair. "Great."

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

Quinn leaned forward. "Uh, 4159 Blue Jay Way."

The cabbie nodded, then shifted the car into gear. The taxi set off down the road.

As the car drove, Wade looked out her window, watching the crowds of people sweep past her window. She shook her head.

"This is so weird," she said. "There's not a thin person anywhere."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Quinn said. "I wonder why?"

Wade faced forward again. She caught sight of the rear-view mirror, where the cabbie's eyes were locked on her. When the cabbie saw that she was looking at him, he quickly shifted to watch the road again. Then his eyes drifted back to her.

Wade stared at him as the cab drove on, finally pulling up in front of the small house she had come to know as Quinn's home. After they had paid the fare and climbed out of the cab, Wade looked back to see the cabbie still staring at her through his passenger window. Then he drove away.

Quinn pushed open the front gate, listening to its familiar squeak. Quinn climbed the steps of his house onto the front porch and rang the doorbell. They all stood there for a moment, waiting. The house was silent. Quinn knocked on the door. No response.

Quinn fished his keyring out of his pocket. "I don't think anybody's home. Let's hope they have the same locksmiths on this world."

He fit his old house key into the lock and turned it. There was a click, and the door opened with ease.

Quinn led the others inside as he called out, "Hello? Anybody home?"

Wade walked through the lobby, looking down at an oversized chair against the wall. "Seems like the professor was right. Everything here is built for people bigger than us."

"Speak for yourself," Arturo murmured.

Rembrandt passed the others into the living room, then called out, "Hey, guys! Take a look at this!"

Wade and Quinn entered the living room, where Rembrandt was looking at a photograph mounted over the fireplace. It showed two large men smiling with their arms around each other at the beach.

"That you, Q-Ball?" Rembrandt asked.

"Yeah," Quinn said, "or at least it would be me if I weighed a little more."

"You mean a *lot* more." Wade pointed at the other man. "Who's that other guy?"

"I'm not sure," Quinn said. "It kinda looks like my dad, if he had survived the car crash and weighed an extra hundred pounds. I guess he's alive in this world."

Quinn grinned. "That means I get to see my dad again."

Arturo walked into the living room with a sober expression. "Perhaps not, Mr. Mallory. I found a recording on the answering machine. Listen."

He leaned back out of the room to hit the PLAY button on the machine in the lobby. Wade could hear a voice speaking in a grainy tone.

"Hi," it said, "it's me, Wing, calling for Quinn. Look, I know you and your dad are off on a tour of the Caribbean, but I was hoping you'd call to check your messages and get this. I need to know how that experiment you were working on turned out. I've got some people in who are interested, could turn into something. If you don't get this, I guess I'll have to stall until the first of July when you get back. Say hi to Wade for me. Bye."

The message was followed by a short beep.

"The first of July," Quinn said. "That's just great. We'll be gone by then."

"Not all bad, dear boy," Arturo said. "It means that we have this place to ourselves for the duration of our visit."

"Yeah. I guess so." Quinn lit up as he snapped his fingers. "Hey, the basement."

He rushed past the others to the lobby, where he threw open the basement door. He rushed down the stairs with the others in tow, hauling up the large switch on the wall to turn on the power.

A single bulb hanging from the ceiling cast a pale light into the room. Wade gasped as she saw the masses of electronic equipment and machinery that were stacked against the walls. A large chalkboard on which mathematical formulas had been scrawled was the centerpiece of the room.

"It's here," Wade whispered. "The sliding machine is here."

Quinn took another step down into the basement. "Well, sort of. It's only half-finished, and this formula is still in the early stages. I guess the Quinn in this world isn't as far along as I was."

"But it's a start, right? I mean, it's something to work with."

Quinn nodded. "Yeah. If I can get this stuff working, and if I can get it hooked up to our timing device, I could use it as a guidance system to get us back home."

Rembrandt clapped his hands. "Yes! Finally we're gettin' somewhere."

Quinn opened a cardboard box full of electrical components and began rummaging through it. "All I need is a few extra parts, and some idea of where my double was going with this, and we're in business."

"Indeed," Arturo said. "And twenty-three days seems more than adequate for our purposes. So all that remains is for us to settle down and wait."

"There's one more thing we need," Wade said. "Jobs. We don't have enough money to last us for a month."

"An excellent point, Miss Wells. Perhaps the wisest course of action would be for us to simply assume the lives of our doubles. I can look into my post as regents professor of cosmology and ontology at California University."

"And Quinn and I can see if we have jobs at Doppler Computer Superstore in this world. And Rembrandt..."

Rembrandt held up his hands. "Hey, count me out of the job market."

"But don't you wanna see if you have a singing career here? You might be a big star in this world."

"Yeah," Rembrandt said, "that's what I'm afraid of. I've always had a bit of a weight problem. On this world, they probably have to roll me on stage. No thanks. I'm just gonna kick back and relax on this slide. Maybe I can get back to my songwritin'."

Wade nudged him in the ribs. "Hey, I didn't know you were writing songs."

"Sure. Have been since we started slidin', mostly in my head. I figure with me disappearin' on our own world, my fans'll be beggin' for the Cryin' Man when I get back. I gotta prepare for my big comeback."

"Very well, Mr. Brown," Arturo said. "It seems we've settled the matter of tomorrow's agenda. I suggest we finish up this day with a leisurely meal at the Bountiful Bistro."

"More food?" Wade asked.

Arturo scowled at her. "Look, it just happens to be suppertime. And besides, I cannot help but hope that the food in this world might be at least close to the food in the last one. Now, are any of you hungry or not?"

"I am," Quinn said. "I've got a lot of work ahead of me."

"I could use a bite, too," Rembrandt said. "The food on that world was like Chinese food. A few hours later, you're hungry again."

"Okay, okay," Wade said. "I'm outnumbered. Let's go."

They all headed up the stairs to the first floor. On the way up, Wade lingered to walk beside Quinn.

"Hey," she said, "you know it just hit me. Your father's here, but..."

"Yeah, I know," Quinn said. "My mom's not. I think maybe she died in this world instead of my dad. If it's not one thing, it's another."

They found Quinn's car parked in the garage of the house. Wade climbed into the passenger seat and struggled with the seatbelt for a few minutes before releasing it. It just wouldn't fit her. She guessed the lack of sizing in this world was something she was going to have to get used to.

Quinn slipped into the driver's seat, then reached for the wheel. It was too far forward. He tried to adjust the seat, moving it forward a few inches, but it stopped short.

"This thing is designed weird," he said, trying to shift the wheel. "It's hard to reach."

Arturo nodded. "I believe it is designed for a much larger stomach than yours, Mr. Mallory. About time, if you ask me."

Quinn shook his head as he began backing the car out of the garage.

They drove to the Bountiful Bistro, where a valet took the car. Wade ignored his wide-eyed stares as she passed him.

"Why is everyone always staring at us?" Wade whispered.

"You have to look at it from their point of view, Miss Wells," Arturo said. "I would imagine that thin people are such a rarity on this world that curiosity is bound to win out over good manners. How do you react when an obese man or woman enters a room?"

"I guess you're right," Wade murmured.

Walking through the front door of the restaurant brought the hostess out from behind her desk. She cast a critical eye over Quinn and Rembrandt, lingered on Wade, then turned to address Arturo with a warm smile.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Ah, yes," Arturo said. "A table for four, please."

The hostess' eyes flicked back to Wade, then she beckoned at Arturo. "This way."

She led them through the restaurant, weaving through a maze of tables. The buzz of conversation faded as Wade moved among the diners. She could feel their gaze on her body as she passed. At one point, she glanced at one of the women at a table. The woman was dressed in a large, but flattering gown, bringing a glass of wine to her lips. At the sight of Wade, a look of revulsion passed over the woman's face.

The hostess stopped beside a table with four chairs around it. The table was in the farthest corner of the restaurant, surrounded by ferns, beside the doors of the kitchen.

"Here is your table, sir," the hostess said to Arturo.

"Uh, yes," Arturo said. "Uh, don't you have anything a little closer to the front?"

"No." The hostess folded her hands over her lap.

Arturo glanced back at some of the empty tables near the entrance, then nodded. "I see. Uh, thank you. This will be fine."

The hostess nodded and walked away. As she passed, Wade had to jump aside to avoid colliding with her ample hips. Rembrandt glared at the hostess' back as the woman moved back to her desk.

"She did that on purpose," Rembrandt whispered.

"No, she didn't," Wade said. "She's just big, that's all. Probably hard to keep from running into things."

"But look at this table. It's the worst in the whole place."

"Now, now, Mr. Brown," Arturo whispered. "We're just here for the food. Not to create a scene."

Wade dragged out a chair and sat down. "Yeah, Rembrandt, just relax. Enjoy the atmosphere."

Rembrandt sat down next to her. "Well, you seem to be in a good mood."

Wade let a smile spread across her face. "I guess I am. I mean, look around you. All my life, I've been dieting, exercising, trying to stay thin. But in this world, I'll always be the thinnest person in any room. It'll do wonders for my ego. Maybe this is *my* paradise."

"Maybe," Rembrandt said, unfolding his napkin.

Arturo and Quinn took their seats as the hostess returned. She cast a glare around the table, then passed out four menus. Wade opened her menu, then looked up to speak to the hostess. She was gone.

Wade shrugged and looked over her selections. "Mmm. Nice, wide selection. I guess they must eat a lot in this world."

"Perhaps," Arturo said. "Or perhaps not. Obesity is not necessarily the result of an excessive appetite. I've been speculating on the theory that the people of this world might have a lower basal metabolic rate that causes them to burn off fewer calories than they consume. This would cause them to generate more body fat, regardless of their eating habits. There are isolated cases of this on our own world."

"Whatever," Wade said. "All I know is I'm gonna have to watch my weight here. On this world, being a hundred and fifty pounds would probably be slim. It'd be easy to slip and end up sliding home as a whale. I'll just have a salad. Maybe with a little dressing."

"Very well," Arturo said. "But I am seizing this opportunity to have a truly good meal. This is one world where my ample size is the norm, not the exception."

"Well, don't get carried away, professor," Wade said. "Remember, we're only gonna be here for a month."

Arturo picked up his glass of water and tilted it at her. "And, my dear, I plan to take full advantage of the situation."

The hostess returned to their table. But she had a round-faced and well-dressed man with her. The man adjusted his silk tie as he approached.

"Excuse me," the man said in a low voice. "My name is Bernard Carrington. I am the manager of this establishment."

"Ah," Arturo said, "how do you do. I would like you to know that we have enjoyed your food for many years."

Carrington cast his gaze around the table before saying, "You've...eaten here before?"

Arturo grinned at Quinn as he said, "In a manner-of-speaking."

"Uh, yes, well, I can't say I remember you. And I think I would have remembered your patronage. Uh, Mr..."

Arturo rose in his seat, slightly. "Arturo. Professor Maximillian Arturo, regents professor of cosmology and ontology at California University."

"Pleased to meet you, Professor Arturo," Carrington said. "I wish we could have met under more...amiable circumstances."

Arturo's smile faded. "What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid I have to ask your three... companions... to leave."

"What?" Wade asked.

"It's nothing personal, you understand," Carrington said. "It's just that your presence is disturbing our other customers."

Wade turned and looked over her shoulder. Everyone else in the restaurant was glaring at her.

"I don't understand," Arturo said. "Why are they 'disturbing' your customers?"

Carrington sputtered as he swept a hand to encompass Wade, Rembrandt, and Quinn. "Well, just look at them. They're so...thin."

"So?" Wade asked.

"So..." Carrington leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "...it doesn't create a good impression of our restaurant. Quite frankly, we at the Bistro don't want people to think that you eat here regularly. It conveys the impression that our food is not nutritious."

Arturo threw down his napkin. "This is an outrage."

"Now," Carrington continued, "don't misunderstand me, professor. You are welcome to eat here at any time. Just without your little... friends."

"I don't believe this," Quinn said. "You're throwing us out just because we're thin?"

"Yes," Carrington said. "Now, please, leave at once. I don't want to have to call the police."

"Call the police?" Quinn yelled. "You can't just..."

Wade put her hand on his shoulder as she stood up. "Hey, come on. It's not worth it. Let's just go somewhere else, okay, guys?"

Arturo stood and shook a finger in Carrington's face. "This is an abomination!"

"I'm sorry, professor," Carrington said. "I extend a sincere apology to all four of you. It's just... the way things have to be."

Arturo stormed past Carrington, leading the others to the front door. Wade felt her face grow hot as she passed the men and women seated at the tables in the restaurant. A burst of laughter erupted from one table, where a group of large, obviously wealthy women were eating. An occasional titter from the other tables began to grow. When Wade passed the hostess' desk, out of the corner of her eye, she could see the woman was smiling.

Wade stepped out of the restaurant into the warm embrace of the night. Streetlamps glowed along the avenue, illuminating the pavement at her feet. When the door had closed behind them, Rembrandt threw up his hands.

"Well, that's just great," he said.

"I don't believe that," Quinn said. "Can he do that? Just throw us out like that?"

"I guess so," Wade said, "because he just did. It's no big deal. The food was probably lousy in there, anyway."

"The sheer nerve of that man," Arturo fumed. "How dare they cast us out onto the street like a bunch of common hoodlums."

"Hey, come on, guys," Wade said. "Let's just forget it. We have food at home, we can fix something to eat ourselves."

"I guess," Rembrandt murmured.

After getting their car, Quinn drove back to the house. Wade sat in the passenger seat, feeling herself sliding around in the ill-fitting seat. She gazed out her window at the city that swept past.

Quinn glanced away from the road for a moment to frown at her. "You okay, Wade?"

"Yeah," she said. "It's just kinda funny. Never in my life have I been accused of being too thin. I like it."

At ten o'clock the next morning, Quinn and Wade were pulling into the parking lot of the Doppler Computer Superstore. They had the car, since Arturo had agreed to take a cab to California University in order to check on his post there as a physics teacher. It was up to Quinn and Wade to find out if they had jobs of their own in this world.

Wade felt a tingle of nervousness in her stomach as they walked up to the front of the building. The doors slid open at her approach, bringing with it a flood of cool air. Quinn glanced down at her as they walked inside.

The store was just as she remembered it. She moved through the stacks of computers, and aisles of software with ease, feeling at home even in this new world. Even the advertisements were the same. The only differences she could see were that the aisles were farther apart than in her world, and the customers were much wider.

She bumped into the large hips of one of them, a man in a tailored business suit, quickly murmuring a "Sorry."

The man turned to face her, smiling, but his face fell at the sight of her. "Uh...no problem."

Wade moved on, trying to ignore his horrified expression at her thinness. "Okay," Quinn said, "first order of business, we gotta find Hurley."

Wade looked around, her eyes falling on a short, round man arranging a bin of discount software. Then the man turned so she could see his face. It took a moment before she was able to place him, but when she did, Wade grabbed Quinn's arm.

"Look," she whispered, "that's him."

Quinn nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Boy, he's a whale. Come on."

The two of them approached their old boss, Michael Hurley, who was checking his reflection in the sheen of a computer screen. Then he caught sight of the two, and smiled.

"Good morning," Hurley said, "and how may I help you today?"

Wade was about to speak when Hurley's eyes bulged.

"Mallory?" Hurley asked. "Wells? Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah," Wade said, spreading her arms. "It's us. Uh, we work here, right?"

"Well, of course, but... I thought you were on a tour of the Caribbean."

Quinn rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, well, that got kinda dull, so... we came back early. That's okay, right?"

"I guess so, but..." Hurley pressed his hand over his forehead, his eyes roaming Wade's body. "Good grief, what happened to you? You're so... thin!"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Wade said, "well, you know, we caught a bug down there, got sick. Couldn't keep anything down for a few days, you know how it is."

"'A few days?'" Hurley said. "You lost a hundred pounds in 'a few days?'"

Quinn spread his hands. "Look, it's no big deal. We got sick, we came back, end of story. Now, uh, if you don't mind, we'd like to get back to work."

Quinn and Wade turned away and headed for the backroom.

"Well," Quinn whispered, "that went well."

"Uh," Hurley called out, "just a minute, you two."

Quinn and Wade turned back to face Hurley, who was shaking his head.

"I'm afraid I can't let you work here," Hurley said. "Not like this."

"Whadda you mean?" Wade asked.

Hurley folded his hands behind his back. "I mean I'm putting both of you on an extended leave of absence."

"You're firing us?" Quinn yelled. "Why?"

"Because our insurance won't cover you. Thin people get sick easily, and they suffer higher rates of vitamin deficiency, hypertension, and strokes than normal people."

"That's ridiculous," Wade said.

"It's a medical fact," Hurley said.

"So that's it?" Quinn asked. "You're firing us because of the insurance?"

Hurley scowled. "No, I'm firing you because, on a personal level, I find you revolting."

"What?" Wade yelled.

"Well, just look at you," Hurley snarled. "Your clothes are practically hanging off you. I can see the bones of your arms through your skin. The thought of having you two lurching around this place makes me nauseous. Now, I'm gonna be a nice guy about this, since you were sick and it's not your fault. You two go home, gain a few pounds, then come back when you're healthy again. I may reconsider you for the job."

"I don't believe this!"

Quinn took her arm. "Come on, Wade. Let's get out of here."

Wade shook off his arm, hauled her fist back and socked Hurley in the stomach. He went down, knocking over a display for Windows '96, curling into a groaning ball on the floor.

Wade brushed off her hands. "Now we can go."

She marched towards the door, followed by Quinn. When she had walked out of the building, Quinn was already laughing.

"I can't believe you punched out Hurley," he said.

Wade rubbed her knuckles. "I've been wanting to do that for years."

*

Rembrandt lay back on the living-room couch, chewing on the end of his pencil. The TV was on, but he wasn't really paying attention to it, focused on the piece of paper he had spread in his lap.

"Let's see," he murmured, then began to sing.

It was a rainy day,

That got cloudier when you said,

You were walkin' out on my heart,

I'm cryin' like a cloud, girl,

Tears are fallin' like rain,

Your words are tearin' me apart...

Rembrandt shook his head. "Sounds too much like 'Tears In My Pillow.'" He began to erase the musical notes.

The front door flew open, banging against the wall. Wade rushed into the room, and Rembrandt could almost see steam pouring from her ears.

"I take it things didn't go well," Rembrandt said.

"Hurley fired us!" Wade yelled. "He fired us just because we're thin!"

"What?" Rembrandt asked.

Quinn shut the front door. "Yeah. Said the insurance wouldn't cover us." "He also said," Wade added, "that he finds us 'revolting.' Said we make him nauseous. Should've told him what I think of *him.*"

Wade slumped into an armchair.

Rembrandt put his notes aside. "So if you didn't work, where were you guys all afternoon?"

"We were looking for new jobs," Quinn said. "Went all over San Francisco. No one'll hire us because we're so thin. Keep talking about health risks and stuff."

Wade leaned forward to look at the TV. "Whatcha watching?"

Rembrandt looked over at the screen. "Oh, I dunno. I just had it on for background."

Wade laughed. "Hey, it's Oprah."

Oprah Winfrey was on the TV, walking in front of a cheering audience. She filled up her dress to the seams.

Wade shook her head. "Different worlds, same old Oprah."

"I thought she lost weight in our world," Rembrandt said.

"I guess she didn't in this one."

Oprah was waving to her audience as she said, "Thank you, thank you. Before I go on, I'd just like to say that... I've gained five pounds!"

The audience's cheering increased tenfold.

Wade and Rembrandt exchanged a glance.

"Not quite the same," Rembrandt said.

Oprah gestured to her audience to calm down. "All right, our topic for today's show is people who are ashamed of loved ones because they're too thin."

The camera pulled back to show five people seated on the stage. Three of them were fat, and two of them were thinner. Oprah approached one large woman sitting next to a thin one in loose clothing.

"Now, Brenda," Oprah said. "You told us earlier that you refuse to go anywhere with your sister, that you won't even walk down the street with her. Why is that?"

Brenda gestured at the thin woman next to her. "Well, just look at her. Would you want to walk down the street with that? To have everybody staring at you, laughing at you?"

The thin woman spoke in a low voice. "I can't help the way I look."

"Yes, you can," Brenda said. "You just don't want to. You're just lazy."

"I've tried to gain weight," her sister said. "You know I have. I've been on diets since I was three years old. I paid three thousand dollars last year to go into a weight-gain clinic. Nothing helps. I'm just... naturally thin."

A mixed reaction erupted from the audience that ranged from cheers to catcalls. Oprah paused to take the woman's hand before moving on down the row to a large man sitting next to another thin woman.

"Now, Alan," Oprah said. "You told your girlfriend that you were going to dump her if she didn't put on weight. Do you think that's fair?"

"Yeah," Alan snarled. "What, I'm not entitled to have a woman who I find physically attractive? Why should I shackle myself to this beanpole when there are women out there who care how they look?"

"But don't you love her?" Oprah asked.

"Sure," Alan said. "But Oprah, I've been going with this woman for three years. She used to be a beautiful woman. Then last year, she just let herself go. Lost a hundred pounds. If she doesn't care enough about me to keep herself fat, then why should I care about her?"

Oprah turned to the woman. "How do you feel about this, Mary?"

Mary glared at Alan out of the corner of her eye. "I feel hurt and angry. I thought he loved me."

"I do," Alan murmured.

"No, you don't," Mary said. "You only care about my body. I lost weight because I was tired of stuffing myself all the time to maintain the size he wants me to be. I used to spend every cent I had on food. I like being thin. I have more energy, I have more money..."

"Well, you won't have me," Alan said.

The audience booed loudly as Oprah moved on to the large woman at the end of the row. "Now, we have with us today Dr. Julia Macbeth, a world-renowned psychologist who has also dedicated her life to erasing size prejudice. How do you feel about what's happening here, Dr. Macbeth?"

"It's really very sad, Oprah," Macbeth said. "But this is happening all over America. Slim people...I prefer the term slim... suffer greatly in this country. They are perceived as lazy, malnourished, poor, stupid, and offensive. There are thousands of slim people who are trapped in their homes right now, too afraid of what people think of them to go outside. I think it's deplorable that women... and men, of course... are held to this impossibly high level of obesity created by the media and supermodels like Cindy Crawford. The female body was not meant to carry around this much weight."

"But what about health problems?" Oprah asked. "Don't slim people have a higher risk of strokes, heart disease, and certain cancers?"

"That has never really been medically proven," Macbeth said. "But it's also not widely publicized that high levels of body fat like those portrayed by models can increase your risk of heart disease and other ailments just as much as slimness. Only those slim people who don't get enough fats and oils have a risk of illness. Most people can live a normal lifestyle under two hundred pounds."

Oprah turned to the camera. "I have to stop you there, doctor, because we have to take a break. We'll be right back with a man who cheats on his wife because he says she's too thin."

The camera pulled back on the cheering audience as the Oprah logo filled the screen.

The front door opened and Arturo came waltzing in, humming to himself.

Quinn grinned. "Well, you're in a good mood, professor."

"And why should I not be?" Arturo asked. "I got the job."

"Really?" Wade asked. "You mean you're a professor in this world, too?"

"No, apparently not. But I was able to secure a post as a substitute physics teacher, and by chance, an opening is already available. Seems the old teacher broke her leg in a skiing accident, and I shall be taking her summer class for the next six weeks."

"Well, that's great," Quinn said. "That means we've got money coming in."

Arturo's smile faded. "You mean you were unable to find jobs?"

"Nah, we found 'em all right, but we lost 'em again. Hurley fired us."

"Whatever for?"

"Because we're thin," Wade said.

"Abominable."

"Well," Quinn said, "with your paycheck, we can hold down the fort for a month. That frees me up to work on the sliding machine. I'd better get to work."

Quinn headed down to the basement.

Arturo rested a hand on Wade's shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to see the ugly side of life, my child."

"Nah, it's no big deal," Wade said. "Hurley's always been a jerk. Why should he be any different in this world, too?"

Rembrandt picked up his notes and began jotting down lyrics. "Yeah. I guess there's some things that never change." PART FOUR

Arturo finished writing his formula on the blackboard, then turned to face his class. "As you can see, Feynman's theories do not dismiss the existence of multiple worlds. With the proper mathematical equations, we can prove that other dimensions could and might co-exist within our own."

He looked down at his students who gazed back at him. Arturo couldn't help but be amazed at the attentiveness of his class. Even his own classes in his own California University didn't respond as well to his lectures. In fact, the women in the audience seemed to be more interested than the men. Arturo had never had the women outnumber the men in his science classes, but in this one, more seemed to be appearing as the day went on.

Arturo glanced at the clock, then rubbed his hands together. "Well, I believe that should be sufficient for today."

Arturo was startled by a cry of disappointment that went up from the classroom. He glanced around the unhappy faces as he said, "Er, yes, for Monday, please read pages twenty-two to thirty-five in your textbooks. And I'll be giving a quiz next Friday on the work of Albert Einstein, so be advised. Class dismissed."

His students rose as one, making their way down to the front door. Arturo gathered up the papers on his desk, filed them in his briefcase, then locked it shut. He brushed a piece of lint off his lapel, then looked up.

Arturo jumped back at the sight of his desk surrounded by women. They were all smiling and jockeying for position in front of him.

"Uh," Arturo said, "may I help you, ladies?"

The women all began talking at once, but one especially large one elbowed her way to the front. She treated Arturo to a warm smile as she said, "We were all just so impressed with your teaching today, Professor Arturo."

Arturo brushed down his tie as he smiled. "Oh... really? Well, that's... very kind of you."

"No," the blond woman said. "It's very kind of *you* to take over Mrs. Johnson's class and share your knowledge with us. I mean... the way you describe the quantum model of atomic structure just makes it all come alive."

She thrust out her hand. "I'm Barbara Sinclair."

Arturo shook the hand. "Uh, very pleased to meet you."

"I've been struggling with quantum physics for years. I really think you could help me to understand all this stuff. I was wondering, if you're not too busy, if you could take some time to give me a little tutoring after classes."

"Of course," Arturo said. "I would be happy to assist anyone who needed a little extra..."

"How about tonight?" Bambi asked.

"Tonight? Well, that's very kind, but I'm afraid I have other plans."

"Then Monday? Please?"

"Uh, I suppose I could... yes, all right."

"Great. See you then." Barbara walked out of the classroom with a confident stride, glancing over her shoulder at him before disappearing into the hallway.

When she was gone, the other women started calling out times to Arturo for tutoring sessions of their own. Arturo fumbled in his briefcase for his notebook, writing as fast as he could. He couldn't hold back the smile that crept onto his face.

Wade lay sprawled on the couch as Rembrandt leaned in the armchair, eating a bowl of microwave popcorn. They were both watching the TV, where the Miss America pageant was in full swing. Women trooped past the screen, one at a time, all wearing bathing suits.

The basement door opened with a thud and Quinn stumbled into the room, waving a hand in the air.

"That's it," he gasped. "I gotta take a break."

"How's it goin', Q-Ball?" Rembrandt asked.

Quinn leaned against the couch as he said, "Terrible. I can see why the Quinn who lived here isn't as far along as I was on the sliding machine. He built it with a completely different construction. Some of the changes he made, I don't even understand. I haven't got a clue as to how to fix it, and as far as I can tell, my double didn't leave any notes behind. I think he kept it all in his head."

"But you can still fix it right?" Wade asked.

"Maybe," Quinn said. "I'm working on it. I asked the professor to pick up some books for me on the way home. With those, I might be able to get a better idea of what we're working with."

They watched TV for a few more minutes before Arturo strode through the front door, swinging a briefcase in one hand, and a stack of books in the other.

He bowed to Wade. "And a good afternoon to you, madame."

Wade raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're in a good mood."

"As well I should be," Arturo said with a broad smile. "It seems that, on this world, I am considered quite attractive. Actually, the word irresistable comes to mind. I could hardly get out of my classroom because of all the women fawning over me."

"Well, I'm glad somebody's having a good time."

Quinn grabbed the books under the professor's arm and began skimming the titles. "All right, way to pull through, professor."

"Yes," Arturo said. "I had rather a difficult time finding the books you requested in the college library, Mr. Mallory. It seems some of the authors have changed. For example, in this world, Richard Feynman wrote the theory of relativity."

Quinn nodded. "Well, that explains why the sliding machine is different. This Quinn was basing his research on different formulas. I'm gonna have to look this stuff over."

Quinn headed for the kitchen as he began thumbing though one of the books.

"While I was there," Arturo said, "I happened to do some research on this world's history. It seems that here, there has always been an interest in the larger form. However, in the 1960's, a model named Twiggy changed all that."

"Hey," Wade said, "just like in our world."

"Not quite. You see, in this world, Twiggy was called Twiggy, because that's what she *wasn't.* She was actually quite large. But men all over the country styled their interests in her direction, and women struggled to match up to it until finally we have the world we see today."

Rembrandt grinned up at the professor. "Hey, professor, how's it feel to be a sex symbol?"

Arturo took hold of his lapels. "Well, I daresay I rather like it. But then, this is not the first time I have been the object of a young lady's affections."

"Yeah, right," Rembrandt said, and ate a handful of popcorn.

"Hey," Wade said, "did you get your first paycheck?"

Arturo raised an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, I did. Quite a substantial one, I might add. It seems they pay their educators well in this world. Why?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday, and I'd like to do a little shopping, maybe buy some new clothes. If we're gonna be here for another three weeks, then I'll need a bigger wardrobe. I'll pay you back in the next world, honest."

Arturo stood and straightened his tie. "An excellent point. If I am to teach a class, I will need a more sizable choice of attire. Very well, Miss Wells, we shall adjourn to the mall tomorrow morning. Now, if you both will excuse me, I'm afraid I have a few lipstick stains to remove before dinner."

He cast a self-satisfied grin at Rembrandt before strolling out of the room, whistling to himself.

Rembrandt chuckled. "And I thought he was bad before."

On Saturday morning, Wade was assaulted by the lilting flow of muzak as she entered the mall with Arturo, Rembrandt, and Quinn walking in behind her.

"Okay," Quinn said. "How do we do this?"

"Well, I dunno about you guys, but I'm heading for Sassy Fashions."

"Yeah, well, I need to check out Radio Shack and pick up some parts for the sliding machine."

Wade looked at Rembrandt and Arturo. "How about you guys? You going anywhere?"

Rembrandt shrugged. "I got no plans."

"Likewise," Arturo said. "We are at your disposal, my dear."

"Great," Wade said. "Quinn, we'll meet you back here in one hour."

Quinn shrugged. "Okay. See you, guys."

Quinn headed off into the crowds, moving easily among the heavyset men and women that populated the mall. A few people stared openly at him as he passed them by.

Wade pointed at a nearby clothing store. "Let's go, boys. To the hunt."

She charged through the crowds of larger people, feeling like a mouse in a maze. In every direction, she found herself dwarfed and surrounded by walls of humanity. She kept her eyes focused on her goal; the Sassy Fashions clothing store, her favorite haunt at the mall.

It was right where it would be in her own world. Wade approached the picture window, in which hefty mannequins posed seductively in stylish clothes. She could hear Rembrandt and Arturo hurrying to keep up as she went inside.

Wade's eyes widened as she beheld the racks of clothes that decorated the shop. "Wow. This is fantastic."

Arturo raised an eyebrow as he moved to a rack of men's suits. "Yes. They seem to have quite a selection."

Wade began sifting through a row of dresses, the hangers clinking together softly in a musical rhythm. "Hey, I found another difference with this world. They have great fashion sense. Oo!"

She yanked out a floral-patterned dress, holding it up against herself. "Oh, wow, this is beautiful. I love the way the collar kind of turns up here. And it goes great with these shoes. Perfect."

Arturo selected one of the suits with a nod. "Hm. I'll say one good thing about this world. I can finally buy clothing my size off the rack. If you'll excuse me for a moment."

Arturo headed for the dressing room. Wade was distracted from her dress when Rembrandt gave out a high-pitched laugh. He was looking through the women's lingerie section as he shook his head.

"Hey, Rembrandt," Wade said. "What're you doing in there?"

"Just doin' a little research on this world," Rembrandt said. "Check this out. They got the Wonderbra here, too. And check out these girdles."

Rembrandt held up one while he read the tag. "Says here it's designed to move fat from the legs into the hips and thighs. Man, this world is too much."

Arturo stepped out of the dressing room in a brand-new suit. He brushed off his sleeves, then struck a manly pose. "Well? What do you think?"

Rembrandt whistled. "Man, you're gonna have to beat the girls off with a stick with that one."

"Yes, perhaps it is bit too much for the poor ladies." Arturo adjusted his tie. "But I'm afraid it will just have to be a burden I am forced to bear."

Wade stepped back the racks of clothes she was going through. "Hey, I can't find my size anywhere in here."

Arturo frowned as he began moving the clothes aside, checking the tags. "Hm. Perhaps I can help. What size are you?"

"Never mind what size I am," Wade said. "Just take my word for it. It's not in here."

Wade caught sight of a saleswoman who was tagging blouses across the shop. Wade hurried over to her with one hand raised.

"Uh, excuse me, miss," Wade said. "I'm having a little trouble here. Do you have this dress in my size? I'm a..."

The saleswoman looked down at the dress, then focused a dry gaze on her. "I'm afraid we don't stock any clothing in your size, miss. I'd suggest trying the Slim and Tall shop across the mall. They stock fashions for... narrow women such as yourself."

"Well, thanks a lot," Wade snarled.

She stormed back to the rack, where Arturo and Rembrandt were admiring the cut of his suit. Wade interuppted them by slamming the floral dress back into its place.

Arturo frowned. "What's wrong?"

"They don't have my size here," Wade said. "I gotta go to a specialty store just to buy normal clothes."

"Well, bear in mind that here, your size is far from normal."

"Whatever. Coming with me?"

Arturo fished out his wallet and pulled out some bills. "No, I wish to remain here and make a few minor purchases. Here. This should cover all expenses."

Wade took the money as she said, "Got it. Let's go, Remmy."

Wade and Rembrandt left Arturo to go through Sassy Fashions as they made their way to a map of the mall. They located Stanley's Slim and Tall Shop and found their way to an out-of-the-way store in the far end of the mall.

Wade grinned at the slender mannequins in the store window. "Ah, now this is more like it. I feel like I'm home already."

Rembrandt followed her into the shop, looking over the selection of smaller clothes on racks and shelves. Wade moved to the dresses, where she began picking through the racks. Her face fell as she dug out one dress after another.

"Aw, man," she said. "So much for higher fashion sense. These clothes aren't nearly as nice as the ones at Sassy."

"Yeah," Rembrandt said as he turned over the tag on a sweatsuit. "And check out these prices."

Wade did, and her jaw dropped. "A hundred dollars for this?!"

A tall, thin man with a Stanley's nametag approached them with a smile. "May I help you?"

"Yeah," Wade said, "why is everything in here so expensive?"

The clerk folded his hands as he said, "Well, I'm afraid we have to get our selection from a very exclusive clothing company that caters to the slim and tall customer. Unfortunately, since they have such a narrow clientele', they have to charge a little extra to make a profit. But I think you'll find there's no better place for a woman of your stature to build a wardrobe."

"Great," Wade sighed. "Oh, well, I'll take what I can get."

Wade sifted out two dresses and draped them over her arm. "I'll take these. And do you have any swimsuits?"

The clerk nodded as he beckoned with a finger. "Certainly. Right this way."

Wade and Rembrandt followed him to a corner of the store where mannequins displayed bathing suits. Wade began going through the selection of multi-colored strips of cloth.

"Swimsuits?" Rembrandt asked.

"Sure," Wade said. "You think I'm gonna leave a world of fat people without going to the beach at least once? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be the skinniest woman on a beach. Ah, ha!"

Wade pulled out one of the swimsuits with a broad grin. "Perfect. Whadda you think?"

"I can't wait to see Quinn's face when he sees you in that," Rembrandt said.

"Neither can I." Wade slipped the swimsuit over her arm to join the dresses she had picked out. "Let's roll."

Children ran through the parking lot alongside the beach as Quinn pulled into an empty space. Wade climbed out of the passenger side and took a deep breath, inhaling the rich salt air. The water could be seen sparkling in the distance like a sheet of jewels on the horizon, speckled with the occasional swimmer.

Quinn got out from behind the wheel of the car, wearing a t-shirt and recently-purchased swimming trunks. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

Rembrandt came out of the back of the car wearing sunglasses. "Aw, lighten up, Q-Ball. You could use a rest."

"Indeed," Arturo said, hauling a beach towel out of the trunk. "My boy, you have been cooped up in that dreary basement for three days. High time you got a little air and sunshine."

Wade glanced over at Quinn to make sure he was looking, then casually took off her jacket, revealing her new swimsuit. As she had hoped, Quinn's eyes widened.

"Whatta you think?" Wade asked in what she hoped was a casual voice.

"Wow," Quinn said. "Uh, I like it. A lot."

"Great. Come on. I'll race you to the beach. Starting... now!"

She bolted off through the parking lot to the sandy strip below. Quinn charged after her, trying to pull off his t-shirt at the same time.

"No fair!" he yelled. "False start! No fair!"

Wade laughed as she streaked onto the beach, digging out pockets in the sand with her bare feet. She weaved through the maze of beach towels that already populated the beach, held down by large bodies sunning themselves. A few people cried out as she rushed past them to the water's edge. When the tide came up far enough, she dove head-first into the surf.

The cool water hit her with a shock, but she kept swimming farther into the ocean until she was in deep waters. Wade broke through the the surface, wiping back her hair out of her eyes. Quinn was making his way towards her with broad strokes. Wade floated as she waited for him with a grin on her face.

"Okay, you beat me," Quinn said. "Happy now?"

"Yup." Wade leaned back, allowing herself to float on the waves. "Wow, this is the life, isn't it, Quinn?"

Quinn nodded as he bobbed slightly. "Yeah. Nobody chasing us, no mix-ups. Just some quiet time. And I think I've got the sliding machine figured out. I think the Quinn of this world got a sample of exotic matter from an atom smasher at C.U., just like me. But it's a much smaller sample, which meant he had to build a larger containment..."

"Quinn," Wade said. "I thought we agreed. No thinking about work."

"But how can I not think about it? This is our ticket home. And we don't have much time."

"We've got a whole month."

"And it's been three days, and I haven't even figured out the mechanism for the sliding machine, let alone how to finish it. I've gotta make every second count. Now how does this sound? I think I've calculated the magnetic resonance of the exotic matter at seventeen-point-five oscillations per second..."

Wade grabbed Quinn's head and shoved it under the water. He came up again, sputtering loudly.

"I'll tell you how it sounds," Wade said. "It sounds boring, that's how it sounds. I was hoping we could come out here to spend some time alone together, maybe talk, work things out."

"We are working things out," Quinn coughed.

"Not the things I want," Wade said. "Forget it. I'm going back to the beach. Coming?"

Quinn floated back a little bit. "Uh, no, I'm gonna stay out here a while longer. Helps me think."

"Suit yourself." Wade swam back to the beach with broad strokes.

As she emerged from the surf, a group of hefty women were running in the opposite direction into the ocean. The moment Wade's body came into view, a few of them drew to a halt, watching her pass with widening eyes. Wade passed them and could hear their bursts of suppressed laughter in her wake.

"What's so funny?" Wade asked.

One of the women stifled a giggle to say, "Nothing."

Then she ran off into surf with her friends, still screaming with laughter. Wade gave them a look, then moved on.

Wade passed through the crowds gathered on the beach. It seemed like the entire beach was grinding to a halt as she walked to the beach towel where Arturo and Rembrandt were setting up.

Arturo was briskly rubbing his arms with suntan oil as he said, "Well, Miss Wells, did you enjoy your little swim?"

"Not really," Wade said. "But it was okay."

Rembrandt lay back on the beach towel as he switched on a portable radio. "How's it feel to be the skinniest woman on the beach?"

"A little different than I thought it would be, but I like it. I can relax without worrying about people judging every square inch of my body."

Wade sat down on the towel next to Rembrandt, who was singing along to "Blueberry Hill" on the radio.

Arturo finished oiling himself, then flexed his arms. "Well, I believe I shall take a brief swim before drinking in the lifegiving rays of Old Sol. If you will excuse me..."

Arturo strode off through the beach towards the ocean. He only managed to take five steps before a large group of women in bikinis came running up to block his path.

"Excuse us," one of them said with a bashful grin. "We don't mean to be forward, but we just had to ask... can we touch your love handles?"

Arturo glanced back at Wade as he said, "Well... I suppose so."

The woman began touching his sides and stomach, ooing and ahhing to each other.

"Wow," the woman cooed. "You must weigh a hundred and fifty pounds."

"Uh, a hundred and seventy to be exact," Arturo said.

Another chorus followed.

Wade flopped back on the towel, folding her arms. "I can't stand seeing women throwing themselves at him like that."

"Yeah," Rembrandt murmured. "I can hardly stand to watch. But it's got me thinkin' about takin' up body-building when we get back home."

The song on the radio ended as the deejay spoke. "You're listening to KROK, all classic-rock, all the time. That was 'Blueberry Hill' by Skinny Domino. Coming up, 'Cry Like A Man,' by those legends of soul, Rembrandt Brown and the Spinning Topps."

Wade nudged Rembrandt as "Cry Like A Man" wailed out of the speakers. "Hey, you *are* a hit in this world."

"Or was," Rembrandt said. "Wonder if I ever made it big here. One way to find out."

Rembrandt stood up, brushing sand off himself. "Think I'll head over and see if I can help Arturo with some o' those girls. If they recognize me, then I know I'm a hit. If not... well, I'll have to find some other way to break the ice."

Rembrandt headed off across the beach to where Arturo was posing for an ever-growing crowd of women.

Wade settled back on the towel, letting the sun warm her skin, and lulled by Rembrandt's tearful singing on the radio. She listened to the sounds of the beach; splashing water, crying gulls, the talking and laughter of the crowds.

Lots of laughter.

She could hear a child's voice by her side and looked to see a family setting up next to her. Their two-year-old boy was looking at Wade as his parents set up the umbrella, his thumb stuck in his mouth.

Wade smiled. "Hi, little guy."

The boy tugged on the coat of his mother. "Mommy, mommy, lookit the skinny lady."

The mother looked up with horror. "Hush, Timmy. That's not nice." She gave Wade a forced smile. "I'm sorry. He's... still learning manners."

"That's okay," Wade said.

She lay back on the sand, trying to relax, but couldn't. She kept hearing laughter all around her. Every time Wade looked up, she caught someone staring at her who would look away quickly. She felt less like a sunbather and more like entertainment.

Wade closed her eyes. She was starting to miss things in this world, like anonymity. She couldn't go anywhere or do anything without drawing attention. The constant focus was starting to get to her. A little.

She heard sand rustling beside her and opened her eyes. A young man in his late teens was standing over her with a broad smile.

"Excuse me," the young man said. "I don't mean to be forward, but... I couldn't help noticing your swimsuit."

Wade felt her face grow hot with a blush. "Oh... really?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate it."

"What?"

The young man held out his hand, miming holding up a badge. "Yeah, I'm from the San Francisco Fashion Police. You can't wear that outfit."

Wade could see a group of teenagers behind him, laughing hysterically. She could see now that the young man himself was holding back a giggle himself.

Wade narrowed her eyes. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah," the young man said, "and we're arresting the guys who sold it to you."

"I have the right to wear whatever I want," Wade said, "so bug off."

"Not on this beach you don't. Nobody wants to see your ribs all day. I'm afraid I'll have to escort you off the beach." He took hold of her arm.

Wade struggled as she was pulled to her feet. "Hey, let go of me!"

Quinn came charged up from the surf to shove him off of Wade.

"Hey!" Quinn yelled. "Back off! What's going on here?"

The man pointed in her direction. "She your girlfriend, pal?"

"What if she is?"

"Well, keep her off the beach from now on or at least cover her up. We're trying to enjoy ourselves out here without seeing that skeleton lying around."

The teenagers ran away, laughing and shoving each other as they cast defiant glances back at Wade and Quinn.

"You keep your hands to yourself from now on," Quinn yelled. "Touch her again and I'll smash your faces in!"

He turned to look down at Wade. "You okay?"

Wade was rubbing her arms, hugging herself as she watched the teenagers splash into the ocean. "I'm fine."

Rembrandt and Arturo came running up to them.

"We saw what happened," Rembrandt said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Just some jerks, that's all. Takes all kinds, I guess."

Wade looked around her at the crowds that were now openly staring at her. Some had looks of concern. Others were obviously just staring at her like spectators viewing some exotic animal at the zoo.

"Uh, hey, guys," she said. "I've had enough sun for one day. Whadda you say we just go?"

"But we just got here," Quinn said. Then he caught the look on her face, and said, "Uh, actually, I am kinda tired. Let's just head for home."

"Well, okay," Rembrandt said. "If that's what you want."

Quinn, Arturo, and Rembrandt began packing up their things. Wade bent to help fold the towel, then looked out at the teenagers who were still romping in the sea. The young man who had spoken to her gave her a lopsided grin of satisfaction.

Wade let go of the towel, backing away. "Uh, I'll see you guys back at the car."

She headed for the parking lot, keeping her eyes down at her feet to avoid seeing the people she passed on the way. In the lot, Wade unlocked the door of the car and climbed into the passenger seat. She sat there, waiting, staring down at herself to keep from looking out her window. Wade saw her own body, and for a brief moment, felt something she had never felt before.

*

Wade was back on the couch, watching TV with Rembrandt and Arturo. They were all watching the State of the Union address, where President Clinton was speaking.

"Man," Rembrandt said, "I didn't think a president could get that big and still fit in the Oval Office."

"Indeed," Arturo said. "Perhaps in this world, his large size aided his bid for election. It may carry a greater sense of authority here."

"Well, he's gettin' there on our world, too, so I dunno about that."

Rembrandt clicked the remore control, changing the channel to "Roseanne." His eyes widened as he said, "Hey... she's thin."

"Yes," Arturo said. "Perhaps on this world, her thinness conveys a sense of sassy defiance, a parallel to her size in our world."

"Do you have to analyze everything, professor? Anyway, I've seen this episode. You got any suggestions on what to watch?"

Wade realized Rembrandt was speaking to her. "Huh? Oh, no, not really."

Arturo frowned at her. "Are you all right, Miss Wells?"

"Yeah. It's just that...I can't help thinking about a funny thing that happened to me at the beach. I was waiting for you guys, and for a second there... I wished I was fat."

PART SIX

While his students worked on their tests, Arturo was keeping himself busy by grading them as they came in. He was deep in thought on one student's answer when a test slid itself into his range of vision.

Arturo nodded in response, still occupied with his work, when he realized there was a large shadow of someone still standing at his desk. Then he caught the name at the top of the test he had just been given.

It was Barbara Sinclair.

Arturo looked up into her smiling face. "Oh. Hello, Miss Sinclair."

She held up a finger. "Ah, ah, ah..."

"Oh, yes, of course. Uh, hello... Barbara."

Barbara leaned over his desk. "Now that's more like it."

"What can I do for you?" Arturo asked.

"I was hoping you could look over my test a little early, just so I have some idea how I did."

"Certainly." Arturo skimmed over the test with his red pen. When he reached the bottom of the page, he put the pen aside unused. "Excellent work as usual. A-plus."

Barbara clapped her hands together. "Oh, great. Well, I owe it all to you. This past week, our tutoring sessions have done more for me than any other teacher I've had in this crummy college."

Arturo clasped his hands over his desk. "Well, that's very kind of you, but I must say that you share a large credit for your own success. Your grasp of quantum theory is truly astonishing. You would go very far in the field if you wished to continue."

Barbara lowered her eyes. "Thanks, professor. That's sweet of you to say that."

"Not at all. Well-deserved."

Barbara turned away from the desk, then spun on her heel to face him again. "Oh, by the way, I'm having a party at my house tonight. The invitation's open if you want to drop by."

"Well, I would like to, but I'm afraid I have all these tests to grade tonight, you see..."

"But it won't take you all night to do," she insisted.

"Well, perhaps, I mean I have other classes. And besides, I'm... having a few friends over tonight."

"So bring them along," Barbara said.

She tore a blank sheet of paper out of his notebook, plucked Arturo's red pen off his desk, and began to write. "Here's my address."

She held the paper out to him. Arturo took it with a wan smile.

"Very well, Miss Sin... uh, Barbara. I shall be there."

"Great," she said. "See you tonight at seven."

She walked out of the classroom, smiling back at him.

Arturo looked down at the slip of paper in his hand, shaking his head as he whispered, "Into the breach, my boy."

*

The others were all gathered in the living room as Arturo spoke. He was smiling as he finished, saying, "...so it seems we have a public function to attend tonight."

Rembrandt grinned up at Arturo from the couch. "What's with you and this Barbara, anyway?"

"She's a student in one of my classes."

"Anything else?"

Arturo's eyes narrowed. "Certainly not. Why do you ask?"

Rembrandt shrugged and began inspecting his fingernails. "I dunno. You and her just seem awful chummy, that's all. Goin' off every night for those private sessions, now a party..."

"Do not be crass, Mr. Brown. We are at most, good friends, at the least, sharing a strong teacher-student relationship. She is really a bright young woman. Absolutely astounding. And she just happens to think that I am a genius, which is, of course, entirely accurate. Now, are you coming to this little engagement or not?"

Quinn glanced up from the circuit board he was working on in his lap. "Count me out. The sliding machine shorted out again when I tried to connect it to the timer. I have to replace all the chips. It'll take all night."

Rembrandt rolled his eyes. "How many times do we have to drag you outta this house, Q-Ball? You've been workin' on that thing for almost a week. Take a break."

Quinn pressed a microchip into place. "You know I can't. We've only got a week and a half left before we slide. I've gotta fix this thing before then."

"Q-Ball, you've been indoors so long, you're turnin' into Casper the Ghost. Now, if you don't come with us tonight, I'll take a sledgehammer to that gizmo in the basement and pound it into dust. Now are you comin' or not?"

Quinn glared at him. "Well, with a gracious invitation like that, how can I refuse? How about you, Wade?"

Wade looked away from the TV she was watching. "Yeah, sure, okay. Sounds like fun."

"Excellent." Arturo clapped his hands together. "Well, all that remains is for me to select appropriate attire from my new wardrobe. I believe the grey suit would best fit this auspicious occasion."

He strode up the staircase to his bedroom on the second floor.

Wade flicked off the TV with her remote. "Yeah. And I guess I'll wear the blue dress I got from the Slim and Tall shop. The one that *doesn't* go with my shoes."

*

The house thundered with rock music as Quinn pulled up the curb. Wade climbed out, breaking into a grin as she saw the moving shadows of partygoers through the windows.

"All right," she said. "Party hardy."

"Yeah," Rembrandt said. 'Haven't been to a good party since the end of the world."

Arturo adjusted his tie, then held out his arm to Wade. She took it graciously, and the two of them strode up the walk to the front door of the house.

He rang the doorbell, which could barely be heard over the din of the music inside. The decibel level increased as the door was opened by a round young man with a beer in one hand and a CD in the other.

The man looked at Arturo, then at Rembrandt, then at Quinn, and finally settled on Wade. He lingered there for a moment as he said, "Uh, can I help you guys?"

"Yes," Arturo said, "we are to attend this little gathering. Barbara Sinclair invited us."

The man's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, yeah, okay. You must be her physics professor. Uh, Arthur?"

"Arturo. Maximillian Arturo. And these are my companions, Quinn Mallory, Wade Wells, and Rembrandt Brown."

The man held up his beer as a gesture of greeting. "How's it goin'? Wow. You guys are thin."

"How nice of you to point that out," Wade said.

The man held up his hands. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to be crude or nothing. Just thought it was obvious, wanted to get it outta the way. I got no problem with it. Come on in."

He stood aside to let the four visitors into the rampaging interior of the house.

Arturo winced at the loud thumping music that filled the air, but Wade grinned as she entered the party. The dancing bodies, the din of conversation and laughter, and the snacks in fashionable disarray were all familiar to her, even though the partiers were several sizes larger than the ones she was used to. She felt herself relax a little.

Then she caught sight of a group of teenage girls in a corner of the living room. They were all staring at her as they whispered and giggled to each other. Wade didn't need to read lips to guess what they were saying and about who. The tension which had so briefly left her returned.

Rembrandt began to sway from side to side to the music. "Yeah, now this is a party. Where to first?"

Arturo rubbed his ears as he said, "If there is any decency in this world, then the volume control would suffice."

A group of young women seemed to melt out of the crowds, headed straight for the Sliders. Wade smiled at them, but they ignored her, moving to Arturo's side.

"Hi, cutie," one of them said. "Haven't seen you around before."

Arturo brushed down his tie with a smile. "Uh, likewise. And you are..."

Barbara rested her hand on the shoulder of one of the women. "Leaving."

The woman scowled at her. "Oh, come on, Bambi. You gonna hog him up for the whole party?"

Barbara moved to Arturo's side and tucked her arm under his. "Precisely. Wanna dance, professor?"

"Why, I would be delighted." Arturo took her hand.

Wade watched them move further out onto the dancefloor. Barbara looked back at her over her shoulder. Wade thought she caught an unfriendly smile on her face before she turned back to Arturo to laugh over a private joke.

*

Barbara led Arturo to a clear space on the floor, then began dancing to the beat. Arturo tried to keep up, but he could only manage a slight movement of the feet, and an occasional bob of the arms.

Barbara laughed. "There you go, professor. I knew you could do it."

"Uh, yes," Arturo gasped. "I don't suppose you have anything a bit more... low-key."

"Oh, sure. Hold on."

Barbara broke away from him to blend back into the crowds. The music stopped. It returned again a few seconds later in the form of a slow-paced love song. Couples formed on the dance floor as Barbara came back with a broad smile.

She took Arturo's hands, moving them into position as they began to slow dance.

"Better?" Barbara asked.

"Uh, yes," Arturo said. "I say, this is quite an extraordinary residence you have here."

"Thanks. My dad's a bigwig in airlines. He's on a business trip for a few days, so I thought I'd take advantage of the situation. Like it?"

Arturo looked around him. "Yes, it's quite an impressive domicile."

"I didn't mean the house." Barbara moved in closer to rest her chin on his shoulder.

"Ah, yes." Arturo swallowed before managing, "I see."

*

Wade was leaning against a wall, glaring at her feet. "Man, this stinks. Arturo's the only one who's having any fun here. It's hard enough to go to parties where you don't know anybody. But these people don't even like us."

"Ah, no problem," Rembrandt said. "All we gotta do is hang around a while, mingle a little, make some contacts. Hey, how about I snag us a few glasses o' punch?"

Quinn shrugged. "Yeah, okay. Say, you think maybe the sliding machine keeps burning out because there's too much current in the timer connection?"

As he walked away, Rembrandt said, "How should I know? You're supposed to be the genius."

A large young woman in a fashionable dress approached Wade with a broad smile. A cigarette dangled between two fingers in one hand. A pack of cigarettes were in her other, which she held out to Wade.

"Want one?" the woman asked. "They're Virginia Thicks."

Wade forced a smile. "No thanks."

The woman nodded as she drew on her cigarette. "Yeah, I know they'll kill ya. I only smoke to stay fat."

She smiled at Wade as she exhaled. "I'm Melody."

"Wade. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Good to see a friendly face in this crowd. I swear, if you wear the wrong color socks, they'll eat you alive. That's why I came over here. I admire you. You're not afraid to be who you wanna be, to cast off the shackles of our male-dominated, image-conscious, weight-gain society. I wish I had the guts to stop dieting, but you know how it is."

Wade nodded. "Yeah. I guess so."

"So where you from?"

"San Francisco, actually. Uh, a different part of San Francisco."

Melody took another puff. "Really? Which one?"

"Uh, well, actually..."

An obese man wearing a "Party Hardy" t-shirt staggered up to them, so drunk he could barely stand. "Hey, girls. Melody, how's it goin'?"

Melody rolled her eyes as she snarled, "Hi, Chad."

Chad focused his wavering eyes on Wade. "Whoa, who's the beanpole?"

"Knock it off, Chad. She's a friend."

Chad barked out laughter. "That stick?" He leaned towards Wade. "Hey, there, little lady. You take a shower this morning or were you afraid you'd slip down the drain?"

"Hey," Melody said, "knock it off, okay?"

"Aw, shut up," Chad snarled. "Just havin' little fun. She knows I'm kiddin', right, Bones?"

Chad leaned closer into Wade's face until she could smell the beer on his breath. She shoved him away, moving to walk past him. Chad grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Hey, hey, hey," Chad mmurmured. "Don't be mad. Here, I'll tells ya a joke. How many skinnies does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

Quinn knocked his hand off Wade's arm as he said, "Hey, leave her alone."

Chad lurched backwards to get a better look at Quinn, then burst into a frenzied laugh. "Well, well, well, what have we here? This your boyfriend, Bones, or did you just dig him up from a cemetary for the special occasion?"

Quinn pushed a finger into Chad's stomach. "Leave her alone or I'll..."

Chad shoved his finger away. "Or you'll what? Huh? You gonna take me on, izzat it? You wanna piece o' me? Man, I've eaten lunches bigger than you. Well, come on, Jabba, let's get it on."

"Quinn," Wade started, "don't..."

Chad threw a fist at Quinn, who blocked it and rammed his own into Chad's stomach. Chad curled up on the floor with a groan.

There was a scream from behind them. Three fraternity men jumped Quinn, grabbing him. One began driving punches into him as the others shouted encouragement. Wade hauled one of them off Quinn, then punched him in the jaw. He went flying into the snack table with a loud crash that silenced the room.

Rembrandt looked up from the punch bowl, then sighed as he put down his glass. "Great. Everywhere you go..."

Then he ran screaming into the men holding Quinn, bowling them over. The four of them went down punching as more frat brothers came charging over to join the fray. Someone else in the crowd threw a punch, then the fight began to grow.

*

"Amazing," Barbara whispered. "I've never even considered the existence of alternate worlds before. But you make it all seem so real."

Arturo nodded. "Yes. The subject has always fascinated me, although it has become of particular importance of late."

"But the idea that there could be another world where I'm a... a police officer or a doctor or a blonde. Or that I could see other worlds, other realities. Wouldn't it be great to visit some of them and see what they're like?"

"Yes, it would be interesting. To a point, that is. After a while, though, I believe it would leave one feeling... isolated. The constant changes of environment would drive one to confusion about what is real and what is not. They would never know where they stood, and be forced to see themselves as different beings, both good and evil. Eventually, perhaps that person would long to return to a world where everything was familiar and where surprises were in shorter supply. A world they could call home."

Barbara looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Well, that's a very pessimistic way of looking at it. I mean, if you didn't like the world you went to, you could just go back home."

Arturo forced a smile. "Yes. If it were only that easy."

The music stopped with a loud crash. Barbara looked back to see the crowds scatter as two opposing frat brothers went flying onto the dancefloor. They landed, throwing punches at one another. The buffet table hurtled through the air in the background amid grunts of pain and effort.

"What the devil is this?" Arturo asked.

"A fight," Barbara said. "Happens every time I throw a party. Beer and fraternities are a dangerous combination."

Arturo ducked a glass that exploded on the wall behind him.

"I guess the party's over," Barbara said. "Usually they last longer than this."

At the other end of the room, someone was hauled into the air. It was Rembrandt. He looked across the room at Arturo, then waved.

"Hey, professor," he yelled. "We could use a little help over here!"

He was hauled back out of view.

"I believe my friends could use some assistance. Thank you for the delightful party, Miss... uh, Barbara. I must go."

"Sure. We're still on for tomorrow afternoon, right?"

"Of course." Arturo kissed her hand, then hurried off into the crowd.

He waded through a mass of writhing, fighting bodies. Arturo emerged into the open, where Quinn, Wade, and Rembrandt were fighting off an onslaught.

"About time you showed up," Wade yelled as she kicked someone away. "We gotta get outta here!"

"Of course. This way." Arturo led them to the door, shrugging off frats who tried to pull him into a fight.

All four of the Sliders threw themselves through the front door, back into the night. Rembrandt slammed the door behind them, then leaned up against it.

"Whoo!" he yelled. "Love a good party!"

*

Wade walked into the house, followed by Quinn, Rembrandt, and Arturo. Arturo was clutching his sides as Rembrandt dabbed at a cut on his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Well," Arturo said, "I hope you four enjoyed yourselves. I swear, that is the last time I shall ever attend an engagement hosted by the younger generation."

"Aw, come on," Rembrandt said. "It's all part of the party experience. Right, Wade?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Fun for the whole family."

Rembrandt frowned. "You okay?"

"Yeah. But I've decided. "I'm gonna call a lawyer, and sue Hurley for discrimination."

Quinn stepped down into the living room. "Are you serious?"

"You better believe it," Wade said. "There's gotta be laws against that kind of thing. You can't just fire somebody for the way they look."

"But we're only gonna be here a month. What's the point?"

"The point is that... the point is... well, it's the principle of the thing. Hurley shouldn't be able to get away with treating people like that."

Quinn rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Exactly," Wade said. "I've had it with this world. I'm gonna fight back. This is America. They can't deny you a job just because of the way you look, right? Right?"

Arturo patted her shoulder and headed for the kitchen.

Wade looked at Rembrandt. "Right, Rembrandt?"

Rembrandt sighed as he slumped into the armchair. "I wishI could agree with you, girl. I really do."

PART SEVEN

On Friday morning, Wade Wells' cab pulled up alongside a quaint office building in the business district of San Francisco. She leaned towards the glass divider seperating her from the cabbie as she reached into his purse.

"How much?" she asked.

"Three dollars," the overweight cabbie murmured.

Wade paid the man, then climbed out. As she did, Wade caught the man staring at her.

Wade scowled. "What're you looking at?"

The cabbie's eyes widened. "Uh, nothing."

"Yeah? Well, keep on looking." Wade slammed the car door behind her. She watched the taxi drive away with a grin of satisfaction on her face. Ever since she had come to this world, everyone had done nothing but stare at her thin body. Well, it was time things changed. Cursing out the cabbie was the first step. The second step lay on the third floor of the building in office number two-twenty-five.

Wade rode the elevator up the third floor, ignoring the other large people in the car with her. The elevator car was twice as wide as any on her own world. It allowed her room to move to the back so the other passengers wouldn't stare at her.

When the third floor came, Wade marched down the long hallway outside to the door that read "ROSS J. KELLEY, Attorney-At-Law." She smoothed down her dress, wishing she had brought a change of clothes during her last slide, then opened the door.

A large secretary sat behind a desk in an expansive seat, typing away on a computer keyboard. She looked up at Wade as she approached. Wade watched the familiar startled expression appear on the woman's face.

"May I help you?" the woman asked.

"Yes, I have a two o'clock appointment with Mr. Kelley," Wade said. "I'm Wade Wells."

"I see. One moment." The receptionist picked up the phone, punching one of the keys. After a moment, she said, "Yes, a Miss Wade Wells is here to see you. Yes, sir."

The receptionist hung up, then gave Wade a bright smile. "Go right in."

"Thanks." Wade headed for the office door, pretending not to see the woman gawking as she went by.

Wade walked into an office lined with bookcases of legal material. Ross J. Kelley was at once of them, leafing through the pages of a thick volume. He was just as rounded as everyone else in this world, maybe a little larger. He gestured at a chair in front of his desk without looking up.

"Yes, have a seat, won't you?" he asked.

"Sure." Wade sat down, folding her hands over her lap.

Kelley put the book back, then turned to face Wade. The look of surprise flashed across his face, but passed quickly, replaced by a calm smile. "So, how can I help you?"

"I'd like to sue somebody," Wade said.

Kelley chuckled as he sat down behind his desk in a vast leather armchair. "Don't we all. What are the grounds?"

"Discrimination."

Kelley nodded as he reached for a pad and pencil on his desk. "All right, let's hear the circumstances."

"Well, it's really very simple. I used to work for a Doppler Computer Superstore, but my friend and I went on vacation for a month. Unfortunately, I caught a bug that was going around, and lost a little weight."

"Ah," Kelley said, writing on his pad. "I see."

"Yes. Well, anyway, we came back early to go back to work, but our fat boss fired us just because we're thin. Told us to go home and gain some weight, *and* he called us repulsive."

Kelley finished writing, then leaned back in his chair. "Hm. Interesting."

"So I wanna sue for size discrimination," Wade said. "I can do that, right?"

Kelley nodded. "Yes, I believe there are grounds for proving discrimination, as long as there were witnesses to the incident."

"Oh, there were," Wade said. "A whole roomful of customers and my friend, Quinn. He can testify. Look, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to do this quickly. I have to... go somewhere in a few weeks."

"Well, that shouldn't be hard," Kelley said. "Time isn't the problem."

Wade's smile fell. "Problem...what problem?"

Kelley tossed his pencil onto the desk as he said, "Miss Wells, I'm going to be blunt about this, because I don't believe in sugarcoating. Although you do have grounds here, and should win the case easily, I don't think you will."

"Whadda you mean?"

Kelley clasped his hands over the desk. "I'm afraid that size discrimination is a very difficult legal area. With you... looking the way you do... it would be very hard to find a jury in this country that would award you the money. I've been in this game for a long time, and one thing I've learned is that justice is one thing, human nature is another. Quite frankly, it would be hard to find a jury to sympathize with your problem. Most people would simply tell you to gain some weight so you could get your job back."

"But that's wrong," Wade yelled. "I shouldn't have to change the way I look just to get a job! Suppose I like being thin?"

Kelley held up his hands. "Miss Wells, please. I'm not telling you my opinion. I'm just telling you the facts. If this case went to court, it would probably get tied up in all sorts of red tape that could extend it for months, maybe even years. The first decision would undoubtedly have to be appealed, and with the civil rights angle, the media could get involved, which would just cast this whole thing into the public eye, making it harder to find impartial jurors for the second trial. It might even end up going to a higher court. In my opinion, it would just be a colossal waste of time and money."

"So that's it? You won't even take the case?"

Kelley shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Wade stood up, glaring down at him. "Fine. Then I'll just find myself a lawyer who will."

"Go right ahead," Kelley said. "But I'll tell you right now that no responsible lawyer would take this case. Any who did would do it for the publicity, not for your best interests. I'm telling you as a friend,not a lawyer, to try to put this behind you. I'm sure you could find a job somewhere else that would support your condition. You said you worked at a computer store. Maybe you should look into working at home with a PC."

Wade nodded. "So that's your solution? Lock myself up in my house like a criminal or some complete social reject just because of a few pounds?"

"Miss Wells..."

"You and your whole lousy world makes me sick." Wade stomped out of the office.

*

Wade and Rembrandt lay back on the couch, watching sumo wrestling on TV. As one of the round men slammed into his opponent, Wade murmured, "This place is so gross. I can't wait to slide out of here."

Rembrandt raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said this place was paradise."

"Well, I was wrong. I still can't get over what Kelley said. I lost my job because I was thin, and I can't even do anything about it. Hurley gets away scot-free. That's not fair."

Rembrandt shrugged. "That's life."

Wade glared at him. "Oh, sure, you can talk. You don't have to go through all this. You've been sitting at home all this time."

Rembrandt put aside his bowl, pointing at Wade. "Hey, don't you talk to me about discrimination. Look at my skin. How many jobs you think I've been turned down for because of the way I look? How many managers you think tried to kick me outta the Spinning Topps because I was 'threatening' to white audiences? How many times you think I walk down the street or through some fancy store and have people staring at me? I know what you're going through, girl. But you only have to put up with it for a month. I've lived with it my whole life."

Wade lowered her eyes to the floor. "Sorry, Rembrandt. I didn't mean to insult you."

Rembrandt picked up his bowl and began sifting out unpopped kernels. "Hey, it's cool. I know you're just stressed. You just gotta hang in there, that's all."

Arturo walked into the house with a sigh. "Good evening, everyone. And did how your day go?"

"Lousy," Wade said. "That jerk of a lawyer told me I didn't have a case, that no jury in the world would give me the money because I'm thin."

Arturo's smile faded. "Oh, my dear, I am truly sorry."

"Ah, it's no big deal. I wasn't that keen on the money, anyway. At least I got to sock Hurley a good one. That's enough justice for me."

"That's the spirit, Miss Wells. Never say die."

Wade got up. "I guess. I'm gonna go to bed."

"Now?" Rembrandt asked. "It's only nine o'clock."

"I'm really tired. 'Night, everyone." Wade left the living room, heading upstairs to leave her friends behind.

*

Rembrandt walked into the living room, where Wade was lying on the couch watching a commercial for a Jenny Craig weight-gain clinic on TV.

"Morning, girl," he said. "How'd you sleep?"

"Lousy," Wade murmured.

"Oh. Well, I'm gonna go catch a movie. Wanna join me?"

"Nah," Wade said. "The idea of spending two hours swimming in a seat the size of a football field doesn't make a fun day for me."

"Okay, so let's go get somethin' to eat. I saw a Denny's a couple blocks down."

"No thanks. I already ate breakfast."

"So let's go shopping."

Wade clicked her remote to change the channel. "For what? Clothes? I can't buy anything that's not in a specialty store."

"So we'll just look around."

"I said, no, Remmy."

Rembrandt sighed, then said, "So that's it? You're just gonna sit here all day?"

"Why not?" Wade asked. "Maybe I'll gain weight and people will like me again. I don't wanna be laughed at anymore. I'm just gonna stay inside until we slide."

"For two weeks?"

Wade glared up at him. "Could we just drop it?"

Rembrandt held up his hands. "Okay. Whatever you say."

Wade slumped back into the couch, watching a soap opera filled with beautiful, overweight people.

Rembrandt headed for the door to the basement. He descended the stairs into the cavernous room where Quinn and Arturo were staring intently at a small device on the table between them.

"It just doesn't make sense," Quinn was saying. "It's generating an intense magnetic field, but I can't understand why my double put it in. And at the same time, I can't get the machine to work without it."

Arturo rubbed his chin. "Perhaps, it is a counterpart to your sliding system's Heisenberg compensator. The magnetic field could..."

Rembrandt cleared his throat. "Uh, guys?"

"Yes, what is it, Mr. Brown?"

"I'm a little worried about Wade. She's not doin' so good."

Quinn blinked. "Why? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Well, for a start, she gets laughed at everywhere she goes in this world."

Quinn shrugged. "So what? People are jerks. It happens."

"I'm afraid it is not that easy for her to shrug this off, Mr. Mallory," Arturo said. "You have to look at it from the point of view of Miss Wells. Our own society placed great emphasis on the appearance of women. In some cases, a woman's self-esteem becomes directly tied to how they feel about the way they look. In Wade's mind, this world has transformed her from a perfectly normal person into an intolerable freak. It cannot help but affect her psyche."

"So what do you think we should do?" Quinn asked.

"I believe some professional help would be in order. Perhaps a psychologist or a therapist could help her come to terms with what shehas gone through in this world. At least until we slide."

Quinn shrugged. "Okay. Remmy, you want me to take her or should I?"

"I'll take her," Rembrandt said. "You stay here and keep workin' on gettin' us home."

"Excellent." Arturo adjusted his tie. "If that's settled, then I shall adjourn to my classes. My adoring students await."

"You're really enjoyin' this, aren't you, professor?"

Arturo raised a brow at Rembrandt. "And why should I not, Mr. Brown? Finally, I am on a world where I belong. My students worship the ground I walk on, I have acquired a splendid wardrobe, a responsive class, and a new self-image. I am on top of the world."

Arturo clapped him on the back, then strode up the steps out of the basement, whistling.

"Yeah," Rembrandt said. "And Wade's at the bottom."

PART EIGHT

Rembrandt walked into the offices of Dr. Nathan Monroe, pulling Wade in after him. "It's for your own good."

"No, it's not," Wade said, trying to break free. "I'm not a psycho."

"Nobody said you were. But you need help, and he's gonna give it to you."

Rembrandt approached the desk where the receptionist smiled up at him. "Hi, we have a ten o'clock appointment. Wade Wells."

"Of course. He's expecting you. Go right in."

Rembrandt let go of Wade's arm, gesturing towards the office door. "It's your call. I can't force you to go, but I think you should. We're only tryin' to help you."

Wade looked at the door, then up at Rembrandt. "Well... I guess I could talk to him a little. Just to get some things off my chest."

Rembrandt grinned. "Atta girl."

Wade took a deep breath, exhaled, and strode through the office door.

Dr. Monroe sat behind his desk, smiling up at Wade as she entered. "Ah, you must be Wade. Please, have a seat."

"Thanks." Wade sat down on the couch against the wall. "Should I lie down?"

Monroe shrugged as he pulled out a notepad. "It's up to you."

Wade laid down on the couch, heaving a sigh.

"So," Monroe said, "what can I help you with today?"

"Well, my friends think I have a problem. I'm... new here, and I've been having a hard time getting used to the way everybody treats thin people here."

"I see."

"It's like I've suddenly become this colossal eyesore that people can't stand to be around. I get laughed at everywhere I go. Either that or people pity me. I can't go to the beach or even the store without becoming a spectacle. It's like I don't even wanna leave the house anymore."

Monroe nodded. "I can understand that. But ask yourself this question... what do you want right now?"

Wade paused before saying, "I just wanna be normal again, like everyone else. I'm tired of being an outcast."

"Well, there's a simple solution to that. Do it."

"What?"

"If what you want is to be normal, then why don't you just stop being thin?" the therapist asked.

Wade rolled over to look at him. "I can't stop being thin. That's what I am."

"But admit it. Don't you get some satisfaction from the attention you get?"

"Of course not," Wade said. "How can I get satisfaction from people insulting me all the time?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Wade pointed at him. "Hey, you're supposed to be helping me."

"I am," Monroe said. "You can't tell me you're happy like this."

"What if I was? Suppose I like being thin! Don't I have the right to look however I want?"

"But don't you want to be normal?"

"I am normal!" Wade yelled. "It's you guys who're the freaks!"

Wade jumped off the couch and bolted out of the office.

*

Rembrandt was reading a magazine in the waiting room as Wade rushed out. He started to speak, but Wade had already passed him, running out of the office at full speed. Rembrandt threw his magazine aside, running to chase after her.

"Hey," he yelled. "Wade, wait up!"

He chased her down the hallway to the front door, where she exploded out onto the street. They ran down the concrete steps out front. Wade collided with a man standing outside.

He was a thin man, carrying a basket of buttons and fliers. The man took hold of Wade, his eyes wide with concern.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said. "Are you all right?"

Wade was turning away to avoid his gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Look," the man said, "I'm distributing these fliers. I think they could help you..."

"Leave me alone."

"But..."

"I said, leave me alone!" Wade broke away from him, walking quickly to their car parked nearby.

Rembrandt approached the man, forcing a weak smile. "Uh, sorry about that. She's a little upset."

The thin man grinned. "That's okay. I know what it's like. Look, I was serious about what I said about helping her. I'm distributing these. I'm from TAG."

Rembrandt took the button and flier the man offered him. "TAG?"

"Thinness Acceptance Group," the man said. "San Francisco chapter. We're working to erase size prejudice in America, and I think we could help your friend. If she'd like, we'd be happy to have her at our next meeting tomorrow at nine AM. You're welcome, too, as well as any other thin people you may know."

Rembrandt read the button the man gave him. It read "I'm Thin And I'm Proud."

"Yeah, okay," Rembrandt said. "I'll keep it in mind."

Rembrandt hurried to the car where Wade was seated in the passenger seat. The enlarged seat made her look smaller, but her posture added to the effect. She was hunched over in her seat, hands in her lap, her hair falling over her face, veiling it in shadows.

"I wanna go home, Remmy," Wade said.

"Sure. I'll take you home." Rembrandt started the car and began to drive. "We'll be there in a minute."

"No," Wade said. "I wanna go home. To my real home. I wanna see my family and friends. I wanna go to my old job, I wanna hang out with Quinn, I wanna catch a hockey game... I wanna live my life again without all this weirdness."

Wade looked out her window. "I'm tired of sliding. I'm tired of never fitting in. I'm tired of... everything. I wanted things to be new and exciting... but not like this. I just wish we could be normal again. That's what I want."

Rembrandt watched the streets go by as he said, "I hear you, girl. I miss home, too. But we'll get there. We just have to stick together. Remember we're all here for you. No matter what."

"Thanks," Wade said, wiping her eyes with her palms. "It helps to know I'm not alone."

*

The clock on the wall chimed four as Arturo sat at his desk in his classroom, looking across the table at Barbara Sinclair. The otherwise empty room echoed with his voice as he explained Planck's Constant.

"And there you have the equation E = h (nu)," Arturo said, "where h is Planck's Constant and has the small, nonzero value of approximately 6.62 X (10 to the power of -34) joule-seconds."

Barbara was staring at him with a slight smile. "Fascinating, professor. Simply fascinating."

"Yes. Well, it's getting late. I'm afraid I must be off." Arturo began packing away his notes in his briefcase.

Barbara seemed to awaken, reaching out to grab his arm. "What? No. Can't we talk a little while longer?"

Arturo lowered his notes as he said, "Well... I suppose we could consider a few more theories. Perhaps Feynman's theory of time dilation in..."

"That's... not what I had in mind. I was hoping we could talk about us for a while."

"Us. I'm not sure what you..."

Barbara took his hand in hers. "Oh, come on, professor. You can't pretend you haven't felt it, too. That irresistable attraction..."

"Oh, dear," Arturo said. "I was afraid of this. Look, my child, I know I must seem wonderful to you. An older, intelligent man who is able to relate to you on an intellectual level..."

Barbara burst into laughter. "Oh, come on, professor. Don't get boring on me. You and I both know this isn't about brains. It's about body."

"What?"

"You're gorgeous," Barbara said. "I'm gorgeous. We'd be great together and you know it."

"Is... is that what this has all been about? My appearance? The discussions, the test scores, the tutoring sessions..."

"Got me where I wanted," Barbara said. "Thought I was gonna fall asleep a few times, but it did the job. I'm here, aren't I? And so are you..."

She began to move her hand up his arm. Arturo yanked it away.

"Young lady," Arturo said. "I make it a policy not to get involved with my students, especially ones who only pretend to be interested in the subject I love most in this world."

"Oh." Barbara stood up. "Well, forget it then."

She got up and walked out of the classroom, leaving Arturo alone at his desk.

*

Rembrandt was watching "Melrose Place," but his thoughts were farther away. He was interuppted from his musing by the slamming of the front door. Rembrandt looked back to see Arturo storming into the living room.

"Never in my life," Arturo said, "have I been treated with such... such arrogance!"

"What's up, professor?" Rembrandt asked.

"It seems that Miss Barbara Sinclair showed me her true colors today. She revealed that she was never interested in my theories or my mind. She was only interested in my body, like I was some... cheap piece of meat."

Arturo folded his arms over his chest, glaring out the living room window. "I feel so... used."

Rembrandt grinned. "Well, I guess that comes with bein' a sex symbol."

"Then dash it all," Arturo growled. "I think I preferred it when women were attracted to my mind instead of my body. At least then I knew where I stood with them."

Arturo slumped into the armchair next to the couch. "So, how is Miss Wells this evening?"

"Not good. Worse than ever. The shrink she went to told her to gain weight, just like everyone else in this world. Wade ran out, went to her room, and stayed there all day."

"Mm. It seems that, even in this world, those who seek to heal can sometimes do even greater harm."

"What're we gonna do?" Rembrandt asked.

Arturo got to his feet. "Not much else we can do, Mr. Brown. Perhaps this is one of those situations best left for Wade to solve. At the very least, I'm sure she will feel differently in the light of day. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I shall check on the endevours of our young benefactor."

Arturo headed for the basement, leaving Rembrandt to try to concentrate on the TV again. Large, beautiful men and women moved effortlessly across the screen until Rembrandt shut the set off.

*

Rembrandt lay back in bed, staring at the pages in his hands. Then he looked at the pages on his lap. And on the bed. And on the floor. And the song still wasn't finished.

Rembrandt looked at the clock and groaned. Almost midnight. His brain felt like it was made of putty. He had been working for four hours straight on the lyrics for the third stanza of "Tears Like Rain," and it just wasn't clicking. But he felt like he was close, and when he got that feeling, he just had to keep going until he got it. Somehow.

"Coffee," Rembrandt murmured, working himself up to a standing position. "It's my only hope."

Rembrandt walked down the stairs, listening to them creak beneath his feet in the shadows. He was walking through the hallway when he realized there was a dim light coming out of the kitchen. Rembrandt slowed as he moved into the room.

The refrigerator door was open, casting its pale light onto the kitchen table, where Wade was sitting. She was staring at a double-decker chocolate cake seated before her, her hands folded over her lap.

"Wade?" Rembrandt asked. "What's goin' on?"

"I bought a cake," Wade said. "I bought a cake and I'm gonna eat every bit of it. I tried to fight it, but I can't take it anymore. I thought I could stay thin here, but I just don't have the willpower. So I'm gonna eat this cake and get fat, and people will like me again. Don't try to stop me."

"I won't." Rembrandt took a seat across from her. "But is this what you wanna do?"

"No," Wade said. "Well, a little. I do want the cake. But I don't wanna get fat. But I can't take it anymore. I wanna be normal."

"So who says you aren't?"

"Everybody."

"Not me."

Wade grinned at him. "I know, Remmy."

"Look, here's how I see it. You eat the cake. You gain a little weight. You become more accepted... then what? People still say you're too thin. So you gain a little more weight. And a little more. And more. Next thing you know, you have to knock out a wall so you can walk into a room, and some jerk'll still say you're a rail. You can't please others by changin' yourself."

Wade smirked at him. "Well, that's pretty deep."

"Hey," Rembrandt said, "the Cryin' Man ain't all tears and songs. He's got a heart, a little pain. I know how it feels to wanna change into somethin' else, something people would like. Thin, fat, white, black... whatever. It's hard bein' an outsider even on your own world."

Wade propped her head up with one hand. "I thought it would be better here, but it's not. It's worse. I'm afraid to even leave the house."

"Well, that's somethin' we gotta change."

"You got any suggestions?"

Rembrandt reached into his pocket and drew out the crumpled flier he had gotten outside the therapist's office. "How 'bout these guys?"

Wade took it and read the text. "Thinness Acceptance Group. Hm."

"It's worth a shot. There's a meetin' tomorrow morning. We could drop by, see what it's like."

"Yeah, okay." Wade eyed the cake. "But I still wanna eat some of this. Cost me twenty bucks."

Rembrandt got up and took down two plates from the cupboard. "Tell you what. I'll save you from yourself and join you. Deal?"

Wade grinned as she took the plate. "Deal. Nothing wrong with indulging yourself every now and then."

"Exactly. As long as it's for the right reason."

"And that reason is?"

"To make ourselves sick?"

"Sounds good to me."

They began to cut the cake.

*

The address on the flier turned out to be a large apartment building. Rembrandt and Wade rode the elevator up to the third floor, walking down the hallway to the door listed in the address.

Wade knocked on the door. It opened. The thin man who had met them outside the office was there, breaking into a smile.

He shook their hands, vigorously. "Hey, you're the guys from the clinic. Great to see you. I'm Mark."

"Hi. Wade Wells. This is Rembrandt Brown."

"Great to meet you. Come on in. We're almost ready to start."

Wade followed him into an apartment filled with thin people. Women who otherwise would have made her green with envy wandered the room, chatting with men of similar girth. Wade found her attention drawn to photographs mounted on the walls of the apartment of beautiful thin men and women.

Mark stood beside her with a grin. "A little shocking, huh? Most people aren't used to the idea of thin people being attractive."

"Not me," Rembrandt said. "I'm with you, brother."

"Well, that's great. Nice to meet someone else who can appreciate slimmer beauty without worrying about being labelled a skinny-chaser. That's why I took the photos, to challenge the notion of what is beauty in American society."

"So that's what you do here?" Wade asked. "Take pictures of thin people?"

"That's part of it," Mark said. "And we work to try to break down barriers that hold us back. We campaign for positive portrayals of slim people on movies, TV, and other media. We're currently involved in a lawsuit against a microchip company that refuses to buy chairs and other office furniture designed for the slimmer body. But our main goal is to give slim people a place where they can be comfortable among others like themselves. Here, everyone is beautiful."

Wade smiled. "I like that."

Mark looked at his watch, then said, "Oo, we'd better get started. Feel free to sit down anywhere."

Mark hurried to a podium across the room as others took places in the rows of chairs in front of it. Wade and Rembrandt found seats in the back just as Mark rapped with a wooden hammer.

"Okay, time to get started," Mark said. "I'd like to give some brief announcements. Uh, first of all, Rose tells me that she's down to a hundred and fifty pounds, and proud of it."

The crowd applauded as a woman in the corner blushed.

"Also," Mark continued, "I succeeded in getting a meeting with the editors of 'San Fran Fashions,' so hopefully I'll be able to make some headway toward their using thinner models. And Jules is still talking with Southwest Airlines about making narrower seats, and from what I hear, things are going very positively. And last but not least, I'd like to remind everyone that the Small and Beautiful Convention is only a few months away, so be sure to reserve your hotel accomodations in advance. I hear there's gonna be quite a turn-out this year."

Mark clapped his hands together. "Okay, I'd like to start off this week's meeting by introducing the newest member of TAG, Veronica Bentley. As usual, I've asked her to say a few words, tell us how she got here and why. Veronica?"

The audience applauded as a slim woman came up to the podium. She flashed a nervous smile at the crowds, then said, "Yeah, um, my name is Veronica Bentley, like Mark said, and I'm here because I needed... help. Not help to get fat. There's plenty of places to go for that. I wanted help to stay thin. Because it's hard. It's hard to be who you want to be when... no one else wants you to be it."

Veronica brushed a wisp of hair over her ear before saying, "I was born three weeks premature, so I was never a large child. As I was growing up, I suffered the usual torture from the other kids. My mother tried to help me, tried to put me on diets, send me to doctors... nothing helped. I lost the weight soon after I gained it. But I kept trying. Hard. It got really bad around puberty. Everyone else was filling out, but I... stayed the same. I ate larger meals, got hooked on weight-gain pills. Eventually, I got into... binging. Thankfully, my mother saw the signs and got me to a doctor who could help me. But it never really went away. Never does, I guess."

Wade noticed several other people in the audience nodding with sympathy.

Veronica sighed. "Anyway, about a month ago, I lost another boyfriend to someone bigger and blonder than I was. It sent me into a depression that drove me back to binging. Two days ago, I was at the store, buying stuff for my first binge in weeks. That's when I met Mark."

Mark grinned up at her as she looked at him with a smile.

"He helped me," Veronica said. "He saw the cart and somehow, he knew what I was going to do. He talked me out of it, helped me through a really rough night. But I came out stronger. That's when I knew he could help me. So when he invited me to join TAG, I accepted, and... here I am."

Mark joined her at the podium amidst thunderous applause. He hugged her, then gave her a small packet.

"We're glad to have you with us," Mark said. "Here's your membership card, 'Thin and Proud' bumper sticker, and the latest edition of our newsletter, 'Big Trouble.' I hope we'll help you as much as you've helped us."

Veronica left the stage as Mark turned to face the audience again. "Well, it seems we have two more newcomers. They're not official members yet, but perhaps we could talk them into coming up here to say a few words."

Everyone turned to Wade and Rembrandt.

"Oh, no," Wade said. "I couldn't..."

Rembrandt nudged her. "Go on."

Wade bit her lip, then got up and approached the podium. Mark moved aside to let her speak.

She faced the group, trying to smile. "Hi. Um, actually, I'm not sure if I should be here. I mean, I don't really belong... here. But I guess I could say something. Um, I'm from another... uh, country. In South America. It's really different there. Thin people are considered beautiful, and fat people are... scorned. But I guess it's not that different, after all."

Wade pressed a hand against her forehead, feeling its warmth against her palm, then said, "When I first came here, I was really happy. I thought I'd found a place where I would fit in better. Back home, I was never thin enough to satisfy myself. People kept telling me I had to be thinner and thinner. Movies, TV, magazines. Everybody seemed thinner than I was. If I had an ounce of fat anywhere on my body, I hated it and I hated me. But here... I've found out what being fat really is. And I've realized I'm not even close."

Wade sighed. "But I've also discovered the problem wasn't that I was too fat. The problem was that I wwas trying to become what I thought everyone wanted me to be. Now I realize that beauty is not an absolute. It's a perspective. And perspectives can change. But we shouldn't try to change with them."

Wade nodded. "I guess that's about it."

The audience applauded as Mark moved to her side.

"That was a great speech," he said. "And we'd love to have you as a member."

"Thanks," Wade said. "But I really can't. We have to leave soon. But thanks for everything. You've really opened my eyes."

She was smiling as she walked through the apartment to where Rembrandt was sitting, bathed in applause. "Let's go."

After saying goodbye, Rembrandt followed her out of the room, heading through the hallway to the elevator.

"Feeling better?" Rembrandt asked.

Wade stabbed the call button for the elevator. "Not quite. There's one stop I wanna make first."

PART NINE

The hostess of the Bountiful Bistro watched Wade and Rembrandt enter the restaurant with widening eyes. She swept out from behind her desk, her large body filling the aisle to block their path.

"What are you doing here?" the hostess asked.

Wade grinned up at her. "We were hungry. Thought we'd get something to eat."

"Well, that's too bad, because you're not getting it here. Please leave at once."

"No."

The hostess blinked. "What?"

Wade folded her arms. "I said, no. We're not leaving until we get our meal."

"Fine," the hostess said. "Then we'll just have to call the police."

"Go right ahead. And while you're doing that, we'll be standing here in the doorway where everybody can see us. And then when the cops come, we'll complain until we're blue in the face. And if they arrest us, they'll have to drag us out of here, kicking and screaming at the top of our lungs. So you're looking at a major scene that could last for hours. However, you have an alternative. For once in your snooty little life, you could act like a human being, and let us eat here. Your choice."

The hostess glared at her. "You disgust me."

"Well, that makes two of us. So what'll it be, lady?"

The hostess shot a look at Rembrandt, then turned and marched further into the restaurant.

"And we'd like a good table, please," Wade said as she followed.

The hostess stopped beside a table midway inside the restaurant. "Will this do?"

Wade sat down with a flourish. "Quite."

"Good. And I hope this is the last time I ever see you."

"Trust me," Wade said. "It will be."

The hostess threw down two menus, spun on her heel and stalked away.

Wade grinned as she reached for one of the breadsticks on the table. "*Now* I feel better."

*

Wade lay back on the grass, letting the sun warm her skin. The rustling of the trees surrounding her lulled her like a natural lullaby as chubby children ran through the park. Two of them were tossing a baseball back and forth, jeering and shouting at each other. The ball went astray, landing next to Wade with a thump.

One of the two boys shielded his eyes as he called out. "Excuse me, lady? Could you toss that back to us?"

"No problem." Wade picked up the ball and sent it sailing in an arc back into the boy's glove.

"Thanks," the boy said with a trace of awe.

Wade nodded and leaned back onto the lawn.

She could hear the little boy's voice carry in the wind as he spoke to his friend. "Not a bad throw for a skinny lady."

Wade grinned.

Quinn came up behind her, kneeling to say, "We're ready to slide. One minute, twelve seconds."

"Gotcha." Wade got to her feet and walked alongside him as they headed deeper into the park.

She looked up into Quinn's drawn face. "Oh, come on. You're not still upset about the sliding machine, are you?"

"If only my double had used our Earth's technology," Quinn murmured. "It just wasn't compatible enough with our timer to get us home. We were so close this time."

"And we'll be that close again. Who knows? Maybe on our next slide, we'll end up back home."

"Maybe. I wish I could be here to see my double's face when he comes home and finds his machine almost finished, and his equation solved."

Wade nudged him. "Probably he'll have the same look you had on yours."

They walked into a clearing where Rembrandt and Arturo were waiting. Rembrandt was singing a song at the top of his lungs that Wade had never heard before, but could guess.

"Hey," she said, "you finished your song."

"Yup. Whadda you think?"

"I think you've got another hit on your hands."

Rembrandt clapped his hands. "All right. Earth Prime, watch out. The Cryin' Man is back."

"Everybody ready?" Quinn asked.

Arturo straightened his lapels. "Indeed. Besides Mr. Brown's caterwauling, I have had quite enough of this sex symbol nonsense. It is time to return to more intellectual pursuits."

"Like whatever happened to your doggy bag?" Rembrandt asked.

Arturo glared at him as Rembrandt burst into high-pitched laughter.

"I warn you, Mr. Brown," Arturo growled. "Do not tempt the fates."

Quinn aimed his timer. "Here we go, gang."

He turned the dial on its face. The cone of light materialized, imploding a portion of space into the rushing wormhole. One by one, they jumped into its mouth until they had left the world behind.

*

Wade came flying out, landing instantly on the hard earth of Golden Gate Park. She rolled for a moment before she was able to look back to see that the wormhole had appeared in their new world only a few inches above the ground. Quinn, Arturo, and Rembrandt were already on their feet, brushing themselves off as the wormhole sealed itself behind them.

Arturo adjusted his tie as he said, "Now that was more like it. None of this swan-diving into realities."

"Yeah," Rembrandt said. "I actually ended up landing feet-first this time. How long we got, Q-Ball?"

Quinn unfolded his timer as he said, "Fifty-one hours and thirty-five minutes."

"Hey," Wade said, "look."

They all turned to see two women walking througgh the park, chatting with each other. Both of them were of a normal weight.

"Well,"