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A man caught in the multiverse… |
| Daniel Eric Sullivan woke up with a dull, heavy sense of uneasiness that morning, mind clouded with vague foreboding dreams. In the pressing silence, he held his breath to hear his wife Reema breathing quietly next to him. Her steadiness reassured him. He yawned and slipped out of bed. Lightning flickered across the curtains. No wonder it felt strange; probably a thunderstorm brewing. Dan flipped the light switch in the master bathroom. Nothing happened. Ah, the power was out. Hopefully little Monica hadn't noticed her missing nightlight. He was about to return to the bedroom to get his phone, when the full mirror over the sink pulled him up short. It exuded a dim, eerie blue light, casting enough glow for him to see his reflection in it like a TV screen. But what Dan saw was not himself. Instead of a shag of sandy curls and his usual sleepy hazel eyes, the reflection showed him a grizzled, scarred visage, grim eyes narrowed with fierce disdain. Dan squeezed his own eyes shut, assuming it was a dream. Reopening them, the image was still present, meeting his gaze with a slight sneer. The mirrored left hand now gripped a knife. Dan checked his own hands: his right one was clenched tightly at his side. He raised them both in the air. The image stood watching him, with no sign of mirroring his movements. Dan leaned on the counter and stuck his arm out. When he touched the mirror, a blue spark crackled into the black gulf between them. The room exploded in warm, yellow incandescent light. Dan was staring at himself again in a normal, slightly smudged bathroom mirror. He clutched the sink, exchanging horrified, half-laughing expressions with his reflection. He pressed his palm against the cool, neutral glass, high-fiving his mirror image. "Dan? Everything ok?" Reema called from the bedroom. "Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair and released a breath that fogged the glass. An hour later, Dan was eating breakfast with his wife and daughter when the crunch of gravel announced a car pulling up. He and Reema went to look out the window. Two unmarked black "suburbitanks"  with car-pushers blocked the driveway, heavily tinted windows blocking any glimpse of their occupants."Uh… is that the government?" Reema drew back from the window. "Looks more like the Mafia," Dan replied, only half-joking. He reached for her hand as four men wearing black suits and blue reflective sunglasses got out of the vehicles. "This is serious." Dan strode to his desk, unlocked a drawer and pulled out his gun. "Reema, take Monica and your phone and lock yourselves in the master bedroom. I'll deal with them." "Don't do anything foolish. They look official." "Yeah, official like the X-Files. This is real life." Reema turned back with a final word. "If something happens, don't expect me to sit around like a princess in a tower. I'm armed too." Dan gave her a thumbs-up, his throat tightening. When the knock came, Dan was the only one present to admit the men in black. The tallest one lifted his glasses to reveal cold blue eyes. He brandished a badge. "We're from the InterVersal Enforcement Team, or IVET. We need to speak with Daniel Eric Sullivan on matters of utmost urgency." "That's me." Dan waved them to seats in the living room. "What gives, sirs?" "Are you aware of the Multiverse?" "Only from Marvel movies." "It's a real thing. Our universe hangs in a web matrix, elbowing with an infinite number of other universes existing simultaneously. Have your mirrors been malfunctioning?" "Yeah—I thought my head was malfunctioning." "That's a symptom of serious disturbances in the matrix. A different version of you has discovered your existence and is attempting to force his way through into your universe." "Why?" "He wants to hijack your life. As the IVET, we have access to every universe within the multiverse, and our studies have shown that this is, quite literally, the best of all possible worlds." "I thought Voltaire was being sarcastic." "He was, but unwittingly he hit upon the truth. This other version of you wants to be the you in your universe, instead of the him in his universe. Have I made it clear?" "Clear as mud." "His own universe is so messed up, and his life choices are such, he's hell-bent on starting over in the best possible universe, which is this one." "So… I'm about to be assassinated by myself from a third-rate alternate universe?" "You are the only person who can prevent this aberration in the system. If he breaks through into this world and replaces you, it will send the entire Multiverse into utter chaos, like balls colliding on a pool table." "So I'm supposed to break into his universe instead? Kill or be killed?" "No, no, no!" The Man in Black waved his hands. "As the IVET, we have legit transport channels you can use. Under no circumstances are you allowed to take his life. That would be interfering in the workings of another universe, possibly creating a disastrous ripple effect. That's what the other guy wants to do. There are strict laws against such interference. All you have to do is convince him to remain contentedly in his own universe, and that will stabilize the matrix." "Uh… ok." Dan rubbed the back of his neck. His skin prickled with uneasiness. He squirmed in his seat as the four Men in Black stared him down. "You're sure I have the power to do this?" "Yes. We cannot guarantee the outcome…" "I don't know… what will happen if I tell you people to go away?" "We've already explained the potential disaster on the horizon. The other you will stop at nothing. Listen—" He leaned forward, pinning Dan to his seat with grim blue eyes like laser beams. "You want someone else to have your life? Your wife? Your daughter?" Dan pulled in a sharp breath. He gripped his armrests. That scarred, sneering face in the mirror… "Hell, no." "Then do what we tell you. Ok?" "Looks like I don't have any options." *** Dan stared down into a play-pool sized pond of blackish, burbling water in his front yard. Raindrops splatted on the murky surface. "This is your legit transport channel? I think I'd rather break through a mirror." "Just leap in. You'll come up in the front yard of the other Dan. Knock on his door, take it from there. Good luck—you're on your own." Dan held his breath and plunged into the puddle, sinking rapidly over his head. Before he could wonder if he'd drown, he rose up, grasping the edges and pulling himself onto dry land. The yard he was in looked like his own, but different: weedy, unkempt, with patches of dead grass and bare dirt. The house would have been the same as his, if it didn't appear to be abandoned. Missing shingles and shutters, peeling paint, and a generally haunted air hung over it. Dan brushed himself off, heading to the tumbledown front porch. It was rather like being dead and coming back as a ghost to haunt his former domain. He knocked and waited, watching the partially boarded-up windows for any sign of life, feeling instinctively for the gun which should have been at his hip but was forbidden by IVET. After five minutes with no response, Dan tried the door. It swung open with no resistance, as if beckoning him to enter. He glanced around, breathed a prayer and slipped inside. The layout was familiar, yet a layer of dust hung over everything. Boxes, boards and rubbish were piled haphazardly on the floor. Dan wrinkled his nose at the musty odor and entered the hallway. There he was: a man, standing, arms folded, staring into a full-length mirror at the end of the hall. Dan recoiled momentarily. Seeing himself in the mirror behind the man, their resemblance was inescapable. The other man ignored Dan as he drew nearer, until their eyes met in the dusty glass. He turned around to face him, a faint smile flickering, eyes narrow, sizing him up. "You found me… Daniel." Dan held out his empty, shaky hands. "I come in peace… sir." "Really?" A raised eyebrow. The scar across the side of his face twitched. "You came to bump me off at the orders of IVET. They don't want anyone disturbing their version of reality." "No, on the contrary, I'm forbidden to kill you." "Indeed?" "I'm just here to talk to you. I… I'm really curious to know who you are." Something about the man was unnervingly, achingly familiar, as though he were Dan's long-lost twin brother. Dan waited in silence, studying those hazel eyes, so much his own. The man put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's sit down. Call me Scarface." Dan allowed the man to guide him to a sofa, releasing puffs of dust as they sat. "Tell me about yourself." Scarface leaned over, eyes wide. "How do you like being you?" "I'm blessed to be where I'm at," Dan smiled, remembering his family. "It wasn't easy getting there, but overall I think the Man in Black was right when he said…" he paused. "You live in the best of all possible worlds?" "Yeah. But you know what?" Dan pushed ahead. "I've always wanted a brother. I'm excited to meet you. Tell me your story." "Mine is one of perpetual suffering. Orphaned, grew up on the streets. Learned to be tough. To do whatever it takes to get ahead, to rise to the top. This," gesturing to his scar, "was the gang boss. I won." "Indeed. Tell me more." "You don't want to know what I've done," he scoffed, turning away. "I'm a ruthless assassin. I carry the unbearable weight of death and destruction on my back like a beast of burden." "Hey." Dan reached out. "Your past doesn't define you. That's what they always told me." "You believe that?" The other man shifted around with a glare. "Maybe in your universe. In my world, my past hunts me down like a ravening wolf." "It—it's not too late to change." Dan hesitated at the trite insufficiency of his words. Then, a seemingly brilliant idea. "I know! Why don't you come live with me in my world? I can show you what's good and true and beautiful. I can help you see yourself as my brother, get you out of this dystopian mess of a universe. Wouldn't you like that?" Sudden tension gripped the air between them. The man's jaw set, eyes flashing with an explosion of fury. He lunged towards Dan, slamming him back against the sofa. The chill of a knife blade against Dan's throat mirrored the shock pulsing through his heart. "You bloody fool!" Scarface snarled. "You thought I'd fall for that trick?" Dan grabbed his wrist and managed to push the knife away a few inches. "What did I do? I was offering a way out of your pain. I thought—" "Didn't IVET tell you the cardinal law of the Multiverse? Whoever breaks into another universe can be killed off without consequences as a trespasser, an interloper. I can't live in your world, no matter how much I want to!" Dan analyzed the tenuousness of his position. He'd not only crossed into another universe, but also entered another's home uninvited. Indeed, it was rather like a trap. "Please let me leave. I didn't want to come here—they told me I had to protect the stability of the Multiverse." "No. You don't get to go back to your perfect life. The life I could never have. You don't deserve it." "It's not perfect," Dan coughed, choking on the dust. "I've suffered. I've made bad decisions. Whether I deserve it or not… My wife needs me. My daughter. Please. I offered you grace. Now it's your turn." He met the eyes of his alter-ego, searching for a relenting, for mercy, for something of the bond he thought was there moments before. All he saw was a man burning with vicious, hateful envy, hell-bent on destroying the intruding good in his shattered universe, the good he could neither become nor embrace. Unable to reason further with Scarface, Dan's fighting instincts kicked in. He shoved his arm away. They rolled off the end of the sofa. Tumbling across the floor, each one struggled to gain the upper hand. Dan got him down with a knee on his chest. He tore the knife from his hand. For a split second he held it in the air. Their eyes locked. The flash of raw fear on that scarred face which was almost his own hurt more than hitting the floor. Dan threw the knife into a far corner. He scrambled to his feet. Turning his back on Scarface, he headed for the door. He had his hand on the knob when he was tackled and brought to his knees from behind. Scarface had him in a chokehold. "You thought I'd let you get away that easily?" There didn't seem to be any escape this time. Images of Dan's childhood quivered incongruously through his mind. How would anyone know what happened to him? Down the hall, the mirror exploded into a zillion clattering pieces. Running footsteps echoed. "Dan!" It was Reema. A gunshot filled the room. Dan was barely aware of the release of pressure from his neck. He fell forward into her arms. When his head cleared, the four men from IVET were standing over them, arms folded. Scarface lay dead on the floor. "Reema!" Dan gasped as she helped him stand up. "You saved my life! But… we were ordered not to kill him." "You were ordered, not me," she corrected. "No one said I couldn't do it." "How did you—?" "I was watching everything through the mirror! I busted right in." "Ma'am, you did something extremely reckless," the leader of the Men in Black began. "But since you did not kill your own alter-ego, and you clearly did it in defense of another, I believe the consequences will be mitigated." "They darn better be mitigated." She pinned him with a Mama Bear look. "I don't trust any of your Multiverse business. I had to leave Monica alone to intervene here. You get us back home right now, before this whole universe self-destructs." "Yes, ma'am," the Man in Black said, lowering his eyes. "Will do." As he followed the men, Dan turned back to look at Scarface one last time, mourning a lost soul so nearly his own. The old saying came to mind. "There, but for the grace of God, go I," he whispered. "Reema, if I ever take the life I've been given for granted… remind me of this." "I doubt you'll ever forget it." notes ▼ lyrics to Black ▼ video ▼ |
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