IV: To Hang In the Balance
by Martha Wadley
©2014 by Martha Wadley and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
To Conquer the World created by Martha Wadley, from an idea by Matthew Atanian
by Martha Wadley
©2014 by Martha Wadley and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
To Conquer the World created by Martha Wadley, from an idea by Matthew Atanian
Humans had seen the Glimpse.
Humans knew about the underground hanger.
Francis mechanically followed the other squirrels toward the graveyard, too stunned by the implications of what had happened to focus on anything else, not even to keep an eye out for hawks.
This was terrible. Horrible. No human but Martha was supposed to come out here. (Well, maybe perhaps their new leader, but last they heard he was currently a long, long way away.) Yet, there were two humans out in the clearing where they shouldn’t be! These humans would tell others what they’d seen, the secret of the Cabin would be out, and the nest would have to move to a new location. This meant that all of the computer stuff would have to be torn down and packed up, the new generator would have to be dismantled… again, the 3D projector and all the accounting books would have to be packed up and shipped to a new site. Last, the Cabin and lab would have to be torched so that no human would suspect the hidden underground hanger below. With the Cabin gone, the squirrels would be homeless…
Francis wanted to cry.
Except squirrels didn’t cry, which, right now, didn’t seem fair. On TV, humans got to cry and whine and beg and panic when something scared them.
Of course, squirrels could panic quite well. They could also chide and scold. Dithering was a particular specialty when it came to crossing roads with oncoming traffic. Most squirrels could at least.
Francis wasn’t like most squirrels.
Francis liked order, liked everything tidy and neat. He liked graphs and diagrams and spread sheets, matrices and databases, Gantt charts and flow charts and tables—nifty things, tables—balance sheets, cash flow statements, financial pro formas, income statements, tax law…oh, and audits… He liked everything to be in its place. A well-organized work-place was efficient. Martha had once told him he had something called ‘OCD’, only Francis preferred to spell it ‘CDO’, since that way all the letters were in alphabetical order. Rocky 6 had once said that Francis wasn’t much of a squirrel.
Francis didn’t care much for Rocky 6.
Now even the sight of the graveyard, with its regularly-spaced, even rows, did not calm Francis. Not even the inherent reminder that ‘times may change but death comes to all’ had any effect. If the squirrels left, there would be no one to tend the graves, no one to remember those who’d died, no one to tell that this place was not just like any other corner of the woods.
The Cabin was home. Without it… the clan’s entire future seemed uncertain and variable.
Francis paused at the edge of the graves and tried to focus. He needed to determine the best site for these final fallen heroes.
Around him, the other squirrels began to grow twitchy.
Many of the squirrels did not like being in the graveyard. (Some of the older squirrels told scary stories about things that had happened in the graveyard on dark, moonless nights, not that Francis actually believed those stories.) Nor did the other squirrels want to be anywhere near those tubes of preserves that Lester had brought back with the Glimpse.
Francis could see them fidgeting and starting to grow squirrely as they waited for him to pick a site, which didn’t help his calm at all.
Thus, when Sergi and Tootsie began arguing whether they should place the four new holes in the older section by the wild rose bush, or in the newer section by the hawthorn, and Samwise and Makoto began trying to lay out the graves in a circle instead of even rows, Francis gave up looking for his center.
You four! He motioned to Sergi, Tootsie, Samwise, and Makoto. Help me mark the lines.
He made each of the four troublemakers stand still at the four corners of each rectangle to mark the grave as the other squirrels made outlines with twigs and sticks.
Once all four plots were drawn out, squared and even with the other rows (Francis liked even-spacing. It was orderly. Unlike squirrels.), Francis gave the order to dig and put Ditzy in charge. Ditzy was a goofball, until given a specific task and then would complete it to exact instruction. Francis approved of Ditzy. He did not approve of risking important assets (such as, say for example, an expensive experimental jet) in the paws of squirrels like Scottie, Rocky 6’s dumkoff apprentice.
Francis waved Makoto, Samwise, Tootsie, and Sergi to follow him. We’re going to get the shoeboxes.
Martha kept the shoebox stash in a closet in the Cabin. Francis wasn’t sure where she’d found so many empty shoeboxes. He’d asked her once why she didn’t make them herself. She’d only told him that it was ‘tradition’, which was an unsatisfactory answer. Cardboard boxes were biodegradable, and getting pre-made boxes saved Martha’s time for other projects, but the things were just going in the ground. Why did they have to have garish colors and brand names?
Of course, Martha did like to match the boxes to the personalities of the squirrels being interred, so maybe there was a sorting-and-filing concept Martha used that Francis was unaware of.
Francis was just leaping onto the Cabin’s porch, having decided Tom could have a Prada box and Rocky 2 an Aerosole, when a gust of wind and dust blew him and the other four squirrels off the porch and smack into the side of the Cabin’s outer wall.
That wasn’t at all what he’d expected. This was only October! There had been nothing in the weather reports about aberrant storm systems tonight. Of course, the weather report was given by humans and everyone knew how fallible humans were.
He braced himself for another gust.
Nothing came.
Well, that was even more unusual. Normally when storms hit, gusts would howl around the cabin for hours. Was this a storm or not? The wind had come from the clearing where the underground runway exit lay.
Having an insatiably curiosity, like all squirrels (eat that, Rocky 6), he leaped off the porch. Almost instantly, in mid-leap, another gust caught him and sent him back into the Cabin’s outer wall again.
Feeling as though he was in some sort of cosmic slapstick routine, or that Saki had finally made that threat good and crossed him over into Wily E. Coyote’s universe, Francis lay on the porch until he managed to breathe again. Getting the breath knocked out of you twice in a row takes a toll.
The other four squirrels were making groans and squeaks of surprise and pain. Francis shushed them, climbing to his feet. Something strange was going on and, until they figured out what, they didn’t want to attract attention.
Cautiously, he crawled off the porch and, after a quick search for his tiny accountant’s visor which had blown off, he rolled up the sleeves of his tiny white dress-shirt (which was no longer completely white, alas) and silently motioned to the four to follow him toward the clearing, keeping an eye out for hawks. Hawks were one of those unpredictable factors of life that Francis abhorred. Actually, Francis abhorred all unpredictable factors, but especially hawks.
Hawks ate squirrels. A hawk had snatched his mother from the branch as she’d been leaving their hole for food. Martha had found him and his brother and sisters and nursed them from the brink of starvation. They’d been very young.
His brother had been exploring when a hawk got him. One of his sisters had been gathering nuts when a hawk took her. His other sister had been hit by a car. Francis had ended up taking accounting classes. The odds weren’t good for escaping hawks.
Francis slowed down as they grew close to the clearing.
Tootsie was not paying attention and bumped into him from behind, which caused a bit of noise. Francis winced at the scuffles and snorts Makoto and Sergi made stopping, though Samwise managed not to make a sound. Francis signed for them to ‘be quiet’ and ‘listen’. He didn’t know how these four had managed to survive so long amidst the inherent dangers of the woods, but that was a topic to ponder some other time.
Francis could hear human females talking, but there was something strange about the voices.
He listened carefully.
There were actually only two human voices and both of them sounded like Martha.
That wasn’t right.
Martha did occasionally talk to herself, but only when she had an audience, not out in the woods like this.
He crept closer to where he could see the speakers and studied the scene.
Martha was talking to an unknown female human, who looked a lot like her. Francis could tell the two of them apart because Lester was sitting on Martha’s shoulder listening to their conversation. The male human, who’d been all excited about ‘aliens’ and yelling about ‘cling-ons’ when the rescue team had disembarked from the Glimpse earlier, now stood near the two female humans, staring dreamily at the Glimpse where it sat just visible in the clearing. The short, red-haired female human, who’d seemed the calmer of the strangers, was now unconscious on the ground at the feet of Martha and her look-alike.
Something nudged his side and almost made him jump a foot. He barely managed to catch himself from falling on a patch of crunchy leaves that would have given them all away, and glared at the squirrel who’d poked him.
Hey, you okay, Francis? Rocky 6 asked.
Francis had not expected Rocky 6 to show up here, but any potential source of information was welcome at this point. What are they doing? Francis snapped, motioning at the extra humans.
I’m not sure. Rocky 6 shrugged. The red headed female was going to shoot Lester with a cannon-thing, so I turned on the Glimpse’s dimensional device…
You what?
You heard me. Rocky 6 shot him an annoyed look. I was hoping the wind would knock her down so Lester could escape, which worked. Anyway, to make a long story short, Stewart and I just returned with a second Martha from our future and a new squirrel from our past. His name is Shatner. He’s the little guy over there with Stewart.
That can’t be right. Francis stared at the new Martha. According to Saki, this world had only one Martha. If there were two, then the cosmic ledger was out of balance. This new Martha must have come from an alternative universe. Was she an asset, or a liability? And then, depending on whichever this transaction turned out to be, what was its other effect on the other side of the balance sheet? Did they owe the other world something? Or were they due something in return? A whole person had to be worth a large amount of value. He wondered how you’d calculate hypothetical interdimensional-gain taxes.
Seemed kinda weird to me too. Rocky 6 shrugged. But there she is and she can’t go back. They were trying to kill her there.
Francis shook his head. You don’t get it. We already have a Martha. This new Martha must have come from some other place, from a different timeline. She’s not our Martha.
Rocky 6 eyed the younger woman. She sure looks like her, and she sounds like her too.
This was one of those times when Francis wanted to smack the pilot. He managed to control himself. Pilots were adrenaline junkies who didn’t care a whit for order or how things actually worked together. They took expensive airplanes out into the air and either crashed them or incurred expensive wear and tear. If Rocky 6 had really taken the Glimpse somewhere, Francis would probably be handed a huge repair bill in the near future.
He sighed.
Thanks to the Bed and Breakfast business they finally had some positive cash flow, but the new generator had cost a large chunk of their funds. Parts to rebuild the experimental jet could still be classified under R&D. Francis had been required to deduct the Glimpse as a capital loss several years ago. Obviously, he was going to have to adjust the books again, since it was an active asset once more. He wondered yet again whether time travel should be considered an asset or a liability. Probably a liability. Too many things had just gone wrong since Martha and Saki had built the machine.
Ah, excuse me? Tootsie spoke up.
What? Francis growled with more feeling than Tootsie deserved, but loss of secrets to the humans and doubles of Martha didn’t happen every day.
Come see, Tootsie pointed, tail waving agitatedly. Samwise found it.
Samwise had been poking about again and Tootsie had tailed him. Great. That meant it could be something dangerous. Francis took a deep breath. Martha and Lester could handle the humans.
Francis motioned for Tootsie to lead the way. Rocky 6, Makoto, Sergi followed after.
Tootsie led them around the spot where Martha and the humans were, to a place where the trees and brush were thicker, yet the Glimpse was still visible.
Samwise met them, tail waving in excitement.
A human! I found a human!
More humans? Francis could hardly believe it.
What’s it doing? Rocky 6 asked Samwise.
Samwise shrugged. It’s just standing there, watching Martha and the other humans. He pointed.
Indeed, Francis now noticed the small human that stood among the trees, silently staring through the underbrush. On first glance, the short human looked young, rather scrawny, and didn’t appear threatening at all with his light-colored head-fur and thick glasses. Even his clothing, slacks and a button-up dress shirt, looked clean and in order. It was the way he watched Martha, completely motionless and focused, that bristled the fur on Francis’s tail.
Francis planted himself in the human’s path. This was becoming a dangerous habit, but someone had to.
It was irksome that the boy didn’t even notice.
Excuse me! Francis chirped.
The boy actually jumped slightly. He glanced down, his eyes huge behind his thick glasses. Francis wasn’t sure if that was because of the magnification caused by the glass, or true surprise. After a moment, the boy looked away from Francis back to Martha.
Hey, you up there! Francis growled. If he was actually going to try to talk to humans, they’d better have the manners to hold up their end of the conversation.
The boy gave Francis his attention once more, eyebrows scrunching. “Ah, I beg your pardon. Were you addressing me?”
Francis nodded. Who are you?
The boy frowned, puzzled, “Could you repeat that?” He pulled something from his ear, adjusted it, then stuck it back in again.
Francis considered, then reiterated slowly and clearly, I asked, ‘Who are you?’ As in: We’ve never met, you’re a total stranger, and I want you to be courteous and introduce yourself since you’re in my territory.
You don’t have territory, Rocky 6 snorted. Except those ledgers of yours.
The young man nodded slowly, “I see, your communication is mostly through tail and body language, though there is a phonetic vocal portion. Intriguing. Mike normally tries only verbal communication, or hand signals.”
Rocky 6 cleared his throat, “Francis wants to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”
Francis glanced at Rocky 6 in surprise. The pilot spoke human-talk?
The young man’s eyebrows had risen, “You speak English?”
Rocky 6 rolled his eyes, as if he received that response often, “Introductions, please?”
“Excuse me,” the young man nodded, “My name is Kenneth Pendrell. And you are?”
Rocky 6 introduced Francis and the other twenty squirrels who had come to see the new human. Kenneth seemed to take each name and face and memorize them instead of blanking out after the fifth.
Ask him why he’s here, Francis told Rocky 6.
Rocky 6 passed the question along.
Kenneth actually looked somewhat embarrassed, “It’s a bit complicated. My interdimensional activity meters have always read a little high for this area, but the readings rose exceptionally a few hours ago. I’d built the meters to warn of the potential for invasion from various alternate-dimensional cultures with interdimensional travel capability, and, as you may imagine, I became concerned with the new level of activity readings. I thought investigation would be prudent. Normally, I’d burn a holographic memory disc of the events to examine in my lab (much safer and far less chance of disturbing a world’s internal balance that way), but as this actually is my world, I decided to see to it personally.”
Sounds simple enough, Francis shrugged.
Only you and Saki would think so, Rocky 6 snorted.
He saw something strange and decided to check before making a fuss, Francis pointed out. He seems pretty level-headed for a human.
“Thank you,” Kenneth smiled.
You understand me now? Francis narrowed his eyes.
“Some. My translation device is still learning,” Kenneth admitted.
So, what do you already know about us? Francis asked.
Kenneth’s eyes grew a little out-of focus behind his glasses, as if thinking, then he began to recite, “A few years ago, several thousand squirrels of various breeds organized under a woman named Martha, with the stated purpose of taking over the world. To this end, the group has built an underground complex, built several squirrel-sized stealth jets, perfected holographic projection technology and hydroponics, built some interesting phaser prototypes, wrote a cook book, toured as a theatre act, worked as a duct-cleaning service, recruited a Boy Scout they encountered who had, shall we say, highly specific credentials to be your leader, opened a bed and breakfast which recently purchased two overseas properties, developed an interdimentional-time machine which took its first flight a couple years ago and was lost to Area 51, and just made several jumps today that created several temporary alternate branches from our timeline. Right now, I don’t know which line is our true future and I am here to see the situation resolved.”
Francis realized his mouth was hanging open in shock and shut it. All that?? he squeaked.
Kenneth shrugged, “As I explained, I have been monitoring this area for some time.”
Francis swallowed. How could their secrets be so well known? This was catastrophic! He shook himself and puffed his tail and stood on his hind legs to make himself look as big and threatening as possible. If you tell anyone about any of this, we will hunt you down and wipe your memories.
Kenneth studied him carefully, “You’re serious.”
Francis nodded.
Kenneth smiled, as if amused for a moment, “Memory-wiping technology? Well, thought is made up of electronic impulses through the synapses, and indeed my own methods of memory alteration or storage are based on the ability to alter, delete, or record such impulses. Given what else you have accomplished here, it could be possible you have had breakthroughs in similar areas…Hmm, intriguing,” he murmured thoughtfully for a moment, then became serious once more, “Very well. Even if your memory-removal system works, I don’t think you’d be able to enforce your threat. I have safeguards in my own brain to protect against such things. However, I also don’t believe your group intends harm to this planet, so I have no reason to disseminate information about you to anyone else and as such I will accept your terms.”
Rocky 6 puffed his tail nub, which was a useless gesture, and growled, How can you say we’re not a threat? We’re going to take over the world!
Kenneth did not seem appear to be joking as he said, “As this point, it is entirely possible it’d do the world some good to be run by a bunch of squirrels. And if nothing else, if it came to pass it would be fascinating to study.”
Francis quickly considered their options. Martha should be informed of the boy, so they could erase his memories of them later. (Francis did not believe the boy's claims about safeguards. He thought it was likely just posturing to save face.) Since you’re here, and you say you intend to help put things back in order, would you like us to introduce you to Martha? It might make things easier.
“While I’d hoped to keep a low profile, making her acquaintance would indeed facilitate my task.” Kenneth agreed. “Lead the way.”
Francis motioned Makoto to lead them off, and the whole group pushed out of the thicket and back around to where Martha was deep in conversation with the other Martha who looked a lot younger than Francis’s Martha.
It sounded as though one of them was explaining how the memory-wipe technology worked and how she would use it on the unconscious female, whom Martha named ‘Danae’. She referred to the human male as ‘Mueller’. He appeared to be listening to the conversation as well.
“Do you still use analog methods, or have you tried digital yet?” Martha asked the new Martha.
“Digital?” The new Martha inquired.
Martha nodded, pulling out what looked like a headset for a walkman from a pocket, “The brain functions via electrical pulses. So do computers. If there were a way to tap into the brain’s electrical pulses using a computer, then perhaps it would be possible to download peoples’ memories to storage, or even alter them.”
“Is this all theoretical, or have you managed to…?” Mueller motioned to the headset.
Martha nodded, “It’s a working model.”
“How…invasive is the procedure?”
Martha shook her head, “This is just a basic model for removing blocks of time. You just put the set on over the ears, set the amount of time to delete, hit the button and voila! Theoretically, you could take a person’s whole life from them. I’m working on a something a bit more selective, but it’s a work in progress.” She shrugged.
Francis was appalled. Why was Martha giving the humans secrets like this? Normally, she held back as much information as possible. The fewer memories to remove, the less chance of recall at some future date. Was it possible she was considering…recruiting them?
“Hold it,” a strident voice rang through the clearing.
Francis looked up and saw that yet another human female had found them. This one was an elderly human female, dressed in conservative clothing that somehow also looked a little odd. The human female had tied her white hair up in a bun and wore a disapproving expression behind her glasses.
Francis, Kenneth, Rocky 6, and the other squirrels with them stopped at Francis’s wave to halt. This was something he wanted to observe before stepping in. Kenneth seemed to agree, stepping behind a tree to watch, hidden from the other humans.
The old lady glowered at the two Marthas where they stood with the human male over the unconscious red-head on the ground, “This is not how I remember this happening.”
The old lady shuffled over to them and stared at each of the three in the eye, then bent and examined the unconscious red-haired female.
Martha seemed tongue-tied and stared at the old lady. Francis wondered why she was letting this old woman order them around like this.
“How many days were you planning to wipe?” the old lady asked.
“Ah, just a couple,” Martha stammered. “People seem to try harder to remember when they discover they have lost large portions of their memories.”
The old lady shook her head. “You just remove whole blocks? I take it you haven’t figured out how to do selective memory removal yet.”
“Not yet,” Martha nodded slowly.
The old lady pursed her lips grimly, then opened a purse that had matched her outfit so well Francis hadn’t noticed it, and pulled out something small that resembled the portable tazers Saki had made.
A flash and down went Mueller.
Francis’s jaw dropped. As soon as Mueller hit the dirt, the younger Martha had faded and disappeared.
“Hey! He was going to help us!” Martha protested.
The old lady leveled an eye at her, “You and who else?”
“Why, my other…”Martha trailed off, just noticing that her other self was no longer at her side. “Where’d she go?”
The old lady shook her head, “That wasn’t you, not in the strictest sense. She was but an alternate thrown into being when your three rascals created a kink in the time stream by talking to several people they shouldn’t have. Literally.”
She fixed a look at Rocky 6 where he sat next to Francis.
Rocky 6 curled his stub tail, obviously wishing he had somewhere to hide.
Francis frowned. That wasn’t fair. For all Rocky 6’s faults, Francis knew the pilot hadn’t meant to harm anything.
Francis stepped in front of Rocky 6. He fluffed his tail to make it wider, then folded his front legs across his chest and gave the old lady a calculating look.
“Excuse me, what does Mueller have to do with all this?” Martha interrupted.
Francis realized she was talking about the human male who was now unconscious.
The old woman rolled her eyes and spoke slowly and carefully, “After assisting you wipe his partner’s memories, Mueller would visit the Holyoke Mall sometime in the near future. There, he would make a comment about ‘talking squirrels’ to one of the employees who had talked with Rocky 6 and they would eventually mention it to certain 'other parties' who shouldn’t know, creating a split in the timeline. None of this happens if Mueller doesn’t remember.”
Martha looked confused, “Why don’t you just stop Rocky 6 from talking to the mall employees in the first place?”
The old lady reached over and gently patted her shoulder, “Because that’s already happened. You can’t change the past.”
“Then why are you wiping Danae and Mueller?” Martha frowned. “You’re talking about what Mueller will do at the Holyoke Mall as if it’s already happened.”
“Not for you,” The old lady said. “I’m not going to wipe their memories. You are. Your future is unwritten.”
“What about yours?” Martha demanded. “Who are you?”
“Haven’t you guessed?” The old lady smiled.
“No, I…” Martha stepped closer, then stopped suddenly.
Lester’s tail bristled, bottle-brush style, and he crouched protectively on Martha’s shoulder.
Francis’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re…me,” Martha breathed.
“Perhaps,” the old lady shrugged. “Or perhaps I’m an alternate future. Time will tell. Be more careful with your time travel from now on and make sure you...”
An explosion shook the ground, throwing up dirt, rocks, and flaming leaf mold, singeing the leaves on the nearest trees. Francis was glad it had been a wet Autumn so far, though he was peeved that his dress-shirt was now going to have to be washed. Two unknown humans had found them, then two versions of Martha had shown up, now what? Pan-dimentional mice?
In the epicenter of the blast, towered a great bear of a man, who was smoking. Literally. White smoke rose from his thick, dark beard, which had curled somewhat at the edges from the heat.
“Blast it. Not again,” he muttered swatting at his beard in an effort to put out the burning ends. Finally contented that his beard wasn’t about to spontaneously combust, the man swept the area with a fierce gaze. He spotted the old lady.
“I have found you, Squirrel Lady!”
“Not you again,” the old lady sighed.
“You know him?” Martha arched an eyebrow. Francis curled his tail in a question mark. So did Lester, Rocky 6, Stewart, the little squirrel Rocky 6 had called Shatner, and all the other three dozen or so squirrels that had crept up to watch.
The old lady nodded, “Yes, unfortunately, he’s—”
“The Grizzly Lord!” the bearded guy roared. “With the strength and incredible mind-power of a full grown Alaskan Grizzly Bear!”
“And the temper of one,” the old lady muttered “and the bad breath of one.” Louder she addressed, the grizzly dude, “Can’t we do this some other time? Please? I’m trying to instruct this young lady how not to destroy the world.”
“In that case,” the grizzly guy shouted, “It’s good that I am here, for you’ll surely bungle it again.”
“Bungle?” the old lady repeated slowly, staring at him.
One of the squirrels in the crowd piped up, To flub, make a mistake, drop the ball, ruin things…
Francis tried to pick out who it was, then winced.
“Thank you, Webster,” Martha nodded, “But I believe she already knows what it means.”
Webster nodded, ducking his head and pushing his tiny glasses further up his nose.
“There are a lot of squirrels here,” the grizzly guy commented, as he looked around, taking in the cabin for the first time. “Is this your secret lair?”
“It used to be,” the old lady nodded, lips pressed together in a firm line, “But obviously I had to move when the location was compromised.” She glanced at Martha, “This is what happens when you meddle with the time stream.”
“Looks cozy,” the bear guy nodded appreciatively.
“Lots of people seem to think so,” Martha agreed. “You should read our guest book. I run a haunted bed and breakfast establishment. We happen to have a couple of rooms available, or at least we will when I finish dealing with our FBI infestation. You two seem to have some things to work out. Why not just take the opportunity to sort them out tonight in the library? There’s a fire and I could make a pot of coffee or tea with honey.”
“With honey, hmm? That does sound nice,” Grizzly mused.
“I suppose,” the old lady said in a thoughtful tone. “I would like to get to the bottom of this. And tea sounds nice. Do you have Jaffa cakes?”
“Not today…” Martha hedged, “But I suppose I could whip up some meringues or something…”
“Oh, don’t bother,” the old lady waved a hand, “Tea would be fine.”
“What about Danae and Mueller?” Martha pointed at the two unconscious humans who still lay among the leaves on the forest floor.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ll keep,” the old lady waved again, dismissively.
The grizzly guy formally held out his arm to her. After a moment of what appeared to be internal debate, the old lady sighed and took his arm. Together they headed toward the Cabin.
Martha stepped over to Francis and Rocky 6 and looked down at them, “Rocky 6, do you know either of them?”
Rocky 6 shook his head. They weren’t in any of the places Stewart and I visited.
An alternate future, Francis muttered. Then he puffed his tail for attention. We have someone else we’d like you to meet!
“Who else?” Martha asked cautiously, looking around at the group of fifty or so squirrels gathered around Francis.
Francis motioned to Kenneth to come out from behind the tree. The weird ones are gone for now. Come meet Martha!
Kenneth straightened his shirt and stepped around the tree into Martha’s sight.
“Oh!” Martha looked surprised, “I’ve seen you before. You’re a Boy Scout, right? You helped stop those Canadian terrorists.”
“Yes,” Kenneth nodded. “I believe we have another mutual acquaintance. He’s a part-time squirrel.”
“Part-time…?” Martha’s eyes narrowed, then she blinked. “You’re talking about Mike Quadrozzi.”
Kenneth smiled.
Francis coughed, Kenneth Pendrell, meet Martha, our Chief Operations Officer.
That drew a frown from Martha, “Francis, I told you we weren’t going to incorporate.”
It would help with our financing issues, Francis flicked his tail in protest. We could issue stock…
“No, Francis,” Martha sighed.
Fine, Francis sighed. He motioned to Kenneth, Martha, meet Kenneth Pendrell. He knows a lot about us.
“A lot?” Martha asked, shaking Kenneth’s hand.
“Some, but as I explained to your little friend,” Kenneth began, “My interdimensional activity meters experienced a peak high in this area a few hours ago and I thought I should come investigate. Alternate-dimensional cultures don’t always regard our world’s organisms as having viable existences…and it’s better to be safe than sorry. There is always a potential for invasion, after all.”
“Of course,” Martha looked interested. “What is your experience with interdimensional theory applications?”
“Well,” Kenneth began, “I once built a device, physically modeled after a Stargate, but that incorporated an inter-dimensional wormhole. Then there’s a time travel unit, although I discontinued that after discovering some very inherent dangers. A few odds and ends, and of course, the monitoring system which I use to keep an eye on our dimensional neighbors. Like time travel, I discovered interdimensional travel to be too much trouble if not careful, and try to limit my studies to view-only.”
Martha brightened, “A Stargate?”
Kenneth nodded.
Martha chewed her lip, “I’d love to talk shop, but I have guests. Though, would you like to stay for tea and see the Glimpse?”
“Why, yes, thank you,” Kenneth nodded. “I have some friends overseas who may miss me soon, but I think I could stay long enough for that.”
“Excellent,” Martha grinned, turning to the cabin and spreading her arms wide, “Welcome to haunted Filbert Guest House.”
Francis scampered after them, keeping an eye out for hawks. Martha seemed to like Kenneth. Francis wasn’t sure about him yet, but the young man was polite and seemed to have all of his columns in order, which was a good thing.
That old lady on the other hand…she appeared to be a few lines short of a full income statement.
While Martha had been talking with Kenneth, Lester had instructed the squirrels outside to tie down the FBI agents, just in case. The old lady might be right, but Lester did not fancy a chase if she wasn’t.
Francis was happy to have someone sensible leading the team.
Once inside the cabin, Francis could hear human voices coming down the hall.
Martha hesitated at the door to the kitchen, “Francis, could you see Kenneth to the library and entertain our guests while I boil some water and get things ready for tea?”
Francis nodded, not sure how he was supposed to entertain three humans. Kenneth followed behind as Francis led the way to the library, where the old lady and the Grizzly dude were poking into Martha’s things.
Grizzly was standing in front of one of the bookshelves, reading the titles, while the old lady was hunched over Martha’s computer, tabbing through screens.
“I can’t believe she’s still using Windows 97,” The old lady snorted, smoothing her white hair with one hand.
Francis bristled, tail poofing.
The old lady continued, “And hasn’t she ever heard of wiping the browser history? Oh look, ‘Neon Genesis Boy Scouts’ is still online. Ooo, it’s still in the writing stage. I should send the author a fan note. What was my old e-mail password…?”
Francis shook his head. Not good. The old lady had said she might not be from Martha’s future, and here she was messing with the past. The old lady was only in the terminal’s surface function program and hadn’t found Stewart and Saki’s homebuilt suite, but the surface program did allow for internet access. Francis glanced at the computer’s power plug under the desk.
Stewart would be upset if Francis unplugged the machine, but someone had to stop the old lady from making changes.
Above him, Kenneth coughed politely, “Excuse me, madam, but weren’t you about to explain to Martha about the dangers of making changes to the space-time continuum?”
The old lady looked at him, then down at the keyboard and monitor in front of her, then huffed in irritation but shut down the computer. She turned in the chair and pushed herself to her feet, “Good point, young man. Have we met before? I’m not sure I remember you.” She squinted at him through her glasses.
Kenneth took a seat on a stuffed armchair near the fireplace where flames still licked blackened logs. Francis hopped up onto one of the chair’s arms next to him.
“I’m Kenneth Pendrell,” Kenneth introduced himself.
The old lady shook her head, “That name is not familiar to me.”
Kenneth shrugged.
The old lady seemed unsatisfied, but she didn’t press it. She moved to the other comfy chair near the fire and settled herself into it, calling over to Grizzly, “Are we going to talk or what?”
“Huh?” He looked away from the books. “Oh, sorry.” He grinned. “I was just enjoying the books. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen actual bound paper books.”
Kenneth nodded, “Books are better when you don’t have to turn them on.”
Turn them on? Francis wondered, glancing down where Rocky 6 sat near the chair’s leg.
Rocky 6 shook his head.
“Exactly!” Grizzly nodded to Kenneth, settling into another chair. He glanced at the old lady, “But you weren’t interested in the books.”
“A better use of time would be to settle this vendetta of yours,” the old lady said primly.
“Vendetta of mine?” Grizzly growled, “You started it!”
The old lady snorted, “I’d never heard of you until, one day, the squirrels and I are in the middle of a plot device, and you suddenly show up and go on a rampage, shouting about vengeance, and send a perfectly good plan up in smoke along with a whole lot of property damage. What do you mean it was my fault?”
“You sent your little agents to ruin my life. Try and tell me you didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Good news!” Martha interrupted, entering the room. “I found a box of Nutter Butters to go with the tea.” She set a tea tray loaded with cups on an end table and began pouring cups of tea.
Francis envied Lester’s sense of balance. The lead squirrel perched on Martha’s shoulder, as was normal, but Martha had handed Lester one of the first tiny cups of tea and the grey squirrel managed to hold it without spilling a drop as she poured the rest of the cups and began passing them out with a plate of peanut butter cookies.
Francis did wonder where Martha had found the cookies. She hadn’t bought a box of store cookies since May 1992 on account that the preservatives were too unhealthy for squirrels. Given that the cookies didn’t smell stale from his own seat on Kenneth’s chair arm, either the space-time continuum was growing unstable and other weird things would pop up, or else she’d been right about the amount of preservatives.
Neither option was comforting.
Martha handed him a tiny tea cup, which he still had to hold with both paws, and to his surprise she set a couple Nutter Butters on a napkin next to him on the chair arm.
Preservatives or not, he wasn’t about to say no to peanut butter cookies.
Neither were Rocky 6 or all of the other squirrels who were settling onto the bookshelves, tables, backs of chairs, and any surface with enough space to hold them.
Francis noticed that Stewart seemed to have taken charge of that new little squirrel he and Rocky 6 had brought back with them. Shatner? Yes, that was the name. They had made sure the little guy had received a cookie too.
“Thank you,” Kenneth said, smiling politely as he took the cup Martha handed to him. “Green tea?”
“Chamomile,” Martha grinned weakly, “I don’t dare give the squirrels anything with caffeine. They get a little um,…hyper. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Kenneth sad, nodding. “I’ve become acquainted with a large variety of teas recently. Japan has an entire art form based on its preparation.”
“That’s the Tea Ceremony, right?” Martha asked.
Kenneth nodded.
“Oh dear,” Martha glanced around, counting, “I don’t have enough cups. Sally, would you and Tootsie go get us some more from the kitchen?”
The two squirrels squeaked affirmatives and scampered off.
“I’m fascinated by the fact you actually employ squirrels to work here.” Grizzly nodded at all of the squirrels decorating the room as he accepted a large cup of tea and a plate of cookies from Martha. “They’re very well trained. I can’t imagine how many hours you’ve spent teaching them how to fetch and carry things for you.”
“It does take time,” the old lady agreed, taking a cup of tea and waving away the cookies.
Francis couldn’t help arch an eyebrow and glance at Kenneth. ‘Well-trained?’ That was it?
“Oh, it can take quite a long time,” Martha nodded. “Francis spent four years studying accounting. Stewart learned computer technology. Saki…”
Grizzly stared in surprise, “Isn’t that almost a waste of time? Don’t they die in a couple years?”
“Squirrels can live about twenty years if properly cared for,” Martha assured him. “It’s a good return on investment.”
“So, they’re your…employees?”
“Hmm, unofficially,” Martha nodded.
“Why not officially?”
Martha laughed, “Getting them all registered for social security numbers would be a nightmare. Besides, they work for peanuts. Literally.”
Francis swallowed, the Nutter Butter in his mouth having gone suddenly dry. He’d never considered the possibility of having to do several thousand tax returns for the nest. The new forms for the bed and breakfast business were going to be bad enough.
Martha finally took a cup of tea for herself and drew up her office chair. She turned to Grizzly and tilted her head slightly, “So, what was the event that started your feud? From your perspective.”
Grizzly stroked his beard, fretting at the singed ends. “It all started the day three of your squirrels showed up where I worked and conned me into giving them a VCR another customer had already paid for...”
“You’re Brian?” Rocky 6 squeaked, nearly dropping his tea, “You’re the mall attendant, the Sears appliance desk clerk?”
Grizzly nodded. “When the true owner on the VCR showed up, it had to be replaced. I ended up losing my job over that mess. Not to mention my I defaulted on my collage loans and lost my apartment. And my girlfriend.” He glanced at the old lady. “When you appeared in my life, surrounded by your little fuzzy friends, I knew I’d found the person responsible for my misery. Ever since, I’ve devoted my time to make you pay for that.” He shrugged. “Yes, I know it’s not the most admirable goal in life, but at least I had a goal. That’s more than you can say for some people. Also, I got a few patents out of it and invented teleportation… though that hasn’t been perfected yet.” He stroked his beard again. “I suppose it hasn’t turned out all bad. And, here we are now, talking things out over Nutter Butters.” He grinned, holding up one of the cookies.
The old lady sniffed, “You could have said something.”
“I thought it was obvious,” Grizzly bit into the cookie.
Martha interrupted before another argument could start, “When did this happen?”
“Oh, ages ago. When I was young and foolish,” Grizzly snorted.
This is an easy fix. Francis shrugged. We just send someone back to the day you picked up the VCR and pay for it. Brian doesn’t lose his job, end of problem.
How would you know what day to go back to? Rocky 6 demanded. Stewart and I were there and we didn’t have a clue what date it was.
Francis looked at Rocky 6. He gave you a VCR, which had been paid for. You have a copy of the receipt, right?
Rocky 6 nodded. He pulled a carefully folded sheet of flimsy paper from under his jacket.
Francis took it from him and unfolded it. It was indeed a Sears receipt, acknowledging that one pre-paid VCR had been picked up.
Francis pointed at one of the lines. That’s a date.
That? Rocky 6 frowned.
That set of numbers, right there. Francis underlined the date with his paw.
Rocky 6 wilted. You mean… we didn’t have to go the other future, the one with the fog, the giant rats, and the other Martha, after all?
“Perfect,” Martha spread her hands, smiling, “Once we get the Glimpse’s dimensional device fixed, I’ll just go back, let them know about the mistake, pay for the VCR, and you can stop this silly fight.”
“Hold on,” the old lady frowned. “That day already happened. You can’t change the past.”
“You yourself said that you might be my future, or you might not. Maybe it is in my future to go back to the past and pay for the VCR so Brian won’t get in trouble,” Martha pointed out.
Grizzly and the old lady looked at each other.
Martha nodded, getting up and heading for the computer desk. “In fact, I think I’ll make a note to myself right now to go make the payment.”
She pulled her day planner from the desk drawer and scrawled a message inside.
Francis looked up at Grizzly and the old lady to check their expressions and froze. Grizzly and the old lady were fading. Francis leaned, down, tapped Rocky 6’s forehead, and pointed.
Rocky 6 whistled.
Martha looked up from her day planner just as the two guests completely disappeared.
“I suppose that answers the question of whether they were our future or not.” Martha made a face. “And it means I do end up time traveling in the Glimpse’s cargo compartment.” She faced Kenneth, “Since they’ve left, would you like to see the Glimpse?”
“I do have a little more time left before I have to get back.” Kenneth smiled and rose to his feet.
Martha led the way out from the library through the hall, “It’s not often we get visitors who are actually interested in the functional aspects of time travel instead of merely exploiting it effects.” She paused. “Actually, you’re the first one. You know, I should call Saki up here to talk to you. He’s the one responsible for most of the practical application. Samwise, would you go ask Saki to come up here?”
Samwise stared at her in terror.
“Oh, come on,” Martha scolded, “The lab is not that dangerous.”
Samwise nodded his head vigorously.
“Makoto? Will you go, please?”
Makoto turned tail back towards the library.
“Where’s Jason? He’s not afraid. He’s one of Saki’s assistants.”
He’s already down in the lab, someone replied. Being experimented on.
“He is not being experimented on,” Martha admonished.
“Perhaps I could come again some other time and meet him then,” Kenneth pointed out. “When each of us has more time. After all, it is almost dawn here and you need to take care of those FBI agents before they wake.”
“Good point,” Martha looked a bit disappointed. “The front door is this way.”
She turned, just as…Kenneth stepped out of the kitchen.
A second Kenneth?
Francis checked to make sure the first Kenneth was still next to Martha.
Yes, he was.
The two Kenneth’s stared at each other for a moment, then the new one, Kenneth number 2, spoke, “Yet another unexpected plot twist. Facinating.”
“Hello,” Next to Martha, the original Kenneth held out his hand to his double, “I’m Kenneth Pendrell, but you probably knew that.”
“The thought did occur to me,” Kenneth2 agreed, waving away the handshake, “Sorry, ‘no two objects occupying the same space’ and all.”
"Ah." Kenneth1 pulled back his hand. "The Blinovitch Limitation Effect?" he asked.
Kenneth2 nodded. "Indeed."
“Can we help you?” Martha asked in a cautious tone, “If you’re looking for a room we’re booked until Christmas, but I might be able to get you in after New Year’s.”
Kenneth2 actually blushed a little, “I’m here to — oh, this is awkward — I’m actually here to get rid of this dimension. Your dimension’s interdimensional travel is a risk and has the potential to place the others in danger. You know, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”
“Not a Spock quote,” Martha groaned.
“You don’t like Spock?” both Kenneths asked in unison, their eyebrows arched slightly.
“He’s not my favorite character,” Martha admitted. “But for now, that quote really doesn’t support his argument on why our universe needs to be the one that gets destroyed.”
“Look, it’s nothing personal,” Kenneth2 protested, “But you must be eliminated for the safety of the entire multiverse. For some reason I couldn’t do it from my lab, but give me a couple minutes here and you won’t have to worry about anything.”
"Wait a moment," Kenneth1 asked, "you're from another reality, and not just me from another point in the same time stream? Then Blinovitch shouldn't apply."
Kenneth2 sighed. "I know."
"So why refuse the handshake?"
"Well, given what I am here for, I felt it best to minimize any chance of forming an emotional attachment."
Francis shook his head as the humans argued. Just great. Not only did they have to worry about their past and future selves dropping in, now they had alternate versions of themselves from other dimensions trying to kill them. There were too many unpredictable factors for Francis to manage to keep his calm and he could feel his tail going bottle-brush.
And who made you our executioner? Lester, from Martha's shoulder, suddenly interrupted the human chatter and demanded of Kenneth2, What are your credentials?
Francis found himself adding, We didn’t request an external audit. Our Kenneth is just as capable of determining the viability of our universe as you are and I question the viability of a universe that wipes out others simply because they’re ‘risks’. Risk and opportunity are what investment turns on!
Kenneth2 cocked his head to the side. “That is a logical point.” Then he looked at Kenneth2. “But you destroyed the Outlast universe, so you have taken similar action yourself.”
“So I did." Kenneth1 sighed. "Not without good reason. But it was only as a last resort, and only after a period of testing to see if that universe would heal itself or degenerate further. But even sealing it off was insufficient, and it began to damage neighboring realities.” Kenneth1 shook his head slowly. “That was an unhealthy reality.”
“And you think yours is better?” Kenneth2 asked.
“No worse than yours,” Kenneth1 replied, looking as if he knew what he was talking about.
Kenneth2 hesitated, then looked away, “Okay. You have a point.”
“How would you know?” Martha asked the Kenneths.
“Observation.” Kenneth1 shrugged amiably. “All dimensions tend to consider themselves the primary. They forget that we’ll all essentially copies of each other, with variations."
“As you’ve probably noticed, a large number of the Alternate universes revolve around the antics of multiple versions of a human usually named Matthew Atanian. If you’re anything like me, which I believe you are, you record them for future study,” Kenneth2 looked at Kenneth1 pointedly, “Your universe happens to be the 'Ranma ½' crossover version.”
“What is Ranma ½?” Martha, Kenneth1, Rocky 6, Lester, Stewart, and Francis asked together.
Kenneth2 stared at them, then shook his head. “Oh right, it’s not an anime series here. Okay, in your reality, Mr. Atanian and his friends end up at a place in China called Jusenkyo. Anyone who falls into one of the cursed springs there ends up changing into whatever first drowned in that spring when splashed with cold water. Hot water changes them back. Suffice to say, Mr. Atanian and his friends each fell into one of the springs.”
“Ah…” Martha’s eyes widened as if she’d just figured something out.
Kenneth2 continued, “In your universe, that’s reality. In my universe, Ranma ½ is just a manga and anime series centered around a character named Saotome Ranma instead of Mr. Atanian.”
"Now that I think of it," Kenneth1 pondered, "while I have not encountered him myself, I have heard mention that there is an individual of that name enrolled at the school that Ms. Kirstin and Ms. Nicole are attending." He looked to his doppelganger. “What does the Mr. Atanian in your universe do?” he asked.
Kenneth2 looked pained, “He’s a detective. Undercover, because there’s a crime syndicate that dresses all in black who tried to kill him…”
“That sounds like Detective Conan,” Martha nodded, “Your universe is ‘Detective Atanian’? Where while investigating several mysterious men in black, Detective Matt Atanian is captured and given an experimental poison which is not supposed to leave any trace. However, instead of dying, Matt is transformed into a six-year-old version of himself. The men in black turn out to be a secret organized crime ring and if they find out Matt is still alive, they’ll kill him, his family, and all his friends. To survive, Matt must go undercover under a new name.
"This makes attending scout meetings awkward (or entertaining, depending on your point of view) and Matt must adjust to his second childhood while trying to find the crime syndicate, prevent them from learning he is still alive, and find a cure.”
Kenneth2 stared at her. “Well…yes. That’s sums it up pretty well.”
“I didn’t realize that series was available domestically,” Kenneth1 mentioned.
Martha spread her hands, “I just read the fan fiction.”
“Well,” Kenneth2 sighed, “You’ve made a good argument that this reality has merit, and I cannot refute your logic at this point. And since apparently someone is watching this place who is qualified to correct any anomalies, I’d better be gone before my presence compounds the instability and creates another paradox or worse. Farewell.”
With that, Kenneth2 opened a door in the air, stepped through, and was gone from their world.
The hallway outside the kitchen seemed frozen for a few long moments.
"So," Martha said, taking a breath, "that's that?"
"Indeed, Kenneth1, now again simply Kenneth, replied. "I don't even have to do much. In fact, I do believe that your intensions to pay for the VCR should resolve everything, as long as you do nothing else while in the past."
"I'll definitely be careful," Martha said.
"Good. Then as long as nothing else has been done to potentially cause disruption, we should be good, although of course I shall continue to monitor things."
Nothing else to cause disruption to the time line… This was mostly beyond his understanding, but Shatner had a sinking feeling that he didn't like. Excuse me, he quietly said, timidly raising a paw.
Shatner went unnoticed.
“Speaking of monitoring things, that other Kenneth… he said you taped alternate universes for study?” Martha said slowly.
Kenneth agreed. “Infinite possibilities are available.”
Shatner pulled his paw back down.
Martha chewed her lip, then took a deep breath, “I suppose you wouldn’t happen to have an alternate universe tape of ‘Detective Atanian’?”
Kenneth looked thoughtful. “I think I might remember briefly reviewing such a recording. I wonder if Becker knows where it went…Do you have a Holo player?”
“No, just VHS.” She glanced over at Rocky 6.
“I’ll convert it for you.”
“Thanks.”
Shatner opened his mouth again, but before he could get his courage screwed to the sticking post, someone else spoke up.
Don’t you think this whole situation is all just a little too convenient? Stewart asked from next to Martha’s feet, his tail curling up in a question-mark shape. FBI agents looking for aliens and finding them, just like in the ‘X-Files’? Rocky 6 and my little time travel excursion nearly started several interdimensional incidents, inserted at least two paradoxes, and almost caused our world to be deleted, but everything is all neatly wrapped up. And…why are the only holographic options for disguising the Glimpse replicas of TV and movie time machines anyway?
“Shut up Bill,” Martha muttered.
Shatner jumped. But I didn’t say anything! he protested.
“Bill?” Kenneth arched an eyebrow.
Martha blinked, considered what she’d said, then laughed, “Oh, sorry. That’s a quote. Bill’s a character in a fan fic. I found a website where someone’s posted a story that crosses over Neon Genesis Evangelion with Boy Scouts who find themselves flying Evas. A character named Bill’s always pointing out plot holes. It’s kind of fun. Lots of anime references and a romance that looks more promising than poor Shinji’s. I’ve been meaning to write the author a comment.”
"I may have heard of the series," Kenneth said. "In fact, I have even heard that the next story will introduce a new pilot named Kenny."
"Oh?" Martha asked. Then realization set in. "Oh… Of course. You know the author personally."
"Indeed." Kenneth then seemed to become lost in thought. "It is all rather interesting. When you go farther away, realities become more unique. Matthew Atanian gains less sigifigant. But our, for lack of a better term, 'local group' of realities all seem to be based off crossing over Matthew Atanian with what in other realities is only an anime series, and yet each of these realities also contains Matthew writing such a thing as a fiction."
"I see what you're saying," Martha said. "Ours is based on this 'Ranma ½.' In it, Matt writes Neon Genesis Boy Scouts. In that series, the author made a passing reference to his character writing something called 'Boy Scouts Muyo!'"
"And, of course," Kenneth reminded her, "there is the 'Detective Atanian' the other Kenneth came from, and which you would like to watch. I wonder what anime series the reality where we are a fiction is based on?"
Lester tried his best to follow all of this, looking back and forth between Kenneth and Martha as they spoke, but at this point he just gave up. Shaking his head, he said, Can’t you keep your head in the real world? Between you and Stewart…
I beg your pardon, Stewart sniffed.
Then Shatner sniffled.
This finally caught Martha's attention, and she picked up the little newcomer squirrel. “Are you catching a cold? I hope you’re not allergic to interdimensional travel or portals. We seem to have a lot of those here.”
I don’t want to disappear! Shatner suddenly wailed, bursting into tears in her hands.
Francis stared. Maybe squirrels could cry after all.
What makes you think you’re going to disappear? Stewart snorted at Shatner.
Everyone else who has shown up here tonight has, Shatner sniffled. I’m the last one. The last one who doesn't belong here!
He has to go back, doesn’t he? Stewart asked, glancing at Francis. The universe would be off balance if he stayed.
Why are you looking at me? Francis curled his tail away from Stewart.
You’re the one who’s always pointing out that things have to balance or else something’s terribly wrong, Rocky 6 stated.
Shatner stared at Francis, eyes huge, as if expecting to be told to leave then and there.
The other squirrels were all looking at him too.
Francis felt very uncomfortable under their gaze.
He’s still an asset of our world, whether he’s in this year or another. The balance stays the same, he muttered. Maybe he’d be a higher-value asset here.
Shatner’s tail drooped. What does that mean?
Kenneth adjusted his glasses, then reached over and patted Shatner, “Consider this: If you haven’t gone back to your time after all that’s happened since you arrived, then there’s probably a reason for you to be here.”
Really? Shatner looked hopeful.
"Really," Martha said. "Maybe this is where you belong."
Kenneth nodded, then held out his hand to Martha, “My time’s up. My friends will miss me if I stay any longer. Thank you for the tea.”
“My pleasure,” Martha took his hand and shook it, “Come back when you have more time. I’ll make sure Saki is available.”
Kenneth nodded, then pulled an envelope from his pocket. From it he extracted a folded, indistinct black mass. Unfolding it, it took the form of a large circle which he then adhered to a bare piece of wall. Kenneth stepped through what apparently was a large black hole. Before his trailing arm disappeared completely with him, he grasped an outer edge of the hole, and gave it a firm tug. This somehow, with a large pop, pulled the hole in on itself, disappearing into nothingness.
I knew it! Francis exclaimed. I am in a Looney Tune!
Martha blinked, and looked down at Francis.
He shook his head dismissively. Never mind. Anyway, you aren’t concerned about not removing his memories of us? he asked. His ears twitched in surprise as he glanced up at Martha.
“No, I suspect that might not work with him. He’d figure it out and I think it’d be better to have someone friendly watching us, instead of someone who didn’t care. Besides,” Martha said smiling, "if I did manage to remove his memory, he wouldn't remember to make those tapes for me!" Another thought occurred to her, and she frowned. “Drat, I should have asked him what Mike’s been up to. We haven’t heard from our leader in months."
Humans knew about the underground hanger.
Francis mechanically followed the other squirrels toward the graveyard, too stunned by the implications of what had happened to focus on anything else, not even to keep an eye out for hawks.
This was terrible. Horrible. No human but Martha was supposed to come out here. (Well, maybe perhaps their new leader, but last they heard he was currently a long, long way away.) Yet, there were two humans out in the clearing where they shouldn’t be! These humans would tell others what they’d seen, the secret of the Cabin would be out, and the nest would have to move to a new location. This meant that all of the computer stuff would have to be torn down and packed up, the new generator would have to be dismantled… again, the 3D projector and all the accounting books would have to be packed up and shipped to a new site. Last, the Cabin and lab would have to be torched so that no human would suspect the hidden underground hanger below. With the Cabin gone, the squirrels would be homeless…
Francis wanted to cry.
Except squirrels didn’t cry, which, right now, didn’t seem fair. On TV, humans got to cry and whine and beg and panic when something scared them.
Of course, squirrels could panic quite well. They could also chide and scold. Dithering was a particular specialty when it came to crossing roads with oncoming traffic. Most squirrels could at least.
Francis wasn’t like most squirrels.
Francis liked order, liked everything tidy and neat. He liked graphs and diagrams and spread sheets, matrices and databases, Gantt charts and flow charts and tables—nifty things, tables—balance sheets, cash flow statements, financial pro formas, income statements, tax law…oh, and audits… He liked everything to be in its place. A well-organized work-place was efficient. Martha had once told him he had something called ‘OCD’, only Francis preferred to spell it ‘CDO’, since that way all the letters were in alphabetical order. Rocky 6 had once said that Francis wasn’t much of a squirrel.
Francis didn’t care much for Rocky 6.
Now even the sight of the graveyard, with its regularly-spaced, even rows, did not calm Francis. Not even the inherent reminder that ‘times may change but death comes to all’ had any effect. If the squirrels left, there would be no one to tend the graves, no one to remember those who’d died, no one to tell that this place was not just like any other corner of the woods.
The Cabin was home. Without it… the clan’s entire future seemed uncertain and variable.
Francis paused at the edge of the graves and tried to focus. He needed to determine the best site for these final fallen heroes.
Around him, the other squirrels began to grow twitchy.
Many of the squirrels did not like being in the graveyard. (Some of the older squirrels told scary stories about things that had happened in the graveyard on dark, moonless nights, not that Francis actually believed those stories.) Nor did the other squirrels want to be anywhere near those tubes of preserves that Lester had brought back with the Glimpse.
Francis could see them fidgeting and starting to grow squirrely as they waited for him to pick a site, which didn’t help his calm at all.
Thus, when Sergi and Tootsie began arguing whether they should place the four new holes in the older section by the wild rose bush, or in the newer section by the hawthorn, and Samwise and Makoto began trying to lay out the graves in a circle instead of even rows, Francis gave up looking for his center.
You four! He motioned to Sergi, Tootsie, Samwise, and Makoto. Help me mark the lines.
He made each of the four troublemakers stand still at the four corners of each rectangle to mark the grave as the other squirrels made outlines with twigs and sticks.
Once all four plots were drawn out, squared and even with the other rows (Francis liked even-spacing. It was orderly. Unlike squirrels.), Francis gave the order to dig and put Ditzy in charge. Ditzy was a goofball, until given a specific task and then would complete it to exact instruction. Francis approved of Ditzy. He did not approve of risking important assets (such as, say for example, an expensive experimental jet) in the paws of squirrels like Scottie, Rocky 6’s dumkoff apprentice.
Francis waved Makoto, Samwise, Tootsie, and Sergi to follow him. We’re going to get the shoeboxes.
Martha kept the shoebox stash in a closet in the Cabin. Francis wasn’t sure where she’d found so many empty shoeboxes. He’d asked her once why she didn’t make them herself. She’d only told him that it was ‘tradition’, which was an unsatisfactory answer. Cardboard boxes were biodegradable, and getting pre-made boxes saved Martha’s time for other projects, but the things were just going in the ground. Why did they have to have garish colors and brand names?
Of course, Martha did like to match the boxes to the personalities of the squirrels being interred, so maybe there was a sorting-and-filing concept Martha used that Francis was unaware of.
Francis was just leaping onto the Cabin’s porch, having decided Tom could have a Prada box and Rocky 2 an Aerosole, when a gust of wind and dust blew him and the other four squirrels off the porch and smack into the side of the Cabin’s outer wall.
That wasn’t at all what he’d expected. This was only October! There had been nothing in the weather reports about aberrant storm systems tonight. Of course, the weather report was given by humans and everyone knew how fallible humans were.
He braced himself for another gust.
Nothing came.
Well, that was even more unusual. Normally when storms hit, gusts would howl around the cabin for hours. Was this a storm or not? The wind had come from the clearing where the underground runway exit lay.
Having an insatiably curiosity, like all squirrels (eat that, Rocky 6), he leaped off the porch. Almost instantly, in mid-leap, another gust caught him and sent him back into the Cabin’s outer wall again.
Feeling as though he was in some sort of cosmic slapstick routine, or that Saki had finally made that threat good and crossed him over into Wily E. Coyote’s universe, Francis lay on the porch until he managed to breathe again. Getting the breath knocked out of you twice in a row takes a toll.
The other four squirrels were making groans and squeaks of surprise and pain. Francis shushed them, climbing to his feet. Something strange was going on and, until they figured out what, they didn’t want to attract attention.
Cautiously, he crawled off the porch and, after a quick search for his tiny accountant’s visor which had blown off, he rolled up the sleeves of his tiny white dress-shirt (which was no longer completely white, alas) and silently motioned to the four to follow him toward the clearing, keeping an eye out for hawks. Hawks were one of those unpredictable factors of life that Francis abhorred. Actually, Francis abhorred all unpredictable factors, but especially hawks.
Hawks ate squirrels. A hawk had snatched his mother from the branch as she’d been leaving their hole for food. Martha had found him and his brother and sisters and nursed them from the brink of starvation. They’d been very young.
His brother had been exploring when a hawk got him. One of his sisters had been gathering nuts when a hawk took her. His other sister had been hit by a car. Francis had ended up taking accounting classes. The odds weren’t good for escaping hawks.
Francis slowed down as they grew close to the clearing.
Tootsie was not paying attention and bumped into him from behind, which caused a bit of noise. Francis winced at the scuffles and snorts Makoto and Sergi made stopping, though Samwise managed not to make a sound. Francis signed for them to ‘be quiet’ and ‘listen’. He didn’t know how these four had managed to survive so long amidst the inherent dangers of the woods, but that was a topic to ponder some other time.
Francis could hear human females talking, but there was something strange about the voices.
He listened carefully.
There were actually only two human voices and both of them sounded like Martha.
That wasn’t right.
Martha did occasionally talk to herself, but only when she had an audience, not out in the woods like this.
He crept closer to where he could see the speakers and studied the scene.
Martha was talking to an unknown female human, who looked a lot like her. Francis could tell the two of them apart because Lester was sitting on Martha’s shoulder listening to their conversation. The male human, who’d been all excited about ‘aliens’ and yelling about ‘cling-ons’ when the rescue team had disembarked from the Glimpse earlier, now stood near the two female humans, staring dreamily at the Glimpse where it sat just visible in the clearing. The short, red-haired female human, who’d seemed the calmer of the strangers, was now unconscious on the ground at the feet of Martha and her look-alike.
Something nudged his side and almost made him jump a foot. He barely managed to catch himself from falling on a patch of crunchy leaves that would have given them all away, and glared at the squirrel who’d poked him.
Hey, you okay, Francis? Rocky 6 asked.
Francis had not expected Rocky 6 to show up here, but any potential source of information was welcome at this point. What are they doing? Francis snapped, motioning at the extra humans.
I’m not sure. Rocky 6 shrugged. The red headed female was going to shoot Lester with a cannon-thing, so I turned on the Glimpse’s dimensional device…
You what?
You heard me. Rocky 6 shot him an annoyed look. I was hoping the wind would knock her down so Lester could escape, which worked. Anyway, to make a long story short, Stewart and I just returned with a second Martha from our future and a new squirrel from our past. His name is Shatner. He’s the little guy over there with Stewart.
That can’t be right. Francis stared at the new Martha. According to Saki, this world had only one Martha. If there were two, then the cosmic ledger was out of balance. This new Martha must have come from an alternative universe. Was she an asset, or a liability? And then, depending on whichever this transaction turned out to be, what was its other effect on the other side of the balance sheet? Did they owe the other world something? Or were they due something in return? A whole person had to be worth a large amount of value. He wondered how you’d calculate hypothetical interdimensional-gain taxes.
Seemed kinda weird to me too. Rocky 6 shrugged. But there she is and she can’t go back. They were trying to kill her there.
Francis shook his head. You don’t get it. We already have a Martha. This new Martha must have come from some other place, from a different timeline. She’s not our Martha.
Rocky 6 eyed the younger woman. She sure looks like her, and she sounds like her too.
This was one of those times when Francis wanted to smack the pilot. He managed to control himself. Pilots were adrenaline junkies who didn’t care a whit for order or how things actually worked together. They took expensive airplanes out into the air and either crashed them or incurred expensive wear and tear. If Rocky 6 had really taken the Glimpse somewhere, Francis would probably be handed a huge repair bill in the near future.
He sighed.
Thanks to the Bed and Breakfast business they finally had some positive cash flow, but the new generator had cost a large chunk of their funds. Parts to rebuild the experimental jet could still be classified under R&D. Francis had been required to deduct the Glimpse as a capital loss several years ago. Obviously, he was going to have to adjust the books again, since it was an active asset once more. He wondered yet again whether time travel should be considered an asset or a liability. Probably a liability. Too many things had just gone wrong since Martha and Saki had built the machine.
Ah, excuse me? Tootsie spoke up.
What? Francis growled with more feeling than Tootsie deserved, but loss of secrets to the humans and doubles of Martha didn’t happen every day.
Come see, Tootsie pointed, tail waving agitatedly. Samwise found it.
Samwise had been poking about again and Tootsie had tailed him. Great. That meant it could be something dangerous. Francis took a deep breath. Martha and Lester could handle the humans.
Francis motioned for Tootsie to lead the way. Rocky 6, Makoto, Sergi followed after.
Tootsie led them around the spot where Martha and the humans were, to a place where the trees and brush were thicker, yet the Glimpse was still visible.
Samwise met them, tail waving in excitement.
A human! I found a human!
More humans? Francis could hardly believe it.
What’s it doing? Rocky 6 asked Samwise.
Samwise shrugged. It’s just standing there, watching Martha and the other humans. He pointed.
Indeed, Francis now noticed the small human that stood among the trees, silently staring through the underbrush. On first glance, the short human looked young, rather scrawny, and didn’t appear threatening at all with his light-colored head-fur and thick glasses. Even his clothing, slacks and a button-up dress shirt, looked clean and in order. It was the way he watched Martha, completely motionless and focused, that bristled the fur on Francis’s tail.
Francis planted himself in the human’s path. This was becoming a dangerous habit, but someone had to.
It was irksome that the boy didn’t even notice.
Excuse me! Francis chirped.
The boy actually jumped slightly. He glanced down, his eyes huge behind his thick glasses. Francis wasn’t sure if that was because of the magnification caused by the glass, or true surprise. After a moment, the boy looked away from Francis back to Martha.
Hey, you up there! Francis growled. If he was actually going to try to talk to humans, they’d better have the manners to hold up their end of the conversation.
The boy gave Francis his attention once more, eyebrows scrunching. “Ah, I beg your pardon. Were you addressing me?”
Francis nodded. Who are you?
The boy frowned, puzzled, “Could you repeat that?” He pulled something from his ear, adjusted it, then stuck it back in again.
Francis considered, then reiterated slowly and clearly, I asked, ‘Who are you?’ As in: We’ve never met, you’re a total stranger, and I want you to be courteous and introduce yourself since you’re in my territory.
You don’t have territory, Rocky 6 snorted. Except those ledgers of yours.
The young man nodded slowly, “I see, your communication is mostly through tail and body language, though there is a phonetic vocal portion. Intriguing. Mike normally tries only verbal communication, or hand signals.”
Rocky 6 cleared his throat, “Francis wants to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”
Francis glanced at Rocky 6 in surprise. The pilot spoke human-talk?
The young man’s eyebrows had risen, “You speak English?”
Rocky 6 rolled his eyes, as if he received that response often, “Introductions, please?”
“Excuse me,” the young man nodded, “My name is Kenneth Pendrell. And you are?”
Rocky 6 introduced Francis and the other twenty squirrels who had come to see the new human. Kenneth seemed to take each name and face and memorize them instead of blanking out after the fifth.
Ask him why he’s here, Francis told Rocky 6.
Rocky 6 passed the question along.
Kenneth actually looked somewhat embarrassed, “It’s a bit complicated. My interdimensional activity meters have always read a little high for this area, but the readings rose exceptionally a few hours ago. I’d built the meters to warn of the potential for invasion from various alternate-dimensional cultures with interdimensional travel capability, and, as you may imagine, I became concerned with the new level of activity readings. I thought investigation would be prudent. Normally, I’d burn a holographic memory disc of the events to examine in my lab (much safer and far less chance of disturbing a world’s internal balance that way), but as this actually is my world, I decided to see to it personally.”
Sounds simple enough, Francis shrugged.
Only you and Saki would think so, Rocky 6 snorted.
He saw something strange and decided to check before making a fuss, Francis pointed out. He seems pretty level-headed for a human.
“Thank you,” Kenneth smiled.
You understand me now? Francis narrowed his eyes.
“Some. My translation device is still learning,” Kenneth admitted.
So, what do you already know about us? Francis asked.
Kenneth’s eyes grew a little out-of focus behind his glasses, as if thinking, then he began to recite, “A few years ago, several thousand squirrels of various breeds organized under a woman named Martha, with the stated purpose of taking over the world. To this end, the group has built an underground complex, built several squirrel-sized stealth jets, perfected holographic projection technology and hydroponics, built some interesting phaser prototypes, wrote a cook book, toured as a theatre act, worked as a duct-cleaning service, recruited a Boy Scout they encountered who had, shall we say, highly specific credentials to be your leader, opened a bed and breakfast which recently purchased two overseas properties, developed an interdimentional-time machine which took its first flight a couple years ago and was lost to Area 51, and just made several jumps today that created several temporary alternate branches from our timeline. Right now, I don’t know which line is our true future and I am here to see the situation resolved.”
Francis realized his mouth was hanging open in shock and shut it. All that?? he squeaked.
Kenneth shrugged, “As I explained, I have been monitoring this area for some time.”
Francis swallowed. How could their secrets be so well known? This was catastrophic! He shook himself and puffed his tail and stood on his hind legs to make himself look as big and threatening as possible. If you tell anyone about any of this, we will hunt you down and wipe your memories.
Kenneth studied him carefully, “You’re serious.”
Francis nodded.
Kenneth smiled, as if amused for a moment, “Memory-wiping technology? Well, thought is made up of electronic impulses through the synapses, and indeed my own methods of memory alteration or storage are based on the ability to alter, delete, or record such impulses. Given what else you have accomplished here, it could be possible you have had breakthroughs in similar areas…Hmm, intriguing,” he murmured thoughtfully for a moment, then became serious once more, “Very well. Even if your memory-removal system works, I don’t think you’d be able to enforce your threat. I have safeguards in my own brain to protect against such things. However, I also don’t believe your group intends harm to this planet, so I have no reason to disseminate information about you to anyone else and as such I will accept your terms.”
Rocky 6 puffed his tail nub, which was a useless gesture, and growled, How can you say we’re not a threat? We’re going to take over the world!
Kenneth did not seem appear to be joking as he said, “As this point, it is entirely possible it’d do the world some good to be run by a bunch of squirrels. And if nothing else, if it came to pass it would be fascinating to study.”
Francis quickly considered their options. Martha should be informed of the boy, so they could erase his memories of them later. (Francis did not believe the boy's claims about safeguards. He thought it was likely just posturing to save face.) Since you’re here, and you say you intend to help put things back in order, would you like us to introduce you to Martha? It might make things easier.
“While I’d hoped to keep a low profile, making her acquaintance would indeed facilitate my task.” Kenneth agreed. “Lead the way.”
Francis motioned Makoto to lead them off, and the whole group pushed out of the thicket and back around to where Martha was deep in conversation with the other Martha who looked a lot younger than Francis’s Martha.
It sounded as though one of them was explaining how the memory-wipe technology worked and how she would use it on the unconscious female, whom Martha named ‘Danae’. She referred to the human male as ‘Mueller’. He appeared to be listening to the conversation as well.
“Do you still use analog methods, or have you tried digital yet?” Martha asked the new Martha.
“Digital?” The new Martha inquired.
Martha nodded, pulling out what looked like a headset for a walkman from a pocket, “The brain functions via electrical pulses. So do computers. If there were a way to tap into the brain’s electrical pulses using a computer, then perhaps it would be possible to download peoples’ memories to storage, or even alter them.”
“Is this all theoretical, or have you managed to…?” Mueller motioned to the headset.
Martha nodded, “It’s a working model.”
“How…invasive is the procedure?”
Martha shook her head, “This is just a basic model for removing blocks of time. You just put the set on over the ears, set the amount of time to delete, hit the button and voila! Theoretically, you could take a person’s whole life from them. I’m working on a something a bit more selective, but it’s a work in progress.” She shrugged.
Francis was appalled. Why was Martha giving the humans secrets like this? Normally, she held back as much information as possible. The fewer memories to remove, the less chance of recall at some future date. Was it possible she was considering…recruiting them?
“Hold it,” a strident voice rang through the clearing.
Francis looked up and saw that yet another human female had found them. This one was an elderly human female, dressed in conservative clothing that somehow also looked a little odd. The human female had tied her white hair up in a bun and wore a disapproving expression behind her glasses.
Francis, Kenneth, Rocky 6, and the other squirrels with them stopped at Francis’s wave to halt. This was something he wanted to observe before stepping in. Kenneth seemed to agree, stepping behind a tree to watch, hidden from the other humans.
The old lady glowered at the two Marthas where they stood with the human male over the unconscious red-head on the ground, “This is not how I remember this happening.”
The old lady shuffled over to them and stared at each of the three in the eye, then bent and examined the unconscious red-haired female.
Martha seemed tongue-tied and stared at the old lady. Francis wondered why she was letting this old woman order them around like this.
“How many days were you planning to wipe?” the old lady asked.
“Ah, just a couple,” Martha stammered. “People seem to try harder to remember when they discover they have lost large portions of their memories.”
The old lady shook her head. “You just remove whole blocks? I take it you haven’t figured out how to do selective memory removal yet.”
“Not yet,” Martha nodded slowly.
The old lady pursed her lips grimly, then opened a purse that had matched her outfit so well Francis hadn’t noticed it, and pulled out something small that resembled the portable tazers Saki had made.
A flash and down went Mueller.
Francis’s jaw dropped. As soon as Mueller hit the dirt, the younger Martha had faded and disappeared.
“Hey! He was going to help us!” Martha protested.
The old lady leveled an eye at her, “You and who else?”
“Why, my other…”Martha trailed off, just noticing that her other self was no longer at her side. “Where’d she go?”
The old lady shook her head, “That wasn’t you, not in the strictest sense. She was but an alternate thrown into being when your three rascals created a kink in the time stream by talking to several people they shouldn’t have. Literally.”
She fixed a look at Rocky 6 where he sat next to Francis.
Rocky 6 curled his stub tail, obviously wishing he had somewhere to hide.
Francis frowned. That wasn’t fair. For all Rocky 6’s faults, Francis knew the pilot hadn’t meant to harm anything.
Francis stepped in front of Rocky 6. He fluffed his tail to make it wider, then folded his front legs across his chest and gave the old lady a calculating look.
“Excuse me, what does Mueller have to do with all this?” Martha interrupted.
Francis realized she was talking about the human male who was now unconscious.
The old woman rolled her eyes and spoke slowly and carefully, “After assisting you wipe his partner’s memories, Mueller would visit the Holyoke Mall sometime in the near future. There, he would make a comment about ‘talking squirrels’ to one of the employees who had talked with Rocky 6 and they would eventually mention it to certain 'other parties' who shouldn’t know, creating a split in the timeline. None of this happens if Mueller doesn’t remember.”
Martha looked confused, “Why don’t you just stop Rocky 6 from talking to the mall employees in the first place?”
The old lady reached over and gently patted her shoulder, “Because that’s already happened. You can’t change the past.”
“Then why are you wiping Danae and Mueller?” Martha frowned. “You’re talking about what Mueller will do at the Holyoke Mall as if it’s already happened.”
“Not for you,” The old lady said. “I’m not going to wipe their memories. You are. Your future is unwritten.”
“What about yours?” Martha demanded. “Who are you?”
“Haven’t you guessed?” The old lady smiled.
“No, I…” Martha stepped closer, then stopped suddenly.
Lester’s tail bristled, bottle-brush style, and he crouched protectively on Martha’s shoulder.
Francis’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re…me,” Martha breathed.
“Perhaps,” the old lady shrugged. “Or perhaps I’m an alternate future. Time will tell. Be more careful with your time travel from now on and make sure you...”
An explosion shook the ground, throwing up dirt, rocks, and flaming leaf mold, singeing the leaves on the nearest trees. Francis was glad it had been a wet Autumn so far, though he was peeved that his dress-shirt was now going to have to be washed. Two unknown humans had found them, then two versions of Martha had shown up, now what? Pan-dimentional mice?
In the epicenter of the blast, towered a great bear of a man, who was smoking. Literally. White smoke rose from his thick, dark beard, which had curled somewhat at the edges from the heat.
“Blast it. Not again,” he muttered swatting at his beard in an effort to put out the burning ends. Finally contented that his beard wasn’t about to spontaneously combust, the man swept the area with a fierce gaze. He spotted the old lady.
“I have found you, Squirrel Lady!”
“Not you again,” the old lady sighed.
“You know him?” Martha arched an eyebrow. Francis curled his tail in a question mark. So did Lester, Rocky 6, Stewart, the little squirrel Rocky 6 had called Shatner, and all the other three dozen or so squirrels that had crept up to watch.
The old lady nodded, “Yes, unfortunately, he’s—”
“The Grizzly Lord!” the bearded guy roared. “With the strength and incredible mind-power of a full grown Alaskan Grizzly Bear!”
“And the temper of one,” the old lady muttered “and the bad breath of one.” Louder she addressed, the grizzly dude, “Can’t we do this some other time? Please? I’m trying to instruct this young lady how not to destroy the world.”
“In that case,” the grizzly guy shouted, “It’s good that I am here, for you’ll surely bungle it again.”
“Bungle?” the old lady repeated slowly, staring at him.
One of the squirrels in the crowd piped up, To flub, make a mistake, drop the ball, ruin things…
Francis tried to pick out who it was, then winced.
“Thank you, Webster,” Martha nodded, “But I believe she already knows what it means.”
Webster nodded, ducking his head and pushing his tiny glasses further up his nose.
“There are a lot of squirrels here,” the grizzly guy commented, as he looked around, taking in the cabin for the first time. “Is this your secret lair?”
“It used to be,” the old lady nodded, lips pressed together in a firm line, “But obviously I had to move when the location was compromised.” She glanced at Martha, “This is what happens when you meddle with the time stream.”
“Looks cozy,” the bear guy nodded appreciatively.
“Lots of people seem to think so,” Martha agreed. “You should read our guest book. I run a haunted bed and breakfast establishment. We happen to have a couple of rooms available, or at least we will when I finish dealing with our FBI infestation. You two seem to have some things to work out. Why not just take the opportunity to sort them out tonight in the library? There’s a fire and I could make a pot of coffee or tea with honey.”
“With honey, hmm? That does sound nice,” Grizzly mused.
“I suppose,” the old lady said in a thoughtful tone. “I would like to get to the bottom of this. And tea sounds nice. Do you have Jaffa cakes?”
“Not today…” Martha hedged, “But I suppose I could whip up some meringues or something…”
“Oh, don’t bother,” the old lady waved a hand, “Tea would be fine.”
“What about Danae and Mueller?” Martha pointed at the two unconscious humans who still lay among the leaves on the forest floor.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ll keep,” the old lady waved again, dismissively.
The grizzly guy formally held out his arm to her. After a moment of what appeared to be internal debate, the old lady sighed and took his arm. Together they headed toward the Cabin.
Martha stepped over to Francis and Rocky 6 and looked down at them, “Rocky 6, do you know either of them?”
Rocky 6 shook his head. They weren’t in any of the places Stewart and I visited.
An alternate future, Francis muttered. Then he puffed his tail for attention. We have someone else we’d like you to meet!
“Who else?” Martha asked cautiously, looking around at the group of fifty or so squirrels gathered around Francis.
Francis motioned to Kenneth to come out from behind the tree. The weird ones are gone for now. Come meet Martha!
Kenneth straightened his shirt and stepped around the tree into Martha’s sight.
“Oh!” Martha looked surprised, “I’ve seen you before. You’re a Boy Scout, right? You helped stop those Canadian terrorists.”
“Yes,” Kenneth nodded. “I believe we have another mutual acquaintance. He’s a part-time squirrel.”
“Part-time…?” Martha’s eyes narrowed, then she blinked. “You’re talking about Mike Quadrozzi.”
Kenneth smiled.
Francis coughed, Kenneth Pendrell, meet Martha, our Chief Operations Officer.
That drew a frown from Martha, “Francis, I told you we weren’t going to incorporate.”
It would help with our financing issues, Francis flicked his tail in protest. We could issue stock…
“No, Francis,” Martha sighed.
Fine, Francis sighed. He motioned to Kenneth, Martha, meet Kenneth Pendrell. He knows a lot about us.
“A lot?” Martha asked, shaking Kenneth’s hand.
“Some, but as I explained to your little friend,” Kenneth began, “My interdimensional activity meters experienced a peak high in this area a few hours ago and I thought I should come investigate. Alternate-dimensional cultures don’t always regard our world’s organisms as having viable existences…and it’s better to be safe than sorry. There is always a potential for invasion, after all.”
“Of course,” Martha looked interested. “What is your experience with interdimensional theory applications?”
“Well,” Kenneth began, “I once built a device, physically modeled after a Stargate, but that incorporated an inter-dimensional wormhole. Then there’s a time travel unit, although I discontinued that after discovering some very inherent dangers. A few odds and ends, and of course, the monitoring system which I use to keep an eye on our dimensional neighbors. Like time travel, I discovered interdimensional travel to be too much trouble if not careful, and try to limit my studies to view-only.”
Martha brightened, “A Stargate?”
Kenneth nodded.
Martha chewed her lip, “I’d love to talk shop, but I have guests. Though, would you like to stay for tea and see the Glimpse?”
“Why, yes, thank you,” Kenneth nodded. “I have some friends overseas who may miss me soon, but I think I could stay long enough for that.”
“Excellent,” Martha grinned, turning to the cabin and spreading her arms wide, “Welcome to haunted Filbert Guest House.”
Francis scampered after them, keeping an eye out for hawks. Martha seemed to like Kenneth. Francis wasn’t sure about him yet, but the young man was polite and seemed to have all of his columns in order, which was a good thing.
That old lady on the other hand…she appeared to be a few lines short of a full income statement.
While Martha had been talking with Kenneth, Lester had instructed the squirrels outside to tie down the FBI agents, just in case. The old lady might be right, but Lester did not fancy a chase if she wasn’t.
Francis was happy to have someone sensible leading the team.
Once inside the cabin, Francis could hear human voices coming down the hall.
Martha hesitated at the door to the kitchen, “Francis, could you see Kenneth to the library and entertain our guests while I boil some water and get things ready for tea?”
Francis nodded, not sure how he was supposed to entertain three humans. Kenneth followed behind as Francis led the way to the library, where the old lady and the Grizzly dude were poking into Martha’s things.
Grizzly was standing in front of one of the bookshelves, reading the titles, while the old lady was hunched over Martha’s computer, tabbing through screens.
“I can’t believe she’s still using Windows 97,” The old lady snorted, smoothing her white hair with one hand.
Francis bristled, tail poofing.
The old lady continued, “And hasn’t she ever heard of wiping the browser history? Oh look, ‘Neon Genesis Boy Scouts’ is still online. Ooo, it’s still in the writing stage. I should send the author a fan note. What was my old e-mail password…?”
Francis shook his head. Not good. The old lady had said she might not be from Martha’s future, and here she was messing with the past. The old lady was only in the terminal’s surface function program and hadn’t found Stewart and Saki’s homebuilt suite, but the surface program did allow for internet access. Francis glanced at the computer’s power plug under the desk.
Stewart would be upset if Francis unplugged the machine, but someone had to stop the old lady from making changes.
Above him, Kenneth coughed politely, “Excuse me, madam, but weren’t you about to explain to Martha about the dangers of making changes to the space-time continuum?”
The old lady looked at him, then down at the keyboard and monitor in front of her, then huffed in irritation but shut down the computer. She turned in the chair and pushed herself to her feet, “Good point, young man. Have we met before? I’m not sure I remember you.” She squinted at him through her glasses.
Kenneth took a seat on a stuffed armchair near the fireplace where flames still licked blackened logs. Francis hopped up onto one of the chair’s arms next to him.
“I’m Kenneth Pendrell,” Kenneth introduced himself.
The old lady shook her head, “That name is not familiar to me.”
Kenneth shrugged.
The old lady seemed unsatisfied, but she didn’t press it. She moved to the other comfy chair near the fire and settled herself into it, calling over to Grizzly, “Are we going to talk or what?”
“Huh?” He looked away from the books. “Oh, sorry.” He grinned. “I was just enjoying the books. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen actual bound paper books.”
Kenneth nodded, “Books are better when you don’t have to turn them on.”
Turn them on? Francis wondered, glancing down where Rocky 6 sat near the chair’s leg.
Rocky 6 shook his head.
“Exactly!” Grizzly nodded to Kenneth, settling into another chair. He glanced at the old lady, “But you weren’t interested in the books.”
“A better use of time would be to settle this vendetta of yours,” the old lady said primly.
“Vendetta of mine?” Grizzly growled, “You started it!”
The old lady snorted, “I’d never heard of you until, one day, the squirrels and I are in the middle of a plot device, and you suddenly show up and go on a rampage, shouting about vengeance, and send a perfectly good plan up in smoke along with a whole lot of property damage. What do you mean it was my fault?”
“You sent your little agents to ruin my life. Try and tell me you didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Good news!” Martha interrupted, entering the room. “I found a box of Nutter Butters to go with the tea.” She set a tea tray loaded with cups on an end table and began pouring cups of tea.
Francis envied Lester’s sense of balance. The lead squirrel perched on Martha’s shoulder, as was normal, but Martha had handed Lester one of the first tiny cups of tea and the grey squirrel managed to hold it without spilling a drop as she poured the rest of the cups and began passing them out with a plate of peanut butter cookies.
Francis did wonder where Martha had found the cookies. She hadn’t bought a box of store cookies since May 1992 on account that the preservatives were too unhealthy for squirrels. Given that the cookies didn’t smell stale from his own seat on Kenneth’s chair arm, either the space-time continuum was growing unstable and other weird things would pop up, or else she’d been right about the amount of preservatives.
Neither option was comforting.
Martha handed him a tiny tea cup, which he still had to hold with both paws, and to his surprise she set a couple Nutter Butters on a napkin next to him on the chair arm.
Preservatives or not, he wasn’t about to say no to peanut butter cookies.
Neither were Rocky 6 or all of the other squirrels who were settling onto the bookshelves, tables, backs of chairs, and any surface with enough space to hold them.
Francis noticed that Stewart seemed to have taken charge of that new little squirrel he and Rocky 6 had brought back with them. Shatner? Yes, that was the name. They had made sure the little guy had received a cookie too.
“Thank you,” Kenneth said, smiling politely as he took the cup Martha handed to him. “Green tea?”
“Chamomile,” Martha grinned weakly, “I don’t dare give the squirrels anything with caffeine. They get a little um,…hyper. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Kenneth sad, nodding. “I’ve become acquainted with a large variety of teas recently. Japan has an entire art form based on its preparation.”
“That’s the Tea Ceremony, right?” Martha asked.
Kenneth nodded.
“Oh dear,” Martha glanced around, counting, “I don’t have enough cups. Sally, would you and Tootsie go get us some more from the kitchen?”
The two squirrels squeaked affirmatives and scampered off.
“I’m fascinated by the fact you actually employ squirrels to work here.” Grizzly nodded at all of the squirrels decorating the room as he accepted a large cup of tea and a plate of cookies from Martha. “They’re very well trained. I can’t imagine how many hours you’ve spent teaching them how to fetch and carry things for you.”
“It does take time,” the old lady agreed, taking a cup of tea and waving away the cookies.
Francis couldn’t help arch an eyebrow and glance at Kenneth. ‘Well-trained?’ That was it?
“Oh, it can take quite a long time,” Martha nodded. “Francis spent four years studying accounting. Stewart learned computer technology. Saki…”
Grizzly stared in surprise, “Isn’t that almost a waste of time? Don’t they die in a couple years?”
“Squirrels can live about twenty years if properly cared for,” Martha assured him. “It’s a good return on investment.”
“So, they’re your…employees?”
“Hmm, unofficially,” Martha nodded.
“Why not officially?”
Martha laughed, “Getting them all registered for social security numbers would be a nightmare. Besides, they work for peanuts. Literally.”
Francis swallowed, the Nutter Butter in his mouth having gone suddenly dry. He’d never considered the possibility of having to do several thousand tax returns for the nest. The new forms for the bed and breakfast business were going to be bad enough.
Martha finally took a cup of tea for herself and drew up her office chair. She turned to Grizzly and tilted her head slightly, “So, what was the event that started your feud? From your perspective.”
Grizzly stroked his beard, fretting at the singed ends. “It all started the day three of your squirrels showed up where I worked and conned me into giving them a VCR another customer had already paid for...”
“You’re Brian?” Rocky 6 squeaked, nearly dropping his tea, “You’re the mall attendant, the Sears appliance desk clerk?”
Grizzly nodded. “When the true owner on the VCR showed up, it had to be replaced. I ended up losing my job over that mess. Not to mention my I defaulted on my collage loans and lost my apartment. And my girlfriend.” He glanced at the old lady. “When you appeared in my life, surrounded by your little fuzzy friends, I knew I’d found the person responsible for my misery. Ever since, I’ve devoted my time to make you pay for that.” He shrugged. “Yes, I know it’s not the most admirable goal in life, but at least I had a goal. That’s more than you can say for some people. Also, I got a few patents out of it and invented teleportation… though that hasn’t been perfected yet.” He stroked his beard again. “I suppose it hasn’t turned out all bad. And, here we are now, talking things out over Nutter Butters.” He grinned, holding up one of the cookies.
The old lady sniffed, “You could have said something.”
“I thought it was obvious,” Grizzly bit into the cookie.
Martha interrupted before another argument could start, “When did this happen?”
“Oh, ages ago. When I was young and foolish,” Grizzly snorted.
This is an easy fix. Francis shrugged. We just send someone back to the day you picked up the VCR and pay for it. Brian doesn’t lose his job, end of problem.
How would you know what day to go back to? Rocky 6 demanded. Stewart and I were there and we didn’t have a clue what date it was.
Francis looked at Rocky 6. He gave you a VCR, which had been paid for. You have a copy of the receipt, right?
Rocky 6 nodded. He pulled a carefully folded sheet of flimsy paper from under his jacket.
Francis took it from him and unfolded it. It was indeed a Sears receipt, acknowledging that one pre-paid VCR had been picked up.
Francis pointed at one of the lines. That’s a date.
That? Rocky 6 frowned.
That set of numbers, right there. Francis underlined the date with his paw.
Rocky 6 wilted. You mean… we didn’t have to go the other future, the one with the fog, the giant rats, and the other Martha, after all?
“Perfect,” Martha spread her hands, smiling, “Once we get the Glimpse’s dimensional device fixed, I’ll just go back, let them know about the mistake, pay for the VCR, and you can stop this silly fight.”
“Hold on,” the old lady frowned. “That day already happened. You can’t change the past.”
“You yourself said that you might be my future, or you might not. Maybe it is in my future to go back to the past and pay for the VCR so Brian won’t get in trouble,” Martha pointed out.
Grizzly and the old lady looked at each other.
Martha nodded, getting up and heading for the computer desk. “In fact, I think I’ll make a note to myself right now to go make the payment.”
She pulled her day planner from the desk drawer and scrawled a message inside.
Francis looked up at Grizzly and the old lady to check their expressions and froze. Grizzly and the old lady were fading. Francis leaned, down, tapped Rocky 6’s forehead, and pointed.
Rocky 6 whistled.
Martha looked up from her day planner just as the two guests completely disappeared.
“I suppose that answers the question of whether they were our future or not.” Martha made a face. “And it means I do end up time traveling in the Glimpse’s cargo compartment.” She faced Kenneth, “Since they’ve left, would you like to see the Glimpse?”
“I do have a little more time left before I have to get back.” Kenneth smiled and rose to his feet.
Martha led the way out from the library through the hall, “It’s not often we get visitors who are actually interested in the functional aspects of time travel instead of merely exploiting it effects.” She paused. “Actually, you’re the first one. You know, I should call Saki up here to talk to you. He’s the one responsible for most of the practical application. Samwise, would you go ask Saki to come up here?”
Samwise stared at her in terror.
“Oh, come on,” Martha scolded, “The lab is not that dangerous.”
Samwise nodded his head vigorously.
“Makoto? Will you go, please?”
Makoto turned tail back towards the library.
“Where’s Jason? He’s not afraid. He’s one of Saki’s assistants.”
He’s already down in the lab, someone replied. Being experimented on.
“He is not being experimented on,” Martha admonished.
“Perhaps I could come again some other time and meet him then,” Kenneth pointed out. “When each of us has more time. After all, it is almost dawn here and you need to take care of those FBI agents before they wake.”
“Good point,” Martha looked a bit disappointed. “The front door is this way.”
She turned, just as…Kenneth stepped out of the kitchen.
A second Kenneth?
Francis checked to make sure the first Kenneth was still next to Martha.
Yes, he was.
The two Kenneth’s stared at each other for a moment, then the new one, Kenneth number 2, spoke, “Yet another unexpected plot twist. Facinating.”
“Hello,” Next to Martha, the original Kenneth held out his hand to his double, “I’m Kenneth Pendrell, but you probably knew that.”
“The thought did occur to me,” Kenneth2 agreed, waving away the handshake, “Sorry, ‘no two objects occupying the same space’ and all.”
"Ah." Kenneth1 pulled back his hand. "The Blinovitch Limitation Effect?" he asked.
Kenneth2 nodded. "Indeed."
“Can we help you?” Martha asked in a cautious tone, “If you’re looking for a room we’re booked until Christmas, but I might be able to get you in after New Year’s.”
Kenneth2 actually blushed a little, “I’m here to — oh, this is awkward — I’m actually here to get rid of this dimension. Your dimension’s interdimensional travel is a risk and has the potential to place the others in danger. You know, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”
“Not a Spock quote,” Martha groaned.
“You don’t like Spock?” both Kenneths asked in unison, their eyebrows arched slightly.
“He’s not my favorite character,” Martha admitted. “But for now, that quote really doesn’t support his argument on why our universe needs to be the one that gets destroyed.”
“Look, it’s nothing personal,” Kenneth2 protested, “But you must be eliminated for the safety of the entire multiverse. For some reason I couldn’t do it from my lab, but give me a couple minutes here and you won’t have to worry about anything.”
"Wait a moment," Kenneth1 asked, "you're from another reality, and not just me from another point in the same time stream? Then Blinovitch shouldn't apply."
Kenneth2 sighed. "I know."
"So why refuse the handshake?"
"Well, given what I am here for, I felt it best to minimize any chance of forming an emotional attachment."
Francis shook his head as the humans argued. Just great. Not only did they have to worry about their past and future selves dropping in, now they had alternate versions of themselves from other dimensions trying to kill them. There were too many unpredictable factors for Francis to manage to keep his calm and he could feel his tail going bottle-brush.
And who made you our executioner? Lester, from Martha's shoulder, suddenly interrupted the human chatter and demanded of Kenneth2, What are your credentials?
Francis found himself adding, We didn’t request an external audit. Our Kenneth is just as capable of determining the viability of our universe as you are and I question the viability of a universe that wipes out others simply because they’re ‘risks’. Risk and opportunity are what investment turns on!
Kenneth2 cocked his head to the side. “That is a logical point.” Then he looked at Kenneth2. “But you destroyed the Outlast universe, so you have taken similar action yourself.”
“So I did." Kenneth1 sighed. "Not without good reason. But it was only as a last resort, and only after a period of testing to see if that universe would heal itself or degenerate further. But even sealing it off was insufficient, and it began to damage neighboring realities.” Kenneth1 shook his head slowly. “That was an unhealthy reality.”
“And you think yours is better?” Kenneth2 asked.
“No worse than yours,” Kenneth1 replied, looking as if he knew what he was talking about.
Kenneth2 hesitated, then looked away, “Okay. You have a point.”
“How would you know?” Martha asked the Kenneths.
“Observation.” Kenneth1 shrugged amiably. “All dimensions tend to consider themselves the primary. They forget that we’ll all essentially copies of each other, with variations."
“As you’ve probably noticed, a large number of the Alternate universes revolve around the antics of multiple versions of a human usually named Matthew Atanian. If you’re anything like me, which I believe you are, you record them for future study,” Kenneth2 looked at Kenneth1 pointedly, “Your universe happens to be the 'Ranma ½' crossover version.”
“What is Ranma ½?” Martha, Kenneth1, Rocky 6, Lester, Stewart, and Francis asked together.
Kenneth2 stared at them, then shook his head. “Oh right, it’s not an anime series here. Okay, in your reality, Mr. Atanian and his friends end up at a place in China called Jusenkyo. Anyone who falls into one of the cursed springs there ends up changing into whatever first drowned in that spring when splashed with cold water. Hot water changes them back. Suffice to say, Mr. Atanian and his friends each fell into one of the springs.”
“Ah…” Martha’s eyes widened as if she’d just figured something out.
Kenneth2 continued, “In your universe, that’s reality. In my universe, Ranma ½ is just a manga and anime series centered around a character named Saotome Ranma instead of Mr. Atanian.”
"Now that I think of it," Kenneth1 pondered, "while I have not encountered him myself, I have heard mention that there is an individual of that name enrolled at the school that Ms. Kirstin and Ms. Nicole are attending." He looked to his doppelganger. “What does the Mr. Atanian in your universe do?” he asked.
Kenneth2 looked pained, “He’s a detective. Undercover, because there’s a crime syndicate that dresses all in black who tried to kill him…”
“That sounds like Detective Conan,” Martha nodded, “Your universe is ‘Detective Atanian’? Where while investigating several mysterious men in black, Detective Matt Atanian is captured and given an experimental poison which is not supposed to leave any trace. However, instead of dying, Matt is transformed into a six-year-old version of himself. The men in black turn out to be a secret organized crime ring and if they find out Matt is still alive, they’ll kill him, his family, and all his friends. To survive, Matt must go undercover under a new name.
"This makes attending scout meetings awkward (or entertaining, depending on your point of view) and Matt must adjust to his second childhood while trying to find the crime syndicate, prevent them from learning he is still alive, and find a cure.”
Kenneth2 stared at her. “Well…yes. That’s sums it up pretty well.”
“I didn’t realize that series was available domestically,” Kenneth1 mentioned.
Martha spread her hands, “I just read the fan fiction.”
“Well,” Kenneth2 sighed, “You’ve made a good argument that this reality has merit, and I cannot refute your logic at this point. And since apparently someone is watching this place who is qualified to correct any anomalies, I’d better be gone before my presence compounds the instability and creates another paradox or worse. Farewell.”
With that, Kenneth2 opened a door in the air, stepped through, and was gone from their world.
The hallway outside the kitchen seemed frozen for a few long moments.
"So," Martha said, taking a breath, "that's that?"
"Indeed, Kenneth1, now again simply Kenneth, replied. "I don't even have to do much. In fact, I do believe that your intensions to pay for the VCR should resolve everything, as long as you do nothing else while in the past."
"I'll definitely be careful," Martha said.
"Good. Then as long as nothing else has been done to potentially cause disruption, we should be good, although of course I shall continue to monitor things."
Nothing else to cause disruption to the time line… This was mostly beyond his understanding, but Shatner had a sinking feeling that he didn't like. Excuse me, he quietly said, timidly raising a paw.
Shatner went unnoticed.
“Speaking of monitoring things, that other Kenneth… he said you taped alternate universes for study?” Martha said slowly.
Kenneth agreed. “Infinite possibilities are available.”
Shatner pulled his paw back down.
Martha chewed her lip, then took a deep breath, “I suppose you wouldn’t happen to have an alternate universe tape of ‘Detective Atanian’?”
Kenneth looked thoughtful. “I think I might remember briefly reviewing such a recording. I wonder if Becker knows where it went…Do you have a Holo player?”
“No, just VHS.” She glanced over at Rocky 6.
“I’ll convert it for you.”
“Thanks.”
Shatner opened his mouth again, but before he could get his courage screwed to the sticking post, someone else spoke up.
Don’t you think this whole situation is all just a little too convenient? Stewart asked from next to Martha’s feet, his tail curling up in a question-mark shape. FBI agents looking for aliens and finding them, just like in the ‘X-Files’? Rocky 6 and my little time travel excursion nearly started several interdimensional incidents, inserted at least two paradoxes, and almost caused our world to be deleted, but everything is all neatly wrapped up. And…why are the only holographic options for disguising the Glimpse replicas of TV and movie time machines anyway?
“Shut up Bill,” Martha muttered.
Shatner jumped. But I didn’t say anything! he protested.
“Bill?” Kenneth arched an eyebrow.
Martha blinked, considered what she’d said, then laughed, “Oh, sorry. That’s a quote. Bill’s a character in a fan fic. I found a website where someone’s posted a story that crosses over Neon Genesis Evangelion with Boy Scouts who find themselves flying Evas. A character named Bill’s always pointing out plot holes. It’s kind of fun. Lots of anime references and a romance that looks more promising than poor Shinji’s. I’ve been meaning to write the author a comment.”
"I may have heard of the series," Kenneth said. "In fact, I have even heard that the next story will introduce a new pilot named Kenny."
"Oh?" Martha asked. Then realization set in. "Oh… Of course. You know the author personally."
"Indeed." Kenneth then seemed to become lost in thought. "It is all rather interesting. When you go farther away, realities become more unique. Matthew Atanian gains less sigifigant. But our, for lack of a better term, 'local group' of realities all seem to be based off crossing over Matthew Atanian with what in other realities is only an anime series, and yet each of these realities also contains Matthew writing such a thing as a fiction."
"I see what you're saying," Martha said. "Ours is based on this 'Ranma ½.' In it, Matt writes Neon Genesis Boy Scouts. In that series, the author made a passing reference to his character writing something called 'Boy Scouts Muyo!'"
"And, of course," Kenneth reminded her, "there is the 'Detective Atanian' the other Kenneth came from, and which you would like to watch. I wonder what anime series the reality where we are a fiction is based on?"
Lester tried his best to follow all of this, looking back and forth between Kenneth and Martha as they spoke, but at this point he just gave up. Shaking his head, he said, Can’t you keep your head in the real world? Between you and Stewart…
I beg your pardon, Stewart sniffed.
Then Shatner sniffled.
This finally caught Martha's attention, and she picked up the little newcomer squirrel. “Are you catching a cold? I hope you’re not allergic to interdimensional travel or portals. We seem to have a lot of those here.”
I don’t want to disappear! Shatner suddenly wailed, bursting into tears in her hands.
Francis stared. Maybe squirrels could cry after all.
What makes you think you’re going to disappear? Stewart snorted at Shatner.
Everyone else who has shown up here tonight has, Shatner sniffled. I’m the last one. The last one who doesn't belong here!
He has to go back, doesn’t he? Stewart asked, glancing at Francis. The universe would be off balance if he stayed.
Why are you looking at me? Francis curled his tail away from Stewart.
You’re the one who’s always pointing out that things have to balance or else something’s terribly wrong, Rocky 6 stated.
Shatner stared at Francis, eyes huge, as if expecting to be told to leave then and there.
The other squirrels were all looking at him too.
Francis felt very uncomfortable under their gaze.
He’s still an asset of our world, whether he’s in this year or another. The balance stays the same, he muttered. Maybe he’d be a higher-value asset here.
Shatner’s tail drooped. What does that mean?
Kenneth adjusted his glasses, then reached over and patted Shatner, “Consider this: If you haven’t gone back to your time after all that’s happened since you arrived, then there’s probably a reason for you to be here.”
Really? Shatner looked hopeful.
"Really," Martha said. "Maybe this is where you belong."
Kenneth nodded, then held out his hand to Martha, “My time’s up. My friends will miss me if I stay any longer. Thank you for the tea.”
“My pleasure,” Martha took his hand and shook it, “Come back when you have more time. I’ll make sure Saki is available.”
Kenneth nodded, then pulled an envelope from his pocket. From it he extracted a folded, indistinct black mass. Unfolding it, it took the form of a large circle which he then adhered to a bare piece of wall. Kenneth stepped through what apparently was a large black hole. Before his trailing arm disappeared completely with him, he grasped an outer edge of the hole, and gave it a firm tug. This somehow, with a large pop, pulled the hole in on itself, disappearing into nothingness.
I knew it! Francis exclaimed. I am in a Looney Tune!
Martha blinked, and looked down at Francis.
He shook his head dismissively. Never mind. Anyway, you aren’t concerned about not removing his memories of us? he asked. His ears twitched in surprise as he glanced up at Martha.
“No, I suspect that might not work with him. He’d figure it out and I think it’d be better to have someone friendly watching us, instead of someone who didn’t care. Besides,” Martha said smiling, "if I did manage to remove his memory, he wouldn't remember to make those tapes for me!" Another thought occurred to her, and she frowned. “Drat, I should have asked him what Mike’s been up to. We haven’t heard from our leader in months."
Epilogue
An explosion shook the lab door and rattled beakers, electronic equipment, and shelving as Francis entered. He carefully shut the door behind him, just in case, then scanned the underground cavern for Saki. He noted as he did so that the mold culture experiment in the corner was doing well, though the purple tinge was new. Why was there an assistant’s lab coat sticking part-way out of it?
A couple of Saki’s assistants were wrestling a tentacled creature back into its vat in one corner, while six were playing laser tag with a set of the new wireless tazers. No, make that only four. It appeared Saki had found away to boost the power settings.
Saki had to be around nearby. The beakers and lab equipment were humming and boiling as if someone was in the middle of a complex analysis.
Someone shouted a warning and another explosion rattled the glassware. A roar that sounded like something very large, very alive, and very angry came from the far end of the cavern. Shouts and squeaks about nets and big teeth from the assistants sounded muffled in comparison.
Honestly, what was supposed to be so scary about the lab? Francis liked to come down here to get away, when dealing with several thousand squirrels day after day just got a little overwhelming. After the day he’d had… And he was a bit late for a chat with Zantion.
At least, everything was now back in order and their universe was balanced for the moment.
He hopped over towards the lab’s mainframe. Saki had been working on a processing problem for the last few days, so there was a good chance Francis would find him there.
Indeed, Saki was hunched over a pile of microchips and circuit boards, muttering to himself, his white lab coat smudged with dark streaks. Every once in awhile, he’d place a chip in a stack or toss it aside. Jason was busily trying to catch the rejects as they flew (Saki’s aim needed work) and shove them into an overflowing bin.
Hi Jason, Francis greeted the lab assistant, who always looked a little singed and smelled faintly of burned fur. Today the smell of burned fur was pretty strong and Jason had some distinctly bare patches. And a couple black-edge holes in his lab coat.
Jason regarded him silently for a moment. I have not forgiven you.
For what? It’s been two weeks and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to have done. Francis sighed. Give me a clue at least.
You two can chat about your personal problems later. Zantion is on-line. Saki pointed to the open computer terminal.
Francis took a seat before it and glanced over their regular chat room’s dialog. Apparently Zantion had gotten a little impatient.
Francis shrugged. He began typing.
F-squirl: Waiting for me?
Zantion: There you are! I’ve been waiting two quints. Another quartel and I was going to leave.
F-squirl: You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.
Zantion: Try me.
F-squirl: FBI, three sets of interdimentional time-travelers, and a visit from our Earth’s local monitor.
Zantion: What fun for you. Now, I was able to get options on some nice property on Ceti-Alpha 6. Are you interested?
F-squirl: No property. I still can’t stop by to take a look for myself until we get our ship checked out. The thing is creating alternate parallel universes on its own and skipping destinations by decades.
Zantion: Sounds like the guidance actuator needs a tune-up.
F-squirl: After I traded you those good shares in that Europa mining company for it?
Zantion: Not so good shares. The project folded. Something about getting chased off by ‘angry natives’.
F-squirl: That’s too bad. Do I owe you for the loss?
Zantion: Nah. I’d already sold them by then.
F-squirl: Can you get me a new guidance actuator?
Zantion: Tell your guy to try re-soldering the base wires and rebooting. Anyone can do it in their garage.
F-squirl: Thanks. Saki’ll appreciate a place to start. In the meantime, how are those stocks I bought in that Martian travel agency doing, John Carter Tours I believe?
Zantion: Those are doing well. For a family corporation, the Carter’s have it put together. Speaking of which, have you convinced your human to let you incorporate yet?
F-squirl: She still says no.
Zantion: Too bad. There are some people on Vega interested in diversifying their portfolios in some Earth stock…
Zantion: By the way, did that last can of Mocha/Kiwi Fruit Juice ever show up?
F-squirl: From that six pack I bought from you? The only one that survived the hanger fire when Rocky 2 tried ‘landing’ in the tunnel?
Zantion: Yeah, that one.
F-squirl: No. It somehow got included in the Glimpse’s kitchen stock and the U.S. Army cleaned everything out of the ship at Area 51 back in 1955. That can’s gone for good.
Zantion: Darn. I guess I will have to go buy you more after all. There’s only one place I found that carries it, some restaurant at the end of the universe. The bartender and I have a little deal worked out, under the counter, but the clientele leaves something to be desired. I hate cats.
F-squirl: Not too fond of them myself. Now, what would you recommend to warn of… say… incoming interdimensional visitors?
A couple of Saki’s assistants were wrestling a tentacled creature back into its vat in one corner, while six were playing laser tag with a set of the new wireless tazers. No, make that only four. It appeared Saki had found away to boost the power settings.
Saki had to be around nearby. The beakers and lab equipment were humming and boiling as if someone was in the middle of a complex analysis.
Someone shouted a warning and another explosion rattled the glassware. A roar that sounded like something very large, very alive, and very angry came from the far end of the cavern. Shouts and squeaks about nets and big teeth from the assistants sounded muffled in comparison.
Honestly, what was supposed to be so scary about the lab? Francis liked to come down here to get away, when dealing with several thousand squirrels day after day just got a little overwhelming. After the day he’d had… And he was a bit late for a chat with Zantion.
At least, everything was now back in order and their universe was balanced for the moment.
He hopped over towards the lab’s mainframe. Saki had been working on a processing problem for the last few days, so there was a good chance Francis would find him there.
Indeed, Saki was hunched over a pile of microchips and circuit boards, muttering to himself, his white lab coat smudged with dark streaks. Every once in awhile, he’d place a chip in a stack or toss it aside. Jason was busily trying to catch the rejects as they flew (Saki’s aim needed work) and shove them into an overflowing bin.
Hi Jason, Francis greeted the lab assistant, who always looked a little singed and smelled faintly of burned fur. Today the smell of burned fur was pretty strong and Jason had some distinctly bare patches. And a couple black-edge holes in his lab coat.
Jason regarded him silently for a moment. I have not forgiven you.
For what? It’s been two weeks and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to have done. Francis sighed. Give me a clue at least.
You two can chat about your personal problems later. Zantion is on-line. Saki pointed to the open computer terminal.
Francis took a seat before it and glanced over their regular chat room’s dialog. Apparently Zantion had gotten a little impatient.
Francis shrugged. He began typing.
F-squirl: Waiting for me?
Zantion: There you are! I’ve been waiting two quints. Another quartel and I was going to leave.
F-squirl: You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.
Zantion: Try me.
F-squirl: FBI, three sets of interdimentional time-travelers, and a visit from our Earth’s local monitor.
Zantion: What fun for you. Now, I was able to get options on some nice property on Ceti-Alpha 6. Are you interested?
F-squirl: No property. I still can’t stop by to take a look for myself until we get our ship checked out. The thing is creating alternate parallel universes on its own and skipping destinations by decades.
Zantion: Sounds like the guidance actuator needs a tune-up.
F-squirl: After I traded you those good shares in that Europa mining company for it?
Zantion: Not so good shares. The project folded. Something about getting chased off by ‘angry natives’.
F-squirl: That’s too bad. Do I owe you for the loss?
Zantion: Nah. I’d already sold them by then.
F-squirl: Can you get me a new guidance actuator?
Zantion: Tell your guy to try re-soldering the base wires and rebooting. Anyone can do it in their garage.
F-squirl: Thanks. Saki’ll appreciate a place to start. In the meantime, how are those stocks I bought in that Martian travel agency doing, John Carter Tours I believe?
Zantion: Those are doing well. For a family corporation, the Carter’s have it put together. Speaking of which, have you convinced your human to let you incorporate yet?
F-squirl: She still says no.
Zantion: Too bad. There are some people on Vega interested in diversifying their portfolios in some Earth stock…
Zantion: By the way, did that last can of Mocha/Kiwi Fruit Juice ever show up?
F-squirl: From that six pack I bought from you? The only one that survived the hanger fire when Rocky 2 tried ‘landing’ in the tunnel?
Zantion: Yeah, that one.
F-squirl: No. It somehow got included in the Glimpse’s kitchen stock and the U.S. Army cleaned everything out of the ship at Area 51 back in 1955. That can’s gone for good.
Zantion: Darn. I guess I will have to go buy you more after all. There’s only one place I found that carries it, some restaurant at the end of the universe. The bartender and I have a little deal worked out, under the counter, but the clientele leaves something to be desired. I hate cats.
F-squirl: Not too fond of them myself. Now, what would you recommend to warn of… say… incoming interdimensional visitors?
Martha's Notes
The idea to insert a bit part for Kenneth Pendrell in one of the squirrel stories has been a hope of mine since part 1. Having two Kenneths show up at the same time was a bit unexpected.
I confess to having read Jason Bertovich’s Boy Scouts ½: Outlast, the Final Chapter. In my opinion, something that manages to make Anime Deathmatch potentially cannon, while simultaneously spoofing the Hunger Games, deserves marks for effort and creativity.
While this particular story is my own invention, I am writing within Matt’s Boy Scouts ½ universe, using and exploiting scenarios originally set up by him. ‘Kenny’s Laboratory’, ‘Boy Scouts ½’ and ‘Neon Genesis Boy Scouts’ belong to Matt.
The whole story exists because of Rumiko Takahishi’s Ranma ½, (and this time Ranma ½ was actually mentioned in the story, even though the series doesn’t exist in the Boy Scouts ½ universe)
Again, Danae and Mueller are more than a little bit based on characters from The X-Files, though they didn’t have much opportunity to be in character in this story chapter.
Yes, Shatner’s name and Roddenberry’s Glimpse are references to Star Trek and Spock is not my favorite character. (Sorry, Matt).
The OCD/CDO thing was from a T-shirt.
The Neon Genesis Evangelion/Boy Scouts crossover story is supposed to be the same one being written by the Matt Atanian character in Boy Scouts ½.
Author Matt Atanian has never mentioned a ‘Detective Atanian’ spin off story to me, but as a fan of Detective Conan, I think such a series would be a fun read.
Lastly, I don’t own any of the movies referenced in the epilogue, or any that show up in the rest of the story.
I confess to having read Jason Bertovich’s Boy Scouts ½: Outlast, the Final Chapter. In my opinion, something that manages to make Anime Deathmatch potentially cannon, while simultaneously spoofing the Hunger Games, deserves marks for effort and creativity.
While this particular story is my own invention, I am writing within Matt’s Boy Scouts ½ universe, using and exploiting scenarios originally set up by him. ‘Kenny’s Laboratory’, ‘Boy Scouts ½’ and ‘Neon Genesis Boy Scouts’ belong to Matt.
The whole story exists because of Rumiko Takahishi’s Ranma ½, (and this time Ranma ½ was actually mentioned in the story, even though the series doesn’t exist in the Boy Scouts ½ universe)
Again, Danae and Mueller are more than a little bit based on characters from The X-Files, though they didn’t have much opportunity to be in character in this story chapter.
Yes, Shatner’s name and Roddenberry’s Glimpse are references to Star Trek and Spock is not my favorite character. (Sorry, Matt).
The OCD/CDO thing was from a T-shirt.
The Neon Genesis Evangelion/Boy Scouts crossover story is supposed to be the same one being written by the Matt Atanian character in Boy Scouts ½.
Author Matt Atanian has never mentioned a ‘Detective Atanian’ spin off story to me, but as a fan of Detective Conan, I think such a series would be a fun read.
Lastly, I don’t own any of the movies referenced in the epilogue, or any that show up in the rest of the story.
Epilogue 2 (for those willing to read past the author's notes)
The film negatives sloshed as Martha moved it in and out of the various pans of developing chemicals. Lester clung to her shoulder as she worked, watching the process in fascination. His night vision was much better than hers, even with the dark room’s red light.
Martha hung up the last film strip to dry, then slipped around the thick curtain that protected the developing negatives from overexposure to the outer area of the darkroom, where dry strips from a previous batch hung ready. She picked a set, slid it into place before the exposure machine’s lens, and positioned a piece of light sensitive paper into place beneath it. One timed exposure later, she advanced the film negative before the lens and set a new sheet of paper in place.
About an hour later, Martha and Lester left the dark room and developing set up with a thick stack of photographs.
What are these of? Lester leaned out from her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse.
Martha held the stack for him to see. “You remember these. We took them this summer.”
She flipped through the pictures of woods and trees that Lester couldn’t imagine why she’d want since the woods were right outside.
Martha stopped at one picture and held it up.
“This will be our Christmas photo.”
Several dozen squirrels crowded into the frame, all wearing Santa hats or tiny antlers, waving at the camera.
“To bad I don’t have anyone to send it to,” Martha shook her head.
What about that fan fic writer? Lester asked. The one doing that Boy Scout series.
“Don’t be silly,” Martha laughed. “I have no idea if he likes squirrels.”
Martha hung up the last film strip to dry, then slipped around the thick curtain that protected the developing negatives from overexposure to the outer area of the darkroom, where dry strips from a previous batch hung ready. She picked a set, slid it into place before the exposure machine’s lens, and positioned a piece of light sensitive paper into place beneath it. One timed exposure later, she advanced the film negative before the lens and set a new sheet of paper in place.
About an hour later, Martha and Lester left the dark room and developing set up with a thick stack of photographs.
What are these of? Lester leaned out from her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse.
Martha held the stack for him to see. “You remember these. We took them this summer.”
She flipped through the pictures of woods and trees that Lester couldn’t imagine why she’d want since the woods were right outside.
Martha stopped at one picture and held it up.
“This will be our Christmas photo.”
Several dozen squirrels crowded into the frame, all wearing Santa hats or tiny antlers, waving at the camera.
“To bad I don’t have anyone to send it to,” Martha shook her head.
What about that fan fic writer? Lester asked. The one doing that Boy Scout series.
“Don’t be silly,” Martha laughed. “I have no idea if he likes squirrels.”
Matt's Notes
Well, Martha, don't worry. I do like squirrels. (Alas, my girlfriend is of a different opinion, whenever I mention their cuteness she is compelled to disagree. Such is life.) I also, however, like cats... which based on some in-story comments, might not quite be good at least as far as fictional Martha and her companions are concerned!
Anyway, this story is 99% the work of Ms. Martha. I did do a bit of tweaking on it, but not nearly enough where I felt compelled to deny Martha sole writing credit. Mainly my contributions are revising Kenny's dialogue to (a) make his "voice" a bit more in line with how I hear it, and (b) correct continuity issues with his technology. For example, as Martha had written it, memory erasure or alteration technology seemed at most hypothetical to Kenny, and also something he might have cause to fear! But, as readers with long memories may recall, Kenny has a "flashy thing" very similar to those from the Men in Black films that he once used on Matt Swett. (See Boy Scouts ½, part 22 if you refresh your memory.) And, of course, more recently there was his encounter with memory altering technology at the airport when they arrived in Japan.
I also elaborated a bit more upon some of the interdimensional theory. Most of what is presented here is Martha's, but I may have massaged it a bit to help it mesh better with other bits of similar things, as seen in Kenny's Laboratory or Of Possible Alternatives. I also added the bit where Kenny discusses the Matt-centric "local group" of realities, for which I invented a new hypothetical fan fic, Boy Scouts Muyo! I expect I will have a 500 page story all about Boy Scouts Muyo! in my inbox the day after I put this story online, courtesy of Jason Bertovich. (Jason, please take that as a joke, and not as a challenge!*) I wonder, what is the anime series that our reality, that we assume to be the "real" one, is a crossover with?
But, as I said, even with my tweaks and additions, authorship of this story as far as I am concerned belongs to Martha. Hopefully the tweaks I have made will meet with her approval. But rest assured, if you are reading this on the Boy Scouts ½ website, that means that they have.
Once again, thank you, Martha, for this story and the three that proceeded it. I look forward to see what the future may hold for Martha and her intrepid, furry crew.
Also, I look forward to seeing if this strange being Francis is chatting with at the end is ever elaborated upon! And of course whatever they were talking about on Europa didn't work out. All these worlds are yours except Europa. Attempt no landing there.
Re: Kenny in Neon Genesis Boy Scouts. Since Martha apparently is a reader, I was at first a bit confused that she didn't recognize Kenny as being a character in that series. I had been prepared to insert a bit where Kenny surmised that Martha had only read so far into the series, with Martha lamenting that she does get rather busy and so, yes, she is a bit behind. (The implication being that she hadn't read far enough to get to Kenny's introduction as a character.) Then I realized that this story is set in October of 1998. Boy Scouts ½, part 8, which introduced Kenny, was not published online until November of 1998. Assuming Neon Genesis Boy Scouts has a similar history as Boy Scouts ½, it makes perfect sense that Martha wouldn't know of that Kenny yet! And so I changed what I inserted to be Kenny giving a bit of a spoiler that the next story would be introducinng a new character.
(As far as the old lady version of Martha specifically not knowing Kenny's name, despite being a fan of Neon Genesis Boy Scouts who would have read the entire series... The only thing I can take away from that is that she was going a bit senile... Poor Martha!)
I should add to the disclaimers Martha already had that the Blinovitch Limitation Effect (mentioned in one of the bits I added) is a reference to Doctor Who.
Oh, one final thing… Ahem…
"Of my friend, I can only say this: Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most… human."
That is all. Until next time, faithful readers!
* Forget "the day after I put this story online." I made the mistake of giving Jason a preview of my notes here, and... Well... Damn you, Bertovich!
Anyway, this story is 99% the work of Ms. Martha. I did do a bit of tweaking on it, but not nearly enough where I felt compelled to deny Martha sole writing credit. Mainly my contributions are revising Kenny's dialogue to (a) make his "voice" a bit more in line with how I hear it, and (b) correct continuity issues with his technology. For example, as Martha had written it, memory erasure or alteration technology seemed at most hypothetical to Kenny, and also something he might have cause to fear! But, as readers with long memories may recall, Kenny has a "flashy thing" very similar to those from the Men in Black films that he once used on Matt Swett. (See Boy Scouts ½, part 22 if you refresh your memory.) And, of course, more recently there was his encounter with memory altering technology at the airport when they arrived in Japan.
I also elaborated a bit more upon some of the interdimensional theory. Most of what is presented here is Martha's, but I may have massaged it a bit to help it mesh better with other bits of similar things, as seen in Kenny's Laboratory or Of Possible Alternatives. I also added the bit where Kenny discusses the Matt-centric "local group" of realities, for which I invented a new hypothetical fan fic, Boy Scouts Muyo! I expect I will have a 500 page story all about Boy Scouts Muyo! in my inbox the day after I put this story online, courtesy of Jason Bertovich. (Jason, please take that as a joke, and not as a challenge!*) I wonder, what is the anime series that our reality, that we assume to be the "real" one, is a crossover with?
But, as I said, even with my tweaks and additions, authorship of this story as far as I am concerned belongs to Martha. Hopefully the tweaks I have made will meet with her approval. But rest assured, if you are reading this on the Boy Scouts ½ website, that means that they have.
Once again, thank you, Martha, for this story and the three that proceeded it. I look forward to see what the future may hold for Martha and her intrepid, furry crew.
Also, I look forward to seeing if this strange being Francis is chatting with at the end is ever elaborated upon! And of course whatever they were talking about on Europa didn't work out. All these worlds are yours except Europa. Attempt no landing there.
Re: Kenny in Neon Genesis Boy Scouts. Since Martha apparently is a reader, I was at first a bit confused that she didn't recognize Kenny as being a character in that series. I had been prepared to insert a bit where Kenny surmised that Martha had only read so far into the series, with Martha lamenting that she does get rather busy and so, yes, she is a bit behind. (The implication being that she hadn't read far enough to get to Kenny's introduction as a character.) Then I realized that this story is set in October of 1998. Boy Scouts ½, part 8, which introduced Kenny, was not published online until November of 1998. Assuming Neon Genesis Boy Scouts has a similar history as Boy Scouts ½, it makes perfect sense that Martha wouldn't know of that Kenny yet! And so I changed what I inserted to be Kenny giving a bit of a spoiler that the next story would be introducinng a new character.
(As far as the old lady version of Martha specifically not knowing Kenny's name, despite being a fan of Neon Genesis Boy Scouts who would have read the entire series... The only thing I can take away from that is that she was going a bit senile... Poor Martha!)
I should add to the disclaimers Martha already had that the Blinovitch Limitation Effect (mentioned in one of the bits I added) is a reference to Doctor Who.
Oh, one final thing… Ahem…
"Of my friend, I can only say this: Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most… human."
That is all. Until next time, faithful readers!
* Forget "the day after I put this story online." I made the mistake of giving Jason a preview of my notes here, and... Well... Damn you, Bertovich!
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