Strange Case of the New Golden Gate: Alignment
I waited with the Bay Area’s greatest detective to witness the end of the world.
Arbusto Slab and his squad of security officers had brought Annabel Scheme and me, both shackled in zip-cuffs, to the control room at the center of the facility. Stella Pajunas was there, along with wizened Dr. Gatua, leaning into an enormous display that tracked the New Golden Gate’s progress.
Pajunas acknowledged us icily. “Mx. Scheme, welcome. I seem to remember telling you that your services were not required.”
Scheme had clearly prepared a comeback, but before she could deliver it, there was a pop of displaced air and Lois appeared: the pitiless woman from the other world who had recruited Pajunas, Dr. Gatua, and now even Arbusto Slab. Currently, Lois looked very annoyed.
Scheme visibly reconfigured her comeback midflight, but before she could deliver THAT one, there was another pop, and Lois was joined by Vacal Chander, the genius of Bay One who had devised all of this technology: the way of traveling between worlds, the way of combining them into one. He blinked unsteadily.
“You’re wasting your time,”
Lois said to Scheme, who had abandoned her comeback. “You can’t stop this process. And even if you blew up this facility … Wait, did you check her for explosives? Good. Even if you blew up this facility, there are 23 others just like it in 23 other Bay Areas. You think we’re stupid? We built a buffer. So, relax. This will all be over in” — she checked her watch — “two hours.”
Vacal Chander spoke, and his tone was genuinely conciliatory. “I’m sorry this has to happen, but I’ve seen what the Bay Area can become. Quantum alignment doesn’t only allow us to move sideways between timelines. It also offers us glimpses ahead. I’ve seen the colony ships rising from their launch pads on Alameda. I’ve seen first contact. A treaty signed in the Presidio. We NEED that to happen. This is the only way.”
Scheme growled at him. She actually growled. She went: grr.
Chander looked down at his feet. His accomplice Lois stepped into the breach. “Many of the people in this world will be merged with other versions.” Her voice grew cold. “Not you, Annabel Scheme. In my Bay Area, you’re dead. But! Plenty of —”
“Excuse me,” Dr. Gatua quavered. He was peering up at the status display. “It appears that … er. Why is Bay Three offline? Is that part of the alignment protocol, Dr. Chander?”
Chander rushed to his side. “What do you mean, offline?”
“Bay Seven, now,” Stella Pajunas said, watching a different part of the display. Lights were going dark all across its breadth. Big, important lights. “And Bay 12 is also offline. How many do we need?”
“S-seventeen …” Dr. Gatua whined.
“Don’t SAY that,” Lois snapped.
Chander was standing slack before the display. Another light winked out. And another. He croaked, “Open the gate.”
“But the protocol isn’t complete,” Dr. Gatua said. “The different timelines … they’re hardly aligned at all.”
Lois joined them at the display. “What is HAPPENING?”
At last: It was time for Scheme’s comeback. Her voice rang out: “Quintessandra has been broadcasting this whole time. One of her fans took her to your transmitter. She’s connected to all the other timelines, singing her songs. The new ones.”
“She’s SINGING?” Stella Pajunas sputtered.
Scheme, zip-cuffed, spoke very quietly. “Yes. She’s singing about what it’s like to grow up in the Bay Area. THIS Bay Area. How it breaks your heart to see it change. How it becomes someone else’s childhood.” She turned to Vacal Chander. “You’re clearly very smart, but you can’t tell a story.” She smiled a wolfish smile. “My genius can.”
Chander looked wobbly, and his gaze was faroff. “I’ve seen the ships,” he whispered. “We need to launch those ships.”
On every control panel, there is one switch, not always the largest, but the most secure. Often, it has a cover; sometimes there’s even a key. This is the most important switch: the one that, once flipped, cannot be unflipped.
Chander did not flip that switch. He slammed it.
At first, the sound was very quiet, like a far-off train, but in another moment, it was thunderous. The control room vibrated; it felt like we were standing at the base of a giant tuning fork. Maybe we were.
Chander was screaming something, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. Annabel Scheme stood motionless, listening. Her gaze found mine, and she looked sad.
And then I was everywhere.