For My Future's Present

Dr. James S. Martin. Father, Topologist, MIT alumn., UMAR physics professor. Here to make the worlds a better place. 

[touchofstrange-rp-archive]

Midnight || FINALE

The end of the end of the world. 

Or, the tale of the fainting goats.

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[fifthmanifold]

Tick Tick

This place had become a second home. He’d even decorated the walls red. This place was starting to twist his mind, make him weaker and more foolish. His thoughts hopped and jumped and made foolish twists, like a pile of cables he could no longer untangle. He feared this earth was a lesser one, and slowly he was becoming lesser too.

He did not speak to this test subject. He ignored it as he tried to force his thoughts to sharpen, to make sense of the equations on the page, ones he’d dedicated seven years of his life making and solving, only to struggle now with imputting simple variables like mass and max flux infringement.  The background of screaming didn’t help.

Perhaps instead his mind was hopping like his machine, from one place to another. Perhaps. James rubbed his forhead and grimaced, plugging numbers into a calculator for sums he once did in his head. 

The screams grew louder. His mind fragmenting. It was only his daughter left him fighting. His whiny, ungrateful-

No. That was merely the exhaustion seeping in. He was better than this. But oh, did he miss his desk. The warmth of the faculty, the office espresso machine, the PhD students who were happy to ferry things for him. Everything was just so much better at home.

James winced, rolling his wrists as they ached. Kidnapping people was exhausting and painful to his worn joints. But at least the equations were done. 

He sagged in relief as the machine fired, sending a shockwave through the room. There was nothing left in the vice, for once. So relieved was he that he failed to see the pool of fresh blood on top of the old dried stains.

It was almost ready.

[fifthmanifold]

But Surely || Solo

Drip, drip, drip, drip. An icy shiver ran down James’ spine as something scuttled in the corner of his vision. A few of the roof tiles ha fallen in a recent rainstorm and all kinds of critters were using the resultant puddles as watering holes. They saw him for what he was - unthreatening, harmless. He did little to hurt them and they left him and Jenna alone. Oh, poor, poor Jenna. He winced as he leant over her, removing a few strands of soaked her from her forhead. She was so pale. He hated seeing her like this, kept trying to talk with her when she was awake, let her heal and recover, but she had her mother’s temper and his determination. She would not let him talk to her while she was awake. So he chatted to her prone figure when he worked, reminding her of the swingset in their back yard, her birthday trip to the aquarium where one of the sharks had frightened her so much they’d had to take her outside, of her school friends and teachers and the clarinet she used to play. He remembered it all so vividly. Her freckles, her wide eyes every time he brought her to the lab. 

She’d wanted to be a vet. But now, she was a baker. James’d tried to understand, trying to piece together how she’d gone from that to this. He treasured his memories, it was true, but not as much as he craved consuming every one he’d missed. Someday, she’d tell him.

James hovered over her for a moment, and if someone had seen him they might have thought him another person. Looking down at her, he lost seven years. The weight of his grief had lifted and his eyes shone with a brightness that had been lost when she’d first lost hers. For the first time in 7 years, he felt alive.

Someone sighed; not him, not her. James sighed, the moment gone, and he turned around. “Ah, excellent, you’re awake,” he said, but his spirits were quietened as he walked over to subject two. The young woman in the Can Opener deserved to know what was happened, but he oughtn’d let himself get carried away. No long conversations this time. Time was running out.

“Wuh, what’s going on?” He knew what she must be thinking, tied up, a sleeping restrained girl on a carefully made mattress not ten feet away, and him. He could already hear the fear creeping into her voice.

“Don’t worry, that’s my daughter,” he explained, but if anything Subject 002 looked even more discomfited. That wouldn’t do. “I’m not going to hurt you,” James insisted, his voice gentle and soothing, raising his hands to show her he was unarmed. “I’m merely sending you back to Ashford. That’s all.” Her face shifted. Less fear, more distrust.

“Why should I believe you?” She hadn’t screamed yet, there was that. He was grateful for it. His ears sometimes rang even when there was nothing to hear, and was often set off by high pitched things. He disliked it when people screamed.

“I’m just trying to right wrongs,” he answered simply, turning away from her to switch on the various components of the Can Opener. 

“That doesn’t make any sense, I’ve never met you before,” Ah, there was the fear again. Best hurry up. “Sir, please. Don’t do this! Please untie me! HELP!”

“Shhh, it isn’t polite to yell,” James muttered, wondering whether to move in and try to soothe her. It wouldn’t help, he decided, and was hardly appropriate. He could only offer platitudes. “It’s only to keep you safe during the transfer. I know this is not ideal for either of us, and if I had had more time I would have done things differently, but I don’t have the luxury of waiting for your permission. But surely you miss your old life.” She was heaving, her eyes flashing like a dear in headlight, but when she spoke again, he could tell she was straining to keep herself in control. 

“How do you know this is going to work? Who are you?” Her voice tremored.

“I’ve done it before. The physics might be - ah, a little complicated - but theoretically there is no  reason this won’t work both ways.” That was clearly the incorrect reassurance.

“Theoretically? Theoretically?? HELP!” James winced away at the sight of herwrists being rubbed raw by the cuffs, looking away in discomfort as he fixed the final pieces. He’d gotten sentimental again. He’’d allowed himself to ramble, again. This was a mistake.

“I’m merely trying to make amends. This shan’t hurt, and consider all the people it could help,” he said plainly, flinching at her screams. His ears rang. “It’s my fault you’re here, and now you’ll be able to see your family again.” He glanced at Jenna, bile rising in his throat as he pushed the lever. An ear splitting, inhuman scream split apart the room, knocking him to his feet, and the air crackled with the feeling of electricity once again. His glasses had shattered in the process, and careful not to spill any glass on his face, James gently removed them and pushed himself to sit upright, facing the Can Opener.

It seemed like it had worked. The young lady was gone. James could barely contain his smile at the picture. It wasn’t perfect - it had cost his subject an arm and a leg, but it was getting there. 

Slowly. 

[fifthmanifold]

Iteration One || James and Subject 201

"I'm terribly sorry, but I promise you I couldn't have chosen a better man for the job. I have every confidence you will be fine, and it hardly hurts. Just a little motion sickness." Iteration 2 subject 201, slowly stirred in his restraints, eyes flickering open as he looked around, taking in the contraption around him and the sleeping young lady by the wall. Poor, sweet, Jenna. It hurt him every time she hurled abuse at him, every time she cursed him and accused him of the most heinous of things. She'd understand soon, she was his world. All of this chaos for her. Most fathers would give their daughters the world - James had given her two.

"The fuck?" James' concentration flicked back to his other guest with a smile.

"Good, I'm glad you're awake! I was concerned about the dosage given your mass and I've never tested this on an unconscious person before." James replied, clasping his hands together earnestly, if a little anxiously. His test subjects so far were invariably hesitant and uncomfortable, and often rude. He watched Roger Hawthorne's eyes narrow, looking around, calculating.

“And what, precisely, are you testing?" His voice silk smooth, Roger had a slight southern drawl to it. Unthreatening. For once, someone with genuine curiosity.

"My Can Opener. My second one, anyway, I'm returning you to Ashford! I am conceiving a more creative name for when I publish, but for a common name it's quite-"

"Your second?" Roger interupted raptly. "Did you build one to come here?"

"Yes! It's rather brilliant, isn't it. There was some collateral damage, something I believe was more from this end than mine, but it achieved what it was meant to, and I'm rectifying some of it by sending a few of you back before I go, starting with you." James adjusted his glasses and started adjusting the flux anomalies parameters to his destination.

"Have you factored in my mass to your experiment? You and I are quite different," Roger commented casually.

"Yes, yes, of course. I sent over a wide variety of individuals here, as long as you stay within the alotted space then there will be no issues." "And the restraints to keep people in that space, smart." "Indeed! When I tested on livestock without restraints it was like they were sliced cleaning in two. Most disturbing" Sensibly, subject 201 leant into his restraints, rather than resisting them. "How many other subjects have you found?" James' brow creased. "Because I am attempting to send people back, rather than just accross, I have struggled to find others-" "I know of three thousand." James looked over pensively as Roger spoke, adjusting the spectroflickometer carefully. It was a tempting offer, but... "I also know several people who wouldn't bat an eyelash at this kinda work," Roger continued convincingly, "You're a one man operation, and given you bein' a bit further along than I am, getting people to wherever we are must be hard work."

James considered it. His back ached just from carrying this subject in, and days of manual work had left him aching in places he hoped never to ache again, to have a reliable source of test subjects and help with all this. But his eyes fell on Jenna's sleeping form, and he knew this wasn't fair on her. Sleeping in this dank room, in fear of her life. He needed to get this moving sooner rather than later, and getting another subject to this point would take another week, regardless off assistance.

"It's a gracious offer, but I simply don't have the time," he said, flicking off the safety switches.

"I'm not some goddamn guinea pig," Roger hissed, his face changing from curiosity to disgust in a second, accent dropped and his face angry. One moment he was a pleasant companion, the next he looked like he'd murder James in his sleep. James swallowed.

"Surely you wish to return to your old life? That's all this is. All my previous subjects here were fine." James said reassuringly, double checking the wires for the last time. He'd had to adjust the straps a little but everything was secure and in place. Practically looked identical to his old one, he thought with a smile.

"Don't you dare, don't you bloody fucking well dare! I'll fucking gu-"

James threw the switch. The floor rumbled with a deathly crack, the air hissed like paper burning, and several bangs echoed around the warehouse like firecrackers going off. The Can Opener burned white and James shielded his mouth as a spray of goop  covered him from head to toe.

Screams pierced his ears and a thick stream of blood pooled at his feet. James gently removed his glasses and  wiped away the sliver of bone off the frame, smearing spinal fluid all over the glass. He stared at his creation emptily, the world around him ringing, then violently emptied his stomach onto the visceral mess. It hadn't been supposed to go like that.

[fifthmanifold]

A Ticket Home || Solo

James had a multitude of problems. That was putting it lightly, in fact. Jenna had not been as easy to find as he'd hoped, and the first couple times he'd approached her, she had been completely unreasonable, had resorted to name calling and  threatening to call the police. He could of course completely imagine the pain of seeing a father that had died several years ago, but it barely compared to the relief of seeing her. He'd missed her so much, and seeing her so vital, so full of life and intelligent and animated, even if it wasn't quite the right sort of animated, had given him the inspiration and motivation to continue his work. The Can Opener was not exactly easy to replicate, not without his extensive notes and specifications, but he had a sharp memory and enough failures to get him close to the right track. Without his career, contacts, and even a home, it had been hard on him,  construction had been slow, but he would succeed as he had before. He would bring Jenna, himself and - what was that young man's name? - Niles home.

James wiped his brow and put his soldering iron back in the cradle, collapsing into his seat. This warehouse would give his doctors nightmares, but it was the best place for this. He pulled out his multimeter and checked the Can Opener for short circuits and safe currents, then, satisfied with his work for the night, he went to brew himself a coffee. It was almost done. He just needed to find a test subject or two.

And Jenna. He needed Jenna. She might not know it yet, but she belonged with him. His sweet, sweet girl. She'd come to understand in time. That was just the one thing he didn't have. As he pulled out his book and turned in for a good night's sleep, sparks started jumping behind him. The Can Opener was still on, and its lights were flickering.

[fifthmanifold]

Canary in the Coalmine || Niles & James

James could have gone without ever needing to experience debridement. The removal of the dead tissue from his second degree burns was something James would've been happy to not repeat; unfortunately, he did need to repeat it. Twice. In the Ashkent Creek General Hospital, of all places-- located where Ashford General stood in his native plane of existence. The pain was excruciating, but James survived it, and the doctors who treated him seem to think he was in good enough shape to discharge now, with the instructions that he try to get as much bed rest as possible; walking around on his legs as the burns were still healing wasn't advisable. But how could James not explore Ashkent Creek? He justified it with the simple fact that he needed to eat. The Thai Tanic was his first choice of local flavor; James limped in, smiled at everyone in sight, and watched carefully. As he filed in line, there was one person in particular who captured his attention-- Subject 001, in fact. He had to confirm. "Niles Nowell," he asked, extending a hand toward him. "Is that truly you?"

Niles had never expected really, truly giving up food. Of course, he no longer needed to go about things this way, but it kept up the appearance and he loved Thai Tanic. Even vampirism wouldn’t stop him from going there. It was a busy place, so Niles busied himself with his cell, flipping through his emails and getting rid of the junk mail that somehow weaseled its way in as he waited for his food. It all felt a little too normal for everything else going on around him, but Niles needed to cling to those sorts of things. As someone said his name, the young man looked up from the screen and pocketed the thing. “Yeah, that’s me,” he answered, trying to place the face of the man. He seemed extremely familiar with Niles, but Niles couldn’t say the same. Trying to be polite, he said, “remind me of your name?”

Ah, so he was correct! James beamed with excitement and clapped his hands together. Though he was hungry, this conversation would satisfy his intellectual curiosity, and that was more important than satisfying his stomach. "Dr. James Martin, topologist." He offered enthusiastically, along with a vigorous handshake. Niles' hand felt somewhat chilly, but after being subjected to icy touch after icy touch from the good doctors at Ashkent Creek General, James wasn't bothered by it. Though... perhaps the details of how he knew who Niles was ought to wait until they caught up with each other. "Have you already ordered? I would like to discuss matters with you, as they relate to this dimension. This town." James pulled up a chair for himself, abandoning his place in line. His appetite had been whet for something else now. "I'm aware you're not from here. Neither am I."

Niles couldn’t hide his surprise from the man who seemed to know him. Even though Niles had just been given his name, it didn’t fill in the blanks. Topologist? Not having a clue of what it was, Niles tried to break it down, but he only got as far as figuring that it had something to do with places. Niles shook his hand, taking it back as soon as he could from the enthusiasm and energy the man was putting out. “Yeah, I have,” Niles answered, his voice like a question as the man continued, Niles’ voice almost skipping over the other’s as he watched the man—Doctor Martin—pull a chair up. Niles cleared his throat as he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—“ his own words nearly interrupted by a sneeze that Niles hid quickly into the bend of his elbow—fucking shell. “What do you mean?” He asked, quieter this time.

James’ eyes widened in alarm at the sneeze. "Langes leben!" Was he sick? Was it exposure to new bacteria and viruses that their dimension didn't hold? That had been one of James' top concerns about the prospect of switching between dimensions-- though he was sure there were people out there who would be giddy to learn of all new biological warfare opportunities. "Are you ill?" He asked Niles with genuine concern. "Tell me, do you know if they have influenza here? Or streptococcus? Ah, I suppose... I suppose that hardly matters at the moment. Let's start with the basics, shall we?" He slid his chair closer to the table, wincing as his bandaged shins pushed against the leg of the table. "We're both Ashford River natives. More specific-- we're natives of that dimension. We're not in Nebraska anymore, as the saying goes."

Niles’s eyes narrowed at the man. That wasn’t a phrase he’d heard since he’d come here—to Ashkent Creek or whatever this place was. The man seemed to know it and know the difference between it. “No—No, I’m not. It’s this stupid shell I got at a raffle—look, it’s a long story okay?” Niles said shaking his hands. “What’s going on?” Niles asked. The man seemed to know more that most about what was happening and it was unnerving. “You need to keep your voice down,” Niles said, his own tone hushed as he set the phone screen down on the table. “What are you talking about?” Niles was exasperated. It was obvious that something had happened. Niles knew he wasn’t home anymore, but somethings were the same. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Keep his voice down? "Why?" James asked curiously. Were people here not accepting of discussion of multiple dimensions? That was reality, after all. And sure, people at home tended to give him strange looks when he discussed topological theory in public, but James always figured that was because they couldn't quite parse through what they were hearing. Never the less, he would comply for now. Niles had been here longer; he might've known something that James hadn't yet learned for himself. "Of course I know what's going on!" Despite his intention of keeping his voice to a whisper, he found himself back at normal volume. "Don't you? To some extent? Perhaps not how or why, but surely you know you're in a different dimension now." It was time. James pulled his notepad from his breast pocket and clicked a pen open. "Can you tell me what differences you've observed? How are you finding the people here? Have you reconnected with any alternate versions of your friends and family?"

Shaking his head, Niles looked over to the other patrons, trying to see if there was anyone paying more attention to their odd conversation than they should. It was putting Niles on edge, there was nothing he wanted less than people thinking he was a quack. It was something that was hard for Niles to keep up with this guy exclaiming things about different dimensions and alternative versions. It had potential for a dangerous situation. “No, I don’t know.” Niles answered, his voice still hush. “We’ve gotta be quiet because I don’t know anything what’s going on. And no—I don’t. Numbers have changed. I can’t exactly just call up my family. You’re going to need to be quieter or we’re going to need to go outside.” Niles shook his head.

James' eyes followed Subject 001's. He was looking around, probably nervous about eavesdropping. James was reminded again to lower his voice. It was hard not to be overtly excited about this though; why was he nowhere near as enthused? "I will keep my voice to a loud whisper. How is this?" James asked, leaning forward on the table so he wouldn't miss a single important detail of what knowledge Niles had to report. "May I ask again? What have you learned about this place? How has the transition been for you? My apologies, truly, if it's been difficult, but, ah, I'm sure everything can be smoothed out with time. And what is time, anyways, when dimensions can be manipulated?"

Niles bit his bottom lip as he began weighing the options. Staying and talking with this guy might get some information on the shit show he’d been thrown into, but then again, it might just did the hole deeper. “Better,” Niles answered, shifting in his seat as he crossed his arms, almost instinctually leaning away as the doctor leaned in. “It’s different but it’s real close to the same,” Niles finally answered after a brief pause. “Some of the same stuff is here and so are some of the people, but it’s like everything is just shifted to the left or something.” Niles wasn’t sure how to describe it. “It’s confusing. Everyone seems to keep just moving on.”

"Interesting..." James propped his sinking glasses back up to their proper position and ran a hand through his hair. "Not to the left, precisely. But you seem to be indicating that things are somewhat... askew compared to the Ashford River we know and, uhm, well, know." Did that mean the Jenna here wouldn't be the same as the Jenna from home? That was a potential problem, though he'd accounted for some of the potential differences based on life span. "Where did you appear, when you first ended up in this dimension? Near campus?"

Niles sighed, shaking his head lightly. The first real person he met that was having the same experience as him, and he was a total and complete loon. Excited by it even. Niles just wanted to go back. “Whatever we feel about it, that’s where I was from. That’s where everything that is mine is.” It was frustrating—more so even—to be thrown into someone else’s reality. Into someone else’s life. Niles’ thoughts were called back to the present at Doctor Martin named a very particular place. Niles shifted, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward. “How do you know that?” It wasn’t so much a polite question, as it was a demand.

"Ah! Well, it's quite simple, really. Er-- logically follows my experience. I left Ashford River after a walk down the beach, and I successfully appeared in Ashkent Creek on a similar version of that very beach. In a bonfire, unfortunately. That was... not intended." The pain constantly shooting up James’ legs was a stellar reminder of that. "It follows, then, that you would appear in the parallel version of the area you left Ashford River in-- fairly close to the University of Maine Ashford River campus, if I recall correctly." He thumbed through his notebook to the proper page, scanning it and confirming. "Which I do."

“You’re the guy—“ Niles stopped himself, his voice getting loud. “You’re the guy who ended up in the fire?” God, Niles hoped it wasn’t intended. There was nothing about it that made ending up in a fire sound good. “You meant to come here?” Slowly things were falling into place but not a place Niles wanted them to be. He didn’t care about getting his food anymore. How did this man know where Niles had crossed over? “Outside. Now.” Niles didn’t bother to wait for the man. If he wanted answers, he’d follow. Niles was already standing and heading outside. He stepped off to the side, heading for the edge of the building away from prying eyes and prying ears before seeing if the man followed.

It seemed word of the bonfire incident had traveled from ear to ear across town. Human curiosity could hardly be helped, regardless of dimension, apparently. "Certainly I meant to come here." James replied. He was coming to understand that most people who "switched over" between Ashford River and Ashkent Creek--or vice versa-- did not have the luxury of choice. Present company included, no thanks to James. But this was important work, and Niles hardly seemed worse off for the change in scenery. James had many other questions he wanted to ask the Subject though, and he was insistent on taking this outside. Had he inadvertently started talking too loudly again? James slid his notebook and pen back in his pocket and hobbled out of the Thai Tanic to find Niles. He seemed... distracted, perhaps? Something was amiss. "Niles?" James tested the waters.

Niles was entirely unamused by the conclusion he was coming to. That somehow the man was involved in what had happened to him. “Did you have something to do with what happened to me?” Niles asked, his phone in hand as he pointed at James. “Did you send me to Ashkent River?” The doctor had plenty of questions, it was only fair that Niles had answers to a few of his own. “Is that why you’re asking me all those questions about the difference. Was I a canary in a coal mine? This is my life,” asshole. Niles bit his tongue at the last word. Even upset, he knew that he would catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

Canary in a coalmine... that was an accurate way to put it. James wanted to dawdle on the question, given how pointedly it'd been phrased, the anger seeded in Niles' voice. James was somewhat apologetic about needing to use test subjects for such a feat, but there were greater things at stake here. And besides, Niles acclimated. Or would. They both would. "I'm aware that this is your life," he finally said, dodging the first question. "And though it wasn't your intention to come here, you are here, and your observations will be valuable to many people." He considered fishing for his notebook again, but there was a chance that Niles would grow angry enough to tear it out of James' hands. "I believe that, eventually, everyone will switch from Ashford to Ashkent, and vice versa. I just gave you a... push."

Niles couldn’t help but laugh. It was a hollow and unhumorous thing. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “A push?” Niles asked, though he didn’t intend for an answer. “A push?” Niles repeated, more steel in his voice. “My undergrad degree is different. I can’t get ahold of my family—and it’s not really even my family is it?” There was so much that Niles wanted to touch on but instead he let out a cry of exasperation. “You want my observations? Like I’m some sort of control in a science experiment?”

"I'll send you back!" James insisted. "Once I'm done here, I'll send us both back. You have my promise." He did feel for Niles, especially where his family was concerned-- and his education. But this needed to happen, and-- "I have a hypothesis..." James started, knowing that Niles would likely be weary about hearing this given his disdain of the thought that this was a science experiment (although yes, it was). "You needed to be sent here, Niles. Not just for Jenna and myself, but if the disruption that caused the merge is to be fixed, you need to be right where you are-- in Ashkent Creek."

“Who is Jenna?” Niles asked, exasperated. It seemed like the doctor had everything figured out. It was more than frustrating for Niles. “I don’t give a shit about your hypothesis doctor. I care about getting home and soon.” Niles answered. He didn’t need to be any where but home. “Do you even know anything about me besides my name and my school?” Niles tone was threatening. He could feel the glamour over his skin, and he kept it there—for now. “Send me back home.”

"Of course I do," James scoffed, and then instantly regretted it, given Niles' obvious anger. He was a scientist, after all; he had done his due research into the lives of all of the Subjects he looked into, but time was short and there was only so much attention he could dedicate to each individual. "I will send you back home as soon as I am able to." There was one very large snag, and that was the simple fact that the Can Opener was back in Ashford River, possibly lying on the beach where anyone could find it. Another one would need to be made in this dimension. "I, ah, must be off now. My legs and feet. The doctors told me not to stand for prolonged times..." James looked down at his legs, then pushed his glasses back up his face. It was an excuse, technically, but also the truth. "When the time is right, you will go home."

[touchofstrange-rp-archive]

Out of the Fire, Into the Creek || Group Chatzy

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