Rosalie Warren

Short Stories

Connections

© Rosalie Warren 2007

‘I’ve done it, Todd. I’ve got the connections formula. We can become immortal, any time we like.’

Professor Jerome Todd, my PhD supervisor, looked up from his giant art pad as I appeared at his office door. We use these enormous pads for our calculations so we can fit a whole long expression on one line. Makes it easier to check you haven’t gone wrong. Our colleagues laugh at us – or they did, until we made our breakthrough.

Todd didn’t believe me, of course. He never believes anything I do, not until he’s checked it ninety times. To be honest, I don’t think he quite understands the new way of viewing time. He’s stuck in the past, where time was a dimension, like space. That’s what got in the way of unifying quantum theory and gravity.

I keep trying to tell him – time is time, it’s not space. Time is the order that things happen. Stop seeing it as space, all that crap about moving around in it, and we’ll start making progress. But his brain is stuck where it was thirty years ago, when he made his own great discovery.

He gave me one of his soppy looks, because he fancies me like hell.

‘Let me see, Grem,’ he said, grabbing my pad and propping it up against his computer screen, where he was checking his share prices. Not a wealthy man, our Todd, but he has a few minor investments and he’s hoping they’ll shoot up in value, hit the big time, allow him to retire. His heart’s gone out of the Physics game – he’s had his day and he knows it.

I pointed to the lines I’d scrawled at the bottom, the ones that showed how to establish the connections, not just in theory but in practice – how to get from our world into an alternative universe.

‘The key to it all is the chronons,’ I pointed out, in case he hadn’t noticed.

Chronons, should it have escaped your attention, were discovered a few months ago by some experimental physicists in the U.S. A meteorite landed in Alaska, and they couldn’t identify the radiation it gave off. In the end, they found it was made up of a previously unknown particle they decided to call the chronon. You can think of chronons as tiny units of time, if you want to. Or units of causality – that’s a better way of putting it. They make up other things as well – matter, energy, the works. It didn’t take us long to establish that the chronon is the basic building block for everything. You, me, Todd, the distant galaxies, dark matter, energy, radiation – we’re all made up of chronons. They’re a hell of a lot more basic than atoms, electrons or even quarks.

But it was yours truly, Grem Lerner, who got out his art pad and worked out that if we treat these little guys with respect they can open up the door for us into alternative possible worlds.

Todd was frowning, his brow deeply furrowed, as they say. He’s not a bad-looking guy for his age. Kind of wish I’d met him when he was younger. That we’d been nearer the same age, I mean.

‘You have to die, of course,’ I explained. ‘It’s at the point of death that you get to transfer from our world into another one. One in which you’re not dead. That’s where the immortality comes in. Every time you die in one world, you switch to another.’

‘I don’t quite understand.’

I pointed to the last bit of my scrawl. ‘See, the code? Alongside a source of chronons, you need a programmed chip. When the chip senses brain death, the program runs. It sends out a signal that finds a world where you’re still alive. Then your consciousness gets transferred to that new world and you go on living.’

‘It won’t work,’ he said.

‘Only one way to find out.’ I hoisted myself onto his desk, swinging my legs. Sensed him looking at me. I feel mean, sometimes, not being in love with Todd. But I didn’t ask him to fall in love with me. It’s one reason I’m keen to get into another world.

It was exciting, that first year of my PhD, when our minds sparked each other off, day after day, and he told me I was brilliant. I suppose I was flattered. Anyway, we got together and the sex wasn’t bad at all. 

He looked alarmed, his eyebrows way up there in his fluffy white fringe. ‘You don’t mean you’re going to try it out yourself? You’d have to die to test it.’

 ‘I’m happy to take the risk.’ I meant it. It beats a trip into space, anything else I can think of.

His face brightened up. ‘I suppose we could always test it on animals.’

‘I’m against animal testing. The only living thing I’m prepared to subject to this test is myself.’’

‘Grem, you’re crazy. You haven’t thought it through. If this doesn’t work – and I don’t think it will – you lose everything. Your life. Your career. There could be a Nobel prize in this for you, somewhere down the line. If the theory stands up, it’s the biggest thing since general relativity.’

‘I know that.’

‘And you’re prepared to abandon it all?’

‘It’s the only way to test it.’

Todd thought of something else. ‘Even if it works, how will we know? I mean, you won’t know. You’ll be in your new world – you won’t remember the old one. And you won’t be able to contact me, to let me know you’ve got there.’

‘You’ve missed a bit. Four lines up from the bottom. Communication is possible, in certain circumstances, between worlds. It works by a process like interference. You know, the old light beams – Young’s slits. As long as I take the code with me, I can let you know what’s happened.’

Todd shook his head. ‘You won’t remember to. In your new world, you won’t know you have to contact me.’

‘I won’t remember, but the program will. You’ll get a signal. I’ll set things up before I go. Once you get the message, you’ll have proof that it’s worked. You can write up the papers yourself, get all the fame.’

He’ll like that, will our Todd. A long time since he’s had much in the way of academic acclaim. And it’s something that means a lot to him.

‘Todd, this business about finding a world where you’re still alive. It’s only one of the solutions to the equation. There are others, where all kinds of unpredictable things can happen.’

I felt a surge of excitement when he said that. It’s a magic feeling, believe me. Move over, all you great explorers. Scott of the Antarctic and Neil Armstrong never did anything like this.

****

It pays to have mates in other departments; I discovered this early on in my PhD. All those nights at the pub were worth it. All that suffering turned out useful in the end…

Fortunately, the university has a source of chronons – the unimaginatively named transuranic element chrononium, the one that turned up on the meteorite. Chrononium-340, it’s called, to distinguish it from its less exciting relations, created in the particle accelerator at CERN.

A couple of pints was all it took to bribe the technician, Dean, to give me a sample. Then it’s over to Computer Science to see Sandy, who’s been a mate since my first day here. Sandy can churn out Java code like there’s no tomorrow and it usually does what she wants. I soon had my chip in hand, all ready for my brain implant. Ben’s job – he’s a trainee surgeon and could do with the practice. That’s the bit that scares me; Ben is capable of cocking things up and I could become a vegetable. But it’s a risk I have to take.

My calculations suggest that violent death is a good idea, to make sure that the chip gets the message from my brain stem. Something slower, a gradual departure, might not work. So the other catch is, I’ll have to shoot myself. That would be somewhat shit-inducing, if I didn’t trust my theory. Just as well I do. Let’s say I trust it 90%. Well, my Grandad flew in bomber planes in WW2 and survived. If he can do that, I think I can take a 10% risk with my life.

Can’t help thinking about my father and mother. They’ll be pretty upset to lose me, I know that. But it’s a comfort to know that there’s a zillion other worlds where I won’t be dead – where I’ll do things like discover a cure for cancer or solve global warming, and they’ll be proud of me. In a few of them I’ll probably never have left home at all, or I’ll phone every day and visit with chocolates for my mum.

We’ve confirmed that these alternative worlds aren’t just possibilities – they actually exist. I really do have a zillion other mothers, or at least, a zillion other versions of me do.

I keep reminding Todd, too, that there are a trigillion worlds where, instead of shooting myself in the mouth, I’ll in his office, the door locked, ripping off his jeans.

‘That’s no good,’ he says, after his eyes have lit up for a second. ‘There might well be all those other Todds somewhere, but they’re not me.’

‘They’re a lot like you. Some of them.’

‘Of course, but I’m not connected to them, am I? I can’t share their feelings.’

‘You just have to believe. Have faith, as they used to tell us in Sunday School.’

‘It’s not a question of faith – it’s a question of experience.’  He’s struck by an idea. ‘Grem – let me come with you!’

I shake my head. ‘Sorry, Todd. There’s no way of doing it – no way to make sure we go to the same world. Your history is different to mine. If we were twins, maybe it would work. As it is, there’s no chance.’

‘Let me try. I’ll take the risk.’

He’s all tense; I can feel the heat coming off him. I can smell his lust, all mixed up with fear. He loves me, that guy. If I ever doubted it, I know it now. He’s willing to give up all the kudos of this discovery to go with me to another universe.

I’m touched, but I shake my head again. Even if there was a way, I wouldn’t let him. This is my adventure and I want to do it on my own

****

I’ve got my gun, my chip’s implanted, my chrononium’s buzzing, my code’s ready to run.

Todd just had a last go at me. He’s eaten up with guilt, blaming himself for the whole thing. Says his life’s work’s been a mistake. I tell him he’s wrong – his early work ploughed up the ground for this discovery. He says he wishes he’d never done it. Should have gone into medicine like his father wanted. Then he starts saying he’s been unprofessional towards me, abusing my trust as a student, all that stuff. Bollocks, I tell him, but he’s not listening.

I’m worried he’ll pick up the gun after I’ve used it and shoot himself.

I’ve made sure there’s only one bullet in there, just in case.

****

Should never have gone drinking with my mates last night. Woke up a few minutes ago, swimming in treacle. I feel soft and out of condition – as though I gained a stone while I slept.

It’s two-thirty and I’ve got a genetics lecture at three. Then there’s that talk at four by the guy from Physics, what’s his name – Professor Todd? They say he’s a good speaker. He’s giving talks to all the second years – seems he’s made some kind of big discovery – best thing since Einstein. I don’t understand all that stuff myself, being a biologist, but he’s been in Scientific American and New Scientist, as well as in the daily papers and on TV. Even the tabloids have picked it up. It’s blasted the riots out of the headlines, all the demonstrations against Mo Mowlam’s decision not to bomb Iraq.

It sounds pretty cool, Professor Todd’s work on alternative realities. My mate Ben was telling me about it last night, but I didn’t take in the details.

Should be more interesting than Professor Lemming droning on about DNA, anyway.

****

Well. Nice guy, Professor Todd. Todd, he told me to call him. His friends all call him that. I suppose we have to be on intimate terms, after what we did, but it still feels awkward.

I stayed behind after the talk to ask some questions. I don’t fully understand what happened, but what he said sort of woke me up, got my brain going. Haven’t felt like that since back at school. Primary Four with Mr Brand. That sense of excitement, of your brain being sharp enough to get inside an idea, slice it up, look at it from a new angle. Mr Brand telling me I had a fine young mind, that I should go into science.

Not at all bad looking, isn’t Todd, for a guy his age. He’s probably fitter than me. I must start going to the gym again.

I had so many questions about his alternative worlds that he suggested we went for a drink, after everyone else had gone. Said it was great to see a biologist take such an interest. Started talking about the ethical implications of his research. You see, if it works it’ll provide a kind of immortality. He’s worried about young Sandy, his assistant. She says the only way to test this theory is for someone to die, to find out whether they can get themselves into another world. She’s prepared to do it. He’s not so keen to let her.

Not that he can stop her. She knows what to do. I don’t understand it properly but it involves a computer program and some stuff called chrononium that they’ve just synthesised at MIT.

Anyway, Todd and me. He’s decided he wants to call me Grem instead of Greg. I let slip it had been my nickname for a while at school, when we used to play Gremlins, and he liked it. I like it, too. It takes me back.

After the pub I went home with him. I’d never got round to telling him I was gay, but he seemed to pick up on it, somehow.

He reminds me a lot of Mr Brand, my old teacher. So sad that guy was killed, halfway through Primary 4. Set me back a whole year. I was grief-stricken. I suppose he was my first love, though I didn’t see it that way at the time. 

It’s early to say, I know, but I have a feeling that meeting Todd could be a turning point for me. As I mentioned, my brain feels sharper, my head clear. Perhaps I’ll manage a 2:1 this year, make my Dad proud of me.

I sense that Todd and I will stick together, go for the long haul, as they say. I hope so. He seems like a reliable guy, not someone who’ll tire of me and toss me aside. My mother would be glad I’ve met a nice bloke. She’s grinning at me there in her photo by my bed. It’s five years now since she died of cancer.