“You ever think about going into the Infinity Collider yourself?” I ask.
“We are infinity,” Ed says, as if that settles it.
The door bangs open. Balder stands on the threshold, eyes blazing. He’s dragging a stag by one hoof. “Tomorrow, we may die. But tonight we dine as heroes!”
Later, after we’ve polished off some deer meat and Rad soda, Balder has a blast letting the scientists test their various lasers and protoplasm pelters and even a potato gun on him. With each hit, he shouts out, “Who’s your daddy?” in Norse, until, frankly, it starts to get kind of annoying. The scientists seem like they’re having a little too much fun trying to obliterate my pal, but Balder’s digging the chance to show off what a rocking immortal he is, so who am I to stop his fun?
The next morning, at half-past eleven, Dr. T comes in, his smile gone and his eyes anything but twinkly.
“Is it true you’re terrorists?” He holds out the day’s paper, and my heart nearly stops. On page four is the flyer pic of Gonz and me along with a story about the CESSNAB revolution and the supposed bombing of the Konstant Kettle, the bounty offered by United Snow Globe Wholesalers, and the number to call. “This is the sort of thing Dr. X stood against.”
“No! No, I … just let me explain. …”
Gonzo ducks under my arm, starts reading. “Dude, we only made page four? That sucks! What kind of terrorists do you have to be to make page one?”
“But we are not terrorists!” I insist.
“Oh. Right. Totally not, dudes. And Dr. O.”
“To quote the great Silas Fenton, ‘We give our word to you: We are for honor and good, sworn to protect the galaxy until our atoms are spread among the stars,’” Balder assures them.
The professors stare at us blankly.
“Star Fighter,” Gonzo prompts. “You know, Star Fighter? The movie?”
“Never seen it,” Dr. A says with a sniff.
Gonzo takes a step back. “How can you be science nerds and not have seen Star Fighter? That’s just wrong.”
“Look, there’s something I need to tell you. …” I explain to them about the dark energy that Dr. X accidentally set free from another universe and how it’s endangering our own. All the while, they’re exchanging glances and I can hear them whispering to each other: “… could have traveled through the Higgs Field … given mass to something new … something dangerous … never tried it, only a kid … nachos … had nachos yesterday, how about pasta … could be our breakthrough …”
Finally, they break from their huddle. “We will help you,” Dr. A says. “In the interest of science.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing at the entrance to the crazy-daisy door of the Infinity Collider wearing a roller derby helmet, white plastic safety goggles, and an orange padded jumpsuit with the words SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT IS ASPLIT PERSONALITY on it.
Gonzo makes a whistling sound. “Wow. Physicist humor. Who knew?”
The scientists have traded their lab coats for jumpsuits. Across the back of Dr. M’s is a slogan in big white letters: EVERYONE’S A TOURIST HERE! He offers an apologetic smile. “These days, most of our research is funded by the Council of Greater Tourism. If we succeed, they want to partner with us on tours to parallel universes.” He motions with his arm like he’s spelling out an imaginary billboard. “Take your brain to Braneworld!”
“Lame …,” Dr. O singsongs under her breath, flipping switches and taking readings.
“Yes. Well. We’re still working on the catchphrase,” Dr. M says with a sniff.
I shift my safety goggles over my eyes. “How do I look?”
“Like you just escaped from an eighties band,” Gonzo says.
“Ed, please ready our victim!” Dr. T shouts from a scaffolding above the tunnel.
I bend down so that Ed can test the security of my roller derby helmet. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.”
“I thought nobody’s come back. So how do you know it doesn’t hurt?”
Ed considers this, nodding slowly. “I just know in the way you just know things.” He tucks a white rabbit’s foot into my pocket.
“For luck?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t offer any other explanation.
Balder throws his arms around me. “May Frigg spin clouds of protection around you on your travels, noble Cameron.”
“Thanks, Balder.”
Ed affixes the Calabi Yau manifold to the stereo speaker.
“We are infinity,” Ed says, as if that settles it.
The door bangs open. Balder stands on the threshold, eyes blazing. He’s dragging a stag by one hoof. “Tomorrow, we may die. But tonight we dine as heroes!”
Later, after we’ve polished off some deer meat and Rad soda, Balder has a blast letting the scientists test their various lasers and protoplasm pelters and even a potato gun on him. With each hit, he shouts out, “Who’s your daddy?” in Norse, until, frankly, it starts to get kind of annoying. The scientists seem like they’re having a little too much fun trying to obliterate my pal, but Balder’s digging the chance to show off what a rocking immortal he is, so who am I to stop his fun?
The next morning, at half-past eleven, Dr. T comes in, his smile gone and his eyes anything but twinkly.
“Is it true you’re terrorists?” He holds out the day’s paper, and my heart nearly stops. On page four is the flyer pic of Gonz and me along with a story about the CESSNAB revolution and the supposed bombing of the Konstant Kettle, the bounty offered by United Snow Globe Wholesalers, and the number to call. “This is the sort of thing Dr. X stood against.”
“No! No, I … just let me explain. …”
Gonzo ducks under my arm, starts reading. “Dude, we only made page four? That sucks! What kind of terrorists do you have to be to make page one?”
“But we are not terrorists!” I insist.
“Oh. Right. Totally not, dudes. And Dr. O.”
“To quote the great Silas Fenton, ‘We give our word to you: We are for honor and good, sworn to protect the galaxy until our atoms are spread among the stars,’” Balder assures them.
The professors stare at us blankly.
“Star Fighter,” Gonzo prompts. “You know, Star Fighter? The movie?”
“Never seen it,” Dr. A says with a sniff.
Gonzo takes a step back. “How can you be science nerds and not have seen Star Fighter? That’s just wrong.”
“Look, there’s something I need to tell you. …” I explain to them about the dark energy that Dr. X accidentally set free from another universe and how it’s endangering our own. All the while, they’re exchanging glances and I can hear them whispering to each other: “… could have traveled through the Higgs Field … given mass to something new … something dangerous … never tried it, only a kid … nachos … had nachos yesterday, how about pasta … could be our breakthrough …”
Finally, they break from their huddle. “We will help you,” Dr. A says. “In the interest of science.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing at the entrance to the crazy-daisy door of the Infinity Collider wearing a roller derby helmet, white plastic safety goggles, and an orange padded jumpsuit with the words SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT IS ASPLIT PERSONALITY on it.
Gonzo makes a whistling sound. “Wow. Physicist humor. Who knew?”
The scientists have traded their lab coats for jumpsuits. Across the back of Dr. M’s is a slogan in big white letters: EVERYONE’S A TOURIST HERE! He offers an apologetic smile. “These days, most of our research is funded by the Council of Greater Tourism. If we succeed, they want to partner with us on tours to parallel universes.” He motions with his arm like he’s spelling out an imaginary billboard. “Take your brain to Braneworld!”
“Lame …,” Dr. O singsongs under her breath, flipping switches and taking readings.
“Yes. Well. We’re still working on the catchphrase,” Dr. M says with a sniff.
I shift my safety goggles over my eyes. “How do I look?”
“Like you just escaped from an eighties band,” Gonzo says.
“Ed, please ready our victim!” Dr. T shouts from a scaffolding above the tunnel.
I bend down so that Ed can test the security of my roller derby helmet. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.”
“I thought nobody’s come back. So how do you know it doesn’t hurt?”
Ed considers this, nodding slowly. “I just know in the way you just know things.” He tucks a white rabbit’s foot into my pocket.
“For luck?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t offer any other explanation.
Balder throws his arms around me. “May Frigg spin clouds of protection around you on your travels, noble Cameron.”
“Thanks, Balder.”
Ed affixes the Calabi Yau manifold to the stereo speaker.
