Chapter One
The elderly Mrs. Zhang beamed as the car towing a small trailer pulled into her driveway. A young, broad-shouldered man emerged.
“Bless you, Chris!” she called out from the shade of her garage, her floral blouse and loose skirt dancing in the breeze. The tree-lined residential street was tranquil, seemingly suspended in that moment when the working folks had already left, and the leisurely ones had yet to rise.
“My pleasure.” The handsome man smiled amiably. “That’s what neighbors are for, right?” He proceeded to unhitch the open trailer from the back of the car.
“Drink for you?” Mrs. Zhang called once again, her English valiantly shining through her thick accent.
Chris nodded gratefully. “I’ll take you up on that in a couple of hours—if the offer still stands.” Unloading and spreading compost bags under the summer sun was a thirsty business, and he’d certainly appreciate a cold drink later. The day promised to be another scorcher in Boulder, Colorado. But for now the air was still cool and pleasant in the city of yoga and granola.
Mrs. Zhang cast an approving glance at his athletic figure, stubble beard, and smoky-gray eyes. Chris was twenty-four years old, he’d told her. And—it had just dawned on her—no ring in sight. This was her prompt to mention the pretty daughter of her first cousin from her second uncle’s third marriage. Chris merely laughed good-naturedly. A shame, really. He looked like prime husband material.
The young man slung the first bag over his shoulder and started walking toward the large backyard.
It took being stationed halfway around the world—in Iraq—for Chris to discover his affinity for working with his hands. And he had to spend the last two weeks, since he’d resigned his military commission, for him to realize he particularly enjoyed nurturing living things, mostly plants.
With six months of living expenses from his mother’s life insurance tucked away, Chris vowed to fill his days with action; he wouldn’t waste time on a PhD in procrastination, sipping beers and chasing sunsets.
While pondering his next big move, Chris ruled out the soul-sucking world of bureaucracy, the addictive virtual snares of Big Tech, and the self-congratulatory chatter of academia. His heart, it seemed, belonged to the dirt. If only he knew anything about gardening. Well, nothing was stopping him from learning.
His phone vibrated. Chris glanced at the display, and a frown crossed his face. Ronny? He’d never known him to wake up before noon.
“Hey, you up?” came the familiar sound of his friend.
“Yup. I rise at O-five-hundred,” Chris replied. Some habits from his military days were hard to shake. He checked his watch again. It must have been a life-and-death situation for Ronny to call at this time. “What’s going on?”
“Dude, I’ve got something to show you, but it’s best in the morning light. Can you come over right now?”
Chris sighed. Ever since Ronny had bought the decrepit house a few months back, his friend had been up to his eyeballs in repairs and renovations. “I’m helping a neighbor. Can it wait a couple of hours?”
“Nope.” Ronny’s voice was tight, clipped. “I’m cashing in that free pass you owe me. Trust me, you’ll wanna see this.”
“Alright, I’m on my way,” Chris said, snapping his phone shut.
If it turned out to be a nothingburger, he’d give Ronny a piece of his mind. Yet, a gut feeling told him that wouldn’t be the case; there was an intensity and earnestness in Ronny’s voice that he’d never heard before.
“Mrs. Zhang,” Chris called out, “I’ve got to run—it’s my friend. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“You take my car,” she yelled after him as he mounted his bicycle and began to pedal away.
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!”
֎
Not for the first time, it occurred to Chris that Boulder was a traffic sponge: It swelled daily as the neighboring towns disgorged their populations each morning, triggered a mass exodus in the evening, only to rally again the next day. Wash, rinse, repeat.
The drive to the eastern outskirts of town took about fifteen minutes, concluding rather unceremoniously when the pavement gave way to a rugged dirt road.
Ronny lived on a few acres of a rundown property, the aging house a bleak focal point amid the disrepair. Chris climbed out of the car and took in his surroundings. The same cracked dirt-streaked plaster walls, the same gnarled juniper tree. At least the rusted barrels and the grungy carburetor must have been hauled away since he’d last visited, a couple of weeks prior.
“This better be important,” Chris said darkly when Ronny opened the door and let him in.
"It is,” his friend assured him. Ronny seemed even more disheveled than usual, which was no small feat. He was squat, wearing a rumpled T-shirt, his black hair standing up in spikes. His almond-shaped, velvet-black eyes, which often danced with a mischievous glint, were now bright with anticipation. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Ronny led the way. “The linoleum under the washer looked disgusting enough to make a maggot gag,” he said. “So yesterday afternoon, I cut out a section of it. But then it turned out the subfloor also had some of that mold. So I had to remove a section of that, too,” Ronny added as they went down the stairs to the basement. “And I found something.”
Chris halted near the bottom of the stairs and shot Ronny a quizzical glance. A trap door lay open in the corner of the basement floor. He strode over and peered into the dimly-lit arched stone stairwell that plunged three or four stories deep. “Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. He shot a sharp, assessing gaze at Ronny, who was looking at him expectantly. “Does it lead to some sort of cellar?”
“Chris, you’re in for a treat,” Ronny said, his voice tight with pent-up excitement. “Come, help me move the TV down the stairs. It’s the only thing I couldn’t manage by myself.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “You uncovered an underground cellar, and your first thought is ‘movie night’?”
Ronny grinned. “This will redefine ‘home theater’.” He nodded toward the big TV. “Come on now.”
They each heaved a side of the TV and began their slow descent, struggling to keep it balanced as they navigated the narrow, uneven steps.
“Did you discover a catacomb?” Chris asked, carefully balancing his end of the massive screen.
“No comment.”
“A catacomb with a cursed mummy?” ventured Chris.
“Wait and see, man.”
“A catacomb with a cursed mummy and a golden statue.”
“Patience my young apprentice. Patience.”
Chris ignored this. “At least tell me if I’m getting warmer.”
“You’re spoiling the surprise, the big reveal.” Ronny was breathing heavily, as he carried his end of the oversized TV down the long flight of stairs.
Something crunched under Chris’ foot. “That was a skull of—”
“A potato chip I must’ve dropped earlier.”
“—a human. I can tell I’m getting warmer,” Chris declared. “A catacomb with a cursed mummy and a golden statue and snakes?”
“That’s why you’re leading—to take the first hit.” Ronny’s words came out in short puffs as he struggled with the weight of the TV.
They reached a landing halfway down and parked the TV to take a breather. Chris rubbed sweaty palms on his jeans.
“You’re not going to tell me what’s down there, are you?”
“You’ve waited your whole life for this,” Ronny informed him. “What’s a few more minutes?”
They rested a bit more, then resumed their descent.
Once they reached the bottom of the stairway, the two gingerly set the TV down. Chris straightened up, taking in his surroundings. In the dim light cast by Ronny’s waist lamp, he found himself in an elongated chamber the size of a living room. The floor, walls, and ceiling were made of massive slabs of roughly hewn stone.
Chris walked up to the nearest wall and studied it. “You’ve got a real archeological find here, Ronny,” he said. The hush in the underground chamber was profound. Chris was faintly surprised that the air did not feel musty or stuffy or ancient or something. He regarded his friend. “But honestly, after the buildup, I expected at least some scrawled glyphs, if not a tomb.”
Ronny smiled absently, his attention clearly elsewhere. He cautiously stepped over some power cords and flicked on a switch. Soft light bathed the room. It was then that Chris’ eyes landed on an artifact at the room’s far end: a large, curious-looking octagonal frame that stood adjacent to the back wall.
“You did make a discovery!” Chris crowed, moving closer to inspect the peculiar copper coils and glass tubes that wound around the device. The octagonal structure measured about eight feet across and three feet deep.
“In a moment I’ll turn it on, and you’ll get to see.”
Turn what on? See what? Chris wondered. He vaguely noted Ronny’s camera mounted on a tripod in the center of the room as well as a picnic table and two folding chairs his friend must have lugged in earlier. The table held a laptop and sheets of paper covered in scribbles and notes.
Ronny motioned Chris, and they hoisted the TV onto the table.
“It’s showtime, man.” Ronny walked over to the wall beside the metallic frame and pushed a lever upward.
Chris’ breath caught as the coils around the device glowed a soft purple—and a vivid image in bright, dazzling colors sprang to life within the frame. He could see blue sky and mountains in the distance.
He blinked, baffled. “What is this? What’s that view?”
“You don’t recognize it?” Ronny asked softly, as he joined Chris, coming to stand next to him.
Chris peered at the vista before him: grassy plains and a town nestled at the foothills of mountains several miles out. A jolt of recognition shot through him. “Green Mountain… this is Boulder,” he said. It had an anticlimactic feel to it. “It’s a video feed, showing the view outside, is that it? Or does it get fed from somewhere out of town?”
“Let me zoom in with my lens,” Ronny said, fiddling with some cables. “I’ll connect the camera to the TV so you can see what the lens sees on the big screen.”
“I thought it was a video feed–a movie. No, that doesn’t make sense...” He trailed off, running a hand through his cropped hair, now flustered. ”What’s going on here?”
“What you’ll see is what the zoom is picking up,” Ronny said and walked over to stand behind the mounted camera. He aimed the telescopic lens at the scene framed by the octagonal structure and homed in on the town in the far distance. The two of them shifted their gaze to the television screen. As Ronny continued to zoom, Chris recalled that the camera had an impressive 3000mm lens. His friend could see a bird perched on a mountaintop miles away. In fact, at one point, he had.
Ronny maneuvered and adjusted the tripod’s elongated arm, panning and tilting the camera almost imperceptibly while zooming in. He delicately readjusted and zoomed further until a stately building with spires dominated most of the TV screen. He turned to Chris. “It’s the Boulder County Courthouse; I looked it up. It was built in 1882.”
“Never saw it before,” Chris said guardedly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“No way you could have,” Ronny told him, biting off the words. “It was burned down in 1932.”
Chris gaped at the vista. Then at his friend.
“It’s a mistake,” Chris said in a tight voice that cracked around the edges. “It must be still standing.” It was conceivable he’d missed it, wasn’t it? Even though he had grown up in Boulder. He must have missed it.
“I found an old illustration online,” Ronny said, settling before his laptop and typing swiftly. He swiveled the screen toward Chris. The caption read: “Boulder, Built 1882, Arch- Frank E. Edbrooke, Contr- F. O. Brown, Fire-1932.”
There was no doubt; it was the same building.
What he was seeing was impossible.
Chris squinted at the sunlit, grand structure that dominated the TV screen. Against a vibrant blue sky, towers crowned with pyramids and intricate railings adorned every corner of the roof. A sharply pitched octagonal dome rose majestically at the center. A sweeping flight of stairs led to a covered portico and a columned entranceway.
“Watch those guys!” cried Ronny, as three men descended the steps of the distant courthouse. They held walking canes and wore dark suits and straw boater hats.
Chris stared in disbelief. What the actual fuck?
Ronny turned to his friend, nodding his head almost imperceptibly, as if to say, yes, this is really happening.
“Oh, come on,” Chris said weakly, feeling the blood thudding in his temples.
Ronny waved a hand, his excitement palpable. “What preschool did you go to?” he demanded.
“Mapleton Early Childhood Center. Why?” Chris asked, unsure where this was going.
Ronny gingerly nudged the camera arm, changing ever so slightly the angle of the lens, and the view shifted a few streets over. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
With his brows pulled together in a frown, Chris mutely nodded toward the building in the distance.
“Yeah, so I did some digging. The Mapleton Center building was constructed back in 1889. But get this, the street in front of it was paved in 1928,” Ronny said, glancing at his friend. “Chris, here it is not paved—yet.”
A horseless carriage rolled down the dirt road. Chris stared, rubbed his forearm across his face, and stared again.
Ronny gestured at the large screen. “Take a look at those carriage-like vehicles and the old-style clothing. We’re literally peering into a window to the past. I’d say we’re looking at Boulder, circa 1910. Notice how much smaller the town is? It all adds up.”
“The past,” Chris whispered in an awed voice, reeling.
“The past,” echoed Ronny.
They exchanged a quick glance then resumed gazing at the TV screen, their faces bathed in a pale light coming out of the octagonal frame.
Chris slapped his thigh. “Wait!” he said. “Zoom in more. Go all the way in.”
Ronny obliged, and the image sharpened, revealing the details of the carriage-like vehicle and the two women passengers seated inside, facing each other.
“Where’s the damn steering wheel?” demanded Chris. “Who the hell is driving this thing?”
“What?” For a moment there, Ronny didn’t understand.
“That carriage—that steamer, whatever—it’s driving itself!”
Ronny’s mouth had gone dry. “That can’t be,” he protested weakly.
Yet it did. They watched, transfixed, as the carriage ambled along, occasionally disappearing behind trees only to reappear moments later. It rolled to a stop, the women stepped out, and the empty vehicle continued its journey, turning a corner and vanishing from sight.
Chris let out a harsh breath. “This ain’t no past.”
Ronny appeared bewildered. “What are you saying? This isn’t Boulder?”
Chris shook his head. “That was definitely Green Mountain; the flatiron formations are too distinctive to be mistaken. And the Mapleton Early Childhood Center you showed me…. It’s Boulder.” He looked at Ronny with a heavy gaze. “Just not our Boulder—present or past,” he then said, his voice low and strained.
Chris paced the narrow chamber, deep in thought. Abruptly, he stopped, struck by a realization, and stared at the scene framed by the octagon. “That’s the scene from Legion Park. The power station isn’t there, but that’s Valmont Reservoir down there.” He gestured at the body of water and the sailboats in the distance.
Ronny turned his eyes from the TV screen and studied intently the vista visible through the octagonal frame. Chris was right; earlier, he’d simply shrugged away the oddities. The sailboats weren’t the sleek vessels he was familiar with; rather, they resembled those in old Chinese paintings, their wide, rust-colored sails billowing in the wind. And on the far shore... were those bison? Ronny’s breath caught. Wild bison hadn’t roamed Colorado since the 1880s. He turned to look at Chris.
“This is a view of Boulder in a parallel universe,” Chris said slowly. “That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Ronny was silent for some time.
“You must be right,” he said at last. “However, you’re wrong about it being a ‘view.’”
He picked up a pencil and hurtled it. The pencil sailed through the air, went through the opening, and landed on the dirt somewhere on the other side, the other world. “It’s a portal,” Ronny said.
Chris’ heart gave a great bound. He stood rooted in place, then walked over to the gleaming large frame and peered at the narrow space behind it. There was nothing there except a solid stone wall.
He turned and regarded his friend, astonishment etched on his face. “Somehow, you’ve stumbled on a gateway to a parallel universe.”
Ronny nodded gravely. And then gave Chris a long slow grin.
Chapter Two
Chris’ face was animated as he paced back and forth on the rough, stony floor near the gateway. “How is any of this possible? Who built this underground structure, this portal?” he asked once again.
Ronny shrugged. “We may never know.” He reiterated the familiar story: the previous owner’s death, the lack of heirs, the state’s sale, and Ronny’s opportunistic purchase for a pittance.
“This is big,” Chris muttered half to himself. “This is really big.” He stopped walking. “We should tell someone,” he said.
“You mean the authorities?” Ronny leaned back in the folding chair and studied his companion.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Chris said. But then distaste and anger marred his face. “On second thought, no. On third thought—hell no.”
Ronny was taken aback by the venom in Chris’ voice. Then he remembered. His friend had told him about the disastrous mission in Iraq. Many things had changed for Chris after that.
“I had all of last night to think things over,” Ronny said with a pensive expression.
“And?” Chris urged.
Ronny gestured, and Chris slid into the other folding chair across from him and indicated for his friend to go on.
“Listen, I don’t trust the powers that be any more than you do,” Ronny said, resting his ankle over his knee. “Still, we both know they’ll take control at some point. It’s not a matter of ‘if,’ but ‘when.’”
Chris grimaced yet didn’t argue.
“Okay, here’s my take.” Ronny spoke rapidly, his eyes alight with excitement. “If we reach out to the government, we’ll lose control of this gateway. All I’m saying is let’s keep it to ourselves for a while. Think about it. You could cross over, connect with the natives, and get some footage. We post it online, cash in on the views, and bingo! We’ve hit the jackpot. Plus, we’ll have one hell of a story to tell our grandkids one day.”
Chris scratched his stubble. “Won’t people say it’s all ‘deepfake’? Or some shit like that?”
Ronny snorted. “Dude, that’s the best part! Imagine the comment wars—‘This is totally CGI!’ versus ‘No way, this is legit!’ We’ll be trending faster than you can say ‘alien!’” He tapped his temple. “I’ve been thinking. This parallel universe... it’s not just a place; it’s a story. A story people are dying to believe. People love a good mystery. We engage with them, respond to comments, do Q&A sessions—build a community around this thing. Let them argue. Controversy means clicks, and clicks mean cash.”
Chris chuckled. “Damn, you’re good at this shady stuff.” Ronny smirked at that. “Alright, then,” Chris said, “let the internet trolls do our marketing for us.” The idea was growing on him. Once they brought in some physical objects verified by experts, well, that would take things to a whole new level. Then he paused to consider. “Hold up, let’s read the fine print first, shall we?”
Ronny raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning what if it’s a one-way portal? You go through, and on the other side, there’s no gate, no nothing. You’re stuck there for the rest of your natural life,” he said, “which—now that I think of it—could end up being long, or brutally short.”
Ronny gave him his lopsided smile. “Consider the bright side. It’s a lot prettier than our Boulder.”
“And what’s with this ‘you’ thing?” Chris asked, his gray eyes narrowed. “If we’re going ahead with it, we both cross over and tour that other world.”
“Well.” Ronny rubbed his elbow. “You might not have picked up on it, but I’m of Korean descent.”
“So?” Chris stretched his long legs out in front of him, shaking them a bit. He glanced at the gateway, then turned back to his friend.
“Earlier, when I looked at that other Boulder, I spotted a few black folks strolling around,” Ronny told him, “yet Asians seem to be off the menu. Hey, I’m not saying it’s some Aryan state, but I might stand out like a sore thumb. You’re better off going alone.”
This was such a chickenshit excuse, Chris thought to himself.
“Besides, you have a background in special reconnaissance, with all the cultural training and blending in stuff.”
“Don’t give me that crap. This isn’t some military op—”
“And then you can do that accent thing.”
“What accent thing?” Chris demanded.
“You know, the fancy white tie dinner party accent. You saw the way they’re dressed, man. They’re probably like, ‘My word, these oysters’—come on, how would you say it?’
In spite of himself, Chris grinned at this. “‘My word, these oysters are simply divine. Might I trouble you for another glass of champagne?’”
Ronny high-fived him. “That’s the shit I’m talking about. You didn’t ace those standardized tests for nothing. Just because you decided to go all blue-collar on—”
“All right, all right. I got the idea,” Chris said, then sighed. He suspected Ronny would have wanted to stay behind regardless of what the other Boulder was like. His buddy was more of a behind-the-scenes kind of guy. When Ronny wasn’t on the phone playing middleman between Bengali sweatshops and American firms—deals that often danced on the edge of legality—he was usually glued to his gaming rig. In fact, aside from grocery runs and the occasional errand, Ronny was a homebody; his idea of the wilderness was limited to the virtual terrains he explored in massive online role-playing games.
A cottontail rabbit suddenly burst in through the gateway, causing both Chris and Ronny to jerk back in their chairs, startled. They watched, wide-eyed, as the creature darted about the stone chamber like a wind-up toy before leaping back out. They tracked its movement through the octagonal frame as it dashed to the side and disappeared from view.
Chris blinked, his initial shock giving way to wonder. “It was just a rabbit,” he marveled, “but it was a rabbit from another universe.” He looked over at Ronny. “It is a two-way portal.”
He then looked again. “Hey, you okay there? You seem pretty shaken up.”
Somewhat unsteadily, Ronny went over to the wall and pulled down the lever, deactivating the gate. “Good thing it wasn’t a bison,” he said weakly, “or the local constabulary.” He sat back down heavily, then lifted his eyes to Chris and managed a smile. “You’re right, it’s definitely a two-way portal. I guess we’d better keep it deactivated, except for when we really need it on.”
Chris drummed his fingers distractedly on his firm thigh.
He looked at Ronny, and Ronny looked back.
“Alright,” Chris said. “I’ll go by myself. It’s probably for the best.” Even though he did anticipate having to put up with some phony and annoying behavior on the other side of the looking glass.
“Attaboy!” Ronny exclaimed and his face split into a wide grin, clearly relieved.
Chris said, “But definitely not during daytime. People will freak out if they see a man appearing out of nowhere.”
Ronny nodded grimly. “Or greet you with pitchforks.”
“You sure know how to take the edge off, Ronny.”
His friend snickered.
Chris left to fulfill a promise he had made to Mrs. Zhang and returned a few hours later. The two spent the rest of the day huddled together, hashing things out.
Opting to avoid unnecessary complications, they settled on an even-steven approach, splitting the potential loot from their soon-to-be viral video fifty-fifty. Chris was going to assume the risk and do the fieldwork. Ronny was going to handle the marketing and promotions. And then there was also the fact that the gate was on Ronny’s property.
In the other universe, the mountaintops had no snow cover. Much like their own Colorado, it appeared to be the height of summer in Americana, as they’d quickly come to call the America in the parallel world. Ronny had a sneaking suspicion that it went well beyond the sharing of the season. As it turned out, he was correct.
They timed the activation of the portal with the sunset and observed that the sun was setting simultaneously in both worlds. That was more than interesting. It meant that not only the time of day was the same, but they likely also shared the same day of the year, as the sunset time was unique to each date of the year.
They went back down a few hours later, and Ronny powered up the device. Once again, they peered via a peephole into Boulder in a parallel universe. It was nighttime, and past the gateway, they could see a few dots of light in the distance. There were surprisingly few.
“Do you suppose those are electric lights?” Chris asked.
“If they have self-driving vehicles, they have electric lights,” Ronny told him matter-of-factly.
“We didn’t see any power lines, though.”
“They must be buried underground,” Ronny said absently.
“Lucky them,” Chris grumbled, a tinge of bitterness seeping through.
Ronny shrugged, indifferent; it was all the same to him. He pulled on the massive switch, powering down the gate, and they headed upstairs, to wait.
Earlier, they’d decided that the sweet spot was between 3:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m.: the least likely time anyone was out and about, the least likely time Chris would be seen emerging from the passageway. Time seemed to drag on. They chatted and speculated. They even attempted a round of Magic: The Gathering but, preoccupied with what lay ahead, abandoned it halfway through.
Eventually, the moment arrived. Down the stairs, a flip of the switch, and the night air of another world greeted them a few feet away. A universe away.
“Like we discussed,” Ronny said, his voice a bit raspy. “Just have a quick walk around and come back. I’ll see you in a minute, bro.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Chris said, hesitating as he stood rooted in place, gazing at the portal’s opening. In theory, it should work.
“If it doesn’t pan out as planned, I’ll take care of the wife and kids,” called out Ronny, from somewhere behind.
Chris glanced back darkly. “If things go south, I’ll haunt you from the other side,” he promised.
Taking a deep breath, Chris braced himself to step onto the octagonal metal platform. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered.
“Or everything,” Ronny chimed in from behind as Chris stepped forward—and in a wink was elsewhere. Outside. Under a star-studded black sky. The only sound was the gentle whisper of the wind rustling among the trees.
Chris strapped on night-vision goggles and surveyed his surroundings. Off in the distance, he spotted a pair of deer and made out juniper and pine trees dotting the landscape. There were no trails or roads in his immediate vicinity, at least none that he could see.
He turned around—and there was nothing there. No gate.
Then he saw it…
…a subtle shimmer, a faint distortion of the air in the shape of a large octagon. If he hadn’t been actively searching for it, Chris might have easily missed it. Would it be any more noticeable under better light conditions? Deciding to investigate, Chris removed his goggles and, for a brief moment, aimed a small flashlight directly at the barely perceptible outline of the portal.
The beam bent around the shimmering air, revealing only a faint refraction of light.
Chris stepped onto and then across the sheer outline.
“You’re back!” crowed Ronny as his friend reappeared.
They laughed and high-fived. “This device works like a charm,” hollered Chris. He was all grins.
“You’ve just made history, man! Even if no one knows this yet.” Ronny stopped. “How was it?”
“The air was sweet-fresh. It hits you as you step through. Otherwise, it’s probably as you imagine it would be: trees, deer, tall grass.”
They ran another test, deactivating the device while Chris was in Americana. To Chris’ relief, the faint shimmer vanished, confirming the portal was undetectable when inactive. To minimize the risk of discovery, they agreed it would be shut down except for transport—even if the site was located miles away from the nearest habitat. They would simply need to coordinate Chris’ returns in advance.
Their experiments also revealed a limitation: Any object transported had to fit entirely within the depth of the gate’s frame.
Everything looked good. The mission was a go, Chris announced.
They spent the next one week planning, preparing, and making some purchases. Chris, with no family ties or pressing commitments, found it easy to clear his schedule for the foreseeable future.
Finally, the big moment arrived.
It was 3:15 a.m. when they made their way down the stone stairway.
Chris was tucking in his shirt. “So, do I fit the bill?” he asked as they halted by the glowing passageway.
Ronny grinned. “You’ve got that all-American hero vibe going on.” He punched Chris’ shoulder. “Go knock’em out, champ.”
“Like we discussed,” Chris said, ignoring the knot in his stomach. “Just sit tight and give me a few days to scout things out.” Ronny nodded. “Off I go,” Chris said with a half-smile. The two fist-bumped.
Chris turned, stepped through, and—found himself instantly in the other universe.
He waved to the unseen Ronny on the other side and observed the almost imperceptible shimmering contours of the gateway slowly wink out as Ronny must have powered down the device.
That was it. That was the point of no return. Chris was alone in a society that he knew next to nothing about. And the only thing that comforted him was the realization that this society knew nothing of him.