All the Wrong Places

Shad tried not to look too guilty as he sat typing a string of numbers into the Oculus.

No one looked askance as they passed by his desk; this was his job, after all, and he would have seemed out of place had he been seated at some other work station. It wasn't that Shad wasn't where he was meant to be. Rather, it was that his actual assignment was completely different from what he was working on.

But, Shad told himself, it wasn't as though he were launching this skein of searches with no relevance to his assignment at all; he was simply prioritizing his work in a way that took secondary concerns into consideration.

Even if, Shad admitted to himself, those concerns were -- to him personally -- not secondary at all, but pressing. There was something he simply had to find out. If he could get the information he needed, even as he pursued his assigned tasks, so much the better. He didn't want to pirate runtime from the quantum network for non-workplace activities if he could help it.

But he would if he needed to.

He had to know.

Shad finished entering the last of the coded commands and sat back anxiously. It was unlikely that anyone had noticed the extra data he'd fed into the system, and even if they saw it they probably wouldn't make the connection and understand that, in addition to the commercially valuable material Shad was researching, he was also conducting a surreptitious investigation of his own... an investigation into himself.

Well, if roughly 2,226 alternative universe versions of Shad McCormick could authentically be thought of as himself. Administratively, of course, artwork, writings, recordings, and individuals that existed in other realities were classified as distinctly different entities apart from anything that existed in the homeland universe, no matter how similar -- or how precisely identical-- they might turn out to be. That was simply a matter of effective recordkeeping, not to mention the need to maintain clear legal definitions about what intellectual property originated where.

If there was one constant in all the Multiverse and its variant realities, Shad was finding out, it was an almost rabid obsession among all Oculant civilizations for protecting and tracking what histories, TV shows, recordings, philosophical treatises, mathematical theorems, and inventions were contributed by which parabranch of the �berreality. After all, there were royalties at stake -- royalties that ranged from the trivial to the incalculable. It all had to be accounted for in the paraledgers. Otherwise, who knew what sort of chaos and feuding might erupt, if not even warfare (economic and cultural, but who knew whether physical contact might not one day become possible)?

The screen shimmered to life as the Oculus made a connection. Shad had entered a range of Parabranches 80 through 110; the Oculus had connected with its alternative self in Parabranch 102. Shad half expected to see another version of himself sitting at a similar work station, engaged in parallel research -- it had happened before -- but instead, he saw a slight young man with sandy blond hair and stylishly near-invisible eyeglasses.

"Uh -- hi," Shad said, trying to remember the man's name. He'd seen the homeland universe version of the guy around the facility. They worked in the same department, on the same floor, but had never exchanged a single word.

"Hi, Shad," the fellow responded. "Sorry, it is Shad, isn't it? You're from Matrix 346, which is only 2.2 variables off our own standard, so I just assumed..."

"Yes, I'm Shad."

"Because once I saw you... I mean, Matrix 884's version of you, and his name was Marcus."

"Well," Shad said, "that's not so surprising. Marcus is my middle name. Maybe he just prefers it to 'Shad.' But speaking of names, yours would be...?"

"Douglas," the thin blond guy said.

"Douglas, right. Same as here. Well, say, Douglas, where is your version of me today?"

"Our Shad got a promotion last month. I'm now working his station. Sorry if that causes you any distress," Douglas added quickly, as though worried he had shared something out of bounds.

Different parabranches sometimes had different regulations about these things, and indeed the home universe's office did frown on just such disclosures because they could have an impact -- sometimes quite profound -- on an individual's psyche. One women, or so office legend had it, found out that one of her alternative selves had swallowed bleach a week earlier and perished; this was only one of thousands of alternative selves in identified parabranches, with a potentially infinite number of other alternatives living (or not) in an equally infinite number of parabranches not as yet identified, and yet the suicide of that single alternative self had sent the woman into a tailspin. Four months later, she had emulated her dupe's actions and gulped down a few pints of bleach herself. The whispered story always became even more hushed at this point: She hadn't even died. She was in a private hospital, warehoused at company expense, nothing but a mindless shell...

"Did I break the rules?" Douglas asked, worried at Shad's hesitation.

"Well, listen, it's not a rule exactly, but it is a policy that we try to avoid any direct mention of deviations in personal history or condition. Although I am curious about one thing, now that we've broached the topic... I'm sorry if this makes you nervous," Shad hurried to say, seeing Douglas' wary expression, "but do me this one favor and we need not say anything to anyone about you telling me about the other Shad getting kicked upstairs. Is he... is the other Shad, your Shad, is he still together with Rully?"

"With Rully?" Douglas looked confused.

"You know, Raul? Raul Thorensen?"

"I know him, but Raul and Shad aren't together..."

"Oh," Shad said, feeling suddenly depleted. He was about to launch into his cover story -- that he and the home universe's Raul were quarreling, their marriage might be headed for the rocks, he just wanted some reassurance that their breakup was not foreordained -- when Douglas broke into an apologetic smile.

"I guess you got me back good for spilling the beans about the promotion," Douglas said. "It kinda makes me feel weird to think of Shad and Raul together."

"Why?" Shad asked.

"Well, I mean," and Douglas started laughing. "Shad and I are engaged."

Shad stared at the screen, shocked.

"And Raul and Bradley have been married for three years now," Douglas added.

"Bradley?"

"Bradley Thorensen... er, I guess he's still Bradley Tuttle over in your matrix."

***

Shad stared across the room at his half-dead cactus, which was perched on an antique book case -- a vintage article of furniture that boasted about three dozen newly published works from authors long gone. "Dust and Bone" by the Ernest Hemingway of Parabranch 251. "The Breadmaker," by the Joyce Carol Oates of Parabranch 118. "Horatius and Sanagore," by the William Makepeace Thackery of Parabranch 720, even though the author's name there was William Alan Thackery and the originally published volume had, for some reason, carried the name "Wm. Thistle." Arcane agreements about attribution, labeling, and marketing made it possible, in some cases, to re-brand books -- or, more usually, movie and TV shows -- according to the titles and authors that consumers in the home universe were accustomed to. No one here would have bought Stephen King's "Embolus" had it appeared under the name the author used in Parabranch 560, "Arthur Coventry."

But what troubled Shad was not whose books were published under what names in various parabranches of the multiverse. What kept knocking on his cage was the thought that Bradley... Bradley Tuttle, for chrissakes... had taken Rully's surname as his own. And evidently, Shad's alternative self was going to take Douglas' name, or Douglas was going to take his.

Douglas McCormick?

Shad Eisenstadt?

Douglas and Shad McCormick-Eisenstadt? Eisenstadt-McCormick? Eisenmick? McStadt?

"What the hell?" Shad muttered for the dozenth time, feeling heartsick and dizzy.

What bothered him most was that he had never even thought about the possibility that Rully, any Rully, would have chosen someone else -- though now, of course, it seemed obvious. Shad had simply assumed, in his flight of fancy, that there was no one else for Rully, and no one but Rully for him. But he didn't quite know how to get to Rully... how to bridge that damned gap that seemed to persist between them. They had been friends for years, but never anything more than that, and Shad's careful feelers had always been gently but unmistakably rebuffed when they ventured toward romantic terrain.

But lately, Shad had been feeling more and more certain that there ought to be something more there -- if only he could figure out the right angle of approach. If he could get his dupes to give him a clue about how they had courted and won Rully, it would kick-start his own campaign. But first thing out of the gate, he discovers that... at least in Parabranch 102... the equation Shad + Rully = True Love had never been a possibility.

"Well, tomorrow's a new day," he muttered to himself. What he meant, of course, was that tomorrow would bring him different news -- he hoped -- from a different parabranch.

***

But it didn't... at least, not the kind of news he wanted. While asking his own alternative self from Parabranch 550 about a clutch of "new" episodes of the classic TV program "Mannix," Shad slipped in the query, "So, how's Rully?"

The other Shad just smiled. "Is that how you all in Manifold 437 do? Asking shit like that? We ain't allowed. Sorry bro."

"Oh." Shad's disappointment must have shown, because his alternate self leaned forward a little with a conciliatory expression.

"I don't know the cat," he offered. "But you understand, I couldn't tell you anything about him if I did."

Behind him, Douglas passed by and glanced over. Douglas must have seen Shad on the screen, because he startled a little, and then a shy, tender smile broke out across his face.

"So," the other Shad said. "As long as we have a stable connection here, I wanted to ask whether you might have any episodes of 'Wraith Master' that we don't. Can I transmit you the list of episodes we've got, both from here and from a number of other manifolds?"

***

Succeeding days brought more of the same: Rully didn't work there. Rully had worked there but moved on. Shad had never worked there, though Rully did. (An alternate Rully shared this particular tidbit.) Rully had died in an accident a year and a half earlier. Rully and some girl named Shawna were married and had two kids. Shad had married a woman. Two women. A woman and two men, neither of whom was Rully. Rully had embezzeled a fortune and disappeared -- to Argentina, it was thought. Rully had left the field for politics and was now mayor. Rully had gone into politics and had served as governor, but now had gone into something else... term limits, you know. Rully had been a serious prospect for presidential candidate but then he and six other Republican hopefuls had been assassinated in the studio by a suicide bomber during a debate. Shad had gone crazy three years earlier, brought a machine gun to work, and killed thirteen people... including Rully. The woman who told him this had a haunted, tight expression around the eyes. She stared at him almost fearfully. Of course she did! She was seeing the face of a maniac who, in her version of Iowa, was even now sitting on death row. Shad worried that she was about to burst into tears.

But though his low-key search went on for almost a month, not once did Shad discover a parabranch in which he and Rully were a couple. He did, however, find that he and Douglas were either married, dating, or engaged in fourteen different parabranches.

Then the day came when his supervisor stopped by his workstation. "Some of your Ocular ties have clocked in a little long," Amanda noted.

"Boss, there's a lot of material to sort through. Last week I got a lead on four hundred new episodes of 'Star Trek' from only seven parabranches."

That perked her up for a moment: "Which series?"

" 'The Next Generation.' Sarafino is looking at the capsule descriptions and full-color hi-def stills now, as well as a sampler of about a dozen episodes, but three of those are ninety-minute variations."

"Those are getting easier to sell," Amanda noted. Then she got back to business. "I only mention it because I've overheard you once or twice chatting with the people on the other end. You know that every second of trans-parabranch contact time is expensive, and it already takes a lot of time to provide manifests, compare notes, and transituate data feeds, especially when the data systems are a little incompatible. We just can't afford a lot of excessive chatter. Even a minute here and there adds up. Besides," and here she took on a sympathetic look, "I hear the name 'Rully' come up a lot during your conversations lately."

Busted, Shad lowered his eyes.

"I've seen this happen before," Amanda told him. "Usually something unpleasant results. If I can offer you some advice?"

Shad sighed, and forced his eyes back to meet with hers.

"Don't worry about what's going on in other versions of your life," Amanda said gently. "Worry about your own life, right here. Make it work for you. I've seen how you look at Rully..." Amanda paused, as if assessing whether to say more. "Well, I can't say I haven't ever been in your position, and I know this might be hard to hear. But Rully just doesn't look at you the same way."

"Who -- " Shad caught himself. Who does he look at, then? But that would be inappropriate, and invasive, and -- more than anything -- unbecoming. He really was losing it. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right."

Amanda gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder and a kind smile, and left him in peace.

The afternoon passed in a bleary haze. Deep down, he'd known that Rully and he weren't going to happen. Amanda was right that what happened anywhere else wasn't really that germane to his own life, but parabranch after parabranch had checked out negative and his fears had gotten closer and closer to the surface with each negative result. Now he had to face the truth: It was possible, maybe, that Rully... his Rully... would one day share his feelings. But in all probability, he never would.

Another thought gripped Shad: If his supervisor had noticed what he was up to, had anyone else? Would word get back to Rully? There was a word for this kind of thing: Parastalking. Rully would be disgusted. He might not want to be friends any more.

But wait a minute, wait. Of course Amanda noticed. She was his supervisor. She was supposed to notice. How could she not, when he'd been chasing this dream on official equipment and official run-time for almost a month?

Amanda and Shad were friends as well as colleagues. She was a good person. She was cool. She wasn't going to gossip. No one else would know.

But Shad knew. It was one more thing to live with... or put behind him. It really was kind of creepy, Shad admitted to himself, and doubts assailed him: He was a terrible person. No, now that was just his inner drama queen coming out. It was just that his feelings had grown for so long, and now they ran so deep, that it was hard to admit that he was pining for the wrong guy.

Defeated and weary, Shad rested his head in his hands, slumped over his work station. A tear spilled onto his keyboard, and Shad hastily wiped at his eyes. "Goddammit," he muttered softly.

"Hey?"

Shad looked over at the man who had spoken. It was Douglas; he'd been walking past, and noticed Shad's distress.

"Are you okay?"

Shad wiped water from his eyes once more, and looked at him. He saw genuine concern, genuine interest. And maybe something more...?

"It's just this job, you know," Shad explained. "Seeing into other realities. It gets a little disorienting, sometimes."

"So I hear," Douglas said. "I thought about training for Oculus operation but then my buddy in office administration offered me a spot over there, so..."

The two men looked at each other for a long moment.

"My name is Doug," he added, at last.

Shad smiled, feeling one hopeless avenue finally wither and drop away -- and another... maybe more fruitful one... open up. "Nice to meet you," he responded. "I'm Shad."

"Yeah," Douglas said. "I mean, I know -- I have to know everyone's names, you know, working in admin..." He stopped, rolled his eyes, took a breath, and smiled again. "Sorry. Let's try that one more time... Hi, Shad. Nice to meet you."

For Mark.