Multi-State

Multi-state

By Sam Siemens

Simian Kane looked up at the redbrick walls of his new workplace. It looked like any number of buildings in the area except that it was unmarked and unusually low to the ground. If it had any secrets to hide, it concealed them neatly behind the unyielding continuity of the walls. Had the building granted a view into its hallways its well lit rooms would identify it as a government building. The unreliable nature of the public power plants made electricity an uncertain commodity and a building lit at night would require a generator. Even now as the building settled on its foundation, workers moved heavy equipment in oblong boxes through the gates of the compound and into its depths. The surface structure was only a small lobby, containing the controlled elevator which provided access to the sprawling subterranean complex that lay below.

The lower levels of the complex were the driving factor in the decision to erect a new building as there were plenty of derelict structures which could have substituted. The building had been put up quickly and with little regard to building permits. These were the advantages of a dictatorship. The building was a staging area for cross dimensional travel. Simian,s colleagues were white collar psychopaths, eager to begin a new life in their own personal plane of reality and a reassuring bulge in their wallet, a generous pension. They carried out their work much the same as before, oiling the wheels of the top-heavy government body. The displaced labourers, sullen but accustomed to poor treatment had been packed into vans which streamed to the next workable piece of land where they would subsist. The sun was bloated and dying, and cast sporadic showers of photons over the earths dejected planes, its light bridging the cosmic distance with greater speed every year and his world had gone into a mid life crisis. The options were to die out slowly of intolerable radiation levels, or find a new world to sustain life.

The breakthrough technology had not been their own achievement and was only a incredible stroke of luck that they were able to replicate the phenomenon from two unfortunate participants in a failed experiment. This opened new opportunities for trade between the two worlds, but for Simian's job was to make sure things ran smoothly. He steeped through the steel doors, light pouring over the pitted concrete steps of the lobby building. The secretary greeted him and palmed a button under her desk. On the side, Simian participated in the black market of snatch and swap kidnapping. This system of feigned rescue is what made simian one of the many children who had been snatched up and swept off to another dimension. The only person he was afraid of meeting was himself. The doors of the elevator slid open revealing more grey carpeting and an unappealing navy blue paint-job. Stepping off on the maintenance floor he took the first door across from him into an unexpectedly large room, which sloped downwards, Greek amphitheatre style,into a large pit, the focal point of which was a frictionless polymer cubicle.

The machines attendant, dr. Oliver Gibbs stepped from behind it and waved him over. “You must be Simian” the doctor held out his hand to Simian who held out his in turn. The doctor thought he saw a brief hint of apprehension in his new companions eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a reassuring smile. “and you must be Gibbs?” he said staring past him at the sheer white face of the podium. “I’m sorry”, he said “but I’ve been taken with the Fract from the moment i first saw it”. “It is quite amazing isn’t it” said Gibbs. Gibbs was a tall and lanky man, and his sun-burnt skin was an immediate tell that he was not a local. “a lot of brains and a lot of government grants, and here we are” Simian chuckled, “probably created a few more universes along the way”. He was referring to the concept of superposition. “well we better get this show on the road”,Gibbs held out a pair of leather gloves. Simian nodded affirmation and accepted the obligatory pair of black gloves. “But you're the true wonder to me , don't you ever worry you'll come back with more than you set out for?” said Gibbs, Simian leaned out of the confines of the Fract, making him appear vaguely rodent-like in the dark and tightly packed space. “I’m counting on it ” he said, with a sly smile. “you'll be out in five for three two;

Simian woke up in a daze and gathered himself. Scanning his surroundings he found himself in a forlorn apartment in downtown . The apartments furniture consisted of a steel-framed Murphy bed, a plastic chair, and a breast-high workbench, its particle board surface scarred in places, by thoughtless tenants looking for a surface to snuff out their cigarettes. He pulled himself up off the worn carpet, headed for the paint chipped sink in the corner, and washed his hands. If any of Simian's clients had encountered him more than once they may have attributed this to his nerves. Although it was true that his job would have been stressful for some, he boar a stolid attitude that acquaintances misinterpreted as shyness, and only he new as apathy. The only other appliance was a hotplate long ago dusted over and sitting in a corner, probably considered a fire hazard.

He prepared himself for the deed. The syringe of poison felt cold against his thigh. It contained a rare poison from a long extinct species of snake, untraceable in any normal autopsy. He compressed the plunger, drawing the glistening fluid to a bead at the needle-tip. But his excitement got the better of him and he replaced the syringe in its case of his pocket, instead, a long and slender steel wire, closed at both ends with wooden handles. He pressed his weight against the door listening and waiting in anticipation. He thought of the all the work he,d done to get to this point. The planning stage included long and mundane briefings, but now it would pay off. Margaret Fischer would return any minute now he was sure, and then he could be through with work and his shoddy lifestyle back home. He would be far away, in a world only he would touch. He would be the first person to experience true solitude. Cool air rushed into the room and the woman turned away from Simian to hang her keys on the hook adjacent to the door. Margret’s peripheral vision was obscured at first by two gloved hands, then a pair of muscular arms. The black shrouded appendages reminded her of the stout buried cables prominent in electrical safety pamphlets. She started to run but was tugged back sharply. she struggled against the fine wire but it held, as did her attacker. She whipped her head to the side and sunk her teeth deep into the offending hand, a strong coppery taste filling her mouth. Hearing a cry and seizing the opportunity she reached back and grabbed in a death-hold, simultaneously throwing her weight forward toppling over with the weight of the attacker crashing into her. She felt a sharp pain across her neck and the blood left her face. She felt blood flowing from her neck. The world went from sharp and defined to fuzzy and obscure as she gradually lost consciousness. Simian took a handkerchief from his pocket and made circles on the floor carefully removing any blood on the floor and walls. Satisfied with the cleansing he dragged the body to the BFI and heaved it over the edge of the once green receptacle now covered in grit and grease. He slipped of the gloves and let them slowly flutter into the receptacle, followed by a sharp disposable razor. Returning to the apartment up the sagging stairs, he palmed his watch. He walked through the door of the unlocked apartment and lowered himself onto the carpet, which was still damp. As he fell asleep aided by the needle he thought fondly of his reward.

The investigators of Margaret Fischer death had only one thing going for them. The small amount of blood found during the autopsy. After running tests and failing to find the DNA of the perpetrator missing from the criminal database, they turned to the suspicious circumstances surrounding the death. Officially they charged a resident of Margret’s apartment with the crime. But naturally as this was just one of a mounting death toll of middlemen their were suspicions of an outside attacker. To keep trade running between the two reality’s the case was closed, but as the dust settled someone had to take the blame on the other side as well. After careful consideration an agreement was made and all was well.

Simian lowered a paperback novel and placed it on a stack by his bedside. He gazed out the window and caught a glimpse of the suns farewell. Bands of violet and yellow wrapped around the horizon, framed in dark blue and the green of the forest canopy. The sunset looked like a bruise which, given time would heal, unlike the deathly red glare of his previous worlds death throes. Their was much potential for this place, he thought. As he drifted off to sleep his mind light with the concept of future, he failed to notice the four pairs of gloved hands closing the gap with his bare skin. Pale and wraith-like in the moons reflected light, they clenched and heaved in their own direction, like dogs fighting over a piece of rawhide. Each man, rooted in his own reality, received a little less than they had gone out for. Each man held a piece of himself.