For part one, click here.
For part two, click here.
For part three, click here.
So, I’m visiting Johnny in the hospital while he’s recovering, and we get to talking, and I tell him about my aleph. “Bullshit, man,” he says. “You ain’t got no aleph.”
“Not only do I have one,” I informed him, “but I can go into it. I can transport. I can transcend time and space.”
“You’re a liar, man,” he said. “You’re a goddamn liar.”
“Past, future, you name it, brother,” I told him, “And I can go there. And I’m figuring out how I can mess with stuff, too, man.”
“What do you mean, ‘mess with stuff’?” he asked me.
“Well,” I told him, “if I concentrate really hard, I can generate a physical self wherever I go.”
“You a bullshitter, man,” he said and picked up his copy of Philip Roth’s American Pastoral and started thumbing the pages.
I’d been working for awhile on bringing stuff over with me from the other side. Collector’s items, you know. Rare gold coins. Ark of the covenant. You know, real crazy shit, and sell it on the black market. I told him this.
“Like what kind of things?” he asked me.
“Like, you tell me, man,” I said. “Whatever you want. You tell me, and I’ll go get it.”
“Okay, wise guy,” Johnny said, looking me in the eye. “I was just reading about the lost tomb of Alexander. According to lore, he was buried with a manuscript of his exploits. You bring me that manuscript, and you’ve made me a believer.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
A few days later, I showed up with the papyrus scrolls upon which Alexander’s military scribe had written all of the great ruler’s exploits. They provided a first hand account of his entire ruling life. For all intents and purposes, these were the only known copies of these accounts, and I held them in my hands. These scrolls were so rare, they were literally priceless. I handed the scrolls to Johnny.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
“It’s Alexander’s manuscript,” I said. “You asked for it.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “This looks like it was just written.”
“It was,” I told him. “I took it from his tomb right after it was sealed. It’s as fresh as the doctor’s notes on that clipboard,” I said, pointing to the clipboard hanging on the wall next to the bed.
Johnny sat there for a long time turning the scrolls over in his hands. He unfurled one, looked it over. “I can’t read this shit,” he said, finally.
“Do you believe me?” I asked him.
“Either I believe you or I know you’re crazier than an shithouse rat,” he said. “But doesn’t this just fuck everything up? You taking things from the past.”
“Not really,” I informed him. “It just creates another alternate reality. Every time a decision is made in this world from the most important human on the planet to the smallest barnacle in the sea, an alternate reality is created.”
He didn’t say a word.
“Trust me,” I said. “I’ve seen it. The universe is just like a giant reality engine. It is capable of creating and storing an infinite number of realities all overlapping one another. It’s really quite amazing. The engineering behind it is truly fascinating.”
“So what stops you from hopping over to these other . . . realities?”
“Nothing,” I told him. “I do it all the time.”
“Why are you telling me all this stuff?” he asked. “What’s this all about?”
“I recently did something that I wish I hadn’t done,” I told him.
He asked me what it was and I told him.
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