Peregrinate

Ryan Sherwood

Chapter One

“It was hilarious when we teleported the earth. See, the asteroid belt was coming at us, snapped free by some stellar event or too many carbs - hell if I remember exactly why. What I do remember is too many asteroids bulleting at us for far too many months and not nearly enough ammo to blow them all to hell, and definitely not enough energy to teleport or deflect them away. Only the privileged few had the influence to board the tiny American space fleet, but it was hard to tell if waving their money like demented air traffic controllers bought much peace of mind. Likely not because the rest of humanity had us - Dr. Winslow and his trusty teleporter.”

“Now, I say it was funny when the Earth teleported because, well, I laughed myself unconscious. It came from all the tension and the worry about all that could go wrong. The strain was so prevalent that it had built into a lifestyle. I didn’t even know I was going nuttier than a stripper squirrel until I snapped the madness with barreling laughter. It all emptied from me - relief, joy and fright in equal part, which is pretty much the normal ternion of how the mind of Dr. Winslow gets split up.”

“But I digress. You see we pushed the button while the governments across the world finalized their votes on what time to teleport. Some states were actually still bickering on whether to transport the entire planet at all and take our chances on destroying or relocating the myriad of incoming asteroids by teleportation. Hell, they could still be debating that now for all I know.

And the cults. Oh man, the cults and weirdoes and their orgies and fund raising, of all things. Millions were all doped with distracted with the illusion of choice when it was made for them instead. That choice, that simple button pushing ahead of schedule, sent away the only living planet in the solar system for bigger and better thing, but mostly not total destruction.”

“Coordinates were set for solar system, SS-7854. Millions of calculations were aligned. I oversaw them myself, along with the machines that crunched the numbers as the data became astronomical. That really showed us all how data and numbers were the new God and how easily the new deity was misinterpreted as the old one. I lived in theories and paradoxes up until things began to crack up. Not the planet, mind you, but the good doctor.”

“With all factors factored and all accounts accounted for, even randomness, it was time to step back and watch. I mean for Chrissakes, we traversed part of a galaxy here, not the Jersey Turnpike...”

“Just as dangerous,” a deep slow voice crawled up.

“Shaddup your face back there! I’m explaining things so we’re all on the same plane.”

“But that’s part of the problem, Win,” the deep voice retorted.

“You’re part of the problem! Now shut it and go back to sleep, I need to concentrate.”

“Ok, Win, but I’m gonna dream of her again...”

“Take your rest where you can get it. Maybe you won’t this time,” Win said and paused. “Now, where were we? Wow, wait, that’s a lot of w’s in a row and... dammit! I knew that idiot would distract me. Focus. Ok.”

"I’m trying to sleep, Win, use your inside voice." 

“All we’ve got are our inside voices. Jeez. And I’ve known you to sleep through anything. Don’t tell me you’re waiting for a lullaby...”

“I’m not a child, Win, I know. I just don’t wanna dream of her.”  

 “I know. I’m sorry, Slow.”

“It’s not fair that I was made of so many of the things that would slow Ed down. Slowness isn’t even an iota of what I am-"

“Then stop making it so much bigger than an iota!” Win interrupted. “We maintained continuous gravitational spin, magnetic poles, kick starting an orbit all while transporting the atmosphere. Toss in the little-known core, undiscoverable gravitons, theoretical particles, billions of life forms and that’s just the dressing on the shit salad.

Hell, Ed even accounted for women in labor and the dying. Ed even spent some time on the 21 grams that could be the soul. The equation of Earth had to be whole, while maintaining the paradox of incomplete and imaginary fractions. We left only the precisely measured amount of occurrences to chance. It was impossible to know what our net would miss until it was cast.

Like that weird issue with the inability to account for anyone not on the crust. Anyone in the air, underground, buried in the ground, or even jumping at the instant of transport would be left behind in the empty space we used to park Earth.”

“Why am I saying this? You had to have asked that by now. Well, simple, Dr. Ed needs to remember all this as quickly as possible. Why am I the lucky guy spinning this yarn for you? I’m Win, the impetuous and crazy side of Dr. Ed Winslow that he rarely lets out to play. Turns out character traits aren’t something you can let wither and atrophy. Nope, gotta repress it all and Ed repressed the hell out of us.”

“More about me? I thought you’d never ask. I’ve been where awhile. I’m partly the years of repressed childhood fun that Ed buried in return for relentless drive for knowledge. Hear that, Ed? Relentless drive. Give it a try now and wake up, why doncha?”

“It turns out what is repressed can resurface in a shot along with a disorienting case of the bends. I find it funny that it’s called the bends since I cannot really tell if why I’m here is because Dr. Winslow had a mental break or just a severe bend, as we bubbled up fast in his blood.”

“Let me explain. Don’t worry, it’s almost as funny as teleporting. You see, the good doctor, when he was simply known as Ed, was dull. Well, I thought he was the most boring thing alive. That might be harsh, he was probably just normal. Don’t get me wrong, he was precocious kid from a similar family line, with a genius that led to Ivy League degrees. Though he got all his degrees in an unconventional way, to say the least, it wasn’t his education that propelled him but his long envy of the creative. The imbibing of brilliant books and artwork led him to attempt connections between two or more concepts or objects that might not have any reason to be tied.

Now, that may be how creativity works, but Ed tried to be creative in the most mechanical, stodgy, and completely uncreative way. He always followed the rules. Theory was the paint and nature was the canvas, and both had to adhere to natural laws, but to be worked, really worked, that was when some risk had to be taken. Scientists had been growing up on sci-fi for ages, so they saw themselves as creative and though they were compared to many of their progenitors, too many scientists kept too many feet on the ground. They always had to understand the unlikelihood of dying in a blind head first dive that killed so many of those before them and didn’t see the falls that created many of their creative compatriots.”

“It all started for Dr. Ed Winslow with his first real creative moment. Unfortunately, it was about the dumbest creative moment ever. Just plain awful, yet so damned significant. It came when Ed was 4 years old and he broke up his last name into ‘Win’ and ‘Slow.’ That was it, just that simple dumb split. Sadly, it was crucial because he was deconstructing himself and his goals to ‘Win’ and to leave everything ‘Slow’ behind.”

“Yep, told ya. Dumb. Tragically dumb. Yet his lunacy faced down a doomed Earth and won. That fracturing and setting aside of Ed’s aspects of me and Slow, who was that lummox over there snoring away no longer interrupting us, was what allowed Ed to learn like a machine. Imbibe physics, quantum theories, quantum facts, all kinds of mathematics and sciences and even social studies. He remembered that true geniuses factored in humanity to allow us all to step forward together.”

“But yet again I digress and I can’t even blame Slow, that slumbering wreck of a personality. Now, the good news is that I don’t have to bore you in recounting of all our science and schooling. I know, I know, you’re begging for every boring detail of it all, but we haven’t the time right now and I’m scatter-brained enough as it is. The science is ingrained within Ed, but won’t help him wake. What will help him wake are memories. Those pesky bytes of life intertwined with senses and emotions. That’s what we’ve gotta unearth to jog Ed awake.”

“Now, let’s start with looking around. What do you see? Nothing? Not able to see yet?”

“Not unexpected, I’ll explain. We’re in our lab. Seas of July corn stalks still surround the complex. The wind still blows in mesmerizing sways that powers the turbines. The sky is as azure as it’s ever been, yet another sun warms our mirrored solar paneled lab. This new star is a hint brighter and smaller. The sensors are showing us that much, but not much more. It’s showing on the main display just above our head, but we can’t see it because we banged our head off the touch-counter below it. Any of this ringing a bell? Well, beyond the ringing headache.”

“What are those dark blobs?” Ed asked in his mind, but only came out of this mouth as murmurs as his eyelids fluttered over skittish eyes.

“Hallelujah! Awake at last. Lord, O Lord, awake at last!” Win exclaimed throughout their mind. “Ed, those are people. The top brass of the government that came here to see us off on our species-wide peregrination.  They’re worried about you. Worried about seeing the world’s savior out cold on the floor, but more worried about themselves and the new world out there. Well, actually, the world out there should be about the only thing that’s the same.

Though we know that can’t last. It’s gonna be a whole new world and we’ve gotta find out what’s different or deviated. Find the effects any dark matter, tachyon wells or whatever perils that old-bitch-of a-universe threw at us.”

“Bah, I don’t need to explain this to you - you need to explain this to us. Deep in that tangled brilliant mess of your mind are the means to assess our trip. You need to map the probabilities, doc. To find out if we’re living in the impossible new world we expected or something we didn’t expect. All the hard shit no one else can do.

Brandon reported the first readings a few minutes ago to the room. I barely heard his bumbling report as he practically whispered every frightened word down at our sprawled unconscious body. I caught him saying it appears we traversed space, but he cannot discern if we traveled in dimensions or time. I’m not sure if that really matters since we’re still alive and I’m sure we’ll be egocentric enough to just keep using our same calendars. Which is fine since I have that swimsuit one with that blonde from August. I can’t wait ‘til next month.”

 “You are the only one that can assess this fast enough,” Win said. “You know Brandon and his team of loaner government scientific assistants will figure it out eventually, but what will happen in the ages between then and now? So get up. Get the hell up!”

“Get up, Ed,” Slow muttered in a slow and sad rumble, “Shelia needs you.”

“Shelia! Where?” Ed said, jolting upright.

“Oh, that was a low blow, Slow,” Win said to his fellow personality. “Hehe, I just rhymed a lot...”

“Hehe, you did rhyme a lot,” Slow responded. “But it worked, didn’t it? Ugh, now I’m definitely gonna dream of her now. I hate her nightmares, but I need to go back to sleep. Goodnight, Win.”

“Goodnight, Slow. Thank you for waking Ed.”