by Nigel G. Mitchell
"My name is not Pops," the driver growled.
"Yeah, whatever. Uh, you notice anything about this guy sittin' next to me?"
Wade jammed an elbow into his ribs, whispering, "Remmy! No!"
Rembrandt shielded himself with a hand, laughing softly.
The driver looked at Arturo in the rear-view mirror. "I can't say I do, sir."
Quinn waved a han
d at the driver, smiling. "Never mind, sir. We're just, uh, worried about him, that's all."
The driver grunted, then turned his eyes back to the road.
Quinn settled back into the leather cushions, then joined Wade and Arturo in glaring at Rembrandt.
"Mister Brown," Arturo whispered, "why on Earth did you do that?"
Rembrandt shrugged. "I was just curious, that's all. Seems a little weird, doesn't even notice that another him is sittin' in the backseat."
"Well, just let it go, Mister Brown," Arturo whispered. "We're not looking for trouble in this world. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better."
Rembrandt looked out his window at the rustic street whisking by. "Right, I gotcha, guys. Keep a low profile. Well, at least we know we ain't home. Unless there was another Arturo runnin' around our world we didn't know about."
The cab pulled up in front of the Dominion Hotel. Quinn, Wade, and Professor Arturo got out with Rembrandt, who was pulling out his wallet.
"Okay," Wade said, "we'll swing by and pick you up in about twenty minutes."
Rembrandt held out a hand. "Wait a minute. While we're all here together, can somebody tell me what happened back in that last world?"
Arturo raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought it was obvious, Mister Brown. Apparently, another group of Sliders entered that world just as we were leaving."
"Well, what was with all the fireworks? Why'd the wormhole go haywire like that?"
Quinn stuck his hands in his pockets, looking out at the city street that was just coming to life with people. "I think the other Sliders opened their wormhole at the exact same spot as ours. The two must've screwed each other up somehow."
"Wild," Wade said. "I mean, what're the odds, huh?"
Rembrandt began to pat himself, running his hands over the sleeves and chest of his coat. "Hey, is that okay? I mean, you think it did somethin' to us?"
Quinn was about to speak, then thought about it. He had been about to say no, then realized he had no idea what effect that could have on them. He pulled the timer out of his pocket to look at the blinking display. The numbers counted down softly. "I don't think so. Timer's still working. We're all here. Anybody feel funny? Headaches or anything?"
The others shared curious glances, then shook their heads.
"Other than extreme hunger," Arturo said, "I feel no ill effects. That's a hint, Mister Brown."
"I gotcha, I gotcha," Rembrandt said. "I can't wait to pile into bed myself."
Quinn patted him on the arm. "Get some rest. Looks like you could use it."
Rembrandt nodded and headed into the Dominion. When Quinn was certain he would make it, he headed back to the cab.
He climbed into the back this time to join Wade and Arturo, who leaned forward towards the driver.
"Pancake Paradise, my good man," Arturo said. "And do not spare the petrol."
"Very well, sir," the driver said. He pulled out into the road, apparently still unaware of his resemblance to Arturo.
* * *
The cab dropped them off at Pancake Paradise, a restaurant shaped like a gingerbread house out of a fairy tale. The delicious aroma of baked goods drifted down the block, bringing a smile to Quinn's face.
Arturo charged up the sidewalk to the door, rubbing his hands together. "Ah, now this is more like it. I believe I shall have an order of Fruity-Nutty Flapjacks. A ridiculous name for a delicious meal."
"I haven't tried that," Wade said.
"Then you, Miss Welles, are in for a treat. They make pancakes filled with a cinnamon-strawberry-almond paste..."
Quinn looked down the street to catch sight of a payphone on the curb. "Perfect. Hey, guys, go on ahead. I'll see if I can call my double on the phone, try to work something out."
"Okay," Wade said. "Want us to order something for you?"
"Uh, yeah," Quinn said, but he wasn't really listening. He headed over to the phone while the others went into the restaurant. The roar of people talking inside grew, then faded as the door shut.
Quinn picked up the phone and slipped a quarter into the slot. He punched in his number, then waited, tapping a finger on the glass booth to try to ease his impatience. After a few rings, there was a click as someone picked up.
"Hello?"
Quinn's breath caught in his chest. It was his own voice. "Is this Quinn Mallory?"
"Yeah," the voice on the phone said. "Who's this?"
Quinn closed his eyes. "Okay, buddy, have I got a story for you."
* * *
The inside of the Paradise buzzed with conversation from crowds that packed every table. Everywhere Wade looked, people were laughing, chatting, and eating pancakes in an incredible variety. Arturo found an empty table for the two of them, and they sat down.
Some menus were tucked into a jar in the center of the table, and Wade skimmed the selection. An older woman in a blue waitress uniform approached the table, drawing out a pad and pencil.
"Welcome to Pancake Paradise," she said. "Can I take your order?"
"Yes, you may, young lady," Arturo said. "I shall have one order of Fruity-Nutty Flapjacks."
"Make it four," Wade said. "One for each of us, and one order to go. And make it fast, we gotta take off real soon."
The woman carefully wrote it down. "You got it. Back in a jiffy."
She headed off through the crowds.
Wade checked her watch. "Oh, man, I hope we have time to eat. I'm starved."
Arturo took a sip of his water. "Likewise, still it does feel good to be able to sit down again, eh?"
Wade leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. "Yeah, no running around. For once, we can just sit back and relax."
* * *
Quinn listened to his double on the phone, then nodded.
"Right. I guess that makes sense. Okay, but you'll probably want to start working on the Grand Unification Theory before you try building a sliding machine. I used it to correct some of my mistakes."
"Got it," his double said.
"Great. Well, thanks, anyway."
"No problem. Just wish we had time to meet face-to-face."
"Ditto." Quinn looked through the scratched glass of the booth at the people wandering the street. "Maybe if I get home, I'll come back."
"Hey, maybe I can get things working on my end and come get you."
Quinn grinned. "Maybe. Thanks again. Bye."
He hung up and sighed. No good. His double in this world hadn't even thought of building a sliding machine, let alone gotten far enough in his research to help Quinn. They had spent their conversation discussing ways they might be able to boost their chances of getting home, but had ended with only a little more information than when Quinn had started. Oh, well.
Maybe next world.
Quinn opened the phone booth and stepped out. He began sifting through his pockets. He hoped he had enough left over from paying for the cab to get breakfast. At least...
He collided with someone walking down the street.
Quinn grabbed the person's collar, stopping him from falling.
"Hey," he started, "sorry, man, I..."
Quinn looked at the man's face. It was like looking in a mirror. The man was another Quinn, glaring at him with annoyance.
"Hey, pal," the other Quinn said. "Watch where you're going, huh?"
Quinn stared at his double, his mind spinning. "How'd you...how'd you get here so fast?"
The second Quinn glared as he brushed down the front of his suit. "What're you talking about?"
Quinn jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the phone booth. "I was just...I was just talking to you."
Quinn2 picked up a briefcase that had fallen out of his hand, and charged past Quinn. "Sorry, buddy, you got me confused with somebody else. I'd love to stay and chat, but
I got a meeting."
Quinn watched his double march off down the sidewalk. His mind spun as he tried to sort things out. He had just spoken with his double in this world on the phone. His
double was home, miles away. But now another Quinn was here.
That wasn't possible. Unless...
"I have two doubles in this world?" Quinn whispered.
"Yeah, whatever. Uh, you notice anything about this guy sittin' next to me?"
Wade jammed an elbow into his ribs, whispering, "Remmy! No!"
Rembrandt shielded himself with a hand, laughing softly.
The driver looked at Arturo in the rear-view mirror. "I can't say I do, sir."
Quinn waved a han
The driver grunted, then turned his eyes back to the road.
Quinn settled back into the leather cushions, then joined Wade and Arturo in glaring at Rembrandt.
"Mister Brown," Arturo whispered, "why on Earth did you do that?"
Rembrandt shrugged. "I was just curious, that's all. Seems a little weird, doesn't even notice that another him is sittin' in the backseat."
"Well, just let it go, Mister Brown," Arturo whispered. "We're not looking for trouble in this world. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better."
Rembrandt looked out his window at the rustic street whisking by. "Right, I gotcha, guys. Keep a low profile. Well, at least we know we ain't home. Unless there was another Arturo runnin' around our world we didn't know about."
The cab pulled up in front of the Dominion Hotel. Quinn, Wade, and Professor Arturo got out with Rembrandt, who was pulling out his wallet.
"Okay," Wade said, "we'll swing by and pick you up in about twenty minutes."
Rembrandt held out a hand. "Wait a minute. While we're all here together, can somebody tell me what happened back in that last world?"
Arturo raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought it was obvious, Mister Brown. Apparently, another group of Sliders entered that world just as we were leaving."
"Well, what was with all the fireworks? Why'd the wormhole go haywire like that?"
Quinn stuck his hands in his pockets, looking out at the city street that was just coming to life with people. "I think the other Sliders opened their wormhole at the exact same spot as ours. The two must've screwed each other up somehow."
"Wild," Wade said. "I mean, what're the odds, huh?"
Rembrandt began to pat himself, running his hands over the sleeves and chest of his coat. "Hey, is that okay? I mean, you think it did somethin' to us?"
Quinn was about to speak, then thought about it. He had been about to say no, then realized he had no idea what effect that could have on them. He pulled the timer out of his pocket to look at the blinking display. The numbers counted down softly. "I don't think so. Timer's still working. We're all here. Anybody feel funny? Headaches or anything?"
The others shared curious glances, then shook their heads.
"Other than extreme hunger," Arturo said, "I feel no ill effects. That's a hint, Mister Brown."
"I gotcha, I gotcha," Rembrandt said. "I can't wait to pile into bed myself."
Quinn patted him on the arm. "Get some rest. Looks like you could use it."
Rembrandt nodded and headed into the Dominion. When Quinn was certain he would make it, he headed back to the cab.
He climbed into the back this time to join Wade and Arturo, who leaned forward towards the driver.
"Pancake Paradise, my good man," Arturo said. "And do not spare the petrol."
"Very well, sir," the driver said. He pulled out into the road, apparently still unaware of his resemblance to Arturo.
* * *
The cab dropped them off at Pancake Paradise, a restaurant shaped like a gingerbread house out of a fairy tale. The delicious aroma of baked goods drifted down the block, bringing a smile to Quinn's face.
Arturo charged up the sidewalk to the door, rubbing his hands together. "Ah, now this is more like it. I believe I shall have an order of Fruity-Nutty Flapjacks. A ridiculous name for a delicious meal."
"I haven't tried that," Wade said.
"Then you, Miss Welles, are in for a treat. They make pancakes filled with a cinnamon-strawberry-almond paste..."
Quinn looked down the street to catch sight of a payphone on the curb. "Perfect. Hey, guys, go on ahead. I'll see if I can call my double on the phone, try to work something out."
"Okay," Wade said. "Want us to order something for you?"
"Uh, yeah," Quinn said, but he wasn't really listening. He headed over to the phone while the others went into the restaurant. The roar of people talking inside grew, then faded as the door shut.
Quinn picked up the phone and slipped a quarter into the slot. He punched in his number, then waited, tapping a finger on the glass booth to try to ease his impatience. After a few rings, there was a click as someone picked up.
"Hello?"
Quinn's breath caught in his chest. It was his own voice. "Is this Quinn Mallory?"
"Yeah," the voice on the phone said. "Who's this?"
Quinn closed his eyes. "Okay, buddy, have I got a story for you."
* * *
The inside of the Paradise buzzed with conversation from crowds that packed every table. Everywhere Wade looked, people were laughing, chatting, and eating pancakes in an incredible variety. Arturo found an empty table for the two of them, and they sat down.
Some menus were tucked into a jar in the center of the table, and Wade skimmed the selection. An older woman in a blue waitress uniform approached the table, drawing out a pad and pencil.
"Welcome to Pancake Paradise," she said. "Can I take your order?"
"Yes, you may, young lady," Arturo said. "I shall have one order of Fruity-Nutty Flapjacks."
"Make it four," Wade said. "One for each of us, and one order to go. And make it fast, we gotta take off real soon."
The woman carefully wrote it down. "You got it. Back in a jiffy."
She headed off through the crowds.
Wade checked her watch. "Oh, man, I hope we have time to eat. I'm starved."
Arturo took a sip of his water. "Likewise, still it does feel good to be able to sit down again, eh?"
Wade leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. "Yeah, no running around. For once, we can just sit back and relax."
* * *
Quinn listened to his double on the phone, then nodded.
"Right. I guess that makes sense. Okay, but you'll probably want to start working on the Grand Unification Theory before you try building a sliding machine. I used it to correct some of my mistakes."
"Got it," his double said.
"Great. Well, thanks, anyway."
"No problem. Just wish we had time to meet face-to-face."
"Ditto." Quinn looked through the scratched glass of the booth at the people wandering the street. "Maybe if I get home, I'll come back."
"Hey, maybe I can get things working on my end and come get you."
Quinn grinned. "Maybe. Thanks again. Bye."
He hung up and sighed. No good. His double in this world hadn't even thought of building a sliding machine, let alone gotten far enough in his research to help Quinn. They had spent their conversation discussing ways they might be able to boost their chances of getting home, but had ended with only a little more information than when Quinn had started. Oh, well.
Maybe next world.
Quinn opened the phone booth and stepped out. He began sifting through his pockets. He hoped he had enough left over from paying for the cab to get breakfast. At least...
He collided with someone walking down the street.
Quinn grabbed the person's collar, stopping him from falling.
"Hey," he started, "sorry, man, I..."
Quinn looked at the man's face. It was like looking in a mirror. The man was another Quinn, glaring at him with annoyance.
"Hey, pal," the other Quinn said. "Watch where you're going, huh?"
Quinn stared at his double, his mind spinning. "How'd you...how'd you get here so fast?"
The second Quinn glared as he brushed down the front of his suit. "What're you talking about?"
Quinn jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the phone booth. "I was just...I was just talking to you."
Quinn2 picked up a briefcase that had fallen out of his hand, and charged past Quinn. "Sorry, buddy, you got me confused with somebody else. I'd love to stay and chat, but
I got a meeting."
Quinn watched his double march off down the sidewalk. His mind spun as he tried to sort things out. He had just spoken with his double in this world on the phone. His
double was home, miles away. But now another Quinn was here.
That wasn't possible. Unless...
"I have two doubles in this world?" Quinn whispered.
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