Illustrated by Lee Kuruganti © 2008
The Disappearance of Polly Adams
© by Rod Hamon
The man stared out the window. The large orange disk of the noonday sun shone an eerie light and although it was mid summer the tops of the trees were covered in a thick layer of snow.
Brandon sat at his desk but his heart was not in the job. Under his outward composure lurked something wounded, something treacherous, something very dangerous.
He looked back to his surroundings: racks of monitors, processors, and control panels then gazed down at the next item on his list, one hundred tons of Pitchblende from parallel universe (eight digit code) to be transferred to this destination in exchange for three thousand vials of Varicella Zoster vaccine.
He entered more data and the transfer between the parallel universes commenced. The exchange commodities were checked to ensure they were of equal value then with a few more keystrokes the transaction was complete.
This major area of commerce developed rapidly after transfer between parallel universes first became possible. The Transfer Department played an important role in world trade but Brandon, now in his thirties, was merely a small time clerk.
He stopped what he was doing, got up and walked across to the window. After a few moments he breathed a deep sigh and returned to his desk. He sat there stone faced, and then with a clenched fist he banged on the desk.
“If you think you’re getting away with this, you’d better think again.”
He glanced at the photo on his desk. It was a photo of him and Mary. Scrawled across it were the words, All My Love, Mary. With a sudden swipe of his hand he knocked it to the floor then reached out with his boot and crushed the broken glass into small pieces.
“No one threatens me and gets away with it!” He shouted.
“Stupid woman…what a walkover she was. Men certainly weren’t clamouring for her affection – that’s for sure. That smell of gin and cigarettes on her breath – turns my stomach just to think of it.”
Brandon was silent for a moment then his anger rose to the surface again.
“After all the things I did for her…ungrateful cow! So what if I did borrow a little money – she had plenty, damn her. Thinks she’s going to ruin me does she – not if I can help it. There’s only one solution; get her out of the way – right out of the way.”
A mans voice boomed from the PA speakers, “Transfer Clerk 351 – Cease inactivity immediately!”
“Sorry Sir,” he muttered gritting his teeth. He began working again but his thoughts were elsewhere.
“If I’d just taken it more slowly I could have had that stupid woman’s money. Then I could’ve told them what they can do with this stinking job.“
Brandon entered data in the computer for the next transfer then adjusted the controls. The words, Transfer Complete, appeared on the screen.
He stopped what he was doing, craned his head forward and peered more closely. He scratched his head. Somehow he’d entered the wrong instructions and yet the computer had accepted it. It’s not infallible after all! He thought. I’ve been operating this equipment for years and have never seen it miss an error. I wonder…? Perhaps I can do it again.
He thought about Mary. “…it might work!”
He recalled her threats to report him to the police then thought about the descriptions he’d heard of the Bauxite Mines and the prison cells on asteroid Juno.
He directed his scanners to Mary’s house. “There she is, the slob – gin bottle never far away!”
A few more keystrokes and he’d adjusted the controls to view her, as she was six hours earlier: in bed asleep.
Hatred swelled up within him as he stared. His eyes glared and his face became red as he was reminded of the loathing he had.
“Going to ruin my life are you?”
He clenched his fist around an imaginary knife conscious of only one solution. He thought about it for a while and then remembered the wild idea he’d had earlier. Was it possible or was this just silliness?
He shuffled things around on his desk trying to give the impression he was working and occasionally looked up at the PA speakers expecting to be told off again. All the while his mind was going over his problem.
It was half an hour later that the idea crystallized itself.
“I don’t need to murder her, I’ll just transfer her brains life-force to… someone else… some random person in a parallel universe…someone back a few years,” he said as he enlarged the screen image of the sleeping woman.
Brandon then reset the controls and flipped arbitrarily to view another parallel universe. He scanned back in time looking for someone he could swap with Mary.
He studied the hundreds of images that came up on his screen and then stopped. He had gone back about a hundred years. The picture on his monitor was that of a man and woman asleep in bed. Blankets prevented him seeing their faces.
He zeroed in on the woman but could only see her long dark shiny hair.
“Ah well, what does it matter who she is as long as it gets Mary out of my life,” he said then pressed a control.
He sat back and ginned.
“Goodbye Mary Baker.”
Then with loathing he spat out the words, “And go to hell.”
***
The early-morning sun filtered through the curtains. Tom quietly slipped out of bed and gazed down at his sleeping wife. Her dark shiny hair spread out across the pillow. She was young and her skin flawless. Tom smiled. He and Polly had been married only a few weeks.
Tom headed for the adjoining kitchen to make coffee, instinctively ducking his head as he passed through the door. A few minutes later, he dropped a cup with a clatter and, hearing movement from the bedroom, called out: ”Sorry, Polly!”
Polly sat up in bed and gazed around the room. “Where am I?”
Tom’s face appeared at the door. “Sorry to wake you, Polly.”
She screamed. ”Who’re you? Where am I?”
“Calm down, Polly. You’ve probably had a bad dream.” He took a step towards her.
“Stay away from me! Whoever you are!”
“But, Polly, it’s me. What’s come over you?”
She pulled the blanket up, so that it almost covered her face. “Go away, I said!”
“I don’t understand. Aren’t you well?”
Shaking her finger at him, she said: “Don’t try anything or I’ll scream the place down. How the devil did I get here?”
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Well, get out!”
He stepped closer. “Polly, it’s me: Tom. What is it?”
“I said: Get out. Don’t you dare come any closer!”
He hesitated, then turned and left the room.
Tom phoned the local surgery and asked to speak to the doctor. “It’s my wife, Polly. She’s acting … very strangely. Doesn’t even recognize me. Seems to have had some sort of breakdown. Can you come straight away? I don’t know what to do.”
***
When the doctor arrived, Tom took him to one side. ”She was okay last night, doctor.”
The doctor nodded, then turned and tapped gently on the bedroom door.
“Who is it?” Polly demanded.
“Relax. I’m a doctor,” he said, as he entered. She was now wearing a dressing gown and sitting in a chair near the window.
The doctor sat down nearby. “What seems to be the trouble? What’s frightened you?”
“It’s this place. I don’t know where I am.”
“But… this is your home. You live here. Don’t you remember?”
“It’s not my home and I’ve definitely never ever been here before. Who was that other man?”
“He’s your husband. Surely you remember him?”
“My husband! Is that who he says he is? Never seen him before. You’d better call the police. That imposter’s probably abducted me.”
“You’ve no recollection of that man?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
The doctor stood up. “Just let me check on something,” he said, and left the room.
Tom, who had been pacing the floor, rushed over as the doctor came out. “How is she, doctor?”
“Tom, I need to clear up a few things. It was you who called me, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Why?”
“And your surname is Adams?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s your wife Polly Adams in there?”
“Yes, of course. I don’t understand.”
“Sorry to ask you this, Tom, but can you prove she’s your wife?”
“Prove it? Of course, I can. Take a look at those wedding photos over there,” he said, pointing.
The doctor walked over and studied the photos, then said: “Fair enough.”
He turned and entered the bedroom again.
The doctor smiled as he sat down. “I can see you’re shaken up by all this, young woman, but we’ll soon have it sorted out.”
Polly gave a puzzled look, but said nothing. Haven’t been called a “young woman” in forty years, she thought.
“First things first. What’s your full name?”
“Mary Baker.”
“Mary Baker?” queried the doctor.
“That’s what I said.”
“But your nickname’s Polly. Right?”
“No!”
“Strange.” He continued: “Anyway, where do you live?”
“In a cottage just outside Taris”
“Taris?”
“That’s right.”
He scratched his head. “And you’ve no idea how you got here?”
Polly’s anxiety turned to anger. “Probably kidnapped by that schizo out there. Look, I just want to go home. Can you leave now, so I can get dressed and get away from this horrible place?”
“But this is your home, and that’s your husband out there. He’s very worried about you.”
She stood up, hands on hips. “Aren’t you listening to me? I haven’t got a husband. I don’t want one and I don’t live here. Got it?”
An image of Brandon came into her mind - such a charmer until she discovered he was stealing her money. Intense anger showed on her face.
“I don’t mind if I never see a man again: they’re rats, every damn one of them.”
Then glaring at the doctor she said, “You’re in on this too aren’t you? You’re not a real doctor at all.”
“I am a doctor and I want to help you.” He sighed deeply then got to his feet. “I’ll leave now and let you get dressed.”
Tom confronted the doctor again as he came out. “How is she?”
“It’s no good, Tom. I can’t get through. She seems to have had some sort of mental seizure.”
Just then, there was a scream from the bedroom. Tom rushed in, followed by the doctor.
Polly was looking at herself in a mirror on the wall. “That’s not me! How can it be! What’s happened? I don’t understand.” With terror on her face, she looked over to the men as they entered then stared again at her image in the mirror. “What’s happened?”
“But, Polly…”
“Stop calling me Polly damn you.”
The doctor took Tom by the arm and led him out of the room. “Tom, I think it best I arrange for a psychiatrist to see her straight away.”
***
Polly protested loudly as she was taken by ambulance to a local mental hospital.
Because of her foul language and her tendency to hit out at anyone who came near her, she was not popular with the nurses. Their refusal to provide her with cigarettes and alcohol angered her even more. A compromise was reached that allowed her to smoke in the atrium.
Tom visited next day and approached timidly clutching a bunch of flowers.
She looked up and, with a volcanic outburst, screamed: “It’s you! You’re the cause of all this. What’ve you done to me?”
“Polly, I …”
Tugging at the restraints attached to her chair, she screamed again. “Just get out of my face, whoever you are!”
The flowers fell to the floor as Tom turned and walked away teary- eyed.
“Mr Adams?”
Tom looked up as a man approached.
“I’m the psychiatrist treating your wife. Come over here and sit down.”
“I … just don’t understand, doctor. What’s happened to her?”
The doctor nodded. “I have to admit: I’ve never come across a case quite like this and can only guess that her behavior’s the result of some form of viral infection of the brain. We’re awaiting the results of tests at the moment.”
The doctor put a comforting hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“You must be patient with her. Wait around, but until the time’s, right keep your distance.”
***
The elderly woman, sitting in the comfortable chair, swept the grey hair from her eyes. Oh, no! Here comes Edgar again; that grin on his face, lips half open. Yuk! He’s dribbling from the side of his mouth.
Polly needed time to think. She’d been interrupted all morning. Why can’t these loonies leave me alone!
“Hullo, Mawy Baker,” said the fat teenager in a monotone.
“I’ve told you: don’t call me that!”
“Sorry, Mawy Baker.”
“You’ve been eating goldfish from the aquarium again, haven’t you?”
“What if I ’ave? I’m allowed.”
“You’re not! Goldfish are for looking at, not eating.”
He stared vacantly, mouth gaping, and then turned to go. “See you later, Mawy Baker.” He waddled off in the direction of the aquarium.
I can’t stand this horrible place. It’s unbearable!
She looked about at the other poor creatures occupying the community lounge. Most just lay back in their chairs, staring. A young man, watching television, every now and then let out a piercing screech. Then, like a chain reaction, the elderly woman sitting next to him started to laugh: uncontrollable laughter. It would usually go on for several minutes.
Polly again tried to think. Just then, the man watching television screamed – this time louder than ever. The old woman in the corner looked over and began chuckling. She started quietly but gradually built to a crescendo of hysteria.
“Shut up!” Polly shouted. “For heaven’s sake! I can’t hear myself think.”
Both turned in her direction. They were angry. The man was about to get to his feet when a nurse appeared.
“Come on, Mary. Calm down now, dear. We must learn to get along with one another, mustn’t we?”
“I don’t want to get along with these … these … people. And I keep telling you, my name’s not Mary. It’s Polly Adams.”
She began to cry and sobbed for a long time. After a while, she calmed down and, closing her eyes, attempted to shut out the images and sounds of the mental hospital. She concentrated, trying to recall that other world; the world where people knew her as Polly Adams.
***
Her thoughts went back to that crucial day, just three months ago. Why? Why? Whatever happened on that day that changed my world?
For a while after it happened, she felt she must be having some sort of nightmare and would eventually wake up.
She still cried, whenever she looked at herself in the mirror. I don’t understand. I’m still a young woman. I’m Polly Adams. I know I am.
With effort, she cast her mind back to her life before that tragic day.
Six months earlier, Tom had come into her life. She could picture his face clearly – vibrant and good looking. They were immediately attracted to one another. It really was love at first sight. They had a beautiful wedding and life with Tom had been better than anything she could ever have imagined.
They had moved into their country home just a few days before the calamity. She remembered they’d been shopping for furniture. It had been an exhausting day, so they went to bed early.
***
When Polly opened her eyes next morning, it was still dark, so she could not make out the time. Although only half awake, she had an uneasy feeling something was wrong. Even on the darkest of nights, there’s usually some glimmer of light.
The sound of a bird lifted her spirits. She heard another, the dawn chorus had begun: the approach of a new day. As the first signs of light filtered through the window, she began to make out the faint outline of the bedroom. The bathroom door seems to be in the wrong place.
The morning light had grown brighter now, but she still could not distinguish things. Something odd going on here, she thought. The sun… it’s so… so orange.
At first, she tried to explain the peculiarity of what she was seeing, but as things became more visible, explanations failed her. She looked over to where Tom should be. It was still too dark to see, so she reached out. “Tom, are you there?” There was silence. She called again: “Tom, where are you?”
The first light from the sun now shone through the window bathing everything in its orange glow. She could see the room clearly now. What is this place and where’s Tom?
Tears came to her eyes.
She sat up in bed and looked around. It was depressingly drab, and articles of clothing were strewn around the floor. She held her hand to her mouth. There’s got to be some explanation. Have I lost my mind or something?
Polly got out of bed and crept slowly to the window but was unprepared for the scene that confronted her. The sun hovered just above the trees. I’ve never seen it so big before…and the color.
She looked down. Everything was covered in a thick layer of snow. The small garden was separated from the road by a white picket fence. The garden had been badly neglected. Beyond the fence, a narrow country road disappeared through a group of pine trees. Mist hung over the ground.
This is ridiculous! Any time now, something will happen to make sense of it all. It’s got to!
She rummaged through a wardrobe and found a drab woolen dressing gown. Polly put it on and cautiously descended the stairs. Her legs ached as she walked.
At the foot of the stairs was a phone. She hurriedly dialed her home number but a computer-generated voice informed her that the number did not exist.
The house was untidy. There were empty gin bottles in waste bins, and the ashtrays were full. As she moved from room to room, she noticed photographs of a woman. Probably the owner of the house. Hope I don’t run into her. How would I explain being here?
Polly was walking along a dark passage leading to the rear of the house when she passed a small bathroom. She took a few more steps, then stopped and looked back. I’m sure I saw something. She hesitated, and cautiously poked her head around the door but the room was empty.
She pulled the dressing gown tightly around her waist. Her skin felt cold, yet she was perspiring. Is there someone else here? She stood listening but could hear nothing.
It was then that she heard the faint rustle of linen. Turning slowly, she looked back along the passage. Standing in the semi darkness, some distance away, was an elderly woman. Polly caught her breath. Thoughts raced through her mind. I’ve never believed in ghosts but …
The elderly woman appeared to be just as startled. It’s the woman in the photos! She’s probably wondering what I’m doing here.
The two stood transfixed, neither uttered a word. Polly felt uneasy and brushed the hair from her eyes. The woman did the same.
Alarmed, Polly put her hand to her face. The woman did the same. Polly screamed. She was looking at herself in a full-length mirror on the wall at the end of the passage.
She reached out to steady herself. After a few moments, she stepped closer. But that’s not me! I don’t look like that! I’m young! She burst into tears again. Tom, darling, what’s happening to me? I’m in someone else’s body. I’m old. She ran from the passage and flopped into a chair, sobbing.
For the first time, she looked down at her hands. They were older, the veins were more prominent and there were blemishes she hadn’t noticed until then. The fingers were thin and scrawny. This can’t be happening, but it’s so real.
Some minutes later, she heard a sound and looked up. It was the front gate opening. She could hear the sound of footsteps on the gravel pathway. Polly went to the window and looked down. A woman wearing a heavy winter coat was approaching.
There was a knock on the front door. Polly wasn’t sure what to do. There was another louder knock. She hesitated, wiped the tears from her eyes, and then went downstairs. She cautiously opened the door but as she did so it swung open propelled by the bitterly cold wind.
The woman facing her was middle-aged. Her nose was red from the cold and a cloud of vapor came from her mouth as she spoke.
“Hello, Mary. How are you?”
Polly simply nodded.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in, it’s cold out here?”
“Oh … sorry, Not quite myself today.“
The woman came in and sat down.
“You’ve been crying.”
“It’s nothing.”
“A drink would be nice – that’s if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Oh, sorry. Help yourself. You know where everything is,” Polly said, without thinking.
The woman got up, walked across to the bar, and poured herself a gin and tonic.
“You’re acting strangely today, Mary. Aren’t you well?” Then raising the gin bottle, she asked: “Want one?”
“I don’t drink,” Polly replied.
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t drink’? You drink like a fish.”
“I’ve … given up.”
“When?” she asked, looking at an empty gin bottle in a nearby waste bin.
“Ah, just recently.”
The puzzled woman sat down. “Given up smoking, too, I suppose,” she said, taking a pack of cigarettes from her handbag.
“Ah, yes.”
“Gone all religious or something, have we?”
Polly didn’t answer.
The woman sipped her drink and began chattering about people Polly didn’t know. Polly just nodded every now and then. The woman asked, “How’s Brandon?”
“Who…oh…yes…he’s OK.”
“You sure you’re alright, Mary?”
She didn’t answer.
“Been up to his usual tricks again has he?”
Polly had no idea who Brandon was or what tricks he got up to so, she just frowned.
Misinterpreting the frown, the woman replied, “Just as I thought. I told you to ditch him – he’ll never change.”
She finished her drink and then left.
Polly sighed. Well, I managed that, but I’m still no closer to understanding what’s going on. What did she call me? Mary, was it? She glanced in the mirror again. Nothing had changed.
The next few hours were spent searching through cupboards, drawers and shelves. She hoped to discover something that would shed light on things, but learned nothing.
Polly sat at a seat near the window and stared out. Everything seems so real and yet so are my memories. I can remember everything I did yesterday. I remember my childhood. She looked at her hands again and realized, for the first time, that her wedding ring had gone. She felt empty inside.
As she gazed out the window, she noticed some buildings just beyond the trees. She bit her lip. Perhaps I should go out and explore. I’ve got to make sense out of all this somehow.
She put on warm winter clothes and then nervously made her way down the road. The rheumatism in her legs reminded her that her body, the one she’d inherited, was old. She looked up at the sun again. So strange I’ve seen it look like that, she thought.
The buildings she had seen from the house were part of a shopping centre. It was busy for a country town. Odd-looking low-slung cars were parked on both sides of the road and the pavements crowded with shoppers. Headlines on a newsstand referred to places and people she’d never heard of.
She walked slowly down the main street, peering at the odd assortment of articles displayed in the shops. Polly paused to look at the display in a women’s clothing shop window. Wouldn’t be seen dead in a terrible thing like that!
It was then that the focus of her eyes changed. In the reflection from the window glass, she could see the image of a man across the street. He was walking away from her. Polly could not quite see his face but was sure she recognized him. She turned. “Tom! Tom! It’s me!” she shouted. But he was too far away.
She attempted to cross the street but was prevented by the stream of sleek looking cars passing noiselessly by. “Come on! Let me through!” But by the time the road had cleared, Tom was out of sight.
She tried to run, but had lost him in the crowd. She looked desperately from side to side. Where could he have gone? Then she caught sight of him, some distance ahead, emerging from a shop.
He had not seen her, and was walking off in the opposite direction. Polly attempted to chase after him but her old legs had lost their ability to run. After fighting her way through the crowds, she eventually caught up. She grabbed his shoulder with her bony hand and said: “Tom, it’s me! I’m so glad I’ve found you, darling!”
The man turned his head and stared at the elderly woman.
“Sorry lady, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”
“But, Tom …” She stopped. It wasn’t Tom after all.
Polly stared in disbelief at the man as he disappeared into the crowd. Wet-eyed, she swung around and hobbled back to the house. On the way, she almost collided with a woman. It was the one who had called on her earlier.
“Mary, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve had enough of this ridiculous charade!” Polly snapped. “Look, whoever you are, just leave me alone!”
Polly reached the house and threw herself onto a couch and howled. I’ve had enough of this … insanity.
Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Polly dabbed her eyes and peered through the window. “It’s that cursed woman again. Leave me alone, can’t you!” She shouted.
“Mary, open up! I’ve got to talk to you.”
Polly opened the door just enough to look through. “What do you want?”
“Mary, you’ve got to see a doctor. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re not well.”
Hiding her face in her hands, Polly sobbed: “I don’t need a doctor. I just want my life back.”
The woman came inside and dialed a number. Fifteen minutes later, a doctor arrived and, after a short conversation with the woman, he came over and sat next to Polly.
“Mary, calm down. Try and explain to me just what’s upsetting you.”
“My name’s not Mary. It’s Polly”
The doctor held her hand. “I’m sure it can’t be nearly as bad as you think.”
“Bad! It’s impossible,” she cried.
“Whatever it is, I’m quite sure we can help you.”
“Can you bring my life back? Can you?”
The doctor tried again. “Just start at the beginning. Tell me when things began to go wrong.”
“That’s not going to help,” she said, looking down at the floor.
“Just give it a try.”
Sobbing between words, she began to tell her story.
The doctor listened in silence. When she finished, the doctor sat for almost a minute before speaking.
“Yes, you have been through a terrible experience, haven’t you? It must be … very frightening for you?”
Polly said nothing.
“I have a specialist colleague of mine. I’m sure he can help.”
“Specialist? What sort of specialist?”
“Well…”
“You think I’m insane, don’t you?”
***
Polly woke early and just lay there thinking about what had become of her. There seemed no hope. Life in this institution was unbearable. She got up, entered the community lounge and sat down.
A nurse entered pushing a drug trolley. “Oh, I didn’t see you there, dear. You’re up early! Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“In that case, why don’t you have a nice bath?”
Polly remained there for a while and then rose to her feet. She entered the bathroom and undressed. The warm water looked inviting. She stepped in but scowled at her image in the mirror. Her skin was pale and wrinkled, her body thin and weak. Tears came to her eyes. My life’s gone. I’ve been so horribly cheated.
Polly sat down in the bath and was laying back, eyes closed, when she heard someone at the door. “Go away! Someone’s in here.”
She looked up. The door handle was slowly turning.
“I said someone’s in here.”
The door opened little by little. It was the woman who always laughed for no reason.
“Go away! Can’t you see I’m having a bath? At least give me some privacy in here, can’t you!”
The old woman entered, a wild look on her face. Behind her was the young man who screamed while watching TV. Polly did her best to cover herself. “Get out! What’s the meaning of this?”
Undeterred, they entered and stood over her. Polly screamed. The young man screamed, too. The old lady started to giggle. The man screamed again. The giggling coming from the old woman built up to raucous laughter.
The young man looked around and then reached for a hair dryer on a nearby shelf, plugged it in and began waving it around.
Polly cried out: “Put that back! It’s dangerous!” Her words seemed to stimulate the old woman’s humor. Her laughter reached fever pitch as the man threw the hair dryer into the air.
Polly knew she must do something but the horror of the situation left her powerless to move. She just watched as, in slow motion, the hair dryer rose into the air. Its upward motion stopped abruptly when the power cord became taut. Still plugged in, the hair dryer descended in spiral motion towards the bath. She watched it follow a slow and purposeful path: a path that would lead to her electrocution and certain death.
She screamed and attempted to lift herself out of the bath water, but was unable to move a muscle. Though this entire event was taking no more than a few seconds, her sense of self-preservation eventually took over. As the hair dryer hurled down towards the water, Polly instinctively reached out with both hands in an attempt to catch it. If she could just grab it or deflect it before it struck the water, she would have a chance.
She reached out …
***
With a spectacular flash, the hair dryer struck the water. Polly’s muscles contracted; then everything went black. Polly then experienced the strange feeling of being catapulted through space.
Is this what death’s like? She thought. Her idea of life after death didn’t seem to gel with what she was experiencing now. She was jolted from side to side and up and down. It was more reminiscent of a journey on a roller coaster than entry into the spiritual realm.
The journey continued on for a time and then, like a train coming to the end of the track, it ended abruptly. Wherever she’d been going, she had now arrived.
Polly opened her eyes. For a while, her vision was blurred. She gazed around.
I’m back in the mental hospital again – at least, it seems like the same place. She was confused by the unfamiliar surroundings.
She squinted, trying to make some sense of things.
A blue haze close by, seeming to move slowly upward, obscured her vision.
What’s that?
She blinked her eyes and things became clearer. A column of smoke spiraled towards the ceiling. “What the devil!” she cried, suddenly realizing it was coming from a cigarette in her hand.
She flicked it away as if it were a large spider then tried to get up but was prevented from doing so by a leather lap-restraint attached to the chair.
Polly tugged at the restraint in panic, desperate to free herself.
It was then that she noticed the figure of a man standing some distance away. As she looked in his direction, he stepped back.
“Tom?” she called hesitantly.
She called again.” Tom, is that you?”
The man approached, cautiously at first then began to run.
“Polly, you’re back!”
***
The body Polly had occupied, the one belonging to Mary, was now dead. Polly had now entered her own body again.
Mary’s self-identity was therefore cast out searching the universe for a new home. The laws of physics require equilibrium but there was a problem: Mary’s body didn’t exist anymore.
***
Brandon’s day had been hectic. He’d just completed numerous transfers between parallel universes including a species of antelope now extinct in his world.
He now sat back and day dreamed. He thought about his latest conquest: a lady in her seventies, and smiled. “If I can just play my cards right…”
He was startled by the voice from the PA Speaker that boomed out louder than ever. “Transfer Clerk 351 – your services are terminated!”
He looked up at the speaker. It wasn’t the usual voice he was hearing – it was the voice of Mary Baker.
Rod is a science fiction and fantasy writer - his stories have appeared in the Bewildering Stories Magazine (USA) – “Clash of the Mutants,” the Twisted Tongue Magazine (UK) – “Split Infinities,” and the Beyond the Rainbow Literary Magazine (Australia) – “The Cinema.”
He studied Applied Physics, has a Bachelor of Science Degree in Environmental Science and studied research into extraterrestrial planets at Australia’s Swinburne University. Rod lives in Adelaide, Australia with his wife and two sons.
His passion is astronomy and he has written non-fiction articles on the subject in a number of science magazines. Articles on extraterrestrial life and the big bang theory have stimulated much interest in astronomical circles.
Rod has also written a book on the early settlement of Australia by Europeans.
2008 by Rod Hamon
