Beyond Imagination - 5. Chapter 4

(Elliot Taylor)

As I wake again, someone begins speaking in my voice.

“Your life is messed up, dude.”

I open my eyes and stare around the now-empty room, but there was no one around.

“Jeff’s probably calling Dave, so he doesn’t get in trouble for being a bad wingman. If Dave is going through what I am, he’s going to be scared shitless hearing Jeff’s voice over the phone. So, we don’t have much time for a conversation without sounding like we belong in an asylum.”

Realizing that the voice is coming from my head, I whisper, “This wasn’t a side-effect last time.”

“Oh dude, you are so not in Kansas anymore based on those memories you shared with me. First off, I’m not some repressed closet case, like a news flash, we’re queer get used to it. Girls can be hot, and so can boys. Second, Marty Mcfly, you are not. As far as I can tell, you did not pull off a Back to the Future, because I can’t remember anything you went through, since I grew up around San Mateo, not San Fernando Valley. Michael is working in Silicon Valley as a programmer for Sun Microsystems. Mom is working as an office manager back home, where Gertie is a senior at San Mateo High and has a boyfriend named Tom. If you were wondering, they met a few of our boyfriends over the years and Michael got me a pack of condoms when I wanted to get rid of the V-card, so it’s not a big deal to them about the whole liking both genders thing. There’s still HIV and AIDS, but no fucking way are there some dystopian concentration camps for people like us. The infected get treatment and genuine care. Sadly though, there’s no cure yet. Racist stuff still happens, but most of those assholes have different focuses. Things probably are different with the arrival of the Tenctonese. Also, Michael Dukakis is president, so don’t worry about some Christian theocrat. Pat Robertson is only selling vitamins and sugar pills like an infomercial on his TV station.”

The voice in my head probably is the version of me from this reality. I can’t believe what he’s telling me, or what I’m learning.

Wondering about E.T., I ask this version of me, “Did we ever meet and save E.T.?”

The voice answers, “No, but your memories make it seem like he’s a good friend. I don’t know what happened to him.”

Nodding, I have just one last question about David, “I know Jeff is alive, so I guess there was no abduction and murder. Is Professor Freeman happy here?”

There is a moment of silence before an answer came, “Alright, let me get this out in front of you. He’s my boyfriend. We met on my first day as a freshman, sort of like you two did. We hid under a tree to avoid the rain, then talked. I found out he was Jeff’s older brother, he was finishing his graduate program, and he was openly gay. We hit it off and stuff happened. We’ve been on and off due to his position, but things got more serious a few months ago after stuff happened during our last split. He’s teaching classes at our university in San Francisco.”

I notice his avoidance of my initial, “So, is he happy?”

“It’s complicated all right, he likes me and I like him, but stuff is just...complicated with how we show it “

Before I could ask any more questions, the door opens to the room and Jeff enters with a wet washcloth.

He walks over to my bed and hands me the washcloth, “You’re up, thank God. All right, I called Dave and he was acting freaky after I told him everything. He wouldn’t speak to me after saying hello and hearing about you being super hungover. He doesn’t give me the silent treatment unless he’s pissed off. I’ll drive your car over to his place, as we planned, and take it for the week before classes, but can you put in a good word with him for me? Maybe ask him, while you wag your tail or whatever you two do over there during the summer break before classes? I need to be on his good side because I want him to co-sign for the new Acura NSX. I felt like I was Maverick from Top Gun flying down the highway when I test-drove that beauty. Please, get him to say yes.”

I nod and did not answer Jeff. Taking my nod as an affirmation, Jeff prepares to leave and adds, “You should probably get a shower and get dressed. We can get some drive-thru on our way to Dave’s place.”

Back in the solitude of my bedroom in this life, I started recalling the concept of time travel by jumping into different bodies from a canceled television series called Quantum Leap. The show got canceled after several broadcasters and organizations demanded it be pulled due to inappropriate material regarding its portrayal of segregation. The FCC ordered it removed from the air due to the concerns raised, but I do remember the episode in question. Overall, it pointed to the unequal treatment of African American from two decades ago from the perspective of an elderly black man, who was inhabited by the protagonist. However, people on TV said it was uncomfortable to watch.

The other me whined, “Oh God, you are from an evil alternate timeline if they would get rid of that show, just because he became a black man in the segregated south. They were idiots, but no one in your world wanted to call them out that their racist attitudes and ideas of “tradition” were wrong. They would have probably lynched Scott Bakula for being in drag if they saw season 2. Maybe the road to hell you lived in was paved by letting some “uncomfortable” people dictate what stuff can be accepted in society and what can’t. Dave and I love science fiction, which, based on your memories, you are fond of for what little remained in your world too. Quantum Leap is still going strong with a fifth season, right now. By the way, Star Trek: Next Generation is also still on the air and a new show is going to premiere next year called Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Dude, when we get to Dave’s place, he’s got a lot of sci-fi on VHS, we got to get your knowledge updated. You may control my motor functions, but don’t have my memories or experiences, while I got all of yours.”

I shiver slightly at being admonished by this version of me. He spoke all the words, I dared not say with a confidence I never thought I could possess. How did this version of me become so open and welcoming?

He laughs at my thoughts, “You can do the same thing, dude. Despite different histories, you’re me at your core. By the way, you are not a great science major, like Dave in either of our lives, barely passing most of those classes. I chose to be a psychology major.”

Before I could ask more questions, in my mind, I heard E.T.’s voice, “Elliot…”

The other me laughs in my head, “Woah, three is a crowd dude. I’m okay with having this version of me as a roommate in my head, he’s a baby bi that needs some exposure. However, Elliot Taylor isn’t a mind slut in any life.”

“Sorry…” E.T apologizes to this version of me

Needing to know more, I press, “E.T. is Professor Freeman with you or is he like me?”

“Like…you…”

With a sigh, the other me adds, “Dave, guess who’s coming to dinner?”

Not understanding the reference, I ignore it and continue, “Can you or Max separate our minds and bodies?”

“Yes…”

Relief came over me since I did not want to cause problems for this version of me, he’s got a good life from what I can tell. The world is more open and no mushroom clouds are exploding everywhere.

Wanting to preserve this ideal version of me, I reactively ask, “How long until you come to get us?”

“Three earth years…”

Oh Boy!

(David Freeman)

Waking up in a strange house and room, I knew we had not traveled back in time as I had hoped. After vomiting from a wave of nausea and cleaning the mess on the hardwood bedroom floor, I assess the place. There was a picture of me and Elliot on the bedside table. We were nude on the beach with our bodies in a sexual position. My body with exposed ass cheeks was covering his naked torso and our lips were locked, but our genitals and penises were hidden. It was a scandalous and unthinkable thing to do without major repercussions. Beaches like these did not exist any longer as far as I knew. One of the most notorious examples of these beaches, found on Fire Island, due to its connections with gay male culture and the 1971 film Boys in the Sand, was converted into a luxury housing development by Trump Holdings. I had dreamed of having that kind of experience after secretly sneaking into one of the late-night showings of the movie before Jeff’s death, but it was all idyll thoughts and daydreams. This picture was neither a memory nor a life I actually lived.

I still had access to my universal encyclopedic knowledge, so I consider the possibilities of what happened. A small probability existed that creating so many temporary singularities was producing a hole into the fabric of reality itself, creating a temporary connection with another universe via a white hole connection. Not merely a parallel timeline like the ones we experienced as children, but something far more expansive, where matter and energy exist in parallel to the one we exist in. If that is true, then I am inhabiting the body of my parallel self, which means that my consciousness left my physical body during the transition. Technically, traversing universes should be impossible, due to the laws of physics, where matter cannot be created or destroyed. However, the energy of which consciousness and special technologies possessed by various species can allow intra-universal travel through energy-to-matter reconstitution. Some species through their evolutionary progression are also able to do this biologically without the aid of technology, such as E.T.’s species.

As I am getting my bearings of my new home, a phone was ringing from an area I assumed was the living room due to the presence of a sofa and armchair.

I answer it in my usual matter-of-fact voice, “Hello, David Freeman speaking.”

I’m in complete shock hearing the voice of Jeff on the other end, “Hey Dave, like I messed up last night. I spent the entire night with Sarah and Elliot got drunk. I mean he’s only hungover, no one took advantage of him or anything. I know he shouldn’t be drinking with all the baggage from that person who is not to be named,” Jeff pauses for a few uncomfortable seconds which made me wonder what that meant and a primal protective instinct took over, “I know I should’ve kept an eye on him, please forgive me…”

Hearing those words, I picked up a few things about my life. If Jeff is alive, then he would be around 22 years old right now and a senior in college. Jeff is familiar with Elliot, who by the sounds of it and the pictures on my bedside is my lover. In this universe, Elliot appears to have had some traumatic experiences and may have an alcohol consumption issue. None of this resonates with the world I am used to or the society that I grew up in. That means this reality is completely different from the one I knew.

At some point without me answering Jeff, he pleads, “Dave, I’m sorry for putting all of this on your plate. I know he’s your boyfriend and I love him too. We both know how much alcohol can hurt people with the accident that killed Mom and Dad.”

With those words, my mind begins to spin, and a wave of new nausea rise in me. My parents were dead in this parallel universe, while Jeff and I lived. What kind of cosmic game of musical chairs is this? If my brother lives, then we must lose both our parents. If there was god, I would damn him right now for playing such games.

More moments of silence pass by, before Jeff asks, “Should I still bring Elliot over?”

I answer this question, knowing Elliot may be trapped in the same circumstances as me, “Yes.”

Jeff hangs up.