It’s a Brave New World Ch. 05

Abby headed to her dresser and began to pull out a bathrobe for the showers. I wondered if there were a way I could get my hands on some clean clothes. I was getting really tired of reusing the same blue jeans and t-shirt. Good chance they were soon going to get very ripe.

"Thank you, Jason," said Abby as she dressed. She gave me a fragile smile and added, "Don't worry, this will be good for us both."

I really hoped she was right.

****

'How the hell did anyone ever find anything before Google?' I thought irritably as I loaded another microfilm spool into the viewer. After nearly two hours of searching through the library archives, I was becoming a pro at loading the cylinder into what I considered an archaic device.

And what did I have to show for all my squinting at the nearly illegible newspaper text? Nada, zilch, nothing. I had been hunching for far too long and I was beginning to pay for it with a dull pain in my neck. I leaned back in the chair and stretched out my arms behind my head until I felt a faint pop in my back. Rolling my shoulders I worked the kink out of my neck.

Feeling better I stretched and looked about the library's archive room. I was alone in the room filled with case after case of archived newspapers. On a mid-morning Sunday on my Earth, the library would be relatively empty. A quick check out the open door to the stacks beyond let me know it was the same here. Earlier when I checked into the archives, the sleepy-eyed library assistant barely glanced at my student ID. But I would have to be careful how often I used my identification. If Mr. Sleepy had paid attention, he would have seen my ID bore only a superficial resemblance to this world's version.

Abby had been right, we needed some time apart. It was likely the only way either one of us would be able to get any work done. I had spent my first half hour having a private little freak out session. Up at the top floor of the library, as far as I could get from anyone else, I broke down and started shaking badly. Lying crumbled in a heap between the stacks of dry research books, I finally let the enormity of my situation hit me. In the end, it did not do much for my overall situation, but it did give me the resolve to start figuring out the mystery my life had become.

First I went through the student directory and confirmed there was not another version of me on campus. I was the only Jason Hightman here. This did not rule out that there might be another version of me elsewhere in this world. But if Abby were correct and my dad was from this universe, then I was truly one of a kind.

My father, David Hightman. I had never thought there was anything odd or strange about my dad. He was an accountant, played in a softball league, took my mom out dancing once a month. That he could be anything other than the man I knew was so discordant in my mind I had rejected the idea when I squatted down before the microfilm viewer. But as I sat there I began to reconcile several small oddities about my father.

He did not have any family. My parents had told me he had lost his mother and father when he was younger. But they gave no details and Dad rarely talked about them. But he also never spoke of anyone else, no uncles or aunts, cousins, or childhood friends. Nor did he have any pictures of himself growing up. No memorabilia or keepsakes from his childhood. On their own these fact did not mean much but taken together with his emailed confession, I began to see my dad in a whole new light.

My mom, on the other hand, had tons of family. Her parents, her sister, and brother, and all my cousins. So I was confident she was not another dimension hopping traveler. Was she aware of where my father had come from? I could not say for sure. I had seen photos of them going to the University of Wisconsin. According to both my parents they had met on campus and then gotten married after they had graduated.

I remembered pictures of my parents together at college. This was as far back as I could track my dad. I was running on the theory he had gone through something very similar to my experience yesterday. Waking up in what he thought was his dorm room, slowly grasping that there was something very strange going on and then finally understanding it was you and not the world that was wrong.

At some point he must have run into my mother. Had it been the same for them as me and Abby? A brief flash of my dad, college-aged and naked, screwing my mother entered my imagination before I forcefully shoved the thought away. I needed that graphic image stuck in my brain like I needed a blow to the head. But it did raise an interesting question. How would a man from this universe interact with an unchanged woman from mine? Women on my Earth did not go into heat. They would not react to the man's pheromones. What a strange world it would be for my father.

If all this true, and I was beginning to think it likely, then Abby was right about me. I was a sort of genetic crossbred, a combination of my mother's unaffected genes with my father's altered DNA. Abby was really bothered by her theory. After breakfast, she had grown increasingly worried that I would cause her to stay in heat, permanently.

I really liked Abby, at least I thought I did. We had only been together for just over a day and yet Abby had said she loved me. But she now worried that our supposed great chemistry together was just that...chemicals. It was nothing but an illusion created by our mutual lust and hormones.

Pushing thoughts about Abby and our strange relationship aside, I refocused on the old newsprint displayed on the microfilm reader's screen. The headline of the Wisconsin State Journal was from 1990, the year my parents met. My hope, albeit a remote one, was that there was a story about my dad's disappearance from this Earth. So far, I had found nothing. No information on David Hightman anywhere. But then again, I could not afford any assumptions, David Hightman might not be my father's real name.

Dad had said 'They' found him. If he were in hiding, then it would be natural for him to change his identity. Who was 'They'? Was this mystery group responsible for our shared universe swapping? Initially, I had considered my arrival in this parallel universe to be some sort of cosmic accident. Now I had to treat my arrival here as something deliberate and orchestrated. Having the ability to jump between worlds would make this 'They' very powerful, and very dangerous.

"Hey! Jason!" called out a friendly voice from behind me. So lost in thought the interruption nearly had me jumping out of my chair. Startled, I abruptly twisted around to see a familiar bob of straw colored hair come into view.

I blinked in surprise as Cindy walked up and pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to me. She was again wearing a sweater, a pale sky blue number which hugged every curve of her ample chest. But instead of the tight white slacks she had worn before, she now had a long pleated dark blue skirt hugging the length of her shapely legs. Leaning forward she put her elbow on my desk and rested her chin in the palm of her open hand. With a sunny smile on her face, she asked, "How do you like it here, Jason?"

Taken aback by her question I stumbled out a reply, "Umm...what do you mean?"

"The university, how do you like it?" came Cindy's answer. "I mean I figure you're looking to start here and you're trying to get the lay of the land." She lightly scratched her cheek with a red painted nail as she waited for my answer.

I remained frozen in my seat as Cindy's intended meaning of her question finally unjammed my brain. Figuring it was still safest to keep up my act as a friend of Abby's from out of town, I decided to go along with Cindy's assumption. "Yeah, basically. I'm seriously thinking about starting classes here next semester." I lied as flawlessly as I could.

Leaning back Cindy studied me speculatively. Like yesterday, she looked me closely over. But this time her playful smirk was gone and I got the distinct impression of being clinically examined by the blond. It was a little unnerving.

Reaching some sort of decision, Cindy shrugged and then relaxed into her chair. "Sooo," she drawled with an air of innocence. "You and Abby. How are you two kids doing?"

Still trying to recover from Cindy's first question I answered with a lame reply. "Fine...I guess."

Cindy spoke casually, "I mean, you two seem to do well in bed," and she gave me a knowing smile. "But you guys can't spend all your time there. You plan to keep seeing each other after her time of the month?"

I was not sure where Cindy was going with her questioning. Truthfully, I did not know where my and Abby's relationship stood and I was reluctant to tell Cindy. "We're just...going to see how it goes, I suppose."

The frown which pushed Cindy's smile off her face let me know my answer was not what she wanted to hear. With a soft sigh and a tiny shake of her head she asked, "Wanna get something to eat?"

It was past noon and I was beginning to feel a little hungry. But looking back at the pile of microfilm I still needed to search through my first thought was to say "no." However, one look at Cindy's face said it all, she was not going to take any answer other than "yes".

"Alright, fine," I said with a huff and stood up at the same time as Cindy jumped up from her chair.

"Excellent," came the blond's reply as she grabbed my arm and began to lead me out of the archive room. Resignedly I let myself be carried along. For the first few minutes we walked silently through the rows of books and periodicals. In the still empty library, the only sound was the squeak of our shoes on the newly waxed floor.

When we moved into the stairwell and began to work our way down, I took the opportunity to move in close to Cindy. With this world's men and women producing all types of pheromones, I was curious as to how we would react to each other. All kinds of amazing things happened when Abby and I got close, and last night I was pretty sure Mandy Persaud started to respond to me as well. But leaning close to the shorter sandy-haired woman did not cause anything to happen other than getting a very odd look from Cindy.

"Problem, Jason?" she asked pointedly.

I mumbled out an apology as I moved away. "Oh, nothing, sorry." I guessed it was not Cindy's time of the month. It appeared I could not drive a woman into heat. So much for me being an irresistible sexual magnet to every lady I ran into.

"You're an odd one," said Cindy with a toss of her head.

I could not help but laugh at her comment. "You've got no idea." Cindy did not respond, but as we exited to the ground floor I caught her giving me another peculiar stare. Abby seemed to trust Cindy a great deal, they were close friends. The irrepressible Cindy seemed to naturally strong arm anyone into getting her way and I began to wonder if I should not share my secret with her. Cindy might be able to truly help me.

Upon exiting the Library, we both noticed a growing crowd in the nearby commons. A minor rise of the ground spaced between two old oak trees provided a natural little stage. It was not unusual in my version of the university, or apparently here, for students to congregate for any number of activities. Cindy's interest was immediately piqued and we headed towards the group.

Approaching the circle of students I got my next shock of the day. Becky Walsworth stood in the center of the crowd. Of course, she was not the Becky Walsworth from my world, but she looked exactly like the beauty from mine. I was beginning to wonder if I ever was going to get used to running into these doppelgangers - most likely not.

My world's Becky Walsworth was one of those women with all the classic good looks. Face like an angel, beautiful natural honey blond hair. Easily could be a model with her Grace Kelly like body. Dated and then dropped our school's quarterback, with the running rumor she was now seeing one of her professors. She was in the Journalism program and she was already being courted by several nearby cities for their local news programs. But their interest had little do with her journalist skills and a lot more to do with her bra size. And just prior to my universe shifting I had run into her at a party and made a complete fool of myself attempting to ask her out.

Behind this version of Becky hung a large sign labeled M.H.S. Below the giant letters the words "Management of Health & Sexuality" were written out in a smaller font. I remembered both Abby and Cindy mentioning this MHS in passing before and neither woman seemed to care for the organization. But I did not really understand who or what MHS was supposed to represent and honestly had not given it much thought. Coming to a stop among the group of students watching Becky I was intrigued to know what they were actually about.

Becky's light musical voice drifted in from where she stood "We're starting a new campaign today aimed at promoting healthy and responsible relationships on campus. A return to our better days, ones of stability and safety. Today's world has become overrun with the casual hookup, brief affairs of our collective hormones as we constantly search for a better bond-mate."

Next to me, under her breath, Cindy growled, "Oh, spare me the self-righteous bullshit..." I was a bit taken back by Cindy's vehemence, I watched as her sunny disposition was rapidly evaporating away. A quick look at the gathering told me a few other students shared Cindy's opinion. Listening to Becky speak I was getting the impression the MHS was some type of conservative social movement. And it was not too hard to guess how Cindy felt about them.

Turning back to Becky I focused on the blond in an attempt to make some sense out of what she was talking about. "...The M.H.S. continues its tireless efforts to educate both young men and women the dangers of using the chemical agent called Restriceral. It is damaging to both a woman's body and society at large..."

"You've got to be kidding me!" yelled Cindy as she forcefully interrupted Becky.

The crowd immediately turned from their focus on Becky and her people to the angry agitator. I was uncomfortably close to ground zero next to Cindy and completely at a loss for what to do. I was nowhere near understanding the argument Cindy was getting into. I had only heard Abby mention Restriceral once before, I assume it was some sort of birth control. Now Cindy's darkened mood seemed ready to launch into a full-blown fight.

"How many times," shouted Cindy, "has that line of bullshit about Restriceral being dangerous been debunked. And you guys keep running the bald faced lie in hopes somehow it will turn true."

Becky had at first been thrown off by Cindy interruption, but she quickly recovered. "I see," she said icily, "we have a paid representative from the pharmaceutical companies here today."

"You wish," snorted Cindy. "People like you claim to be trying to help, but the fact is you're the ones making all the problems worse by your constant attacks on any type of change. Clinging to a world that doesn't exist anymore."

While I might not be the most perceptive of people and my grasp of this topic was tenuous at best, looking at the assembled students I guessed most women in the crowd agreed with Cindy. The men seemed harder to tie down if they concurred or not. I wondered how Becky had gotten herself tied to this group. At least on campus they did not seem like they were an overly successful club.

But Becky was undeterred from Cindy's attack, she straightened her shoulders and smiled a thin ungracious smirk. It looked so wrong on her beautiful face. "So you say, but there are some of us who see more to life that pointless fornication."

"Oh, why don't you just call me a whore and be done with it," snapped Cindy. This provoked a jolt of laughter from the members of the crowd. Although it was impossible for me to tell if the laughter was for or against Cindy.

"Your words, not mine," said Becky with a sniff. She turned away from Cindy, back to the rest of the students. It clear sign she was done with Cindy's interruption. Becky immediately launched back into her original spiel. But it seemed that the damage had been done. More than a few people began to drift away, unconvinced by the attractive spokeswoman of the M.H.S.

"Come on, let's go Jason," said Cindy with an irritable sigh. She did not wait for me to answer, but spun on her heels and began to stalk away. I glanced one more time at Becky, who was valiantly trying to recover her earlier momentum. 'What a mad world I'm in,' I thought to myself and ran after Cindy.

I caught up to Cindy as she made it back to the sidewalk. We walked along in silence for awhile. As we neared the parking lot with Cindy's car, the light haired blond let out another sigh. This breath a puff of air to relieve all that frustration and stress. As Cindy's shoulders slumped, she turned to me and offered me a cheerless little smile. "Sorry about that," she offered. "I don't usually care what people want to get up and blather about, but those M.H.S assholes really get under my skin."

"Cindy, you looked like you were about ready to throw down with her," I replied, decided to keep my knowledge of Becky's name to myself.

Cindy smile became more cordial, growing closer to its original. "Give me some credit, Jason. I might be pig-headed, but I'm not stupid. You know how deep the M.H.S. pockets go and how they love to sue."

"Um...yeah..." I dodged, not knowing this fact at all.

In the parking lot, we maneuvered around an assortment of cars and trucks which bore little resemblance to vehicles in my world. In this reality Toyota apparently went out of business in Japan and Ford and Studebaker ended up merging. It made for some truly strange looking automobiles. Walking up to her battered car, which to me looked like an elongated version of a Ford Fiesta, Cindy paused and asked, "I mean, what do you think of M.H.S?"

Coming around to the passenger side I answered truthfully. "From what I've seen they have a lovely face and not a whole lot to say. And I might be wrong, but I think most people in the crowd agreed with you."

Cindy liked my response for she flashed me a sly grin. Opening her door, she said, "Thank you, Jason. I needed to hear that. Let's get something to eat. My treat."