The Fugitives
Life Among the Three Dimensionals, Chapter 5
It had been a difficult week. I remained cloistered inside my house and tried to make contact with my project controllers.
Report 3
Necessary to pause study program. Recuperation "at home" required to revitalize schrΰmp'schtǻcks to prevent them from totally ee'ălifying, ergo, drop off in reports.
Have experienced major shock while "teaching" elementary school. Something has gone very wrong! Full report to follow upon extraction from Pioneer project.
Still require delivery of replacement Drůkk' ąou location buttons. Situation deteriorating. Have had no response to prior requests! RSVP urgent!!
Also, advise re status of triploid, please? Please send buttons and triploid ASAP. Or, if extraction imminent (please!!!) do NOT send triploid.
Signed/Ugoñaschßtenätraξo aka H. Nash.
I was getting worried.
I had received no responses, no further instructions, no anything from Pioneer Command since I had been inserted onto this planet Earth in this 3D slice of the Multiverse. It was beginning to dawn on me that if I had lost my Drůkk' ąou location buttons, then how would my controllers know where to send the replacements for me to sew on?
My despair also increased as my internal gas pressures began to rise due to the flood of radiation and electro-magnetic pulses that the locals emit unremittingly into their environment. It was both intoxicating and degenerative. I was becoming sensually engorged with this planet's pollutants; that is, the environmental toxins that adversely affected the bio-organic three dimensionals affected me, a gaseous five dimensional, like a cat set loose in a field of catnip.
The elementary school administrators had called and asked me to "substitute teach" again. They told me that my students all thought I was a very good teacher.. even though none of them could remember anything that I had taught them. I declined the invitation to teach again, however. I said I was ill, that “flu bugs” had flown up my nose, and I could not do it.
I was, indeed, feeling ill.
How could my backpack in the 4th dimension be visible to anyone on this planet other than me? It wasn't possible!
Worse, my assumed Earth-identity was beginning to upset my well-ordered gaso-plasmatic life. It began to dawn on me that Hugo Nash had not actually received party invitations, as I had first believed. I now understood that Hugo Nash was in some type of very serious "legal" trouble and he was a "party" to litigation. And that meant that I could be in very serious trouble.
A man wearing a blue uniform had pushed many threatening letters through a slot in the front door. I piled them up on the living room sofa along with the other documents. I did not understand what they wanted, but some of these documents threatened that I would soon be "sued" for non-payment of certain money or that I was now unlawfully occupying my house which would be sold at "auction." One document was from someone who said he was a lawyer representing my ex-wife and that I was "seriously in arrears" on my support payments (supporting exactly who or what was unclear!). Another document stated that I had to appear in a downtown courtyard for failing to show up for another appointment regarding my - or, rather, the original Hugo Nash's - “driving while under the influence." Whose influence had Hugo Nash been under? Had Pioneer Central substituted me for an undercover agent for another agency's covert mission?. It seemed like everyone on Planet Earth was "undercover" doing something covert. Everyone seemed to be under the influence of someone else.
Just two nights ago, someone had tried to steal Hugo Nash's terra-rover in the early morning hours by breaking into it, quietly starting the engine with jumper cables and driving it away. Of course, I do not sleep so I felt the anxious impulses emitted by the ignition battery at around 0245 in the morning. When I went to the window and saw what was happening, I quickly counter-pulsed at 30,000 Herz, which sucked the energy out of the car's alternator... and, for better or for worse, also wiped the bio-electrics of the man who was trying to take the car. I was sure he would eventually recover, although he might have suffered a considerable hang-over, as the natives call it.
The day after that, a uniformed woman drove up in a three-wheeled vehicle and put more tickets on the windshield underneath the paper clips. Perhaps she did this to help me warn off others from stealing Hugo Nash's terra-rover? I wasn't at all sure, so I left the tickets where they were under the paper clips.
And then there was Szofia...
Szofia was the elementary school 6th grader who had seen my 4D back pack in the school on Monday.
Szofia stormed out of the classroom leaving me mumbling and giggling. Her last words to me were a threat! She snarled, "I'll talk to you later," and then she slammed the door behind her! She sent me a text message, or rather, she sent Hugo Nash a text message, announcing that she was coming to my house, his house, Friday morning. THIS FRIDAY MORNING!!
But by 2 o'clock in the afternoon Szofia had not appeared.
Which was fine by me. I concluded that this Szofia was not coming after all. I curled up on the living room floor in full ruminative posture dreaming of immediate extraction from this frightening and perplexing world. I had just about forgotten about her when at 2.15 pm someone rapped loudly on the front door.
“Who is it?”
I remained curled up defensively on the floor.
“Who are you expecting, dummy, the Easter Bunny? It's Szofia! Open the door, dammit!”
She banged again on the door.
I uncurled, got up and opened the door just a crack...
... I peeked...
Yes, it was her, the small sixth-grader. She was still wearing the same dark hooded sweatshirt and green sunglasses...
Before I could say anything, she shouldered open the door and it smashed against the jamb. She barged right past me, almost knocking me over!
She stomped through the entire house, kicking doors open, peering into closets and looking behind the furniture as she frequently stared back at me.
“Does anyone else live here?" She demanded. “On second thought... nobody would want to live here! Mister, you are SUCH A SLOB!” she stated after reconnoitering the living room. “And why is it so damned dark in here?” She pulled off her sunglasses and lifted the blinds to let in the sunlight.
“You said you would come before noon,” I whimpered.
“So I'm late. What about it?”
Szofia peered inside the drawers and rummaged through the pantry. Then she strode into the sunlight now streaming in through a window and sat down on the sofa. She glowered at me.
“Shouldn't you still be in school?” I asked sheepishly. “Do your parents know you are here? This is all very irregular, I think.”
She stared at me for half a minute without answering. “To answer your questions: Yes. No. Yes. Is this all very irregular, Mr. Nash? ... Well, you're very irregular, too, aren't you? So what about it, Miiiiister Naaash?”
Her green eyes bore into mine. She stared silently at me waiting for me to answer. I didn't, of course. What could I say? What is it about "it" that I was supposed to talk about? What could I possibly tell her that I was permitted to tell her? Or that would make any sense?
“I'm going to get right to the point,” she finally said as she picked up, examined and tossed away pieces of mail lying on the sofa. “If you're not from someplace else, THEN WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? C'mon, out with it! I know you're wearing a back pack in the 4th dimension, and, obviously, you know it, too, because I can see the tubes that connect you to it. So who the fuck are you? What are you doing here? Were you sent by the MAIN BRANCH? IF YOU WERE, YOU NEED TO KNOW THAT I'M CARRYING, PUNK! I'VE GOT A BOTTLE OF HERBICIDE IN MY POCKET, SO KEEP YOUR DISTANCE OR YOU'RE GONNA BE WEEDED!”
She kept one hand deep in a sweatshirt pocket while she scrutinized me.
I quickly analyzed the situation. This Szofia kid could be crazy. She could be, but she had clearly seen my back-pack, and that was not an indication of insanity, because it was there to be seen.... IF you had four-dimensionality.
But this was not possible... unless she, Szofia, too -- like me! -- did not belong to the local 3D quasi-intelligent fauna! But who was she, then? I was the only Pioneer here.... wasn't I? I had not been trained for this! What should I do?
I did not know what to say so I decided to tell the truth. If she was crazy, no one else would ever believe what I would tell her. And if she was not crazy, well, then... I would have to find out!
I spoke to her with all the gaseous dignity that I could muster under the circumstances: “Alright then, hear this: I am Ugoñaschßtenätraξo. I am a Five Dimensional Intelligent Plasma, a gaseous intelligent. I am here in the alias of Hugo Nash, the real version of whom is temporarily chilling in the mezzanine between local universes. I am a Pioneer inserted here to do research on the local quasi-intelligent life forms. I have lost my Drůkk' ąou location buttons, so I seem to be... at least temporarily... at least, I hope, only temporarily... stuck here!" I literally choked up as the gravity of my situation sank in as I said it.
I paused to let the shock of my disclosure sink in.
But, surprisingly, Szofia showed no shock at all.
In fact, her face registered nothing. Her green eyes bore unblinkingly into me.
But then she suddenly yanked out a pump bottle of Round Up, a tattooed finger on the applicator, and pointed it right at my nose. I blinked uncomprehendingly and did nothing... which is what comes naturally to all intelligent gaseous lifeforms under stress.
“Well, you're pretty pimping cool for a Brancher,” she finally said after a minute. If you were a Brancher, you'd have dropped all your leaves by now.” She carefully re-pocketed the aerosol herbicide. "And as for having lost a couple of your whatever buttons, I understand - you do seem to have seriously lost a whole lot of buttons, dude!"
I replied indignantly! “I am not a "dude" or a "Brancher," whoever or whatever those are... Now, Ms. Szofia", I demanded: "WHO ARE YOU?”
“I'm a Vegan. Four dimensional. I'm on the run.”
“You only eat vegetarian food?” I asked.
She literally screamed at me. “EAT VEGETABLES? Gross! Utterly barbaric! I don't EAT vegetables, you freak! I AM a vegetable. Oh, Never mind. I'll explain later,” she said.
She pointed at my life support podule. “What does the back-pack connect to other than you? I see pipes that connect it to your body, but there are other external pipes that seem to terminate in nothing. What's with them?”
“The 4D pack pack connects to my 5D telemetry unit for communicating with Pioneer Central Command,” I explained. “You cannot perceive the fifth dimension?”
Szofia looked me up and down like a shirt on a clothes rack. “5D, eh?” she said. “Cool. Yeah, that's cool, Hugh. Well, sort of cool, anyway. No, I'm a 4D, I told you that, but you clearly weren't paying attention, Mister Nash!
“You know, I've met a lot of stupid two dimensional Flatties in my lifetime, not to mention the native 3D life forms around here. And I've always thought there could be higher dimensional life forms as well. But I've never actually met a 5D before... that is, assuming you are what you say you are, Mr. Huge. I mean, sure, you could be five dimensional, that kinder makes sense; maybe I could buy that. But why anybody would want to study the stupids in this world... I mean, really, Hugh, you don't really expect anyone to believe that ridiculous story, do you?”
I felt offended. I huffed, “My name's Hugo, thank you.”
“Well, you're "Hugh," now. 'Hugo' is too ridiculous. Like Szofia.”
“Like what?” I could barely follow what this girl was talking about.
“Never mind,” she answered. “We'll get around to that when we get around to it. I need a drink.”
The girl went into the kitchen and thoroughly examined the plants on the counter by rubbing several leaves between her fingers. Then she took out a glass from the pantry, flicked off a cockroach and filled the glass with rust-colored tap water. She stuck her tattooed fingers into the water. “Ahhhh...”
“Ms. Szofia,” I said as she twirled her fingers in the water glass. “So what exactly are you doing here?”
“Here? Why, I'm checking you out! Isn't that obvious?"
“No, I mean, what are you doing here on this Earth planetoid?” I was having as much difficulty communicating with this 4D life form as I had with the 3D life forms. I rubbed my chin. “Ms. Szofia, I told you what I am doing here. I'm a scholar doing field research. Why are you here? And why can't I see anything in the 4th dimension if you are supposed to be a 4D?”
“First. Don't call me 'Mizz,' dude. It's Szofia… or ‘Your Highness’… or nothing, got it? And in case you really want to know, I'm hiding, that's what I'm doing.
"Hiding from…
“… seriously hiding…
"… And that's why I needed to check you out. When I saw you had more than the local dimensions, I first thought that you were a bounty hunter. But you're either more clever than you appear to be... and to be perfectly frank, Hubert, you don't appear to be that clever... or you've got to be the clumsiest, dumbest bounty hunter I've ever encountered, no offense intended, Hugh.
"And as for what you can't see in 4D, Hughby-baby, what kind of camouflage do think it would be if I traipsed around LIKE YOU carrying a fourth dimension load on my back so any bounty hunter could pick me out like a flaming pink carrot! So I siphoned my 4D into 3D. But I can yank it back and forth, you know what I mean? It just leaves a dot as an anchor, a singularity, in 1-2-3 or in 4, got it?” She screwed up her eyes and scrutinized me. “Now don't tell me you don't do inter-dimensional siphons?”
I was mystified. “A pink what? A siphon???”
“Never mind,” Szofia said, exasperated. “You talk and act like you were just born yesterday, Hughbeedoobee.”
“Well, I was, indeed ‘born,’ more or less, just yesterday. But what about your parents?” I asked.
“My what? Parents? What about 'em?” Szofia walked around casually inspecting the house, kicking at the laundry scattered on the floor. She carried the glass of water while her fingers were still in it. The water glass was now 3/4 empty.
“Don't your parents notice that you are missing school, that you are not at home... that you are a... a Vegan from... ?”
“They don't notice anything, Hughy baby.” Szofia kicked over a pile of old magazines in the living room. “See, Hughie, they're adopted. I mean, my parents are adopted - I adopted them as part of my cover. Get it? They've got so many screaming kids in that household they don't even know who they're related to. There must be eight or nine of them, or maybe a couple of dozen. Damned if I know, and neither do they. Really nice people, but pretty clueless, you know what I mean, Hughbie? I just walked in the door one day and made myself at home. In the beginning, they must have thought I was one of their kids' friends. And then I came by more and more often. And, you know, like, one day, there I am – part of the household. Like I told you: these 3D stupids are clueless, totally clueless.”
Szofia refilled her glass of water and stuck her fingers in it again. “Jeez, it's like a zoo in that place! A bunch of animals screaming and hollering all the time. People running around at all hours of the day and night. Nobody even notices that I don't eat there with them, don't sleep there, and that I like to walk around barefoot at night in the garden and stick my roots in the dirt. So, no, they don't know when I'm around, let alone that they let a 4D Vegan crash at their home. Or whether I cut class or not. Or that I'm really 78,238 human years old. Hah! That’s so funny: you look like a mature, adult human whack-job - kinda weird looking, you know, but, more or less human - but you were actually born just yesterday, Hugebert; and I look like I’m twelve and I’m really 78,238 years old. So, so funnnnny! Hah!”
"Every few years over the past many centuries, I've had to move on, find a new hang-out, adopt another persona, another identity. I've gotten around, Hughbidoo, let me tell you! When you're on the run, mister, you gotta keep running, you got it?”
Szofia swished her fingers around the glass spilling some of the water on the floor.
“Hughtoo, let me tell you.” She continued. “When I budded off the stem, my adoptive parents' great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents were still hunting bison with sharp sticks and scratching red ocher drawings on cave walls. Ha ha! I've been holed up on this cesspool planet for multiple millennia, always hanging with the really cool folks like pirates and bandits and renegades and stuff. No offense, Hughgo, but you may be the exception, you know what I mean?
"Anyway. My school teachers totally misunderstood when I said I was 'bored' with Attila the Hun more than twelve hundred years ago and that I taught 'Atta-boy Attila' how to ride a fast pony while pulling a bowstring. I taught that kid, Attila, everything, you know what I mean? We rode all over the Steppes raising all kinds of hell and eating shish-kebab and barbequed horsesteak! What a blast! I told the teachers here that when I rode with Attila I called him 'Attitla the Hun' and they called me 'Szofia the Fun', and that's the truth!
"But my teachers must be completely deaf, old farts that they are. Or, more likely, just plain s-t-u-p-i-d! They thought that I said I was 'born' in 'Hungary,' not bored; that I'm 'Szofia the Hungarian,' and that I'm 12 years old, you know, not that I rode with Attila twelve hundred years ago. Dang it, I've been here in this dumpy city four years already, Hughberto, and nobody's figured out that I'm STILL 12 years old and STILL in the Sixth Grade. I mean, really, give me a break! People are like that - they hear what they want to hear and see what they want to see. So they think I was "born" in Hungary! Whatever.
"So that's why I'm Szofia, little Szofia. Screw 'em. They think it's a Hungarian name. Whatever! I might as well be from Mars, as far as anyone's concerned. Shiiiit. Nobody else in this town is named Szofia. But what the hell, I'm the little Hungarian girl, and that's my cover. They're all such dweebs. Say, you wanna drink, Nugh?” She offered me the now mostly empty glass of water.
I scratched my head. “Okay, but who is BRANCH ” I asked, “and why... are you hiding from him?”
Szofia exploded. “BRANCHERS ARE NOT A "HIM,” okay? The Branch is an IT. The Branch is an agency, got that, genius? It's the Main Branch. I'm a bad bud, a rotten apple, know what I mean, and it's up to the Branch to cull the crop. But I'm not about to be culled, see? So I'm on the run and the Branch is looking for me. The last thing they want is for me to splice up with another bad bud, heh heh, or, you know, even go to seed! Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!
She paused, brushing a stack of bills off the sofa unto the floor. “Ha! Here's something really funny, Hugh-do. Imagine a whole shitload of Szofias roaming around the galaxy! Ah ha ha ha ha!”
Szofia put her wet finger over her lips and whispered.
“But not if the Branch finds me first. The last place they'll find me is here, living among the animals.
"Except for people like YOU, Hugh, who walk around with a fourth dimension back pack like some kind of flaming pink carrot!”
She yelled at me again, wagging her forefinger. “Dammit, Hugh, wearing your 4D backpack like you do, you might as well be carrying around a flashing neon kick-me-hard billboard, as far as the Main Branch is concerned!”
She sized me up with obvious disapprobation.
“So, look here, Hughnifer,” she whispered while pointing at me. “We're going to make a deal, you savvy? I keep your secret, baby, and you keep mine. Okay? We're both kind of like, you know, desperadoes, got it? ... Except for one little thingy, Hughy-baby... ”
She kicked at some of the documents that were now lying on the floor. “If I correctly understand all this crapola you've been piling up on the couch - summonses, complaints, tickets, impound notices, late fees, hearings, show cause orders, eviction notices - if I correctly understand all this crapola, then you're already chin-deep in a vat of organic cud-chewing animal excrement, do you know what I mean?”
I absolutely did not know what she meant.
But just moments later I did know what she meant.
Someone was pounding on the front door!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Open up, Mr. Nash! We have a warrant to serve for your arrest!"
It was the police! They were there to take me away!
* * *
[Life Among the Three Dimensionals is a serialized sci-fi novel. To understand what is going on, you might have to recap what came before. For earlier chapters, and the explanatory introduction, click HERE.]