pockets, and plenty of extra Space. 9 He opened the flap to confirm that everything he needed for the Mission was ready and waiting.
“Then deploy your Me-2 ™ !”
In Becker’s humble opinion, the Me-2 was one of the cleverest Tools to ever come out of the Shed. It looked like an inflatable life vest, but when he pulled the two red tabs, it blew up to become a life-sized replica of . . . himself! On the back was a dial with various settings—“At Work,” “At Play,” “Auto-Pilot”—and Becker set his to “Asleep” and placed it in his bed. Instantly it began to breathe in and out with a slight, well-executed snore.
“Next, implement your exit strategy!”
When he had been stuck at the beach for Labor Day, Becker had busted out his Me-2 underwater and made a swim for it. And when he couldn’t escape from Rachel Adler’s bat mitzvah that day, he’d been forced to slip away during the height of the limbo contest and slide out through the kitchen door. But tonight he just had to make sure that his mom and dad and Benjamin didn’t hear him crawl out the second-story window, climb down the branches of the backyard elm tree, and fire up his Trek hybrid.
“And last but not least, prepare to make the Leap!”
As Becker pedaled feverishly down Harrison Avenue and back toward Cleveland, the malady that afflicted The World was obvious in every house along the way. TVs were flickering at desperate families. Board games were being removed from shelves. Even Dr. Kole was busy in his duplex on North Second, putting the finishing touches on tomorrow’s killer quiz. It was times like this that Becker wished the Skeleton Key proposal had been ratified in The Seems. That initiative had called for an abandonment of the old Door system—in which portals were scattered throughout The World, often in plain sight— and the issuing of special keys that could open a seam anywhere in the Fabric of Reality. This would have been especially useful for Fixers and Briefers (who needed to get across at a moment’s notice), but the referendum was summarily shot down by those resistant to change and a coalition of the Unwilling.
Becker cruised to a halt at the back of Illuminating Experiences, and though he had made the Leap over a hundred times by now, this time felt very much like the first. He waited for a late-night jogger to pass by, her fluorescent vest glinting under a single streetlight, then quietly made his way through the leaves and back to the landing of the stairs.
Someone had recently painted graffiti over the symbol on the door and, given the praises to Black Sabbath and Satan, Becker chalked it up to his friend Leo, a real juvenile delinquent, but with a heart of gold. Becker laughed and this helped him relax a little bit, but as he reached forward and swiped his brand-new laminate, Becker couldn’t get rid of the dryness in his mouth.
“Now there’s one last thing, Candidate . . . ”
Fortunately, Fixer Blaque’s voice was still ringing in his ears.
“When in doubt, always remember . . . The World is counting on you!”
Becker pulled down his Transport Goggles and yanked the door ajar. Blue light spilled over his face and the highways and byways of the In-Between lay sprawled out before him.
“And so am I!”
Customs, Department of Transportation, The Seems
When Becker arrived at the Landing Pad, his Transport Goggles were covered in frost. Though the trip through the In-Between was gnarly, it also had its perks. If you kept your head about you (and didn’t smash into anything), you could get a great preview of what was heading for The World that day— Shooting Stars, Twists of Fate, Big Ideas—all prepackaged and ready to be enjoyed.
“Laminate and purpose for your visit?”
Becker flashed his Badge, and the Customs Official flinched, knowing that if a Fixer was in attendance, something big must be afoot.
“This way, sir!”
The Terminal was bustling, packed with Quality Control, Agents of
“Then deploy your Me-2 ™ !”
In Becker’s humble opinion, the Me-2 was one of the cleverest Tools to ever come out of the Shed. It looked like an inflatable life vest, but when he pulled the two red tabs, it blew up to become a life-sized replica of . . . himself! On the back was a dial with various settings—“At Work,” “At Play,” “Auto-Pilot”—and Becker set his to “Asleep” and placed it in his bed. Instantly it began to breathe in and out with a slight, well-executed snore.
“Next, implement your exit strategy!”
When he had been stuck at the beach for Labor Day, Becker had busted out his Me-2 underwater and made a swim for it. And when he couldn’t escape from Rachel Adler’s bat mitzvah that day, he’d been forced to slip away during the height of the limbo contest and slide out through the kitchen door. But tonight he just had to make sure that his mom and dad and Benjamin didn’t hear him crawl out the second-story window, climb down the branches of the backyard elm tree, and fire up his Trek hybrid.
“And last but not least, prepare to make the Leap!”
As Becker pedaled feverishly down Harrison Avenue and back toward Cleveland, the malady that afflicted The World was obvious in every house along the way. TVs were flickering at desperate families. Board games were being removed from shelves. Even Dr. Kole was busy in his duplex on North Second, putting the finishing touches on tomorrow’s killer quiz. It was times like this that Becker wished the Skeleton Key proposal had been ratified in The Seems. That initiative had called for an abandonment of the old Door system—in which portals were scattered throughout The World, often in plain sight— and the issuing of special keys that could open a seam anywhere in the Fabric of Reality. This would have been especially useful for Fixers and Briefers (who needed to get across at a moment’s notice), but the referendum was summarily shot down by those resistant to change and a coalition of the Unwilling.
Becker cruised to a halt at the back of Illuminating Experiences, and though he had made the Leap over a hundred times by now, this time felt very much like the first. He waited for a late-night jogger to pass by, her fluorescent vest glinting under a single streetlight, then quietly made his way through the leaves and back to the landing of the stairs.
Someone had recently painted graffiti over the symbol on the door and, given the praises to Black Sabbath and Satan, Becker chalked it up to his friend Leo, a real juvenile delinquent, but with a heart of gold. Becker laughed and this helped him relax a little bit, but as he reached forward and swiped his brand-new laminate, Becker couldn’t get rid of the dryness in his mouth.
“Now there’s one last thing, Candidate . . . ”
Fortunately, Fixer Blaque’s voice was still ringing in his ears.
“When in doubt, always remember . . . The World is counting on you!”
Becker pulled down his Transport Goggles and yanked the door ajar. Blue light spilled over his face and the highways and byways of the In-Between lay sprawled out before him.
“And so am I!”
Customs, Department of Transportation, The Seems
When Becker arrived at the Landing Pad, his Transport Goggles were covered in frost. Though the trip through the In-Between was gnarly, it also had its perks. If you kept your head about you (and didn’t smash into anything), you could get a great preview of what was heading for The World that day— Shooting Stars, Twists of Fate, Big Ideas—all prepackaged and ready to be enjoyed.
“Laminate and purpose for your visit?”
Becker flashed his Badge, and the Customs Official flinched, knowing that if a Fixer was in attendance, something big must be afoot.
“This way, sir!”
The Terminal was bustling, packed with Quality Control, Agents of
Similar Books
