Omniverse

I went to the Omniverse by accident. Walked into what I thought was a Boots store, and there I was, standing at the convolescence point of all existence. And I wasn’t alone, because – naturally – an alternative version of myself from a parallel universe had done the exact same thing as I had.

“Hey,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“So, let me guess,” I said. “You’re me, except at some point in our lives, we made a decision and you went left while I went right. Right?”

“I suppose. Hey, did you get here through Boots?” he asked, lifting a book off one of the shelves.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. Bit of a head-scratcher, that one. I only came in here to buy a razor.”

“How do we get out?”

“Not sure,” he shrugged. “Never been at the edge of infinity before.”

I nodded. I hadn’t either. The Omniverse is a conceptual amalgamation of every single combination of every single possible universe. For us, it looked like a library. The human brain can’t comprehend the sight of the Omniverse, so it

translates. Here, every shelf was a multiverse, every book a universe within that multiverse, and every page an iteration of each possible universe. I know it sounds far-fetched, but once you’re there, this knowledge is just fundamental. Basic.

My double picked a book off the shelf. “Hey,” he grinned, pulling out a lighter. “If I set fire to this book, think an entire universe will be burned away?”

Already, subtle differences between us were starting to emerge. For example, I wouldn’t have asked that question with the curious, psychopathic excitement my twin did. I also didn’t have a lighter.

“I’m not sure we want to mess around with that. For all you know, that’s your universe – or mine. Do you really want to take that risk?”

He looked at me, as if surprised at my response. “I hadn’t expected you to be such a pussy,” he said, and brought the lighter underneath the book. I snatched the book out of his hands, and he glared at me. “Okay. We won’t burn a universe right now. Let’s do something you want to do, shall we?”

“We should find an exit,” I said. “Get back to Boots – our respective realities. We shouldn’t be here.”

“Okay. Let’s split up!” my twin enthused. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

I eyed him. His logic was sound but I didn’t like his tone. “I think we should stick together,” I said carefully.

Through grit teeth, he said: “Fine.”

The library was big and labyrinthine, but it was well sign-posted. Once we found a main aisle – a conduit – it was a relatively simple two-hour stroll to the nearest exit. My twin slowed us down a bit, though, because he kept picking up books to cross-reference with the handy cipher-graphs stapled onto the sides of each bookcase. After some deliberation, he seemed to think he could make sense of it all. This excited him to the point of distraction, but I kept him moving. Best to get him out of here as soon as possible before he did any real damage.

The exit was a brightly lit doorway that seemed to lead into a void of dull white space.

“So, this way to Boots?” I asked.

“I hope so,” my twin replied. “I still need that razor.”

I took a step closer to peer into the void and my twin took the opportunity. He pushed me through. There was a load roaring sensation, like gale-force wind blowing past my ears, although I couldn’t feel anything. The next thing I knew I was back in Boots. My twin was nowhere to be seen, of course. Even if he’d stepped through he’d have returned to his own reality. I think. To be honest, I wasn’t really sure. When it comes to this Omniverse stuff I’m no expert.

I bought a razor and headed home. It wasn’t until I got back and switched on the television that I realised I didn’t even need a razor. My twin had all the stubble; I was, as ever, clean-shaven. I looked at the razor with a not inconsiderable degree of concern. What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all?

I tried to concentrate on the tv to take my mind off of it. The news was pretty interesting. Astronomers had picked up some unusual activity at the edge of the observable galaxy. They were calling it some sort of super-massive solar flare, possibly the result of multiple supernovas in relatively close proximity. It was pretty far away, they said. Nothing to worry about, they said.

All I could think about was my twin, the books and that lighter. And his grin.