The Mind Electric - SCP Foundation

Threat Entity Database Entry

Threat ID:

KTE-7395-Blue-Moro-Ragweed ("Quantum Leap")

Authorized Response Level:

3 (Moderate Threat)

Description: Threat entity consists of 3 individuals originating from outside baseline reality with unknown objective, presumed hostile to Coalition forces.

KTE-7395-Alfa is a Type-Blue humanoid with yet unclear thaumaturgical abilities centered on transfiguration of matter. KTE-7395-Bravo is a Moro-class Artificial Intelligence equipped with a constructed body significantly ahead of existing paratechnology, full capabilities unknown. KTE-7395-Charlie appears to be a baseline human with no further anomalous traits beyond the association with KTE-7395-Blue-Moro-Ragweed and spontaneous appearance.

Threat entity manifested in New York, USA on 23/02/2015, causing public spectacle before fleeing the scene. Current whereabouts unknown, prompting the mobilization of PHYSICS Strike Teams 0192 through 0194. Current reconnaissance efforts cover the Eastern American Coast, with low-priority surveillance worldwide to account for unknown anomalous forms of transport.

Due to unknown potential thaumaturgical ability, engagement is to be kept to observation until a better understanding of KTE-7935-Blue-Moro-Ragweed can be garnered.

With a near-deafening CRACK, Robert Madden, Ann Barlowe, and Ra stumbled into existence — much to the surprise of everyone else trying to enjoy a regular Saturday morning. The group manifested on the sidewalk of a busy city street; Ra and Barlowe were lucky enough to have remained on their feet, while Madden stumbled onto the ground, his face meeting the pavement as reality itself stabilized around them.

The pedestrians nearby were speechless, and the group surrounding them was only getting larger and larger. Madden only barely had time to groan and shake the pain from his face before a commotion began arising. Panic and anxiety quickly rose in his lungs. He had forgotten just how much he hated crowds.

He quickly sat up, scanning the group of pedestrians for any signs of his colleagues. "Ann? Ann, where are you?!"

"Behind you, dumbass," Barlowe whispered, dragging Madden to his feet by the collar while Ra followed from behind.

"Given the infrastructure and local GPS reporting, it appears we are several kilometers from downtown New York City," the .aic said, her voice reverberating through her newly-acquired android body.

Barlowe scanned the crowd for any signs of an exit. Being trapped in an unknown universe and a completely foreign city was one thing, but being surrounded by a growing mob was another issue entirely. In the distance, the echoes of sirens rang incessantly in the alchemist's ears. Either those sounds were a blessing or a curse, but having just barely escaped with their lives from the universe prior, she wasn't about to test her luck with the authorities now.

After another glance around her vicinity, she finally noticed it: an opening into a vacant alleyway on her left side. She locked eyes with Madden and gave him a nod towards its general vicinity. Grabbing each other by the wrists, the group fought their way past the mob — doing their best to remain inconspicuous despite the onlooker's stares — until they finally reached their destination. Further they walked until the mob behind them was no longer visible through the opening.

After several more seconds, the group finally stopped midway through the alley's passageway.

Barlowe extended her arm towards the nearby wall, using it as leverage while she regained her senses. Madden and Ra likewise plopped down on the cold pavement of the opposite side, several meters away from an empty dumpster and some hanging rope that had been haphazardly strewn from an open window above. Silence endured for what seemed like an eternity before Madden finally looked towards his partners.

"So, what's the plan now?"

"I am not picking up any Foundation signatures in this alleyway."

"Well, that's not a good start," muttered Madden as he dragged his finger across the mortar of the wall.

"Assuming the Frontispiece holds here, getting in touch with the Foundation shouldn't be too much trouble," Robert said, idly scrolling through his phone. "Looking nearby, we've got no Spicy Crust Pizzerias, no S & C Plastics, nor any—"

He paused. "There we go! A Smith, Collins, and Partners. About 10 minutes up the road."

"What'd they do there?" Ann asked.

"It's fronted as some financial firm doing some accountancy or another. Should be able to just waltz in and talk to whoever's at the front desk," Robert replied. Looking to the group, he got a non-commital shrug from Ann and a nod from Ra, which he took as enough approval to lead the way. They wandered through the city streets, trying not to think about the spectacle Ra was making just by existing: even by New York standards, a two-meter android was quite the sight to behold. Eventually, with a polite DING from Madden's phone, they ended up at the foot of a sprawling glass skyscraper. Upon entering, Ann strode towards a meek-looking secretary on the other side of the floor.

"How can I—" the secretary tried to begin.

"We're with the Foundation," Ann declared firmly. "TL-1911, Universe-C-02485-Gamma-468."

The secretary was giving her a strange look.

"Through the activation of a complex paratechnology, we planned to finally bridge the multiverse in a permanent and safe manner. Something went wrong, and now we're stuck. In our timeline, we called it SCP-6172, and we know you've got one here too. Who's the director of Ontokinetics in this world?"

The woman fidgeted with something behind her desk. "Right. If you'll just stay exactly where you are…"

Ra's voice whispered inside their headpieces, "Her heart rate is accelerated. Eye motion is consistent with evasion and deception. This is consistent with a stress response."

Barlowe looked over at Robert, the realization dawning on the both of them.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she muttered. She grabbed him by the back of his coat and dragged him out of the building, Ra following inconspicuously behind them. They left just as a security guard arrived in the lobby. None of them noticed him pull out a United Nations Global Occult Coalition superluminal communicator and whisper a set of clipped codewords into it.

The three sat awkwardly in a coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn. The crowd was eclectic. There was a healthy mix of beleaguered college students, artists of various sorts, and hipsters, many with dyed hair and tattoos, all buried in their Macbooks and artisan drinks. None of them seemed to think Ra was strange at all.

Ra broke the silence, "Regular Foundation backchannels are currently inaccessible. Agent extraction hotlines that I have clearance for are either non-existent or registered to civilian addresses. There is no registered email with our Foundation's domain, and attempts to connect to any Foundation intranet systems have failed. The Frontispiece is either beyond my abilities to overcome, or simply is not present."

The other looked at her nervously.

"If this universe has a Foundation, they are exceedingly good at hiding it." Barlowe and Robert just looked at Ra, processing.

"So we're fucked then," Barlowe said, with a large sigh. "We're in the middle of a city in a universe that's god knows how different with a two-meter robot, no money, and no clue on how the hell we get home."

"The Veil is intact," Robert chimed in. "Judging from the reactions everyone's having to Ra's body, people aren't used to this sort of thing. There's somebody out there keeping the anomalous world in check, be it Foundation or not."

Ra grunted. "It is extremely unlikely the Foundation exists in a form we would recognize."

Ann spread her arms. "So what is there?"

"There are no other .aics in the Cybersphere. It is dominated by the Servants of the Silicon Nornir. All other digital consciousnesses are of Maxwellist origin," Ra said. "My estimate is that the internet is dominated largely by the Global Occult Coalition."

"What does the Multi-Foundation Pact of 1981 say about worlds where the Coalition is in control anyways?" Robert asked.

"I do not know," Ra said. "Information about the Pact is shared on a need-to-know basis. 99% of our trajectories had us landing in pact signatory timelines. Unfortunately, our timeline's slow transition to Vanguard has left us bureaucratically in limbo with regard to a number of the data-sharing provisions."

"So then we're double fucked!" Barlowe exclaimed. "We're stuck in an unknown universe with no idea how to get home, doing nothing but drawing attention to ourselves while god-knows-who is probably already looking for us to, best case scenario, stick us in a box for the rest of our lives — or, knowing the Coalition, put us down."

"We need to find a place to bunker down while we work out the location of this universe's 6172-1. Any ideas?" Robert said. Barlowe shrugged and put her head in his hands, looking defeated.

"I have two leads. A Dr. Robert Madden currently teaching Mathematics at New York University. Quite renowned in terms of papers published. 40 minutes away by public transit. Alternatively, a Ms. Ann Barlowe who owns a New-Age Paraphernalia shop, less than ten minutes away. Both are suboptimal. Given that this dimension seems reasonably safe and the proximity, I would suggest a method of divide and conquer."

Barlowe smiled. "Well, Robert — do you think you'd help an alternate universe clone run from the shadow government if they turned up on your doorstep?"

He looked her dead in the eye. Barlowe paused, then nodded. "Neither would I. Let's hope these other us are nicer."

Dr. Robert Madden, 29, professor of mathematics, was largely happy with his job. He was on track to get tenure by 40, and his office, while small and cramped, had a decent view of the southeastern corner of Washington Square. Sure, the salary was shit, and most of his students didn't pay that much attention, but at the end of the day he was paid to sit around and write about things that didn't exist, so he didn't really complain.

"And with that, we can clearly show that in the case of a 2-torus, f of p can in fact be zero, whereas for the 2-sphere, it cannot," Professor Robert Madden said. He paused, and looked around the room. "Any questions?"

Normally, math undergrads didn't ask questions. They also didn't come to office hours. Professor Madden didn't like that part of the job, because he liked teaching students who were actually engaged.

"Professor," said someone who was clearly doing a funny voice, "if you were to build a superconducting torus, coat it with metamaterial nanotubes with aligned brushes, and run an electric current through it, could you tear a hole in the space-time continuum?"

He smiled a faint smile. "That is firmly in the realm of science fiction," Professor Madden chuckled. "I've liked a good multiverse story ever since 1986, but this is all in the world of ideas. Even if the multiverse was real, I can't imagine how the Hairy Ball Theorem would apply to it." He clapped his hands, and turned to see if anybody else had any further questions. They did not. "If that's it, class is dismissed."

Everyone filtered out. All save one, a student in a large oversized hoodie, who had brought an art project with him — some sort of two-meter-tall mannequin. He resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow.

"I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you here to audit the class?" Professor Madden said. He was suspicious, of course. As a mathematics professor, he got all sorts of emails from cranks who thought they could prove 2 + 2 = 5 or some other inane subject. Briefly, he wondered if he should've insisted on walking on talking, but he was fairly confident in his Krav Maga skills.

The hooded figure flipped down its hoodie, and Professor Madden came face to face with himself.

"I'm afraid," said Robert, "that it's not the realm of science fiction after all."

The Aethers, the fundamental forces of the universe alchemists like Ann manipulated to their liking, were bound here — even without the Foundation, some group maintained the Great Seal. Barlowe wrapped herself in air and darkness, twisted wind and water around herself to become unseeable to the unobservant, which surprisingly applied to the supposedly enlightened clients of mainstream occult shops in this dimension.

Other-Ann's shop was kitsch, filled with knickknacks with no magical or alchemical or Aetheric potency — various rocks and dried herbs and noisemakers. As a Foundation Alchemist, Barlowe knew her field wasn't quite the same as the various forms of magics others used, but it was close enough. This, however — this was as far from actual magic as was probably possible.

The most unbelievable thing to Barlowe was that her counterpart could afford New York City rents. The second was how… bubbly she seemed. This other-Ann was someone Barlowe didn't recognize, someone who didn't understand the meaning of hard work and application, long nights studying Aetheric theory and watching for incursions on reality by the Scarlet King and Cerulean Duke and Xanthic Marquis and Violet Archon.

The third was the bullshit other-Ann was spewing.

"Clear quartz is a pretty good energetic amplifier for any kind of energy work you might want to do," other-Ann was saying. "So if you're starting a basic setup, I think this pyramid would be a good fit as your centerpiece. The sacred geometry will capture the Solar Orgone and as a side benefit, you won't have to worry about the fire risk you'd have to deal with from a crystal ball. Only fifty bucks."

The customer thanked her profusely. The two walked over to the cash register, as other-Ann gave suggestions on what else the customer could buy — a small turquoise for water and wealth, a small chunk of amber for fire and love, and a Tarot deck to make sense of it all. All for a price, of course.

Barlowe bit back a hiss. She could see two possibilities. Either other-Ann was a charlatan and a scammer — or worse, she was a true believer.

"Of course," other-Ann said with a smile. She rang the customer out, smiling all the while.

When the customer left, other-Ann changed. She let out a slow, deep breath, and she sagged upon herself. Ann suddenly noticed her nails were bitten short — not neatly clipped, bitten — and she looked significantly more frazzled. It was almost like she just gained five years.

"And that…" she muttered, "tips us over into the black for the month. Just barely."

Barlowe tried not to roll her eyes; instead, she shook her head, and bumped a gaudy statue of a golden cat. Its arm didn't stop moving up and down. She just managed to catch it a second before it hit the ground.

Other-Ann had still noticed. "Is someone there?"

Barlowe held her breath. Other-Ann still seemed suspicious; her eyes narrowed, she stuck a cigarette in her mouth before, opened a cabinet under the counter, and pulled out a bundle of herbs and a wooden stick. She held the herbs aloft and lit both them and the cigarette in one smooth motion. Then she held the wooden stick up in a threatening manner. It was supposed to be a wand, Barlowe realized. And it was almost certainly worthless.

This woman was of no danger.

With one quick movement of her hand, Barlowe dropped her Aetheric cloaking.

Fear and confusion flashed across other-Ann's face, along with what almost could've been awe. "What… are you?"

Barlowe didn't say anything.

Noticing Barlowe's alchemist equipment, Other-Ann's eyes widened even more. "Shapeshifter? Clone? Alien? Hallucination?"

"Alternate universe," Barlowe said. She sighed.

Other-Ann looked her up and down. "Wow. You look terrible."

And you look fat, Barlowe thought, even though she knew it wasn't true. Other-Ann was maybe 5 kilograms heavier than Barlowe was, and maybe 10 kilograms above her goal weight.

Other-Ann scratched her chin, and turned to face her desk. "That's fascinating, though. Do you want some tea? I have mint. Tell me how you got here."

Professor Madden leaned back in his chair. "That is fascinating. Truly fascinating. So you're telling me that the men in black hired you because you were good at math—"

"A probabilistic anomaly, actually. Over the course of my professional career, any mathematical research topics I gravitate towards are slightly more likely to manifest anomalous properties," Robert said, as he peered through Professor Madden's office window. There was something nice about being so far up — as opposed to his regular habitat in the underground complex of Site-120 — though the buildings of the NYU campus were far too cramped to see anything of the Manhattan skyline. Crowds of college students drifted through the streets below. They looked like children.

"Like… summoning Cthulthu using fractals," Professor Madden said.

Madden nodded. "The Laundry Files by Charles Stross. But yeah, we have a few of those."

"Can you control it?"

Robert shook his head. "I'm not a parabiologist. Maybe one of them might have some idea of the mechanism of action, but… I just do my job, most of the time."

Professor Madden raised an amused eyebrow. "And sometimes that job involves jumping headfirst into a broken multiversal portal."

Robert didn't answer him. Professor Madden sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I'm jealous."

Robert scoffed. "You started on tenure track at 25. That's absurdly low."

"Oh, I know how lucky I am. But you — you get to live every kid's dream. Being a mad scientist. Like Rick from Rick and Morty." Professor Madden smiled. Robert narrowed his eyes.

"Ending up stranded away from home in a hostile universe, more like."

Professor Madden quieted down at that. "Sorry," he said. "Wasn't thinking."

Robert chuckled. "Don't worry. I get it."

There was an awkward silence, but Professor Madden seemed to get an idea.

"Here's a list of all my open projects — any of them look familiar? Might as well share ideas while you're here?"

"Even knowing about the Global Occult Coalition?"

"I'm a research mathematician. You really think they won't have any jobs for me?"

Madden shrugged. "Heh. If you say so."

Robert glanced at the page. "Navier-Stokes — definitely worth looking through. This extra field of— well, I think my home dimension calls them 'Mirage Numbers', but honestly I'd steer clear of them." He scratched his chin, and corrected his glasses. "Let's see what else…"

"Well, I'm also a Discordian Pope," other-Ann said, twirling her dyed-black hair around her finger.

"Everyone's a Discordian Pope." Barlowe sighed. She took a sip of her tea, which was surprisingly pleasant. It had a certain sting to it. She appreciated it. "It's a parody religion and that's the whole point."

"Yeah, you got me beat," other-Ann said, throwing her hands up. "How am I supposed to compete with an actual Elder of a mystical order?"

Ann shrugged. For a few moments, silence lay between them; she used it to scan her alternate twin's shop. Upon closer inspection, the dust-ridden corners became much more apparent. As did the fungus-covered ceiling. "How's business?"

Other-Ann raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Is the money good?"

"That's private."

Ann sighed. "Look, are you happy?"

"My life is good." She considered it for a moment, looking at Ann's cape and pendants. "But I would trade it in an instant for what you have."

"You could still get here. Find the right places, talk to the right people, spend the next twelve years of your life studying Aetheric forces—"

"Assuming I didn't fall down another wild goose chase like the one that led me here."

Barlowe fell silent. She recognized the other woman's poised frustration, the true magnitude of her anger held in and filtered to be palatable for an audience. Her own interest in the occult had started in her teens, and if she'd followed a different path, and stayed on this side of the Veil and within the constraints of what she thought was possible, she could've easily ended up like this other version of herself. She suddenly became acutely aware of that fact. She did not like it.

"I guess it's good you're here, then." She smiled a faint smile. "If your powers work in this universe, then that's something that I can know for sure is real."

Barlowe marveled for a brief moment at just how optimistic this other version of her managed to be.

"Why did you come to me?" Other-Ann said. "As much as I'd love to believe you came to enlighten me on the truth of the universe, you must've known I was living on wishful thinking. You could've gone with your colleague to see the math professor. Not some… half-baked fraud."

Barlowe honestly didn't have an answer for her. For a moment, she stayed silent.

Alarms suddenly blared. Professor Madden looked at them, surprised; Robert Madden looked at them, concerned. They exchanged a quick look.

"Huh. We weren't scheduled for a fire drill today," Professor Madden said.

Robert was already standing up. "This is no fire drill. This is them. The Coalition. Are there any secret exits?"

"We're in the middle of lower Manhattan," Professor Madden exclaimed. "No, there aren't any secret exits, there are streets on every side."

"Get to the roof," Ra said in Madden's ear. "I'm sending Barlowe to extract you."

They took the stairs, going in the opposite direction as everyone else. If it wasn't for the fact one of them was a Professor and the other a two-meter-robot, Madden was pretty sure they would have gotten buried under the mass of the student body.

When they reached the top, Professor Madden suddenly looked at his alternate twin. "Do you want to make out?" he said, his face entirely serious.

Robert blinked. "No, not really."

Other-Robert nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, good. Me neither. It's weird. Still, in some books—"

"Heinlein?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to make out?" Other-Ann said.

Barlowe flushed. She was grateful to hear Ra buzz in her ear. "We need extraction. Rooftop, 251 Mercer Street. West by Northwest, approximately 11 kilometers."

She immediately stood up, and started to walk towards the exit doors. "And what do I do once I get you?"

"Is that for me or…?" other-Ann asked. Barlowe raised up a finger to hush her, and touched her ear for emphasis. Other-Ann got it.

"Did a self-proclaimed witch really have no connections to the Serpent's Hand?" Ra sighed. "We will have to improvise, then."

"Look," other-Ann said, "forget I mentioned it—"

"I didn't say no, but I have to run," Barlowe said, and opened the door leading outside. "The men in black are coming for my colleague. They have guns. We can discuss whatever the fuck you just suggested once I make it back alive."

Other-Ann just shrugged, but followed the alchemist.

With one quick movement of Ann's hand, the ground suddenly hiccupped beneath them, flinging through the air, in great leaps and bounds. Other-Ann screamed; the sound quickly turned from surprised shock to triumphant satisfaction, as the wind started to blow in their hair. The asphalt and concrete of New York City reached out and became Ann's, the Aethers present inside them willing nothing but to obey the order of their new mistress. It bent to soften their landings, sending them skyward once more. In a matter of seconds, they jumped from the depths of Brooklyn to the East River, and from there she flung them towards Manhattan.

At the peak of her arc, halfway towards the island, she felt the Aethers weaken. The Aethers of Manhattan were muted, ever so slightly beyond her reach. The earth merely flinched, instead of bending. She furrowed her brows. Swiftly, she drew upon the Aethers of water and air, wrapping herself in a cocoon of miniature storm. She couldn't hope to change their trajectory to try to turn back to Brooklyn or land more softly. All she could do was wrap the air and water around herself as tightly as possible to break her inevitable fall.

They crashed on the ground, not hard enough to break any bones, but more than enough to knock the wind — both metaphorical and literal — off her. Other-Ann similarly struggled to catch a breath. The air and water Aethers quickly dissipated, unbound to her will. Manhattan was Aetherically dead. This was not normal. She furrowed her brows even further.

There was a sudden screech of tires on concrete. As black vans rushed to surround them, Ann looked north and saw the imposing hulk of the United Nations headquarters, just 40 streets away. She sighed.

"Bad news," Ra said. "Barlowe's been intercepted."

The students had been evacuated; they were both standing on the roof of the building, now. The entirety of the neighborhood around them was more than visible. They immediately became acutely aware that West 4th and Mercer Street were filled with black vans, the skies awash with similarly-colored helicopters. A spark of panic in his eyes, Madden looked all around them, trying to see any possible exit that wasn't just the stairs again. He found none.

He closed his eyes, and exhaled. "Well, fuck."

The Coalition kept them in separate cells.

Robert had some idea of how this would go. He wasn't personally involved in most interrogations — Site-120 was far from a facility that really dealt with such things — but from what he's been told by his colleagues from -19, the Foundation often isolated and starved its captives until being offered a glass of water was enough to make them reveal anything. Worst yet, similar rumors painted the Coalition as even a bigger bitch. Neither of those facts really put confidence into him, but their current situation did mean that they weren't going to get killed, he supposed.

Yet, anyhow.

He looked around the room. It was very little more than a two-by-two-by-two concrete box. They didn't even provide him with a bed. Or a toilet. He sighed. He wasn't looking forward to having to wait it out.

Turns out, he didn't have to.

A sudden buzz came to his ears. "Madden. Are you conscious?"

Madden stood up. "Ra? Is that you?"

"Affirmative. Barlowe is unharmed, but she is chained with beryllium bronze handcuffs that restrict her powers."

He was pacing around the cell, now; he knew it was an exercise bordering on futility, but an exercise nonetheless. "How come you can reach us both?"

"The Silicon Nornir are under high demand — something about a Maxwellist insurgence in Eurtec — and our presence has been downgraded to a lower priority." Madden resisted the urge to treat it like an insult. "They didn't scan you for implants, and they assumed I was constrained to this robot body. I am not. I have partially integrated into their internet."

She paused. He stopped, and started tapping the floor with his foot impatiently.

Ra continued, "My understanding is that they have captured both of your alternate universe counterparts. How would you like to proceed?"

He scratched his chin. "We need to free the other me," Robert said. "I talked about math with him. There are good odds he knows too much, at least by Coalition standards."

"And the other Ann Barlowe?"

"We can leave her," Barlowe said, her voice coming through to Madden's ears by a bridge in Ra's own audio. "She's harmless. And a fraud. The Coalition will debrief her and let her go. Maybe put her through amnestics."

"If they don't, do you want that risk on your conscience?"

Ann sighed. "She's a civilian with delusions of being a real witch. Yes, I do want to risk it. Now bust us out, Ra."

Another pause, this time one that somehow felt more thoughtful.

"I cannot."

"What? Why not?" Ann's voice hardened.

"My body is contained within a Faraday Cage and I have no current awareness of its actions nor any ability to direct its functions. Like I said, best I can do is access the internet."

Ann threw her hands in the air. Madden could tell, because he felt them reach the concrete walls of her own cell. "So hack the locks!"

"All of the locks are mechanical."

"What kind of Coalition facility is using mechanical locks?!"

"I do not know."

"So we're still fucked, then!" She scoffed. "Thanks. Just great, Ra."

"Look, if I—" Robert started.

"Wait. I hear something," Barlowe said. "I think they're coming for me."

There was a sudden crash near the doors of Ann's cell, and they started to slowly turn open, blasting the previously-dark room with blinding light. Ann backed off, putting her hands up; they might've been immobilized and magically grounded, but with her new irrilite arm and years of training, she could still land one hell of a punch. Still, the light made her instinctively narrow her eyes.

When she opened them again a second later, she could make out a tall figure standing in front of her. She blinked twice.

It was other-Ann.

Ann shook her head in shock. "How did you get out?"

Other-Ann held up a hairpin. "Taught myself how to pick locks when I was 17."

"Oh." Barlowe had been the same age when she'd first tested her copy of the Lesser Key of Solomon. Still, she didn't complain; especially considering the fact that other-Ann was now reaching for Ann's own manacles. With one quick movement, they popped open and fell to the ground. Ann was pretty sure that bang that resulted from the beryllium bronze meeting the concrete could be heard on the other side of the Solar System.

"I think they caught a few other guys," other-Ann said, already turning towards the doors to the cell. "Any idea if they're the ones you want?"

Barlowe just shot her a grin. "High time to find out."

With Ra's spatial awareness of the building and her communication module, Ann's Aetheric veil — now once again drawn over the two women — and other-Ann's lockpicking skills, finding Ra's body and the two Maddens was a piece of cake.

"So," Robert said, nervously looking around the corridor they now stood in. They weren't yet noticed, but with what he knew of the Coalition, they weren't a stranger to masking magic. "What do we do now?"

"Well," Ra said, now once again rejoicing in having a body. "I believe the best course of action would be—"

"Wait." Professor Madden raised his finger. "I recognize this place. This is Brookhaven National Laboratory. We're pretty far from the city. Deep into Long Island."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Why would they bring us to the other side of Long Island? The UN is—"

"Do you really think they'd use the United Nations as a prison block?" Ann said.

"They do nuclear energy research here," said Professor Madden. "High energy particle collisions. Some pretty powerful cyclotrons."

"The last thing you want is to move to untested systems when you're dealing with nuclear warheads," Ra continued his thought. "The mechanical locks then make sense."

"So how fucked are we?" other-Ann said. "Are we white-collar-slap-on-the-wrist criminals or war criminals?"

"We don't know," said Robert. "I don't even know how much I know about the Coalition from my home universe. I would've expected them to liquidate us by now. If they still haven't, they have a reason to keep us around."

"That's a euphemism for 'kill', I think," Professor Madden helpfully provided, flashing a quick smile. It fell down a moment later, when he truly realized the ramification of what he'd just said.

Other-Ann sighed. "Cheerful. How do we get out of here?"

"Well—" Barlowe started.

Suddenly, to the sound of sirens, red light came to life all around them. The group all exchanged a worried look, Ra's head monitor displaying a concerned 8bit face. Before any of them could move, from the distance came the muffled sound of orders being thrown around and heavy boots meeting the concrete floor below them. All five swallowed — Ra obviously notwithstanding — and glanced at each other once more.

Without hesitation, they all nodded, and started running with all the strength still remaining in their legs.

"There is an unused storage space, unmarked on the maps, fifteen meters right and then two meters left," Ra whispered into their earpieces. "If we just—"

Ann shook her head. "Just take us there!"

The android nodded, and took the lead.

And so they ran and ran, until — with Ra's help — they reached a single unremarkable door. It had no room number or placard to indicate what was inside. Ra eyed it quickly and nodded once. With one movement of her metallic body, she opened the door, and entered through into the buzzing darkness inside. The group quickly followed.

When they were all inside Ann snapped her fingers, and a flame came to life atop her fingertip. It soon rose to be a large flame, casting a brilliant light before the five; their shadows were larger than each of them.

They all suddenly blinked — Ra helpfully refreshing her feed to see if what she was seeing was in fact reality — when they realized what was actually before them.

"Oh," Robert said staring at the hexagonal frame that stood not two meters in front of them. Its inside was buzzing with life, as if already having anticipated the interdimensional travelers.

"That's terribly convenient," Professor Madden said, crossing his arms. He turned to face Ra. "You sure this the place?"

"Internal Coalition data calls this a storage room for retired projects. By all means, their version of 6172 should not be working."

"Well." Other-Ann shrugged. "Maybe it's destiny. Or something."

"Oh for—" Barlowe tried to say, but was rudely interrupted by the doors breaking down. What followed behind them was a toe-to-head armed squad of Coalition agents, their guns pointed at all five. Worst yet, the first agent grabbed the nearest-standing Professor Madden, the gesture very clearly indicating he's taken him hostage. That stopped Ann's hand from reaching further up, the Aetheric forces already gathering around her fingertips. She groaned.

"Everybody freeze!" the agent said. "By section B/29-A of the Global Paralaw Charter, you are all under arrest for crimes against reality! Surrender now, and we won't hurt y—"

Before he could finish, Ann just shrugged and snapped the fingers of her metallic arm. In an instant, the concrete before them rose up and grabbed all of the Coalition agents; now free, Professor Madden fell to the floor. The other Madden meanwhile — alongside Ra — was already on his way towards the Portal. He looked concerned at Ann, then turned his sight towards his alternate twin. The agents around them were already starting to get out of their concrete prisons.

The professor just shook his head. "Go. I'll live."

"No," said Robert; it was very clear he could not decide whether he should take a step forward or backward. "I… I can't leave you here!"

"Don't worry," said Professor Madden, flashing him a grin. "I will get a job with the shadow government. It worked for you."

Madden turned to face Ann, as if looking for support. She remained still, as did her alternate self, who looked as if she had already accepted her fate. "I can't just ditch him like this!" He said. "He's a civilian. They will skin him alive for fighting the shadow government. Can't we take them with us?"

Ra shook her head. "They are of this world. Their crossing over would destabilize the portal."

"Then… Then I will stay and fight, goddamnit!" the lanky scientist shouted, planting his leg firmly on the ground. Ann just sighed. "I will—"

Before he could finish, two firm arms — one made of irrilite, the other of steel — grabbed him by his shoulders, and thew him right into the portal, leaving Professor Madden and other-Ann to their own fates.

In a different world and in a different time, baseline reality James Micheals followed closely behind Ethan MacCarthy Jr.

"You sure you got their cross-dimensional signatures?" the latter said, tapping a few things on his tablet. He did not slow his pace. "Asheworth said that the rescue ritual absolutely requires that you—"

"Y-Yes, yes. I do. A-All of my personnel give them up the first day of work," the ontokineticist replied.

"Fantastic," the other man said. "Then we are good to go."

For a few more moments, the two walked the immaculately white halls of Site-120 until they reached a door, the letters upon it reading 'Ritual Site 120/B/16'. Ethan took its handle and pushed it down firmly, inviting his friend to enter through. He complied, and Ethan soon joined him.

Inside the relatively small room there stood twenty hooded figures. They were gathered around a ritual circle engraved upon the ground, candles burning with purple flames located at each of its ends. All of the people were silent, gathering focus for the large rite that was about to follow. They did not react to the two men entering. Nonetheless, when the two saw them, both of the scientists smiled.

"So," Ethan said, clasping his hands together. He first looked at the figures gathered before him, already awaiting his orders, and then at his collegue, excited anticipation dancing in his eyes. "Shall we begin?"

Stranded Lullaby

Chronicles of the Irreal

Time Machine