Ordeal at the ADC
by Fred D. White
After the accident, Chester Byrd found himself walking through a city park, possibly Founders Park in his hometown of Pine Ridge, but he
wasn't sure. For one thing, the trees did not resemble any species he'd been familiar with. He wondered if the accident propelled him
into some alternate and/or future reality. He needed to get in touch with Neil, the project supervisor, assuming he was reachable from
wherever Chester had wound up.
There was also something odd about the people he encountered: nearly all of them were holding rectangular devices with glowing screens
that they pressed to their faces or stabbed repeatedly with their fingers. He approached an elderly woman on a bench who was repeatedly
swishing her index finger across the screen of her device. "Excuse me, ma'am, do you know if there's a pay phone
nearby?"
"A what? " She looked at him as if he'd just spoken in Urdu. "You been long in stir, mister? Ain't such
things around far's I can remember." She inexplicably shook her device in his face.
Chester jerked back, tripping over himself. What kind of world had he flung himself into?
He exited the park, walked past cylindrical hi-rises and a billboard-sized screen flashing an ad for a company hawking those very devices
he kept encountering. A tram whooshed by on an elevated railway. On the streets vehicles that looked more like vans than sedans whizzed by at
seemingly reckless speeds. They also looked to be driverless.
After a mile or so, he approached a medical center complex. Perhaps someone here could help him sort things out. The sign in front of one
of the buildings read:
AUTO-DIAGNOSIS CENTER
SILENCE YOUR CHUMMY BEFORE ENTERING
What on earth is a chummy? he muttered aloud as he cautiously entered and approached a receptionist—clearly
synthetic—in a glass enclosure. Her ID badge suddenly flashed, Greetings! I'm Winona. Welcome to the ADC. Despite her
polyethylene sheen, Winona resembled Doris Day, and that helped put him at ease. He pressed the ASK ME ANYTHING button outside her window,
and a screen on Winona's chest lit up. Please insert your Omni Card.
Chester had no idea what an Omni Card was, but he checked his wallet anyway, and to his surprise he had one. Did that mean he was
inhabiting the body of his counterpart in this world? The thought sent a chill up his spine. He nervously inserted the card.
"Welcome to the A-D Center, Chester Byrd!" Winona chimed. "Congratulations on your discharge from the Farnsworth Asylum.
How may I help you?"
So… his alt-reality counterpart had been discharged from a mental hospital? He cleared his throat. "This may sound strange,
but I was in an accident involving multiple-reality transport. I need help remembering what exactly went wrong so I can figure out how to get
home."
After a moment's silence, Winona said, "Please peruse this menu of pathologies and select the one that best matches your
problem." A menu appeared above Winona's head:
- Un-Friending Syndrome (Luna)
- Texting or Gaming Addiction (Regis)
- TikTok-itis (Stephanie)
- Paranoia (Ribb)
- Body Shaming and Bullying Victimization (Eleya)
- Misanthropy, Misogyny, Sociopathy (Gurth)
- PTSD (Rory)
- SAD (Dominique)
- Sexual Trauma (Anticlea)
Chester shook his head in dismay. "Sorry, Winona; my problem is not represented here. Frankly, most of these options make absolutely
no sense to me."
Another long pause. "Tell me more about your perceived problem, Chester Byrd."
"I was part of a team experimenting with movement between parallel universes. Something went wrong, and now I find myself in this
incomprehensible world, and all I want is to return home."
"Stand by." A minute or so passed. Then Winona said, "Peruse this secondary menu of therapists, those who treat disorders
related to disorientation." A new menu appeared:
- Dream-Reality Ambivalence (Rava)
- Cosmic Insecurity (Vior)
- Delusions and Hallucinations (Skitch)
-
"No, you don't understand. My problem is not psychological."
"I advise you to select one of the three specialists displayed herewith."
He took a deep breath. "Look, is there anyone here with expertise in temporal or reality displacement?"
"I recommend Skitch, our specialist in delusions."
"My ordeal is not delusional," Chester shot back.
"Being so convinced of your perceived ordeal is the strongest indicator that you are indeed delusional, Chester Byrd."
Suddenly his head filled with static, out of which a voice emerged: Go away, whoever you are.
Chester froze. It had to be his future counterpart trying to communicate with him.
Who are you and what are you doing inside my head? I've just been discharged from Farnsworth and have no desire to go back
there.
"Did you hear what I just said?" It was Winona.
"I don't think anyone in this Auto-Diagnosis enterprise can help me. What I need is a reality-displacement specialist. Where
can I find one?"
"There is no such thing."
"You're mistaken, Winona. I guess I'll have to figure out this problem on my own."
An alarm sounded. Winona flashed a new message:
REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE, CHESTER BYRD.
YOU ARE TO BE RETURNED TO FARNSWORTH ASYLUM
"Fat chance," he spat; but just as he tried to run, he found himself paralyzed inside a stasis field.
Stay cool, Chester, his counterpart said. I think I know how we can get you home.
"How?"
They know all about travel across parallel universes, thanks to my—our—pioneering work. They put our machine under
wraps, but I know where it is, and whose bones we'll have to break to get to it.
"If it's any consolation," Winona was saying, "you are not the only patient suffering from this so-called
alternate-reality travel delusion. In fact, there have been dozens of others, all of whom bear an uncanny resemblance to you."
© 2023 Fred D. White
Fred White's SF stories and parables have appeared in Aphelion ("Forsythe's Resurrection," Aug. 2017);
Blind Corner, The Hungry Chimera, and most recently in Sky Island Journal and OffCourse Literary journal. He
lives in Folsom, CA.
Find more by Fred D. White in the Author Index.
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