Chapter 27
“Okay, I’m ready.”
Sam sat on Ian’s slightly worn couch, nervously twiddling his thumbs.
“Lay it on me.”
“Patience,” Ian said as they retrieved the dime bag of dried up mushrooms from a canister on top of their fridge. “The pizza hasn’t arrived yet. You don’t wanna eat these things on their own—especially if you haven’t tasted them before.”
Sam chuckled nervously. “Right. Okay. Jeez, my palms are really sweating.”
“You’re gonna wanna relax a little,” Ian said with a wink. “You don’t want your anxiety to ruin it. You’re in a safe environment and I’ll be here, so just take a deep breath for me.”
Sam obliged, and grinned up at his colleague. “Thanks for doing this for me, Ian. I… really hope you haven’t told anyone about this.”
Ian stifled a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not that much of a blabbermouth. Now, do you want me to put on any kind of music? It could help you establish a memory.”
Sam frowned. What music would be appropriate, he wondered?
“No, you’d better not play anything,” he decided. “I’d like it to be nice and quiet, if that’s okay.”
Ian nodded. “Sure thing.”
The doorbell chimed, and Ian flashed Sam a smile. “Well, that’ll be the pizza. Prepare thyself.”
As they answered the door, Sam took a few cleansing breaths, and wondered if this was his dumbest idea ever. If it was, then he’d just have to ride it out and deal with the fallout later.
A couple of pizza slices on a plate topped with psilocybe cubensis mushrooms were presented before him by a buzzing Ian.
“Bon appetit, boss.”
“I think we’ve moved past you calling me ‘boss’ at this point, don’t you?”
Ian laughed, and sat beside him on the couch. “Yeah, I guess a boss that will eat shrooms with you is a boss you can call a friend.”
Sam took up a slice, and locked eyes with Ian anxiously as he bit down. The flavour of the mushrooms was earthy, but rendered palatable enough by the pizza. He swallowed his first bite.
“Okay, you’ve officially gone past the point of no return,” Ian said. “Clean your plate and I guess it’s bon voyage at that point.”
“I’m counting on you to keep me safe, Ian. I don’t know what I’m going to see… what my physical reaction will be.”
“I know.” Ian rested a hand on his knee. “I’m a consummate professional. Just try not to throw any punches, okay champ?”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Is that likely to happen?”
“Well not normally, but it all depends on what you see and experience,” Ian hedged. “And if this works, who the cuss knows what that’ll be?”
“Well, I give you permission to do whatever you have to do to subdue me if it comes to that, Ian…”
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But it’s too late to stop now.
Sam finished off his meal, and leaned back against the couch cushions, waiting for something to happen.
“How long can I expect to wait before it kicks in?” he asked.
“Give it a half hour at least. You might not even notice it at first, but don’t take that to mean it’s not working. You won’t need any more than what I gave you—trust me. Asking for more is asking for trouble.”
“I wasn’t going to ask for more.”
“Good.” Ian winked. “Just sit back, and let your mind wander. Eventually it’ll start wandering further than it normally would, and that’ll be when you know it’s starting. That, or the walls will start melting. One of the two.”
“What, your walls don’t usually melt?” Sam asked playfully.
“Not ideally. But it is a rental…”
* * *
Time passed.
Sam checked his watch. Forty-four minutes since he finished the pizza.
“Nothing yet,” he said impatiently.
“It’s coming. Don’t worry.”
He closed his eyes and drummed his fingers on the side table as he waited.
Come on…
From somewhere in the apartment, he began to hear a dance beat thumping through his ears, and vibrating through his body.
“Ian… I thought I said not to play any music,” he griped.
“I’m not playing any music, Sam.”
“Oh… ohh.”
“Well, good luck, my guy. It’s begun.”
When Sam opened his eyes, he was no longer seeing Ian’s living room; instead, he was in a van with two men in the front seats, and one man next to him; a man who didn’t look like Ben, but for some reason, he knew it was Ben.
Everyone was happily singing along to the music. What was it? Something by Lady Gaga?
Ian sat in the seat behind looking expectantly at him.
“You alright, Sam?” they asked.
“I don’t know…” he said, his eyes taking in the scene around him. “What is this…?”
“What’s what?”
“This…” he paused, realising that Ian wasn’t seeing what he was. “Uh, I’m in a van. Ben is next to me. Everyone’s singing.”
Ian shrugged. “Don’t ask me. It’s your hallucination.”
Sam reached out a hand to touch Ben, but it passed right through him.
Well, he’s not really there, Sam reminded himself. You’re trying to touch thin air. It was like he was in the Imaging Chamber, trying to touch a hologram.
“I don’t know the context for what I’m seeing,” he said with a frown. “Is this something from the other timeline? A leap, maybe?”
“Give it time,” Ian said in a reassuring tone. “It’s only just started.”
“Right. Yeah.” As he spoke, the music abruptly cut out and he felt the sensation of being grabbed by the arm and pulled forcefully, and tumbling onto a hard floor.
“Whoa—!” he said as he hit the ground.
“Hey, take it easy…” Ian peered down at him with concern. Beyond their hazy figure was a pitch dark, dilapidated building. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Ian’s form shifted into that of someone else. A silhouette with a headlamp shining bright light into his eyes. He shielded his face.
“Ian, turn off the light…”
“What light?”
“The light you have on your—” he shook his head; another hallucination, right? He climbed to his feet, brushing off his clothes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got a little carried away there…” He turned away, looking down the dark asylum corridor. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I just… I really need to get out of here. This place… it…”
Trailing off, he began moving away from the collapsed staircase and in the direction of the exit. He didn’t want to be here… not again. He’d just gone through too much in this hospital.
The figure with the headlamp reached out a hand, grasping his arm. “Sam, you need to sit down. You’re tripping, remember? Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real.”
He called me Sam…? he thought, alarmed. Greg was supposed to be seeing Iris. Wasn’t he?
“No…” he whispered, and made an effort to pull away from the grip of the shadowy figure, but they added another hand to the mix, holding him firmly in place.
“Sam. It’s me, Ian. You’re hallucinating. Listen to my voice.”
Sam blinked a few times, and the bright light in his eyes dimmed, allowing him to see a pair of rounded glasses. The sight of them was comforting, though he wasn’t quite sure why. A face behind the glasses came into focus, and he realised he knew this person.
“Ian…” he murmured, “I… I think it’s working. I think my mind is merging with the other timeline.”
“Okay, good,” Ian said in a worried tone, “but you need to sit down, okay? I can’t have you running around my apartment when your mind is in another world. You’re gonna knock over my lamps. Not to mention hurt yourself.”
“Right. Right. Sorry.” Sam let Ian lead him back to the couch, and he lowered himself onto it.
“Try lying down and closing your eyes,” Ian suggested. “That way you can—hopefully—go inside your own mind, instead of acting it out.”
Sam nodded, and let himself drop to a horizontal position, shutting his eyes tightly.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. The asylum. Ben is here. But who’s Ben? Why can’t I remember?
Sam’s mind raced as the separation between the timelines blurred, and he experienced all over again the torment of Sam Beiderman’s soul and his eventual redemption.
From there, he felt as though he was free-falling through scores of other peoples’ lives. A blur of faces in the mirror, of different circumstances and professions, each leap bringing catharsis and joy after the sometimes terrible trials that they put him through. Life and death, trauma and pain, offset by the satisfaction of a job well done.
At high speed, he hurtled through the high and low points, the sorrow and love and pain and pleasure.
And faces—endless faces—surrounded him, thanking him for helping.
Then, he touched down upon his leap into Addison, and finally watched as Ben grabbed his younger self from his hospital bed.
And all the grateful faces turned sour as their happiness was ripped away, and replaced with torment and death. They reached out hands, clawing at him, keeping him from escaping, and pulling him down.
And down.
And then he was falling, further and further, so far and so fast that he never thought he would ever hit bottom.
Until he did.
Sam let out a pained yelp as his cheek slammed against a cold surface.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he prepared to see what new horrors this journey would put him through. Yet more leaps to show him all the people he’d once saved? Or maybe he was about to be presented with some true hallucinations, things that would make perfect sense while his judgement was compromised, but would be completely incomprehensible when he was sober again.
His thoughts were cut short by the feeling of something rough against the skin of his arm, brushing against him at a steady frequency. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and raised his head to see what it was, and was met with a tortoiseshell cat licking him gently.
“Uh… hello…” he said to the animal, puzzled. “Are you a hallucination?”
The cat met his eye, looking at him curiously, before letting out a “mew” and turning around.
It was then that Sam realised he was in a room that smelled of musty books. He let his gaze wander around himself and found that he was in a hallway, with a low-lit room full of bookshelves ahead. A library?
He gingerly pulled himself to his feet, and followed the feline as it trotted towards the bookshelves. Perhaps, he thought, it would show him the way to where he needed to go. Whether it was a hallucination or not, it seemed to be walking with purpose.
“Hello?” he called out, feeling nervous at this strange place. It had been a long time since he’d felt so disoriented; not since he’d been leaping. Perhaps not even since he’d been to Al’s Place.
As he entered the dimly-lit library, he thought he heard a noise coming from somewhere to his left. He followed the sound, and saw a silhouette crouched, rifling through a pile of books at the end of an aisle.
He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh… hello?”
The figure jumped. “Blimey!” came the voice of a British man. “Where’d you come from?”
“Uh… I don’t know…” Sam admitted. “To be honest, I have no idea where I am.”
The silhouette stood, and moved into a shaft of light, revealing a pale, average-looking man with glasses squinting at Sam. He scratched his head, and then seemed to come to some sort of realisation.
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Um, you’ve caught me all unprepared…” He shook his head. “Sorry. Bit unprofessional of me, eh?” He chuckled nervously, and strode towards Sam, holding a hand out. “Lovely to finally meet you—it’s an honour. I’m Matt.”
Sam took his hand tentatively, and shook. “H-hello, Matt. You were expecting me…?”
Matt nodded enthusiastically, his face brightening. “Oh, absolutely.” He shook Sam’s hand vigorously, before gesturing to a long table with some dusty chairs. “Have a seat, Doctor Beckett.”
Sam was surprised at the man addressing him as if he knew him, but reminded himself that this was a hallucination, and that it was probably a construct from his own mind caused by the psilocybin.
He pulled out a chair, which admittedly felt very much like real, solid timber, and sat down, eyeing the cat that watched him from a windowsill.
Either this was a hallucination, or it was an incredibly vivid memory from the other timeline, he decided.
“Is this… real?” he asked quietly, as Matt sat across from him at the table.
“Well, you might not think so when the mushrooms wear off,” Matt said with an impish grin. “But until then, yeah, it’s close enough.” He leaned over, and pinched Sam’s arm.
“Ow!” Sam complained, pulling away. “What the hell was that for?”
“You asked if it was real, so I pinched you. That’s the standard test, isn’t it?”
Sam gave the strange librarian a withering glare.
“What?” Matt said, throwing up his hands. “Don’t tell me I really hurt you? Sorry, I didn’t realise I was that strong. I just thought you had a high pain threshold. Didn’t you once give birth?”
He promptly stood, and grabbed a book from a nearby shelf. He flipped through the pages, and pointed a finger. “Yeah, here it is—Billie Jean Crockett… eight and a half months… that was quite the episode. You went into labour and almost gave birth, however that worked. Raised a lot of questions about the physical nature of your leaping, if I remember correctly.” He looked up from the book, grinning. “I bet that was quite painful. Bit worse than a pinch.”
Sam frowned. “What is this? A library of my leaps?”
Just a hallucination.
Matt nodded. “Well, not just yours. Ben’s got his own volumes too.”
Matt adjusted his spectacles as he looked at the shelves. “I’m trying to get them all more organised, you know. But bloody hell—did Ben ever give me a workload! I’ve had to rearrange decades worth of stories because of that little stunt he pulled. When you see him, tell him he’s on my naughty list.” With a sigh, he added: “And that would probably mean something if I was jolly old Saint Nick. Oh, but Christmas makes me a little bit sad these days.”
“So you know… the other timeline?” Sam said, perking up at the mention of Ben’s actions.
“Sure do,” Matt said, nodding. “Do you have any idea how many lives would have been affected by those leaps that never happened?”
Eyes blurring with tears, Sam shook his head. By the look in Matt’s eyes, it seemed as though it was going to be a large number. Larger than his experience so far had already suggested, perhaps.
Matt reached into his jacket, and pulled out a perfect replica of the multicoloured handlink that Sam had designed long ago, and began to tap at it, before pursing his lips.
“Ooh, Sam. I don’t think you want to know how many people died—or never even existed—because you made it home instead of continuing to leap.” He met Sam’s eye with a deep sadness.
Sam stood from his seat, frantic. “Please… just tell me.”
Matt took a deep breath.
“It’s in the tens of thousands.” He lowered the handlink. “It’s the ripple effect, Sam. You had such an impact on the lives of so many people. And by helping them, they were able to help others. You’ve done a lot of good, Sam Beckett.”
“And I could do a lot more…” Sam bowed his head, half chuckling. “I’ve heard this one before.”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “I know.” The librarian gave a warm smile, as he hiked a thumb over his shoulder at the bookshelves. “It’s all in here.”
Sam had to wonder if this really was just a hallucination, or if this was another being, not unlike Al the Bartender. Some kind of divine scribe, or—
“It doesn’t matter, Sam,” said Matt, as if to answer Sam’s thoughts. “Hallucination or not, I’m just here to help you come to a decision. Because… if you want to, you can still help all those people.”
“How?” Sam frowned. “What’s done is done. I’m too old to start leaping again…”
“I mean, obviously you’re a bit long in the tooth now,” agreed Matt. “But you’re in a unique position, you know. Because of Ben. You have a direct link with your past self, for a limited time.” He grinned a genuinely excited grin. “Oh, I really do love all this timey-wimey stuff.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open as he pieced together what this man was suggesting.
“Are you telling me I should get in the Imaging Chamber and tell my past self to leap again…?”
Matt waggled his eyebrows, still clearly enjoying himself. “I didn’t say it—you inferred it. But now that you mention it, that would solve your problem.”
“But I—that version of me, he just got home!” Sam protested. “How can I ask myself to undo a life I know I lived well?”
“That’s the conundrum, isn’t it? All that history changed for the better, but no happy ending for Sam Beckett.”
Sam shook his head. “But… Donna. Al. Sammy Jo. It’ll hurt them all over again if I leave.”
“True,” Matt nodded. “But think of it this way: now that you’ve been home, however briefly, you can give them a proper goodbye, Sam. You can give them the closure they never had before.”
Sam considered this proposal. “So, instead of never knowing what happened to me, they’ll know I’ll still be out there… by choice…” He licked his lips. “And Al won’t spend his life obsessing. Sammy Jo won’t blame herself…”
“Exactly!”
“If I do tell myself to leap… will I ever find my way home?”
Matt approached him, patting him on the arm. “When you’re really, truly ready to leap home, you’ll leap home. I think a certain bartender told you that one too, albeit in a more cryptic way.”
“He did.”
“Well there you go!” Matt leaned towards Sam with a private look. “Just as an aside… if you go ahead with it, I think that’ll save me some work too. But I don’t mean to impose.”
Sam smirked. “I didn’t ask you to keep a library of my life.”
“Oh, nobody asked me. But I’ve found it’s well appreciated nonetheless.”
“Appreciated by who?”
“What was that, Sam?”
Ian’s voice.
Sam rubbed his eyes, and let them focus. He realised he was back lying on the couch, and Ian was leaning over him, looking concerned.
“Ian…”
“Hi boss—you back from orbit?”
Sam nodded cautiously. “I think so.”
“You’re soaked with sweat. I’ll get you a glass of water so you can replace some fluids, huh?”
“Thanks.” Sam sat up. The room was teeming with strange movement, like every object around him was alive and watching him with unknown intent. Apparently, the trip was far from over. But he at least knew where he was now. Didn’t he?
The two timelines he now knew were entwined in his memories, twisted and layered together. Two lifetimes fought for dominance in his mind.
He figured he wouldn’t be sure which reality was the current one until he sobered up.
And he would think about everything that happened when his mind was clear. For now, he just needed to recover.
And mull over his encounter with Matt the Librarian.