Chapter 1

Double the Fun

Quantum Leaping through time has its highs and lows. I like to think of myself as the kind of guy who rolls with the punches for the most part, but once in a while I admittedly get a little fed up with looking in the mirror and seeing the wrong face; being unable to live my own life.

And you know, sometimes leaping really shows me the worst in people. Whether it be cold-blooded murderers or just your run-of-the-mill bullies taking advantage of those weaker, seeing the terrible things people are capable of can really get me down.

But then, I also see the best in humanity, too. People coming together as a family or community. Following their dreams, sharing their love with one another, supporting each other through tough times. Seeing people’s smiles when they make it out of their hardship is the part that makes this job worth doing.

In quantum mechanics, something can exist in multiple states simultaneously. It’s called the Superposition principle.

Schrödinger illustrated this most famously in his thought experiment with the cat. There’s a box containing a cat and a deadly poison, and a trigger based on a Geiger counter connected to a minute source of radioactivity. If the Geiger counter detects a randomly decaying atom, it releases the poison. The cat, therefore, is both alive and dead simultaneously, until we open the box and observe. I assume we can’t hear the cat yowling for help in this experiment, or scratching at the lid in desperation. That would count as observation.

For the record, I’d like to believe the cat lived to have its revenge on whoever thought it was a good idea to engage in that kind of cruelty.

But why do I bring this up?

Well, this is all to say that being in two simultaneous states is entirely possible, and when the metaphorical planets align, a quantum leap can do some unexpected things.

This is the story of a leap that went ‘a little caca.’

*        *        *

Sam Beckett had found himself in a variety of predicaments over his years leaping. God or time or fate was kind of a jester that way; leaping in to some terribly awkward situations at times.

This time, his eyes were closed, and the first thing he experienced was a wave of guitar music coming from a record player. It was a strange psychedelic rendition of ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’ that intermingled with ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’. The environment smelled distinctly of tobacco and marijuana, with a hint of Patchouli incense.

Sam dared peek one of his eyes open, and found he was sitting cross-legged in a large tepee, furnished with rainbow tie-dyed fabrics both covering the hard, dusty ground and hanging like flags from the wooden bones of the structure. His clothes were loose brown cotton pants and an open vest on top, with several long beaded necklaces hanging over his chest hair.

I’m a hippie? Well, that was a new one, certainly, but there was no imminent danger here, was there? He seemed to be in a pretty laid back environment, even if there were probably drugs galore. Better than being strapped into an electric chair, or in the middle of a wedding ceremony as the priest.

It wasn’t until he had this thought that he realised there were five pairs of eyes staring directly at him, with matching expressions of open-mouthed bewilderment.

Why are they looking at me like that?

“Uh… is there something on my face?” he asked self-consciously, drawing a hand to his cheek. It was at this point he discovered the flower perched behind his ear.

Yep, definitely a hippie.

On the record player, a third musical piece joined in; something from ‘The Nutcracker’, if Sam remembered correctly. What was this album?

“Far out…” said a woman with a plaited band crossing over her forehead, and some daisies tucked into it at the sides. She glanced around at the others in the tepee. “Did everybody see that?”

The woman reached a hand out, hovering it just over Sam’s leg, as if she was feeling for something.

“You mean that trippy blue light?” said a man next to her, bare-chested and thin, his face bursting with a curly brown beard.

“I saw it too, man,” came a third voice.

“Whoa, then it can’t have been just the acid if we all saw it,” said another.

Sam swallowed. Surely they hadn’t… witnessed his arrival, right? Nobody had ever done that before.

The first woman approached Sam, studying his eyes for a moment before gasping and pointing.

“No way…” she turned back to the others. “His eyes totally changed colour! He had blue eyes before but they’re kind of hazel now. I swear!”

The tepee filled with astonished noises.

“He’s channelling an Ascended Master,” suggested an older man towards the back. “One of the Atlanteans from ancient times. He’s come to show us the way to humanity’s next paradigm!”

“Nah, man, that’s old hat Theosophy,” the bare-chested man said. “Get with the program! I think he’s a visitor from outer space. Richie’s been taken over by a star child walk-in!”

The woman with the headband turned back to Sam. “Hey, Richie… are you a star child, or an Ascended Master from Atlantis, man?” she asked.

“Oh boy,” said Sam, as the record ended with a crackle.

*        *        *

Somewhere else in America, at the same time, another Sam leaped into another life—though neither knew about the other.

Sam blinked as the environment appeared around him—dark and dingey, crowded and smoky. As he collected his bearings, he just had enough wherewithal to dodge a fist that was being flung towards his jaw.

“Whoa! Wait a second!” he cried, putting his hands up defensively as the stumbling drunk man, who looked middle aged, crashed into the wall behind him, his dirt-stained mechanic’s jumpsuit twisting as he spun back around against the floor.

“Aww kid, you’re quicker’n I thought!” the man said, doubling over with laughter. “Guess you might make it through trainin’ after all.” He climbed unsteadily to his feet, and patted the confused Sam hard on the back, before continuing on to the bar beyond. “Lemme buy you another beer.”

“Ha, nice job Bobby,” said a man with a grease smudge on his face, playfully punching Sam on the shoulder. “I told Harvey he’s too drunk to get a good swing in. Don’t worry about him. He thinks he can take anyone one ’cause he saw action in Korea, but after all the drinkin’ since then I’m surprised he remembers how to tie his laces.”

“Oh, uh, yeah…” Sam said, trying to drink in his surroundings as he handled the conversation. Through the chatter of the bar, he could hear the distinct sound of ‘Spirit In The Sky’ playing on the jukebox. “Lucky for me, I guess.”

Yeah, that’s one way to put it, he thought bitterly. I could have leaped in at any other moment, and had a little more time to prepare for a fist flying towards me. But no, of course not.

As per usual, Sam was fate’s whipping boy. And now he had to figure out just what was going on here. Was he to expect more attempted assault, or maybe some other incredibly awkward situation?

“Uh oh, Bobby,” came another man’s voice. “Look.” Sam turned to see a man with stubble grinning and pointing towards the bar’s entrance, where a woman Sam guessed to be mid-twenties was standing, studying the crowds. Her black hair was tied back with a scarf, and she wore a skirt and boots that both met at the knee.

“What?” Sam asked, though he had a feeling his anticipated awkward situation was now fast approaching.

“You did tell her you were coming out tonight, didn’t ya?” asked the man with the smudge.

“Who?” Sam tried, acting dumb to get someone to spit out a name.

“Brenda!” said the stubble-faced man, redoubling his gesture to the door.

“Uh…” Sam said, “…I might have neglected to.”

Or maybe not. I have no idea.

The woman, evidently named Brenda, finally caught sight of Sam, and approached him, hands on hips.

“Your dinner’s cold, Bobby,” she said. This elicited an invested “ooh!” from the men around Sam.

It was at this inopportune moment that the man who’d thrown the punch—Harvey—handed a glass of beer to him, and Sam took it with a sheepish look to his apparent—what? Girlfriend? Wife?

He noted the ring on his finger, and assumed the latter.

“Uh… I can explain…” Sam muttered.

But he couldn’t really, could he? All he really knew was that he seemed to be called Bobby. Typical.

“It’s our fault, Brenda,” said the smudge-faced man. “Since it was Bobby’s last day down at the garage, we wanted to give him a send-off to remember.”

“Or forget—right, Harvey?” the stubble-faced man added, pushing the shoulder of the drunken man who’d tried to punch Sam, sending him stumbling to the left dramatically. The other men around Sam laughed at this.

Brenda eyed the men, then settled her gaze on Sam. “Well, you could have called,” she said with a frown. “But…” she threw her arms around him and planted a long kiss on his lips as he stood stiffly. “I guess you deserve a few nice memories before you leave.”

Sam pulled away from Brenda’s arms. “Leave?”

He eyed the men around him—coworkers, he supposed. Harvey was now looking at him with a quivering lip and one eye drooping.

“Aww Bobby!” the man cried, dragging Sam roughly into a hug and crying dramatically into his shoulder. “I’m gonna miss you, kid! You give Charlie what-for, you hear me?”

Charlie… That’s when the pieces clicked together. Whoever Bobby was, he was going to Vietnam, wasn’t he?

“Oh god, not again,” he mumbled, staring into his beer.