Chapter 38
Al left the Imaging Chamber drenched in flop sweat. Catching sight of Verbena talking to Tina in the Control Room, he caught her eye and beckoned her to him.
“Beeks, front and centre.”
“What is it?” she asked as she approached.
Al pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began dabbing at his forehead.
“Well, I think you’re gonna be needed for the next little while,” he said grimly. “Our uh, id and superego had it out.” At Verbena’s look of horror, he added: “Don’t worry, they seem to be done now. They beat each other up pretty good, though. Sam B’s broken his wrist and Sam A’s whole face is gonna be black and blue. He’s probably swelling up like a balloon as we speak.”
“My God,” Verbena breathed.
“They gave each other as good as they got,” Al said, shaking his head. “They’re cooperating for now, but I’m gonna need your help to stop this from happening again. Would you come with me into the Imaging Chamber next time and you can take notes?”
Verbena nodded. “Sure, I can do that. Will I be able to talk to him this time?”
“Maybe.” Al winced. “For brief periods. You know the power usage. I mainly need you to come up with ways of reconciling them that I can put into practice.” He leaned in to her. “Their main conflict, I think, is that half of Sam wants to go home and live his own life, and the other half wants to keep on helping folks.”
Verbena mulled this over for a moment.
“That makes sense,” she mused, “knowing the behaviours you’ve described right from the beginning of this leap.” She gave a resolute nod. “Alright then, let’s go see him.”
Al held up a hand. “Not so fast.” He nodded in the direction of the Waiting Room. “I gotta talk to the Bobbsey Twins in there first.”
* * *
Bobby and Richie stretched their shared arms as they paced the very boring blue room. Just how much longer would they be stuck here, anyway? Wherever ‘here’ was. They had been thinking it might be some kind of military base, given the presence of the Admiral and his Naval officers posted outside the door that they’d managed to spot the last time the doctor had left them, but the whole vibe seemed awfully Star Trek for that.
Richie had contributed the idea of it being the inside of a flying saucer or something, but Bobby wasn’t prepared to accept that possibility. What kind of alien ship had Navy people on it, anyway? Then again, with all the weird stuff happening, finding out they were presently flying through space wouldn’t have been the surprise it might once have been.
Their dual ruminations were interrupted as the door once again slid open with a mechanical swoosh. This time, it was the doctor and the Admiral together.
With Bobby’s insistence, the twins saluted him once again.
“You don’t have to do that, sailor,” the Admiral said, though he returned the formality seemingly out of habit. “Not while you’re here, anyway.”
“Yes sir,” Bobby said, lowering his hand. “Sorry, sir.”
Doctor Beeks smiled warmly at them. “You seem well. Though I apologise if you’ve been a little bored. I can get you some entertainment, perhaps. Deck of cards, chess board…”
“That would be swell,” Bobby said.
“Have you got a TV? I kinda miss TV,” Richie added.
The doctor chuckled. “I’m afraid we can’t offer you that right now,” she said, “but I can get you some books.”
“Good enough,” Richie said with a sigh. “So what’s the Navy guy with the weird shaped tie here for this time?” He gestured to the Admiral, giving him much less deference than Bobby. “I don’t like the way he’s lookin’ at me.”
The Admiral smirked back. “I like you, Richie. Uh, assuming it was you who… said that.” He scratched his head. “You got good instincts.”
Richie frowned. That didn’t sound good. “Okay, out with it.”
Richie, a little respect!
He’s your superior officer, not mine.
“Look, kid, I think it’s about time we explained a thing or two about this place,” the Admiral said, taking the twins by the shoulders. “You’re part of a government experiment, and—”
Richie’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t sign up for no experiments…”
“I know, and I’m sorry. Unfortunately we don’t have control over who is brought here. But the point is, the pair of you switched places with a friend of mine, and it’s his job to live your lives while you’re here.”
The twins cocked their head. “What does that mean? Live our lives?”
He reached into his jacket, pulling out a hand mirror. “Take a look in there and you’ll see him.”
The twins took the mirror, and dropped it in surprise when they saw the foreign face looking back at them. The Admiral anticipated the reaction, and caught the mirror, returning its surface to the twins’ eye line.
“Man, be honest,” Richie said, looking into the hazel eyes of the middle-aged man in the mirror, “am I still tripping? I know it’s felt like I’ve been here days, but… this is too wild.”
“I’m afraid you’re both stone cold sober,” the Admiral said. “But the point is that this man is—well—currently seeing your face in the mirror. And that’s what other people see when they look at him.”
Ten minutes of further mind-blowing explanation of… whatever in God’s name was happening—something about the guy in the mirror getting split in half, and being both twins at once, and then getting in a fist fight?—and the Admiral finally reached the point of his little visit.
“Bobby, with a suspicious broken bone on the very morning you were meant to ship out, it’s fifty-fifty that you could be court-martialed for intentional self-injury.”
“What?!” Bobby snapped. “But I didn’t even break my wrist!”
“No, but chances are when you go home, your wrist will be broken,” the Admiral explained to the baffled twins. “But even if it’s not, it’ll be in a cast.”
“So your friend’s got me in hot water?!”
“I first want to make it clear that by breaking your arm, he saved your life, okay?”
Bobby frowned. “Yeah, right. And what’s my punishment for this thing I had no control over?”
“Up to ten years confinement,” the Admiral said, cringing. “But Richie can stop that. Only, it’ll mean some sacrifice on his part.”
Richie narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”
“If Richie makes a statement that he started the fight, and is responsible for the injury, then Bobby will be safe.”
Realising the implications of making such a statement, Richie stumbled back in alarm.
“You want me to… turn myself in?” Richie sat on the bed, heat rising in his cheeks. “To help Bobby?”
“I want you to consult with your brother, and figure it out for yourselves. It’s your lives, so it’s up to you.” The Admiral looked down at his strange contraption with the blinking lights. “But you should know that as a draft dodger, you’ll be out of prison within four years, and pardoned by ’77.”
“Um…” Richie looked down at his hands. “Okay. We’re gonna need some time to talk it over.”
“What you’ve told us is a little hard to grasp,” Bobby added, “but thank you for finally explaining what we’re doing here, sir.”
“Normally it’s our policy to say as little as possible,” the Admiral explained, “but this isn’t exactly a normal situation.” He headed for the door. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with the pair of you. Give us your answer as soon as you can, okay?”
“Okay, Admiral.”
“Call me Al.”
Al grabbed Doctor Beeks’s hand and led her out of the room, with the door sliding shut after them.
“So, what do you think?” Bobby asked his brother.
“Just… give me time to think it over.”
“Don’t worry about me, Richie. I don’t want you going to prison.”
“I don’t want you getting locked up for something you didn’t do, though… maybe even longer than me.”
“It was only fifty-fifty odds.”
“That’s too high, Bobby. You didn’t dodge the draft—but I did. Knowing the consequences full well. It’s something I’ve always known might come back to bite me.”
“Are you saying you want to take the fall?”
Richie pursed his lips, rubbing his hands together. “I’d be going to jail for my principles. So… I’ll do it. I told you—I’m not a coward, Bobby. I just don’t believe in this war, nor the draft, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is on that.” He swallowed. “Even if it means prison time. I’ll be in good company.”
Bobby felt his eyes welling up. He hid his face with his hand in embarrassment, even though there was nobody around to see him cry.
“I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you, Richie. You’re the best brother a guy could ask for.”
Richie smiled softly. “You just make the most of the gift I’m giving you, alright?”
The twins peered upward to the ceiling, clearing their throat. “Excuse me, Miss Stardust? Ziggy? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” came the strange lady’s voice. “How may I help you?”
“Can you tell the Ad—I mean, Al—that Richie wants to make the statement? Thanks.”
“Your request has been logged. Thank you.”
Satisfied, the twins reclined on the bed, letting themselves drift off as they hugged themself.