text: My name is Fernando Alvarez, and James J. Park is the exact kind of wrong that I get paid to deal with. He blipped onto my employer’s weirdness radar after he was connected to several, seemingly unrelated, cancer deaths. The man, if he was a man, must have been radioactive since before his conception. Both his parents died due to complications related to cancer, testicular and ovarian respectively. Several of his k-12 classmates had also died because of cancer related complications, in their case, carcinoma and leukemia. He was a radioactive isotope with legs. However, as soon as my employers took notice of him, he vanished, absconding with some as yet unknown technology from his work. Enter me. For the past couple days I’ve been staking out Park’s residence in the hopes that he might show. He hasn’t though, and if he hasn’t by now, I doubted he ever would. It was time to put my sniffer to the ground. I exited my vehicle, taking my gun, a flashlight, and a Geiger counter for safe measure. His home was “protected” by your run of the mill security system. The kind that gave you a stake to plant in your front yard, and an app that connected to a door cam. It was easy enough to bypass without fiddling with the security system. A hopped gate, and a climb, later, and I was stepping into his bedroom via a two story window. I flipped on the Geiger counter and watched it tick between normal. The high end of normal. The bedroom itself didn’t yield much. It was spartan. A bed accompanied by a nightstand. There was a gun in his closet, but that wasn’t much of anything in this country. I did find some lab grade chloroform, hidden at the bottom between pairs of extra shoes. Chloroform wasn’t the tried and tested instant knockout vapor that you saw on tv, but it would knock you out eventually. On the same floor, he had a study and a spare room. The spare room was filled with old science journals, and tech drafts. I knew enough to understand that the journals were about new frontiers into theoretical physics, but not the particulars. Best I could tell was that he was keen on the areas of quantum mechanics and entropy. The tech drafts were completely beyond me though. Presumably one of these was related to the technology he’d stolen. They kind of looked like the pictures I’d seen of super colliders, but smaller. The study had a computer, and a drawing desk. But mostly it had four walls of bookshelves stuffed with cheap plastic folders. I pulled one off and took a look. It had pictures of grade school children. I thought back to the chloroform, and wondered, was I dealing with a radioactive pedophile? You could knock a kid out much faster with chloroform than a full grown adult. That didn’t seem right. There was something here, but it wasn’t pedophilia. Something here seemed familiar, oddly nostalgic. I didn’t catch on until I found my own picture in the folder. Ice settled in my gut. These were pictures of children from over two decades ago, the fashion should have been a dead give away. I pulled out another folder, it was the same thing, but smaller, more concentrated. I didn’t have to flip long before I found myself again. The next folder was all me. From highschool onward, this guy had been keeping tabs on me, but why? Who was I to him? I’d only been assigned to this case for a week, but this guy had been tracking me for years. I hate to admit that my search became much more frantic after that. It had become personal. I pulled out more folders, and threw out the drawers of both desks. I found more pictures, but not of me. They were women. According to the folders, each was a verified genius with accolades and awards in varying scientific fields. They were each identical as well. Not enough to be mistaken for twins, but enough to know this guy had a type. Dark skin, curly hair, and smart. The folders were creepy, but what was the through line? And what did it have to do with me? I found more technical drafts inside the desk drawers. They looked like they could be fitted onto the specs I’d seen in the other room. The design was for a glass tube like structure that was fed into by the mini supercollider. The measurements gave me the impression that it was meant to house a person. So we were dealing with a mad scientist. Where there was a mad scientist there had to be a secret lab. Find the lab, find the man, get some answers. There was still the computer to comb through, but my expertise was on weird, not hacking. I didn’t want to risk fiddling with it now and locking it. Having decided my course of action I made to leave, but the screen came to life. On it, an alert, granting access to an applet with permission to be interactable on the lock screen. “You have a match!” read the app on the screen. “Qiyana and James 99% match, be the first to send a message!” It was a dating app. I recognized the name and the face on the profile picture too. It was one of James’ folder girls. The lock screen applet let me take a look at an inbox as well. There was only one chat history here. It was between my creep James, and one Trisha Beller. The two had agreed to go out on a date the night before he disappeared. It was all starting to come together. It would be nice to know how I personally figured into this, but those answers would have to come later. The dating app came alive again. “Hey, I don’t normally message first but I’ve never gotten a 99% match before. I’d love to meet up, could you do tonight?” “...” he was typing! “I’m busy tonight, could we do tomorrow?” “If it’s not tonight, then it’ll be a while. Got a work trip :( sorry” “Let me move some stuff around then, let's make it happen :)” They set themselves up for a date at a local restaurant. It would be happening later tonight, so there was time for more snooping. The ground floor was uncanny valley levels of normal. I guess if a psychopath absolutely had to have company over to keep up appearances he wouldn’t want to stand out. As a result the only thing of note were a pile of bills in front of the door's mail slot. Normal stuff, like water and electricity, but also rent for a property near the beach. A quick search online of the address said it was a warehouse. Found the secret lab. I went back out the way I came, confident I had a plan. But it was when I hopped back into my car that I realized I had a decision to make. I could go to stakeout James’ and Qiyana’s date, or I could take advantage and snoop around his lab when I’d know he'd be out. He hadn’t planned on leaving his lab today, maybe the first girl was still there. I could help her, snoop around James’ lab, and get the jump on him when he got back. I made the pragmatic choice, and started driving toward the lab. The warehouse was a dingy two story structure with a receiving door for unloading trucks. I hopped out of my car, gun holstered, flashlight out, and Geiger counter ready. The receiving door was locked, but I didn’t have to look for an alternative entry point. It was held shut by a poorly made lock. I basically just jimmied the thing open. Inside was the machine I recognized from the technical drafts. It was as large as the ground floor of the warehouse. As I suspected, the glass tube structure had been added on, with tubes that were fed from the mini collider looking thing. One of his folder girls was already inside. Trisha Beller. She was out cold. “Trisha? Trisha Bellar!” I banged on the glass. She stirred just a little. I banged some more. Awake. It looked like she wanted to scream. She was still wearing the getup that she must have worn to her date with James. “It’s okay I’m not with the creep who stuffed you in here. My name’s Fernando, I’m here to get you out.” “Thank God!” she wailed. Tears started to come down her eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you out of there. Do you have any idea how I get this thing to open?” “I don’t even know how I got in here. I just woke up like this.” “Have you been in there since he brought you here?” “No, he kept me chained up under the stairs before today.” I flashed my light toward a set of stairs that led to an office. Underneath there was a bedroll, some water bottles, and a bedpan. eugh. “Alright, I’m gonna start trying to figure out this machine. In the meantime is there anything you can tell me about the man who put you in there?” “I don’t know. He’s a psycho. He’s been talking crazy talk since I came to the first time.” “Think Trisha, give me anything at all. It could be important.” “I don’t know. I guess he was lonely? He kept talking about how he was tired of being alone.” “That’s great, anything else?” Talking might help her keep calm, plus I still wanted to know what this guy was up to. I found a console with some buttons labeled in masking tape. The lights were off in here, but this machine was running something. The small screen indicated that it was most of the way through “quantum mapping” Trisha. “He said I reminded him of his first wife,” continued Trisha. “...said I was gonna be the first of a new super race.” James hadn’t been married to my knowledge. He was born and raised in the states, and never left the country either. Another mystery for when I finally had this guy under control. For now I had to figure out what this thing was doing. I found a release button for the tube, but it was hardwired not to open until after it was finished with whatever it was doing. It dawned on me that there was a genius sitting in a tube right in front of me. James’ had selected his girls based on exacting intellectual criteria, maybe she could tell me something. “Trisha, weird question, would you be able to tell me what any of this machinery is?” “How would-” It’s like I saw a different person sitting in the tube. The academic in her had come out to overshadow her fear. “It’s a quantum computer,” she said, astonished. “How did this psycho get his hands on a quantum computer? They’re still just a theory for crying out loud!” She had gone from afraid and wailing, to astonished, to angry in seconds. Quantum computing, huh? That was some serious computational horse power. “Well it’s quantum mapping you, whatever that means, any ideas? Are you in danger?” “No clue. Quantum is basically just the smallest measurement of something.” She took a look around. “What I’m about to say is highly theoretical, by which I mean doctor who levels of science fiction, but I think he’s creating a super picture of me, maybe even right down to the electron. Think, like a scan for a 3d model, but not that at all.” “I see,” I did not. “Listen, It’s not going to let me release you until it finishes scanning so just hang on a second. It’s almost done, but just in case it doesn’t let you go, I’m going to have to break you out the old fashioned way.” She nodded. Trisha, to her credit, had started rolling with the punches. The screen indicated that it was done scanning when the lights inside the warehouse suddenly came on. I was already behind one of the larger pieces of equipment when James J. Park entered from the office upstairs. I could hear him taking leisurely steps down the stairs. “Good, you’re awake Trisha” said the radioactive psychopath. “And the machine is ready. Even better.” “What the hell are you planning on doing to me creep!” “Only what’s best for you. Now that your scan is complete, you’re only a flip of the switch away from godhood. Your very being will be blasted into eternity, entangled with itself so that even the end of the universe won’t stop you from reforming in the next.” “You’re going to vaporize me asshole. Let me out, let me out!” “You’ll feel different about it in a moment. We will outlive the cosmos together!” “Not so fast,” I said, stepping out of hiding, gun in hand. James was standing over the console. “What happened James, did your other date cancel?” “Yes- I mean, how did you-? Nevermind. We meet again, Alvarez. I was wondering when you’d show. ” “Step away from the console James, and what’s this ‘again’? I’ve never met you in my life.” “Not in this life, not in this cycle, but we have met.” “Then you should know I won’t be afraid to shoot.” “I’ve lived through countless cycles. Nothing is ever exactly the same, but the one universal constant is the thorn in my ass that is you Alvarez.” He hovered his finger over the console. I took my shot. “The universe expands, and collapses into heat death. Over and over again, coming back lesser each time, thinner somehow I don’t know. Everything except me. I’m literally built differently from everything in this universe. You cannot hurt me in a way that matters.” He pushed the button. “Well then, it’s a good thing I wasn’t aiming for you.” “What?” The machine spun to life and vaporized the air inside the broken tube. Trisha had jumped out just in the nick of time. “Tell me James, if we’ve tussled in other universes, then ballpark me. About how many times out of ten do I kick your ass?” “Grrr... augh!” he made to tackle me but I dodged out of the way. He slammed into the wall hard enough that he had to dig himself out of the crumpled ruin. “Psst! Fernando.” came a furtive voice. It was Trisha, now speaking from cover. “I don’t know what the fuck is going, but if this thing can make something like him, then it can unmake him. Keep him distracted while I fiddle with it.” “Right.” He dug himself out of the wall, screaming. “You can’t imagine the loneliness. Every cycle it’s the same. I come back to a universe that’s just the decayed corpse of the one I was born in.” He started running toward me, and I let him have the rest of my gun’s clip. The bullets ricocheted off him, but they weren’t nothing. He raised his arms up to keep them from hitting him in the face. I took the opportunity to jump kick him back into the wall, just to see if I could get him to budge. To my surprise, it worked. “Not so scary after all.” “Motherfucker, I am older than gravity. I’ll show you scary!” He came at me swinging. I was on the back foot. All I could do was retreat and weave. He bent a support beam out of shape with a single missed blow. Any time now Trisha, any time now. Another stray blow lodged his fist into another beam. I took the opportunity to reload my gun. “You’re lonely, I get it, but why this? Why all this?” “Why bother explaining, you could never -eugh!- understand the loneliness of god. I- eugh- kill my parents, just by being born. Too many cycles have passed, your kind can’t even survive in my presence anymore. Yes, I say your kind, you aren’t human anymore, not my humanity. I don’t know what you are. Thin as you are, decayed as you are, you’re aren’t truly alive. Eugh!” he ripped his embedded arm out of the support pillar. “My heart goes out to you,” I said, backing up with my loaded gun, “truly.” He started up another go at me. “Now!” yelled Trisha. I unloaded my gun into him, forcing him to raise his arms in defense, and allowing me to kick him into position. Trisha hit the console, and he began to atomize before our very eyes. “EUGH! You haven’t done anything Alvarez. If not this cycle, then the next!” He disappeared into a cloud of smoke. “In your professional opinion, do you think he’s actually coming back, or is he dead?” I asked. “My professional opinion is that if he isn’t dead, he’s close enough. More importantly, what he built here could launch us ahead by centuries, milenia even.” The building started to shake. He had taken out most of the supporting structures in this dingy warehouse. “If they can recover anything after this building junks his creation, let’s vamos!” We got out as fast as we could, and only made it by a hair. The warehouse collapsed in on itself. I notified the “proper” authorities, and gave them a sanitized version of what happened. I waited a few weeks to report my case closed to my employers. After all, if this guy could survive the end of the universe, then I couldn’t really be sure he was gone unless I stuck around for a bit. Right? Well, my new lady friend Trisha seemed to agree anyway.