Re-Life

By John Simion

For 20 years, Matt and Emma Powell built a perfect life together, only to see their family and their perfect world suddenly ripped apart by bad luck and bad decisions. Then they meet Mr. Philby, the proprietor of "Re-Life," who shows them a roomful of high-tech equipment and offers to use it to send them to an alternate universe -- one where they can re-live their lives and fix all their problems here. It's totally safe and they can come back if they want -- and the only cost is that they have to leave their possessions to "Re-Life" in this universe. But so what? They won't be here anymore anyway. The deal almost sounds too good to be true. But who is this Mr. Philby? Where did he get this fabulous technology? And what's his game?

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Simion
• Release date: Oct 1, 2023

John Simion

During John's 30 years as a military attorney, he developed a reputation as an accomplished writer of military legal briefs. His career and his own travels have taken him to some of the most exotic places in this world: the pyramids of Egypt, the Parthenon in Greece, the Colosseum of Rome, the Kremlin of Moscow, Machu Picchu in Peru, down the Rhine and even to the depths of the ocean. But John dreamed of traveling to an even more exotic place, a different world, but one he believed could exist. Unable to find science fiction capable of taking him to such a place, he set out to write a thinking man's sci-fi novel – a realistic novel of space colonization that takes place on a real world. "Zarmina" came first, but he followed it up with new stories in the same setting: "Battle for Zarmina" and now "Return to Zarmina." Each is a stand-alone story that deals with different subjects in creative ways you haven't seen a thousand times before. And now there's "Re-Life," the story of a couple in trouble who takes an enticing offer to re-live their lives in the multiverse. But there's a catch ...

Book preview

I

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

5:30 p.m., Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Good evening, Milwaukee. Welcome to WISN Channel 12 Nowcast News. I’m John McArthur, and in our top story tonight, authorities have now identified the body of a man recovered last Friday from a park in suburban Milwaukee. Latoya Antonio has the story. Latoya?

Latoya: Thanks, John. Teenagers rollerblading last Friday on a pathway near a pond in Washington Park saw a shoe sticking out from reeds and cattails. When they looked further, they realized the shoe was attached to a body. They called the police and a squad was dispatched to recover the body, which was then turned over to the Milwaukee County Medical Examiner’s Office for identification and examination. Dr. Timothy Jensen of the Medical Examiner’s office, what can you tell us?

Dr. Jensen: Latoya, the body that was recovered has been identified as that of David Fischer, an associate professor of physics at Marquette University, who inexplicably disappeared several weeks ago. Professor Fischer’s body was badly decomposed and appears to have been in the pond for several weeks, which corresponds with the date of his disappearance. Positive identification was made by matching the decedent’s height, weight and dental records, with final identification confirmed through DNA testing.

Latoya: That is odd, Dr. Jensen. Any word as to how Professor Fischer died?

Dr. Jensen: Our autopsy determined that the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Professor Fischer appeared to have been struck by some sort of heavy metal object such as a rod or pipe. Since the body appeared to have been hidden in the pond, the police are investigating the death as homicide.

Latoya: Thanks, Dr. Jensen. We now turn to Detective Stan Baker of the Milwaukee Police Department. Detective Baker, could you comment on your investigation?

Detective Baker: Well, Latoya, there are a lot of unanswered questions. Professor Fischer was last seen alive by his students at the close of his physics class at approximately 11:00 a.m. on August 20. There were no signs of forced entry at Fischer’s house, but we found evidence of a struggle there. Things like a broken glass, a lamp and some books thrown on the floor. There were also bloodstains, which DNA evidence has now identified as that of Fischer.

Latoya: Is it possible that the professor interrupted a burglary attempt?

Detective Baker: It’s possible, but we aren’t sure. The only things that appeared to be missing were Professor Fischer’s laptop computer. Some paper files and computer storage items like flash drives also appear to be missing, but we can’t be sure. For all we know, the professor might have simply left those things elsewhere.

Latoya: Why wasn’t Professor Fischer reported missing?

Detective Baker: At the time of his death, Professor Fischer was unmarried with no known children, and we’ve been unable to identify any surviving family members. Students in his class were unaware of his disappearance since Fischer had informed them that he would soon be leaving Marquette for another position elsewhere. Professor Theodore Jones stepped in to take over Fischer’s class, but had no other information relevant to the case.

Latoya: What about neighbors? Didn’t anyone hear anything?

Detective Baker: As I said, the professor’s home did not show signs of forced entry, and the neighbors were unaware of any argument or struggle. Since Fischer had little regular contact with them and used a lawn care service, they had no idea that he had even disappeared.

Latoya: Is there anything else you can add?

Detective Baker: If anyone has any information concerning the death of Professor Fischer, please contact the Milwaukee Police Department at [phone] and ask for Detectives Baker or Jackson.

Latoya: Thank you, Sergeant Baker. Back to you, John.

John McArthur: Thank you, Latoya. That’s quite a mystery and certainly a tragic loss for Marquette and the entire Milwaukee community. We wish the police well in their investigation. Our next story brings us to Saint Anthony’s Hospital, where a group of concerned citizens are raising money for …

II

Undisclosed Location, Northern Virginia

5:20 p.m., Friday, June 6, 2053

The old man shuffled slowly down the brightly-lit hallway, wearing a rumpled white coat. What was left of his thinning gray hair was combed over the top in an attempt to hide his encroaching baldness. The attempt was useless; his shining bald pate clearly showed through under the bright lights in the hallway. His appearance was nothing unusual; this was a top-secret laboratory was operated by DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, and it was full of balding scientists in white coats. This particular bald man was almost anonymous in this facility – but not entirely.

Hey, Tyrone. Look at that old fart, still hanging around after all these years, said Janet Cushman, pointing – once the old man had passed a considerable distance down the long hall. Janet herself was one of the facility’s senior janitors and herself an expert on hanging on, having hung around the facility for over 20 years already. In fact, Janet was actually just hanging around right now, holding up a mop and generally doing nothing, although she would call it supervising. Her charge, Tyrone, who was presently three steps high on a ladder and changing a light bulb, only grunted. Continuing on, Janet said, I’ve heard he’s been here something like 40 years and I can’t even remember his name. He’s the most invisible guy on the entire staff.

Tyrone climbed down from the ladder. That’s Professor Fischer, Janet. I think he’s the oldest scientist working here. He keeps to himself, but he’s nice enough if you talk to him. He talks to Darryl a lot.

He’s been here a long time, all right, said Janet. Close to 40 years from what I’ve heard. Forty years, Tyrone. That’s a long time. I’ll bet most of the other white coats here weren’t even born when he came here. He’s way past retirement age. Why doesn’t he just retire?

Damned if I know. It’s not like he’s super important. The other white coats all say he’s never done anything much but assist with their experiments and test their work. But he must be smart. I heard he was a physics professor at Marquette before he came here, and you don’t get to be a professor at Marquette without being smart.

But you said yourself they never give him anything important to do. That doesn’t sound so smart to me.

Tyrone said, Well, last year he went and built that machine down the hall. That was smart, wasn’t it?

Yeah, but one brainstorm in 40 years doesn’t prove anything.

Well, it must have been a big brainstorm. I heard he came up with both the theory and plans for that machine, and helped build it, too.

Janet scratched her head. To do nothing for 40 years and then suddenly come up with some sort of genius idea? That’s just too weird. And look at the time. What’s he doing here now? Everybody else went home half an hour ago, but there he goes. Still at it.

Well, we’re still here, said Tyrone.

Well, that’s different, said Janet. "Of course we’re here. We’re on a different shift."

Still, is it really that weird that the old man would be working late? That machine is his baby. If the bosses are okay with him using it after hours, who cares?

What does that thing even do?

Dunno. Whatever it is, they keep it super-secret, said Tyrone. Fischer and some of the bosses are the only ones even allowed in that room. Them, and some of the military brass. I’ve never even seen that machine. Heck, I’d love to know what it does.

Fat chance of anybody ever telling either of us, said Janet. They don’t even let us clean in there. And are you sure you even want to go in there? Look what happened to Darryl.

What about him?

Well, you don’t see Darryl around here anymore, do you? Let me tell you – a few weeks ago I saw him go in the room with the old man after hours, just like right now. Later in my shift, the old man came back out, but not Darryl. Then a couple of days later I saw Darryl with Dr. Banks, and after that, he cleaned out his stuff and disappeared.

Maybe he got reassigned. There are other facilities, you know.

I’m sure he did get reassigned, but why? The white coats said Fischer himself got suspended, but nobody knew why.

I know why we don’t know, said Tyrone. Because it’s all way above our pay grade, and right now we’ve both got jobs to do – I’ve got to refill the soap dispensers in the bathrooms and don’t you have some mopping to do?

Fischer chuckled at the conversation as he continued shuffling his way down the hall. He might be old, but his hearing was still good. He knew what the staff said about him. He just didn’t care. He unlocked the room and went in, thankful that his design and construction of the machine had given him unlimited access to it. He locked the door behind him and turned on the machine, almost shivering with anticipation. To think that after all this time, he was almost ready. He just needed a little more time, but he was patient. Just a couple more days, then he’d be ready. He’d show them. They’d see.

8:45 a.m., Sunday, June 8, 2053

Two days later, Fischer was back at the lab again, thankful his security clearance allowed him access on a Sunday. He turned on the machine and it began to hum as it warmed up. Lights flashed on the console and the two plexiglass tubes began to glow in an other-worldly purple. Fischer bent over the console, preparing for another viewing session. His evening and weekend sessions were becoming more and more frequent, but there was little choice in the matter if he ever hoped to use the machine to get out of this place. He carefully tuned the machine, trying various frequencies, looking for the destination that would be the perfect place and time.

God, Fischer missed being himself. For 39 years his colleagues had called him Professor Fischer. At first he’d enjoyed the title, but over time he’d begun to think his colleagues used the title mockingly rather than out of respect. And he couldn’t entirely blame them; from the very beginning he’d felt he was out of his depth here. Upon arrival, he’d understood that he’d be junior, as might be expected of a young professor and newest member of the staff. As time passed, however, things didn’t improve. He wasn’t exactly dumb, but he – and everyone else on staff – quickly realized that he wasn’t really up to the level of the other members of the staff. His official credentials were still impeccable and he hadn’t done anything wrong, so he couldn’t be fired and any promotion would have been an affront to the rest of the staff scientists, who were generally ambitious geniuses. Instead, the head office simply shunted Fischer into inconsequential, anonymous jobs with little real impact. It was a living, but it wasn’t nearly as much fun as he’d thought in the beginning.

But Fischer had hung in there. He wasn’t about to complain about working for DARPA in one of their most high-tech research facilities, especially when the job had gotten him out of serious trouble all those years ago. It was disappointing that they’d never assigned him to anything really important, but as he reminded himself, it was a government job. As long as he showed up on time, did what he was asked to do and didn’t trigger any serious investigations, what he did there really didn’t matter. What mattered was that his secret was safe and that he’d never be fired just because he wasn’t a stellar performer. He could have retired, but he continued to hang in there because he still held out hope that the theories and plans that he’d gotten long ago could still, someday, get him out of here. And so he worked steadily, kept his mouth shut and earned a decent income year in and year out. He missed home and the friends he used to have in college, but those were dangerous thoughts. He led a solitary life, unwilling to share his life with others lest his secret be inadvertently be exposed. For years he filled his free time with reading; now he filled his free time with after-hours use of the machine.

In his early years at the lab, Fischer had often thought about the theory and plans in his possession and how they might affect his life if the machine could actually be built. How he longed for the machine to give him a second chance at youth, a chance to fix everything in his life! He daydreamed that he’d return to his hometown and his friends as a young rich man and avoid the mistake that had brought him here in the first place. But Fischer understood quite well that the project could not proceed without another advancement that was being researched in another part of the labs. In his early years at the facility, the advancement necessary for his masterpiece always seemed to be just around the corner, but that corner never seemed to arrive. He bided his time and reminded himself why he was still here, but that was little consolation as the years passed with no progress. Eventually people like Tyrone, Janet and his co-workers came to think of him as a crotchety old bachelor. He knew what they said. In the beginning it was easy to ignore, but it became harder and harder as the years passed and the advancement he was waiting for never arrived.

By 2052, Fischer was almost convinced that he’d never be able to build the machine in his lifetime, and of course his death would ruin all his plans. He thought often of retirement, but what would that do but make his miserable, solitary life even more miserable and solitary? He was almost ready to give up and retire anyway – until the day the Director announced that a team in another facility had achieved a breakthrough: the first workable, reliable cold fusion reactor, a source of safe, almost limitless power in a small package. Within a few weeks, the prototype reactor was producing outrageous amounts of power – the kind of power Fischer had always needed for his project. He waited a few weeks to be sure, but when test after test confirmed that the reactor really worked, Fischer finally dragged the theory and plans out of his closet where they’d been, still on paper and gathering dust, for the last 38 years. He worked feverishly to update the plans to reflect other technological advancements that had occurred over the last 36 years – Dr. Moehring’s invention of the quantum computer being one of the most important — then redrew the plans, digitized them and made them his own. Of course, most of the heavy lifting had been done all those years ago and he’d gotten the theory and plans only by accident, but he was the one that would make them happen. Satisfied that the theory and plans were now sufficiently his own, he proudly uploaded them to the DARPA facility’s secure electronic file system and scheduled an appointment with the Director, Dr. Banks.

Banks, who was surprised to have Fischer wanting to talk to him at all, was further caught by surprise when Fischer described what he wanted to build, how it worked and how he wanted to build it. In the entire time Banks had worked in the facility – a lot longer than just his time as Director – he’d never known Fischer to come up with any scientific theories or proposals at all. Yet here was Fischer with a complete scientific theory, a plausible project and a professional set of plans already uploaded to the system. No matter what he thought about Fischer, Dr. Banks was nevertheless impressed with the work. Banks would have never thought this kind of project was even possible, let alone from someone like Fischer, and yet when he talked to Fischer and looked through the theory and plans, it all seemed so plausible. With the new cold fusion reactor, a generator could easily produce the power needed for the project – and it was even ready to build from the plans Fischer had uploaded. Banks hid his surprise and gave Fischer a bureaucratic answer; he would schedule a meeting of the technical review committee to discuss the project.

Once the committee finally met, they were suitably impressed by Fischer’s presentation, not knowing that Fischer had been practicing that presentation for almost four decades. The team agreed to do a feasibility study on the project, naturally leaving Fischer himself out of the study. After six months, however, the members of the committee were unable to find flaws in Fischer’s theory or plans. They concluded that the project had great potential benefit to the military and therefore recommended that Dr. Banks give the project a green light. If the project was to proceed, however, Dr. Banks clearly understood that he had to put Fischer in charge of it. Nobody else understood the theory or project as well as Fischer, and if the project failed … well, that way the failure would be on Fischer rather than some more worthy scientist with a real career ahead of him. Fischer knew and expected this, but didn’t care – in fact he was overjoyed with it. He threw himself into the work and worked night and day to make it happen. Motivation was like that. And now it was here, the end result of the project. The machine that would change everything. The machine that he was using right now.

7:15 p.m., Thursday, June 12, 2053

As the machine warmed up, Fischer took stock of his situation. The machine was genius, no doubt about that. The theory and plans were superb and the machine worked exactly as planned, creating wormholes on demand through which other places and times could be viewed. The top military brass was ecstatic about what the machine could do for them. It would revolutionize the study of history — particularly the study of the great battles of military history. Military tacticians would view battles through the machine to determine what weapons and tactics worked, what didn’t work, and what mistakes were made. This was possible because the endpoint of the wormhole – the viewpoint — was moveable and the tacticians could view all the troop movements across a wide area in real time. The viewpoint could be far above the battlefield for a broad view or zoomed in to ground level at any time if desired. There would be no more reliance on dry history books or the self-interested memoirs of men seeking to glorify themselves and minimize the mistakes they’d made. What really happened in famous battles like Hastings, Waterloo, Gettysburg, Stalingrad, Dien Bien Phu and Kyiv would be laid bare for all to see. For the first time in his career, Fischer was the toast of the labs.

Unfortunately for Fischer, several problems arose that seemed to be virtually unsolvable and ultimately threatened to pull the plug on the entire project. The first was the nature of the multiverse itself. Fischer’s machine had conclusively proved the existence of an infinite number of alternate universes existing simultaneously and at all times and places in history. The machine could create wormholes through which any of these universes could be viewed; the difficulty was finding and identifying specific alternate universes existing at the desired places and times. The theory behind the project — that the frequency of the vibration rate of atoms was different in each universe – was sound enough. Finding the desired universe seemed to be a simple matter of setting the machine for the right frequency. The problem was the infinite number of universes and the fact that the differences in frequencies between each universe were infinitesimally small.

It was, of course, possible to turn on the machine and simply investigate each universe until the place and time could be adequately identified, then catalogue its frequency for future reference. Once a desired alternate universe was identified, a bookmark could be made so that universe could be easily reached again in the future. Considering the infinite number of universes out there, however, identifying universes and creating bookmarks proved to be both slow and labor-intensive. Of course, the stock answer was to use computers for the task, but that proved impractical. A computer could easily tune in the frequency of any particular alternate universe, but couldn’t identify it. Universes didn’t come with convenient tags that the computer could use to identify them. It was extremely difficult to know when and where any given universe existed simply by looking it. Only a human being could move the viewpoint through each universe to find sources that could be used to identify its time and place. The brass hoped DARPA could develop a system to speed the cataloguing process, but no such pattern had yet been identified.

What really killed the project, however, was when the brass finally recognized that Fischer’s machine was not a time machine as everyone seemed to think, but was instead a way of viewing an infinite number of worlds, all of which were different. It didn’t matter if the cataloguing team found an alternate universe existing at the Battle of Yorktown, September 28, 1781, the First Battle of the Somme, July 1, 1916, or the Battle of Kyiv, February 25, 2022. No matter what date was found, that date was always in an alternate universe, and by definition an alternate universe would never be exactly the same as this one.

The problem came to a head when the cataloguing team finally located a universe in which the Battle of the Bulge was underway. The brass was called to the viewing room to see for themselves and the machine worked perfectly. Fischer moved the wormhole’s viewpoint from high above France to the very foxholes where the fight was underway in real time. The realism – this was, after all, a real battle – and the ability to see everything as it happened had the brass excited. They’d learn from history! There would be no more stupid mistakes. Fischer’s machine would train the troops to win battles!

And then it happened. The battle went according to recorded history until one of the generals asked Fischer to skip ahead to December 21, 1944. History records that on that date, Brig. Gen. Anthony McAuliffe, acting commander of the 101st Airborne Division, was badly outnumbered and outgunned at a strategic crossroads at Bastogne, France. The Nazi commander demanded McAuliffe’s surrender, to which McAuliffe gave his famous one-word reply of Nuts! His reply energized the American troops, who dug in for a tough fight that ultimately held off the Nazi advance. Unable to pass Bastogne, the Nazi war machine ground to a halt and the Nazis were soon back on the defensive. In the alternate universe viewed from Fischer’s machine, however, Brig. Gen. McAuliffe responded to the Nazi demand with an unconditional surrender. As the brass watched in horror, the American troops at Bastogne simply laid down their weapons. Many were taken prisoner; others were simply shot. The Nazis occupied the critical crossroad and their panzers began to advance once again, changing the known course of the battle. This could not be, screamed the outraged generals, but Fischer had to remind them that they were wrong. They had forgotten that each alternate universe was different.

The debacle set off a debate among the DARPA researchers and military brass. Some pointed out that the version of the Battle of the Bulge seen on Fischer’s machine was the same as history had recorded until the day of McAuliffe’s fateful decision, meaning that most of the battle was still useful for study. Others objected that McAuliffe’s decision in the alternate universe might have been influenced by other minor variances in the battle that had changed his perspective. This faction brought up the old trope about for want of a nail, a horse was lost … They argued that Fischer’s machine was essentially useless to study historical battles because it was impossible to identify every possible factor in each battle that might have been different from our own universe; i.e., every horse that might conceivably have lost a nail. Was it worth the tremendous cost to find and catalogue the great battles of history if the situations viewed in the alternate universes were just different enough to affect the outcomes?

While the debate raged and the brass decided what to do with the machine, most of the cataloguing team was reassigned to other projects. Fischer alone was left to work on the project, having convinced Dr. Banks to allow him to try to figure out what was wrong or find out if there was a workaround to make the machine more useful. Under other circumstances, one might have expected Fischer, the creator and father of the machine, to become depressed. Quite to the contrary; Fischer was quite happy to be left alone with the machine. This gave him the chance to work on the plan that had been on his mind for ages. He had perfect cover – figure out what’s wrong could mean anything. In fact, Fischer was pretty sure there was nothing wrong with the machine, that it was just the nature of the multiverse. And so Fischer sat by himself day after day, hour after hour, viewing various alternate universes, cataloguing and bookmarking them. He continued to catalogue the frequencies of the great battles of history, enough to show in case anybody asked questions, but spent most of his time finding alternate universes that suited his own purposes, the frequencies of which he kept in his own special catalogue.

III

Brookfield, Wisconsin

8:15 p.m., Saturday, March 16, 2024

Although Aiden Powell was only a junior, Matt and Emma Powell had watched him lead his Brookfield Central Lancers into the WIAA state finals. The Lancers had marched all the way to the championship game against the Lancers’ archrival, the Hamilton Chargers. Both teams were closely matched, but the Lancers had a hot hand, with Aiden himself scoring nearly a dozen goals. The Lancers’ shooting had gone cold late in the fourth quarter, however, and with less than thirty seconds to go, the Chargers had closed the gap and tied the score at 62-62. And now the Chargers had the ball and were driving for the Lancers’ goal. The Lancers played their best one-on-one defense, but the Chargers somehow slipped past the defense and got the ball to Jared Young, their tallest player, just outside the freethrow line. The hometown crowd was on their feet as Young set up to shoot. Aiden Powell was all that stood between the Chargers and what could be the game-winning goal.

Matt and Emma were intensely proud of Aiden. He was all they could ask for in a son. He had all of his mother’s good looks, his father’s ambition, intellect from both parents, and an athletic ability all his own. Matt wondered where that athletic ability had come from; Matt himself could barely walk and chew gum at the same time whereas Aiden seemed to have a natural talent for sports. He’d already earned a spot as starting halfback for the Lancers’ football team as a junior last fall, and now he was the star of the basketball team. It was good to see him succeed in sports, but Matt knew that Aiden wasn’t nearly big enough or tall enough to go much beyond high school sports. Thankfully Aiden still found time to excel in school. Matt and Emma had been delighted when Aiden told them about his application to the Air Force Academy.

But right now, Matt, Emma and the entire hometown crowd were on their feet and laser-focused on the Chargers’ Young and the ball. As Young set himself for the shot, eyes focused on the goal, Aiden swerved around another Charger and rushed forward, intent on blocking the shot. Young stood a good six inches taller than Aiden and his arms were already moving the ball forward and toward the goal with the ease of one completely relaxed and self-assured. Unless Aiden could make the biggest jump of his life, it looked like a certain basket and a last-minute victory for the Chargers. But Aiden leaped and came soaring through the air, hands and arms outstretched. As the ball left Young’s fingers, it looked dead-on accurate – but then