Sloane had been so busy processing the other aspects of occupying a parallel universe that she hadn’t spared a thought for AlternaSloane. Or her parallel parents. Paralleloparents, she thought, and it was a joke she might have made to Albie, who was remarkably patient with wordplay.
But Albie was dead.
Sloane sat up and pushed the thought firmly aside. “I think the universes may have diverged in 1969. Which means our parents would be alive here.”
“I tried that next, obviously,” Esther said. “Did you know the internet here is basically a glorified card catalog? Susan—the librarian—described it to me. Anyway, it would take a huge effort to figure out if my or Matt’s parents are alive and well, since they’re in different states.”
“What about my mom?”
Esther shrugged. “I kinda figured that was your business, whether you wanted to know about her or not. But I looked up Bert.”
Sloane hesitated between hope and scorn. Reading the letters Bert had sent to his superior about her had curdled her fondness for him like sour milk. But he had been a better parent to her than the ones she was born with, and his death, just a few months shy of the Dark One’s defeat, had been devastating.
“Parallel Bert lives in Chicago. Hyde Park. I remember our Bert saying he had an aunt there. Seems like he lives in her old house, if the public records are accurate.”
Sloane got to her feet. She hadn’t bothered to take her boots off before falling into bed. “So are we going to see him or what?”
Esther walked over to Sloane’s bedside table and picked up the book she had started reading, The Manifestation of Impossible Wants. The cover was plain white with a sketch of a wrist siphon on it in black. She flipped through it, too quickly to see any of the pages. “Matt thinks that’s a dumb idea.”
“Matt doesn’t have to come,” Sloane said, shrugging. “Don’t you want to know what he’s like?”
“Yeah, but . . .” Esther bit her lip. “I don’t know. He’s got nothing to do with our Bert except that he has the same combination of genes.”
“That’s not nothing.”
Esther put the book down. “We would have to be really clear on the fact that he’s a different person from the one we knew. No expectations. Do you think that’s even possible?”
“Sure it is,” Sloane said, even though she wasn’t sure at all. “Essy, if parallel selves are similar, that means the Resurrectionist could very well be a parallel version of the Dark One. Which means we already know more about him than anyone else does. So this is an important test case. More information is always better.”
“The older I get, the less I believe that.”
“But we’re going, right?”
Esther sighed. “Yeah, we’re going.”
TOP SECRET
PROJECT DELPHI, SUBPROJECT 17
SUBJECT: Transcript of Debriefing Session with Cordus Council Member [redacted], Code Name Merlin, Witness to Destructive Incident
OFFICER L: Can I get anything for you, sir? More water?
MERLIN: No . . . no, thank you, this is plenty.
OFFICER L: Can you state your name for the record?
[Silence.]
OFFICER L: Sir? Your name?
MERLIN: Oh, yes. My name is [redacted], but for our purposes I am known as Merlin.
OFFICER L: Thank you. We are here today for an official account of what you saw on the night of July 2, 2006. Today is July 3, 2006, so let the record show that these recollections are recent and thus less likely to be subject to manipulation. We will be using a memory-sharing working, a technique with which Merlin is particularly adept. Sir, what frequency do you need from me?
MERLIN: 65.4 MHz.
OFFICER L: Before we begin, can you describe the technique you’ll be using?
MERLIN: Yes. This working is mental magic, involving a minor alteration of consciousness in which we temporarily share a so-called mind’s eye. I will supply our shared mind’s eye with the memory of the . . . incident. And you will describe, for the record, an account of what you see. You will form the connection at 65.4 MHz with your handheld whistle, and I will maintain it at 63.2 MHz as you describe the images, using a dental implant.
OFFICER L: Thank you. Shall I begin?
[Low tone.]
[Second low tone joins in.]
OFFICER L: I am in an office, looking out a window. It’s dark outside, but I recognize a couple of the buildings from their lights. City Hall—I know it from the pillars. If I had to guess, I’d say I’m in the Camel—er, in the