1

The Jamarian Empire is at its end. In the galaxy, Messier 83, impatience of the people was growing every day; food and liquids were growing thin, children were dying, and to them, it was no contest of what they should do. Some were lucky enough to be sent off to the next safest galaxy, while others were left to perish in the dry deserts. Messier 83 was no place for home to be found. The Jamarians knew that much. Settle somewhere new, they were told. The time for living was running out.

            The Emperor had convinced the people, however, that any new home they choose, the natives would never welcome them peacefully. If they wanted a new home, the goal would turn bloody in a millisecond. The Charon moon was running low on nutrients, so the Jamarians had to take ever source of defense they could find. The next form of salvation wouldn’t be a moon at all, from what they’ve learned. It was a distant galaxy called the Milky Way. Such a strange name for a place in the multiverse. They didn’t know much about the inhabitants of such a galaxy, but from the looks on the maps, it flourished with ongoing life. How old was it now? It was difficult for them to say exactly.

            “You must find nutrients from them,” the Emperor instructed. “If they refuse, do not forget how dangerous they are. Kill them before they stand a chance against you.”

            “YES, YOUR CORENESS!” the soldiers answered.

            Lined up near the craft, millions of soldiers waited for the next order of business, while their master remained ever so calm in his throne. Floating high above his faithful servants, the Emperor looked on toward their destination, his green, three-fingered hands fidgeting quickly. After nearly three millennia of suffering from those cretins, he finally had the chance of avenging his ancestors. Yes, the meegs of the Milky Way will pay for their deceit. Their treason.

            More than ten million light years away, the residents of Earth moved at a humming pace with the daily, and sometimes, nightly, routines of life. Within their lines of work, Logan Shatton felt he was the busiest out of all his fellow employees. Having lived in Joshua, Texas his whole life, he came to realize, by age eighteen, that life wasn’t the picnic he had hoped for earlier in life. The dark skies, ironically, made him wonder of signs of hope beyond his own understanding.

            At age twenty, life and routines of school and desk work became too simple for him to handle. So mediocre, so plain. About 6’1”, brown hair and brown eyes were the features he faced. So plain, so average. He felt like he was a CD being played the same song over and over.

            Will I get off this train any time soon?

            At this rate, apparently not. At the time, it seemed like the best idea, majoring in English, hoping to become a science fiction author. There was so much he wanted to share with others about his views of the universe. The theory of a multiverse always fascinated him to the bone. Considering a job in quantum physics when he was eighteen, Logan always had the tendency to overthink on his goals. Work. That’s what it took. That’s what he couldn’t afford for his own time, other than decent paychecks. That’s why he was now double-majoring, still writing in his “free” time.

            “Shatton!” a shrill voice called. Professor Everett, his mentor and advisor with quantum physics. A man of at least fifty five, he was already starting to lose his thin, gray hair. Clearly, though, his brains were still intact.

            As if by instinct, Logan stood up with a start. “Yes sir?” His blue eyes twitched as he rubbed his hand through his light brown hair. Standing at six-foot-one, he was three inches taller than his professor. That didn’t mean too much in this world, though. A wolverine could scare away a grizzly bear, and if rubbed the wrong way, this man would give him the creeps for at least a week.

            “You’ve had a week, my friend,” he informed. “Is your paper ready?”

            Gathering his stapled papers together, Logan noticed his hands shaking. Nervousness was unacceptable in the field of quantum physics. The last time someone was nervous in front of this man, he was silently dragged out of his classroom for the rest of the week.

            Clearing his throat, Logan stared at his audience. Keen, eager minds, wanting to learn something new. They reminded him of children learning simple math for the first time. As difficult as it may appear to them, their attention is grabbed for the time being.

            “What is it with quantum mechanics that we understand?” Logan began. Rhetorical, right. “The truth is, as much as we learn and think we understand, the ideas and theories are infinite. But understand this: Niels Bohr once said, ‘If quantum physics hasn’t profoundly shocked you, you haven’t understood it yet.’”

            “I agree with that statement because science alone is all around us. There are things that happen around us every day, even if we can’t see what’s going on; new inventions, new laws, but it’s just about the big ideas from big packages. Through my research, I’ve come to realize, like others before me, that even bigger ideas can come in seemingly small packages.”

            Logan looked closely at his audience, including the Professor. His breathing was slowing down and his face didn’t feel hot anymore. It felt like the audience was silently hoping for more detail.

            “Much like the theory of evolution, things around us are changing. I see evolution as more evidence of the idea that we are not alone. But more than that, there are things we may have done here, but not elsewhere.”

            The Professor gently raised his hand. “What do you mean by that, Shatton?” He seemed intrigued by the statement. It was the first time I saw him baffled.

            “Multiverses, sir,” I answered. “What we do here, we may have not done in another universe. Or if we performed an action in one way, here, it may have a different result elsewhere.”

            The lecture continued through the next hour. Logan didn’t have any idea how his audience, much less his teacher, would react. Many people he spoke with for sources commented that the idea of “multiverses” was nonsense. He compared the idea to Eric Weinberg’s theories about boiling bubbles along the way to the end. Feeling the adrenaline pump through his body, he subconsciously had no idea what he was saying on the whole. He had practiced speech many times throughout the week, it started to sound robotic. He felt like Kyle Reese from the future, telling his audience what was to become of them.

            The lights seemed brighter than usual. Logan could have sworn they were blinking out of control. He looked up to be sure, and the lighting was normal. A rhythm started going off, very quick but still steady. Looking around, he was surprised no one heard it. Then, he realized it was his heartbeat. Exhaling slowly, he relaxed his hands, which were in fists for who knew how long!

            Gentle applause sprung through the classroom after a few more seconds. The looks on their faces told Logan everything: they admired what they didn’t understand. Well, join the club. The Professor had a satisfied look on his face, which was always difficult to earn. He nodded slowly, in approval of Logan’s work. Slowly exhaling, a small grin crept across Logan’s face as he sat down in his desk. Just getting comfortable for the next speaker, Logan felt like he was about to jump out of his skin.

            Looking out the window, all hell was breaking loose. An explosion went off just yards away from the building he was in. Looking out the window, the chatter was fully of concern.

            “What the hell was that?”

            “I’m not sure.”

            There was nothing to see except smoke for a while. All the students could do was stare, as the earth shook beneath them. Logan looked around, as though by instinct, for safety measures. My parents. My friends. Do they know about this? Are they all right? He considered calling them, but somehow felt this moment would be a little inappropriate. Just when he wanted to share some good news…

            The classroom was so plain; white walls, black desks. Well, when the explosions started up, everything slowly, but surely, changed. Screams echoed in the halls; alarms were going off in the classrooms. Covering his ears didn’t help much with the situation. The sounds might as well have pierced his eardrums. Red lights from the ceiling blinked before his eyes.

            “Do you see anything?” the Professor mouthed to Logan. He shook his head.

            By then, Classes were pouring out with students. Screaming still continued, even though it couldn’t be heard. Logan realized that getting out of class was easier than he would have imagined. It was more like he was being pushed out, for his own wellbeing. Walking out as calmly as he could, Logan could barely see more than a few feet in front of him, without people getting trampled.

            This isn’t according to plan, therefore, it’s true. All people do is panic.