After the visit with the doctor, I called Lyft and got a ride home. This driver was a stern faced quiet man who said my name “Fred” with a thick Russian accent. Thankfully he didn’t want to chat on the ride home, so I stalked Alfred’s Facebook profile the entire trip. This Al is a bit like Alfred back home. He seems to have a similar interest as his parallel reality twin, and while scrolling through his pictures, I see he even knew some of the same people.

We arrive at my house, then I quietly exit the car and head up the walkway to the door. Halfway there I see a familiar face. It was me. I stop walking and stare at my face. It was eerie. The other face felt like looking in a mirror. He has a different name, Frank Wade. My mother’s maiden name is Wade. I had searched for my mother but clearly she is not in the area around me, instead being on the West Coast in California, so my searches were likely limited by region.

I continue on, not paying attention to anything on the path. I fish out my keys and robotically open the door, Angelica is there to meet me with a meow and a face rub against my leg to greet me. Looking through the profile and friends list of my doppelganger became my task for the next hour or so. I dig into his pictures and see that he also has no children, my mother was going by her maiden name and her first name was different, as is mine here. At home she is Cynthia Alginon nee Wade, here she is Katherine Rodriguez nee Wade, I assume. Everything in me wants to send messages to them, completely against all protocol of the university.

This reality is so chaotic, so insane that I don’t even know who I am here. The information I have gained from scrolling his Facebook wall didn’t really inform me much. He enjoys crafts, drawing, writing, and nerdy stuff as I do. He is a Star Trek, Firefly, and Star Wars fan. We share so much that other than his name, we may as well be the same person.

The thing is, I don’t see anything that I expected to see considering the time and events around us in this reality. There is political insanity, there are catastrophic weather changes, there is suffering and termole all around us and yet, this man has no opinion on any of that. As I scroll through his friends, there are some that seem to have swallowed the red pill and are essentially fanatics, but he also had some that were less radical.

Hours into my research of those he is associated with and their stances, I see James. He is Raul Gonzalez here. What kind of craziness went on here that he went from James MacAfee to Raul Gonzalez? I was told that things like this will happen from time to time, and it would happen more depending on the deviations of my own reality to the reality I visit. Exactly how far is 16-J from my home world? Apparently the alpha numerical catalog doesn’t mean that the parallel reality was “close” to our own, it’s probably that they just found it in that order. I really should have asked more questions before I took this assignment.

Seeing James, but not James, being here brings a loneliness to heart and a pit in my stomach. I am alone, but not alone. I see more of my old high school friends within their circle of friends and I cannot for the life of me imagine what drew all of our ancestors towards California when we were all in New Amsterdam back home. I really wish I had paid more attention during orientation. They covered the subject of a parallel reality version of yourself, but all that I really remember is, “Don’t search for yourself, your family, or your friends.”

I’ve already broken so many of the guidelines and rules that I am likely in for a trial if I get back home. This is directly interacting with parallel reality friends, or even myself. Regardless, I would like to have someone to talk to that is familiar and truthfully, that outweighs my fear of punishment. Someone that I would have something in common with would be invaluable.

I open up the InstaCart app and I start looking for things that I need. I hover my thumb over the Kraken icon to order another bottle. I head over to Google and start looking for Raul Gonzalez’s address. He lived in a city outside of San Buenaventura. That could be enough.

I open some of the background check applications and I input all the information that I could and start searching.

This is a bad idea.

Only $30 to see all the information. I take out my wallet.

This is such a bad idea.

I input my credit card numbers.

This. This really could land you in prison, like in a worst case scenario.

I select the expiration date on my card, then input the three numbers on the back and head to checkout.

You know, 23 only found me out because I used my own name. After I used another name on social media, he didn’t send me a slap on the wrist or any other manner of punishment or warning. He’s probably another nerd like me. Just a cog in the system, stuck here and trying to hold on to his little fiefdom, he’s got the power of a clerk. He is not going to find out. What’s the harm anyway?

I should write a note. It would be rude not to. Why would he take a package without a note, right? How would that letter go?

“Hi there, in another reality you are one of my best friends and I am desperate for a connection that feels familiar. Would you like to be pen pals?”

Yeah, that doesn’t sound too creepy.

***

Days Later

Raul Gonzalez opened his door.

“Hello sir. I’ve got a package for a… Raul Gonzalez,” The Fedex carrier declared.

“That’s me,” Raul replied and took the signature pad signing for the parcel.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Thanks. Have a great day.” The driver said as he turned and started down the walkway.

Raul looked at the box and wondered why someone would be sending him something from New Jersey. Heading into the kitchen with the box his daughter stopped and grabbed at it.

“What have you got there?” She asked.

“Got me. Must be my secret admirer,” Raul said and used a knife to slit the tape and open the box.

Within was a bottle of Kraken Rum with a special label declaring the Kraken Attacks New Jersey and a card.

“Hey man, I thought you might enjoy this. I’m in New Jersey and when I saw this I thought you would get a kick out of it. I have a wild tale to tell you if you are interested in hearing it.

Fred Alginon (I am ridiculously easy to find on Facebook Freddie Al).”

The handwriting was Frank’s. He would know that sloppy ass shit anywhere. Dude writes like a fucking doctor.

“Your uncle sent me a bottle of Kraken from New Jersey,” Raul said and pulled out his cell.

He snapped a picture of the bottle and pulled up the FB instant messenger.

“He scumbag, I got your box. S’up you forget my birthday?” He wrote and attached the picture, sending the message to Frank.

“Dude that’s fucking rad! Wasn’t me bud. Now I gotta get my hands on one!” Frank replied.

Raul snapped a picture of the card and sent it over.

“WTF?” Came the response from his friend.

“Yeah, what’s the play here? Isn’t Alginon the name of that evil wizard in your game?”

“Dude. This isn’t me doing this,” Frank responded in text.

“Huh,”

A screenshot of this Freddie Al popped up. It was Frank. It was Frank pointing finger guns into the camera, whinking.

“Dude. What’s the gag?” Raul asked.

“It’s no trick. I have no idea who this guy is,” Came the reply from Frank.

“I’ll bite,” Raul said and pulled up his Facebook.

A search brings up the fellow in the screenshot. Clicking on the profile reveals no surprise, they have a mutual friend, Frank Wade. Raul rolls his eyes and sends the man a friend request that is accepted instantly.

A group chat sprung up on his phone with the obnoxious ringing for a video chat. He accepted the invite and the screen filled with two Franks.

“How are you doing this?” Raul asked in a clearly annoyed tone.

“I’m not doing this!” Frank shouted in a laugh that was a little half crazy in Raul’s opinion.

“Yeah. Sorry, this is all me. If you can chill for a second I can fill you both in on the skinny,” I said into the smartphone. These two are definitely not James and me.

They looked really confused. I need to cut them some slack, how often does a parallel universe doppelganger pop up in your inbox?

“Why the hell do you sound like a Canadian?” Raul asked.

“We can get to that and it’s not a Canadian accent, it’s an east coast accent from my home state of New Amsterdam,”

“Is that in Canada?” Frank asked.

“Nope. Sit down fellas, this is going to take a minute,” I say and get ready to spill the tea.

“Get this. There are parallel realities. I am a researcher from New Amsterdam University and I am here to observe the destruction of your country and likely your entire global civilization as well as the viability of life itself coming to jeopardy.

I know, bummer right?

Well anyway. I have been here for about two years now. I have been watching your politics and geopolitical landscape all that time. I have to say, this place is wild! There are no stops on this crazy train. You guys make home seem so pedestrian,” I began with the rapid barrage.

“Wait. You are here to watch our planet die?” Frank asked.

“Frank, how are you doing this?” Raul asks, clearly annoyed.

“I am dead serious buddy. Back home, I went to highschool with you Raul, but your name is James there. You and a bunch of your friends were also my friends, but on the east coast of my United States,”

“He’s talking too fast so we can’t interact. This is prerecorded,” Raul said.

“Raul. My guy. The time right now is 11:48 am on the west coast and it is 2:48 pm here on the east. We are directly interacting right now, ask me anything. This is not a prank,” I assure him again.

“Okay, let’s say this is true. Why the hell are you calling us? Aren't there rules from the mothership not to call your alternate universe self and your alternate universe friends?” Raul asked.

“Oh yeah. Tons. This is extremely against the rules and legally actionable, but I have been bored out of my mind!” I exclaim.

“Bored? You are a sci-fi protagonist from another universe and you are bored?” Frank said incredulously.

“Yeah, yeah. We love Star Trek, I get it. Here’s the thing, you know what they don’t show you in the sci-fi stories? The hours and days between anything actually happening. The majority of the story takes place over a week of the action. You know what the good guys are doing until then? Wanking! And it ain’t easy mate. I have an itch and I need a scratch alright?” I pop off.

“Alright. Tell me how you see this going?” Frank asked me outright.

“I don’t really know. I really didn’t expect it to go this well,” I confess. I really did think that they would have hung up by now and called the whole thing a prank from an unknown nutbag.

“What do we do with you back home?” Raul asks.

“Well. James and I play D&D, Battletech, and sometimes Risk or Axis and Allies.” I reply.

“Raul still plays Battletech. We also have a D&D game we play once a week over Zoom,” Frank says.

“Ah. I can play a game or two of Battletech with you. I guess,” Raul says thick with indifference, not committing to the possibility that this is real.

“Who is the DM of the weekly game?” I ask.

Frank waved into the screen. “Me. You aren’t the DM on the other side?”

“No. I never really had the chops. We usually had Newman running as DM,”

“You have a Newman too?” Frank asks excitedly.

“Oh yeah. He is a goofy fucker. His dad…”

“...named him after the Mad Magazine character.” We all said at once. Raul rolling his eyes and saying it thick with sarcasm.