Michael Ocenar was a good kid. His parents said it, his teachers said it, hell, even the other kids at school said it. He was the kind of kid who, like Midas, turned everything he touched to gold. His grades were perfect, his attendance and record were immaculate, he stole the show in PE no matter the sport and yet… It was impossible to hate him for it.
Michael possessed a Buddha-like humility that undermined any sparks of resentment or envy. Michael was always there if you needed help with your homework, he only played sports for fun, never joining any teams, and most importantly, he related to everyone.
It didn’t matter if you were a nerd or a jock, a prep or a delinquent, Michael could find common ground in seconds, and in minutes, you’d be old friends.
That’s why everyone was so surprised when he died.
People immediately suspected foul play. What other explanation was there? Eyewitnesses reported he was walking home one day, when all of a sudden he bolted into traffic, right in front of a bus. And yet, nobody could explain why. Had he seen a cat? Had someone called him over, or dared him to do it? No one knew.
But the plain truth was, Michael Ocenar was dead.
*******
Michael Ocenar was an average kid, like you could find anywhere. You’ve probably ran into two people like Michael today alone, tens of thousands in your lifetime. He got average grades, did average in sports, had average tastes, and had an average personality. The only uncommon thing about him was that he ordered his burgers with double-extra pickles.
Still, as anyone knows, “he who is not one thing nor another has no friends”. He wasn’t fit enough for the jocks, he wasn’t cool enough for the preps, he wasn’t passionate enough for the geeks, and he had no special talents or tastes for him to carve out his own circle. In the great play of life, Michael was simply an extra.
That’s why nobody was particularly surprised when he died.
People immediately suspected suicide, and when his twisted body was found at the bottom of a nearby cliff, people only saw that as confirmation.
But the plain truth was, Michael Ocenar was dead.
*******
Michael Ocenar was the kind of kid who, if you asked his classmates about him, they would say “Michael who? Did we have someone like that in our class?”. He sat in the back, kept to himself, spoke when spoken to (as rare as that was), and in general left no footprints behind in the world around him.
An introvert’s introvert with no hidden talents or dizzying intellect behind his unapproachable demeanor, he faded into the scenery, becoming something beyond a wallflower; he simply became the wall.
That’s why nobody even noticed when he died.
One day, Michael just stopped showing up for class. A report was issued and a search conducted, but life went on without him, just like it had any other day. It wouldn’t be until 12 years later that a Youtuber would come across his body in the woods, but… That’s a story for another time.
But the plain truth was, Michael Ocenar was dead.
*******
Michael Ocenar was not like other kids. Heck, Michael Ocenar wasn’t like any adults either.
Jenna Blankenship noticed this early on in her life, well before everyone else did.
At first, he was just that wierdo new neighbour kid, always one thing, then another. However, the longer she watched him, the more she found herself captivated by his unpredictable nature.
Monday, he’d dash off to school, leaving the door wide behind him as he trampled through his mother’s begonias.
Tuesday, he was nearly late for the bus, mis-matched socks on his feet, his nose still buried in a book on dinosaurs.
Wednesday, he was out the door early, carefully closing and locking it behind him as he walked to the bus stop, avoiding every crack in the sidewalk with cautious steps.
And now, here was Thursday’s Michael, half-dancing out the door to the beat of his headphones, his hair styled, his fashion jarring but doable. Sauntering to the bus stop, he slipped his headphones down without turning off his music, and struck up a conversation with another kid, his voice loud and obnoxious.
Jenna smiled to herself. What would Friday’s Michael be like, she wondered?
Closing her curtains, she made her way out the door to the bus stop, swatting at a curious bee that seemed to have mistaken her for a flower.
And then Michael was there.
“Hey, careful, brah!” He stepped in, shooing the bee away with his baseball cap. “You’re allergic to bees. Wanna wind up in the ER?”
She blinked. “But… I’ve never been stung by a bee. What makes you think I’m allergic?”
“You’ve never been stung yet,” Michael corrected her, swaggering back to his friend with a lackadaisical wave over his shoulder.
Yup, Michael Ocenar wasn’t like other kids. Jenna smiled.
*******
There was a math test that day, but Jenna’s attention was focused on Michael again. Michael had failed the last several tests, and Jenna had overhead the teacher warn him that if he got another failing grade, he’d be sending him home with a letter to his parents. Now, what would he do?
Across from her, Michael fidgeted in his seat as the tests were handed out. Then, test in front of him, he let out a deep sigh, shuddered, and…
Hunching over his test, he picked up his pencil and went at it with a will. A full 20 minutes before the bell rang, he turned in his test, shuffling back to his seat where he pulled out a notebook and began sketching the tree outside the window, ignoring his headphones and MP3 player.
Jenna smiled and returned to her test. Michael wouldn’t be failing this one.
*******
With the last class of the day done, Michael neatly packed up his things and left the classroom almost before the bell has stopped ringing. Slipping out the back entrance to avoid running into anybody who knew him, Michael made his way back home, a rigidness in his posture giving him the appearance of somehow always standing at attention.
Back in front of his house, Michael noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway, a burgundy-red Volkswagen Beetle. Hesitating nervously on the edge of the lawn, he finally worked up the courage to enter.
“Oh, you’re back, Michael.” his mother noticed him as she looked up from her cooking. “Guess who decided to stop by?”
Please not Granny Wendy! he whispered to himself.
“Hey kiddo!” A lumbering, grey-bearded man trundled downstairs. “Did you go and grow taller on me again?”
“Uncle William?” Michael’s mouth went dry. “You’re alive?”
His uncle blinked, his eyebrows shooting up to his receding hairline. Then, he laughed uproariously. “Yup, they haven’t hauled me away just yet.”
In a flash, Michael threw his shoes off and ran to embrace his uncle, tears in his eyes. “I missed you, Uncle William!”
His uncle blinked again in surprise, tussling his nephew’s hair. “It hasn’t really been that long, has it?” he asked.
“This kid, I swear!” His mom threw up her hands in defeat, returning to her cooking.
That evening, Michael hardly left his uncle’s side, talking with him well into the night, swapping old stories and tall tales until, finally falling asleep, Michael had to be half-carried to bed by his massive uncle.
“I promise I’ll visit more often, kiddo.” He chuckled to himself, patting his nephew’s head. Settling deep into his covers, Michael smiled in spite of himself, as he sunk deeper and deeper into his dreams.
But the plain truth was, Michael Ocenar was still alive.
*******
“Sorry I’m late, what did I miss?” Today’s Michael dropped into the bustling throng of Michaels that was the Nexus, the dreamlike hub which all Michaels shared a connection to, the crease in the fabric of reality that had linked the middle-school boys across universes uncounted.
“Not much.” The Gamer Michael shrugged. “The Jock Squad wanted to implement a mandatory workout regiment, but it was shot down. Now, the Antisocial Corner is requesting we limit our friendships to no more than five friends.”
“Oh, I’d vote for that!” Today’s Michael replied. “Any idea where my group is?”
The Gamer Michael looked him up and down. “What’s your handle?”
“Student 4,781” he replied.
“The Student Council is over there on the right, between the Nerd’s Circle and the Geek Club.” The Gamer pointed helpfully.
“Hey, thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Elbowing his way through hundreds of thousands of Michaels, Today’s Michael finally reached his council, who were fervently taking notes on the proceedings. Reaching out, Today’s Michael summoned writing supplies for himself out of the Aether, and joined in immediately. Among the many mysterious properties of the Nexus, Michaels could create anything they desired, as long as they understood its structure.
“A-and that’s why, um, five friends is the absolute maximum we s-should have,” the Antisocial Corner’s representative mumbled the conclusion to his speech. “As long as w-we’re sharing bodies we, like, gotta be respectful of each other’s limitations, y’know?”
“Hear hear!” Today’s Michael called out.
“Go to hell, nerd!” another Michael called back.
“Do girlfriends count towards that?” The Players Pack representative raised his hand.
“Uh… yes. Absolutely,” the Antisocial replied.
“To hell with that!” someone called back.
“Get him off the stage!”
“Get a haircut!”
“Order! Either I’ll have order, or by golly I’ll have the Jock Squad clear the court!” The Michael Magistrate hammered away at his desk with his gavel. The hubbub dying down, the Magistrate turned to the Antisocial. “You can return to your Corner now, I think we’re ready to vote.”
“I think I speak for all of us when I say out vote is obvious,” Student 1, representative for the Student Council addressed his group.
“Naturally.” Today’s Michael nodded. “We are still students first, we should be spending out time studying for our future. Time spent with friends should be kept to an absolute minimum.”
Murmurs of approval came from the rest of the council.
“All right then.” Student 1 straightened his shirt collar. “I’ll go place out vote.” Elbowing his way through the throng of Michaels, he mounted the stage.
Ahead of him, the other representatives of their respective groups were already casting their votes.
“The Preps Clique vote “nay”,” a stylish Michael informed the Magistrate, strutting back to his group.
“That’s 12,842 votes against.” The Magistrate checked a ledger next to him.
“The Student Council votes “aye”,” Student 1 announced, his turn in line having come.
“And another 25,572 votes for,” the Magistrate noted.
Finally, with the last group having place its vote, all Michaels waited with baited breath as the Magistrate tallied the scores.
“We have a decision!” he announced finally, slamming his gavel home resolutely.
Today’s Michael held his breath.
“Not carried!”
A groan of despair rose from the crowd, quickly drowned out by the more numerous cheers.
“All right, all right, time for the next vote.” The Magistrate silenced them with a wave of his hand. “Any motions?”
“I have one!” Today’s Michael raised his hand, taking to the stage. “I propose we keep a journal with us of any deceased friends and family. I was swapped into a world today where Uncle William was still alive, and it would’ve been nice to know that before I ran into him.”
“Oof, I remember asking Mom where Gabriel was, one day,” a Michael agreed. “Turns out, he died in my world a couple years back due to a malpractice case.”
“You guys still have a mom?” another Michael cut in.
“If you don’t like it, just switch, idiot,” someone yelled back.
“Someone’s gonna end up with no mom, just sayin’,” they called back.
“Order!” the Magistrate called out. “You don’t know how lucky you have it, my Michael died in his sleep, leaving me without a body to return to!” He turned to Today’s Michael. “You can return to your group for voting, unless you have something further to add.”
“No, that’s it.”
The rest of the night passed in much the same manner, with the voting not finishing until past midnight.
“Any more motions?” the magistrate called out, gesturing around with his gavel. Upon receiving no response, the Magistrate took a deep breath, then rose to address the assembled Michaels himself.
“How long has it been since I was last forced to make a public announcement like this?” he mused. “It must’ve been when puberty struck. I hoped I’d never have to say it, but something far worse threatens us now.”
The collective gasps nearly drew the oxygen out of the room as murmurs drifted among the throng. All eyes were on him now.
“We are being attacked,” the Magistrate announced, pausing to let the words sink in. “I know what you’re thinking; Michaels die every year for a multitude of reason. But this goes beyond that” he lifted a piece of paper from his desk. “By our, that is to say my, estimates, we have lost 15% of our population of Michaels across the known multiverse, and that number is only growing with every passing day.”
Now, even the Fratbro’s Table was paying attention, and that never happened. Today’s Michael made a note of this.
“I did think we were missing a couple members,” Student 989 remarked worriedly. “Where’s Student 2?”
“He… hasn’t shown up yet today,” Student 5,081 verified, causing the hairs to stand up on Today’s Michael’s neck.
What was going on?
“Unfortunately, that’s all I know.” The Magistrate surveyed the crowd of Michaels before him. “It could be a serial killer, a natural disaster, even an allergic reaction. All I ask is that from here on out, you all be doubly careful.” Taking off his hat, periwig, and robe, the magistrate delivered one final crack of his gavel. “That is all for tonight, feel free to mingle until the Michaels wake up.”
With that, he stepped off the stage and vanished into the crowd as it began to disperse.
“What should we do, #1?” Student 989 asked Student 1.
“It’s simple, really,” he answered confidently. “We focus on our studies as usual. Avoid anything new, and stay home where it’s safe.”
“Agreed.” Today’s Michael nodded. Whatever it was, he was safe as long as he stuck to his routine.
*******
Today’s Michael woke up, ready to tackle another day. Some Michaels had a habit of swapping whenever an unfavourable situation presented itself, but Today’s Michael knew that not only was there no guarantee that your future world would be better than your current one, but the shock of adapting to someone else’s life was brutal. This was why Today’s Michael never swapped out voluntarily, only when forcibly called over to fill someone else’s vacancy.
Finishing his breakfast, he checked over his homework one last time, finishing up by penning a reminder in his pocket notebook.
Family – Alive
Uncle William – Alive
Jenna Blankenship – Alive
Michael paused at that last entry. If there was one thread of common ground among the Michaels across every universe, it was her. Every Michael crushed on her, without exception. Even the Magistrate fondly looked back on the times he spent with her in his waking past.
Michael straightened his backpack as he prepared to head out the door. This was a new Jenna, he reminded himself. The Jenna of this timeline could be anything, from an emo to a queen bee. Some things remained consistent across universes, such as his parents, as “he” as he was could not be born to anyone else.
But anything else was up to chance.
Stepping out the door, Michael pushed the doubts from his mind as he strode purposefully towards the bus stop. He was student 4,781, and by golly that stood for something. His studies came first and foremost, everything else…
“Hey Michael! G’morning!”
Michael stood transfixed as Jenna Blankenship sniped him with her vitamin-D filled smile, waving as she ran to the bus stop.
Right, that’s why every Michael loved her, regardless of the universe.
A small miracle, something nobody else could ever notice, something that said more about her character than a trillion variations ever could.
Regardless of the universe, Jenna Blankenship alone remained Jenna Blankenship, a radiant ball of sunshine.
A stupid grin plastered across his usually studious face, Michael took another step towards the bus stop…
And then he was away, yanked across time and space to somewhere else, someone else, in a world running parallel to his.
Damnit, twice in two days, he thought to himself. I should really bring this up next…
He never fished his thought, as the noose choked the air from his lungs. He scrabbled at the rope, his nails digging bleeding trenches in his flesh as he tried to loosen the deadly coil, but all he succeeded in doing was swaying himself back and forth on the lonely tree branch where he hung.
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Then, with the last spark of his consciousness, a terrible idea came to him.
“Switch!” he willed, as the tension released, and he felt himself yanked away again, to a new life in a new body.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered a prayer for whatever poor soul was taking his place.
With a jolt, Michael was back, in a different body at a different bus stop. Looking up, he saw the school bus round the corner, heading towards him.
School? Like he had time for school. Now he knew how the Michaels were being killed! But if the killer had waited a fraction longer before swapping out to him…
“I’m in danger,” Michael gasped out, his mouth dry.
“Hmm?” Jenna looked over at him.
But Michael was already off running, away from the bus, away from his home, away from the worried Jenna looking on after him.
*******
Eventually, Michael stopped running. He hadn’t seen much while he was hanging to death, but it had been impossible to miss the steeple peeking through the trees in front of him. That’s why he was here now, in the forest behind St. Dymphna’s church.
Stepping deeper into the pathless woods, Michael didn’t have to go far. There, in all its macabre glory was the sturdy maple from which he had hung not 30 minute ago.
His throat suddenly tight, Michael forcefully swallowed his fears and began surveying the area. There was the thick branch he had hung from, but what of the rope? The stepladder? Surely someone would notice a boy sneaking into a forest alone with that deadly pairing in his arms.
Looking behind him, Michael noticed the small storage shed at the edge of the forest he had passed. Could it be…? Creeping closer, Michael couldn’t miss that the rusted padlock on the door was hanging open. Apparently, the caretaker didn’t think there was much worth robbing stored here. Pulling the door open on protesting hinges, two items caught Michael’s eye;
A spool of rope, and the portable stepladder it lay coiled on.
The sensation of rough hemp against his neck returned like a dogged phantom’s grip, and Michael dropped to his knees, vomiting.
I have to stop this he thought, his mind spinning. I have to survive.
His mind frozen over in panic, Michael found himself grabbing the rope and stepladder and dashing further into the woods, ignoring the branches whipping and cutting at his skin.
Finally, out of sight of the church’s steeple altogether, he cast the offending items down a hill, watching the rope unfurl, and the stepladder tumble and spin, striking every tree on its way down.
“Just try and kill me, bastard,” Michael muttered to himself, for he now knew the killer’s identity.
*******
That night, Michael struggled to fall asleep. He knew the sooner he dropped off, the safer he was, as once he entered the Nexus, he couldn’t be swapped out anymore. Also, he needed to alert the other Michaels. They had to know!
Yet, the harder he tried to sleep, the more awake he felt. It was already passed midnight, the meeting would be nearly over.
Trying to relax, Michael resigned himself, lying flat on his back as he stared at the ceiling lamp. Don’t think, he told himself. Just breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
And the he was back in the Nexus, one Michael in the crowd.
“Any further motions?” The Magistrate called out, raising his gavel.
“Wait!” Michael yelled out, clawing his way through the crowd, and clambering onto the stage.
“Well, this is highly irregular.” The Magistrate cocked an eyebrow at him critically. “But, as long as you’re already on stage, you might as well explain your proposal.”
“Oh, it’s no proposal,” he muttered, snatching up the microphone. “I know what’s killing the Michael!” he yelled out, as the Nexus erupted in confused murmuring.
“Order!” the Magistrate pounded away at the desk, trying in vain to silence the throng. “Well, go on then, tell us!” He turned to Today’s Michael. “How did you find out?”
“Easy. He tried to kill me.”
The Nexus exploded in noise again, as the Michaels gasped in shock and disbelief. “He tried to hang me,” Today’s Michael continued, gripping his own neck. “I barely managed to escape by switching out, but that means he successfully killed again.”
“Well, confound it all, tell us already!” the Magistrate probed. “Who’s the culprit?”
Today’s Michael gazed out at the assembled sea of Michaels and took a deep breath.
“It was suicide.”
This time, the Nexus went dead quiet. Each Michael nervously eyed the others as the reality of what that entailed sunk in.
“You mean…” the Magistrate near-whispered.
“It’s us,” Michael summed up. “For us to lose as many as we have, it’s more than just a once-off case, or a true suicide. One or more of us are putting themselves in mortal peril, then switching out, all with the intent of killing us off.”
Absolute silence ruled the Nexus. A pin dropping at the far corner could’ve been heard on the other end.
“What possible motive could they have to do this?” the Magistrate finally spoke, his voice troubled. “It just doesn’t add up, no matter how you slice it. At the end of the day, we’re still all… us, aren’t we? And that aside, do you even have any proof of your claims?” He turned on Today’s Michael.
“Well, not yet, naturally,” Today’s Michael answered testily. “But no other answer makes sense!”
“This is neither the time nor place to announce mere theories!” the Magistrate reprimanded him. “You should have taken me aside in private, instead of broadcasting it to the whole Nexus like this. Just think of the panic you’ll cause! No, I think we’d better adjourn for today, and talk things over tomorrow.”
“No… no!” Today’s Michael’s hands went to his neck again, as he felt the invisible noose tightening. “I don’t want to go back! You can’t make me! Don’t you understand? As soon as we leave the Nexus, he can kill us again!”
“Stand down, you fool. Jocks!” the Magistrate called out. “Take this Student back to his council.”
As the burly squad of Michaels approached, Today’s Michael’s mind raced. How could he convince them? There had to be something he was overlooking. What was the culprit’s motive?
And then, something clicked.
“That’s it!” he nearly screamed, turning to the Magistrate with fevered excitement. “You’re the culprit! It all makes sense now!”
“Beg your pardon?” The Magistrate’s eyebrows shot up into his periwig.
“Your Michael’s dead, right?” his words tumbled out. “You must want to kill the other Michaels so you can get a body back! You’re the only one with a motive!”
“Are you even hearing yourself?” The Magistrate grabbed him by his shirt front. “Why would I kill all Michaels? Why not just one to take his place?”
“I dunno, revenge?” Today’s Michael pushed him off. “You’re probably just jealous of the rest of us, aren’t you? Jocks, arrest the Magistrate!”
“We’re arresting both of you until we sort this mess out,” a goliath Michael shot back, as he pinioned Today’s Michael’s arms behind his back.
“You utter fools! Unhand me!” The Magistrate kicked and squirmed as the Jocks hauled the two away, tying them up tightly before heading back to rejoin the crowd.
Meanwhile, the Nexus had erupted into chaos.
“With the Magistrate incapacitated, the Student Council will be assuming control,” Student 1 announced loftily.
“Go t’ hell, egghead!” someone else called back. “The Preps are the only ones qualified!”
“The Normie Group nominates itself!” someone else called out. “We’ve the majority, we’ll govern as a council in the meantime!”
“If y’all don’t quiet down, we’ll truss you up too,” a burly Michael threatened.
“Go ahead and try, Jock Squad!” someone taunted. “You can’t stop us all!”
“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”
“You were right, I miscalculated,” Today’s Michael lamented to the Magistrate. “Things are out of control. At this rate, we’ll be stuck like this until the morning!”
But the Magistrate didn’t answer. His head lolled against his chest, as thick blood seeped out from a gash in his throat.
“Eeep!” Today’s Michael skittered back from the corpse. “Oh God, he’s dead!”
One of the Jock Squad goons turned at his exclamation, confirming the sight at a glance,
“Holy shoot, we really are getting murdered!” he exclaimed, drawing the attention of the crowd.
“Hey, what’s that?”
Today’s Michael turned to see what everyone was looking at, accidentally kicking a blood-covered knife spinning as he did. Turns out, everyone was looking at him, and the murder weapon at his feet.
“It was him all along!” Jock 5,832 exclaimed.
“I knew he was fishy, accusing the Magistrate like that.”
“I guess he decided to take matters into his own hands. Scary!”
“H-hey now, I’m tied up here!” Today’s Michael blustered. “Check for fingerprints or something, I’m innocent!”
“We’ve all got the same prints, dude,” the Jock growled, a wooden baseball bat fizzling into his hands. “I’m gonna make you regret messing with us, you sicko!”
“Oh no. Nononono NO!” Today’s Michael hopped to his feet, making a break for the nearby Fratbro’s Table.
“Nice try, jackass.” Jock 5,832 swung once, a fantastic homer. With a sharp crack of wood on bone, Today’s Michael went down like a sack of potatoes, and was still.
“Duuuude, did you really haveta, like, kill him?” Fratbro 420 complained, amidst a wide murmur of agreement from the crowded Nexus.
“Look, back it up if you don’t wanna be next, bud.” Jock 5,832 pushed him back with the tip of the bat. “From here on out the Jock Squad is in control, now that the Magistrate is dead.”
Loud boos rang out across the Nexus, but they quickly turned to screams, as Artist 1,140 stumbled over the body of yet another dead Michael.
The panic spread like wildfire. He was still out there!
“Man, I told you it wasn’t that Student dude.” Fratbro 420 shoved Jock 5,832. “Maybe you’re the killer, huh?”
Murmurs of agreement backed him up.
“Oh, go suck a plug socket.” Jock 5,832 pushed back with his bat. “How do you know there aren’t more than one killer?”
“And maybe you’re one of them!”
As the crowd pressed in on the Jocks, they quickly drew weapons of their own, threatening the advancing Michaels back.
“Death to the Jocks!” someone yelled out.
*whiiiiizzip*
Suddenly, a knife shot through the air, imbedding itself up to the handle in the chest of Jock 5,832, as he fell to the ground with a gurgle.
“Who threw that?!” the Jocks roared, plowing into the crowd, weapons swinging indiscriminately.
“Stay back!”
Normie 18,460 stood out from the crowd, a pistol gripped in his hands, the barrel leveled at the approaching Jocks.
“Damnit, he’s got a gun!” someone yelled.
“Idiot.” Jock 3,007 approached him, nailbat in hand. “You can’t create objects you don’t understand.”
“Huh?” Normie 18,460 blinked, pulling the trigger in panic.
*click*
“Told you so.” The nailbat swinging at his head in slow-motion was the last thing Normie 18,460 saw.
“Shoot, this looks pretty grim, eh?” Artist 2,422 remarked to Musician 8,104. “Reckon we should escape?”
“Where to, genius?” Musician 8,104 shot back. “The Nexus was born from out collective minds, remember? It scales to the number of Michaels currently in it. There’s no place to run, or even to hide!” He looked over his shoulder paranoidly.
“Wait, that may work in our favour!” Artist 2,422 tapped a fist against his palm. “That means the killer’s trapped in with us too! And there are loads more of us than him, right?” He looked to Musician 8,104.
“…uhhhkkkh!” Musician 8,104 gurgled back, blood from his slashed neck pooling in his throat as he toppled to his knees.
“Jeepers!” Artist 2,422 recoiled in horror, bumping into the Michael behind him.
“You good, brah?” Otaku 962 looked over his shoulder. “Holy shoot, another stiff?!”
“Get away from me!” Artist 2,422 summoned a switchblade, warding off those around him. “The killers are still out there! The only way any of us are getting out of here is if we kill anyone who approaches us first!”
“Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.”
Artist 2,422 never saw the 2x4 coming, hitting the ground hard as he was poleaxed by the blunt plank.
“He’s right, you know,” the Unknown Michael said in a low voice, hefting the red-splattered board. “It’s kill-or-be-killed now, buckos.”
“Get him!” a Jock yelled, flinging his crowbar, which the Unknown Michael easily dodged.
“1:58,” he confirmed, glancing at the central clock. “Perfect.” Without another word, he dropped the board and dove into a nearby crowd of Michaels, bowling some over and knocking the legs out from others, until there was a massive dogpile of very, very scared Michaels, all trying desperately to escape.
“He’s in there!” the Jock yelled, rallying his troops. “Take no chances, kill them all!”
“It’s not me! It’s not me, I swear!” Otaku 962 backpedaled out of the pile, bumping into Normie 20,391. “H-hey, you believe me, right?” He looked up at the other him.
“Sorry, I can’t take any chances.”
The blunt end of a cricket bat was the last thing Otaku 962 saw.
*******
How much longer until morning? Student 989 poked his head out from behind his conjured barricade of wooden crates. The Nexus had shrunk down to a mere 30 cubic yards roughly, what with all the dead…
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the bloody scene etched in his memory. Sitting up, he searched for the central clock, but whatever Michael had originally been in charge of conjuring it must’ve already died, because all he could see from his corner of the Nexus were other small bunkers inhabited by other, equally-paranoid Michaels, peeking from their fortifications like rabbits from their burrows.
Student 989 adjusted his grip on his crowbar. What now? It could be hours until the Michaels woke up and left the Nexus, and even then… what about the next night? Or the night after that? There was no way the Michaels could ever come to trust each other again.
Student 989 peeked over his barricade again. The scariest part of everything was how empty and quiet it had become. The corpses vanished before they even turned cold, as soon as the last of their consciousness faded, leaving the Nexus as quiet as the graveyard it had become.
And then, something flickered. The world got perceptibly bigger, maybe by another square yard or two. How was that possible? Surely, nobody could’ve joined the Nexus this late… or rather, this early?
*pop* *pop* *pop*
A sound like firecrackers split the quietude. Student 989 first dropped to the ground in fear, then slowly rose again, peering through a crack between piled crates. The world had shrunk back to its 30 cubic yard size, and lay just as still as before. Was that just some sort of… glitch? It’s funny, he thought, how little we know about the Nexus, in the end. They had access to it since before they were even born, after all. Back when it was just a multiverse of babies, drifting in warm contentment, safe in each other’s presence. How had things come to this?
*pop* *pop*
Another pair of tiny detonations, and the Nexus shrunk to match.
No… this couldn’t be… could it? Student 989 watched on through his crack. A solitary figure emerged from one of the far barricades, even as it began to fade to nothingness. Striding purposefully over to the next fortification, he paused to examine it, sizing it up from a safe distance before moving closer.
Suddenly, the occupants emerged, a pair of Michaels wielding sledgehammers. The first one wound up for a swing at the intruder, as the second scrambled to flank him, and…
*pop* *pop* *pop* *pop*
Both Michaels froze in their tracks. Then, their weapons falling limply from their grips, they toppled back into their fort, knocking its wall over as they did.
Coolly, the intruder held out his hand, a new magazine materializing inside his grip. Ejecting the old one, he inserted the new, priming his handgun before moving to the next pile of boxes. The Nexus lurched, contracting in on itself and taking Student 989 and his fort with him in a flurry of crates.
This wasn’t supposed to be possible! A handgun? Student 989 reached out and willed a revolver into his own hand. Gingerly cocking the hammer, he aimed through a gap in the mess of crates and pulled the trigger.
*click*
The hammer stuck the impotent bullet in the chamber to no effect. Cocking the hammer to try again, he noticed with dismay that the cylinder wasn’t even rotating. The entire thing was essentially one large metal prop.
The Nexus lurched again, sending Student 989 tumbling with his boxes a second time, his useless revolver falling from his grip as he went.
Damnit! He was running out of time!
Fumbling through the pile of crates, Student 989 nearly shrieked aloud when he came across the bloody corpse of the Magistrate, his throat and shirtfront crimson with blood.
Trying to slow his breathing and calm his fraying nerves, Student 989 was thrown off his feet as the Nexus shrunk again, sending him, his crates, and the Magistrate all tumbling together. Ducking down, Student 989 let them fall across him, accepting the nicks and bruises that came with it. Any cover was better than no cover, and he had a plan.
Reaching out his hand, he willed a slingshot into existence, along with a bag of marble-sized ball-bearings. Student 989 smiled grimly. Just because he was a bookish type didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared to sell his life dearly. In one world line, his uncle William had bought him a slingshot for his 9th birthday, and he could still hit a bullseye at over 20 yards.
More gunshots cut off student 989’s train of thought. Looking up, he saw the remaining three Michaels had banded together, and had the killer pinned behind a fallen barricade. The situation had developed into a stalemate, with the three Michaels unable to advance for fear of gunfire, and the killer unable to break cover for risk of the Jock Michael, and the killer fastballs he was slinging his way.
Student 989’s grip tightened on his weapon. Was this his chance? Slowly rising to his feet, he loaded a bearing into the leather pad, drawing a bead on the killer Michael.
And then, something stirred in the corner of his vision.
Student 989 spun around to face the Magistrate’s corpse, looking very alive despite its cut throat.
Cursing loudly, he raised his sling, but the Magistrate’s hand was already swinging, a brick clutched tightly its grasp.
*thunk!*
As Student 989’s consciousness faded, he felt the slingshot tugged from his grasp…
And then, darkness.
*******
Student 989’s first thought upon waking was one of surprise, that he was still alive to do so. Trying to stand up, he found his hands and legs were bound, a fact that made him doubt his chances for surviving the day. On the other hand, it must be nearly morning already, he figured. If he could just wake up quick enough, he could plan a counter-attack and…
“So, Sleeping Beauty awakes, eh?” The Magistrate looked down on Student 989, giving him a sharp kick in the ribs for no discernable reason. “We were in the middle of deciding what to do with you.”
Upon closer inspection, it was easy to see that the Magistrate’s “slit throat” was nothing more than a liberal coating of dyed corn syrup, most of which had already run off over the course of him playing possum. Student 989 gnashed his teeth at the fact that he’d fallen for elementary-level special effects like that.
“Why would you of all Michaels do this?” Student 989 addressed the Magistrate, ignoring the Unknown Michael cleaning his nails on a switchblade behind him. “We trusted and looked up to you! You were Student 4, the best of us all! Weren’t you going to become a public defense lawyer?”
“Student 4, hmm?” The Magistrate looked wistfully up at the dull-hued Nexus ceiling. “I didn’t think anyone still remembered.” He sat down in front of Student 989. “As to why, well that’s quite simple. They all lost their way. That’s all there is to it.”
“Come again?”
“You’re a bright student, I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you.” The Magistrate sighed. “We were born to be different, us Michaels. Gods among men, that’s us. The linchpin of the universe, the ones who could see behind the curtain of reality, living as both actors and directors in the great play of life! And what were the others doing with their one-in-a-multiverse existence?”
His knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists. “Playing baseball, studying for tests, going on dates… what nonsense! But I could live with that, you understand. I alone would reach our true potential, I decided. I would succeed where you mindless drones failed. But then…”
His face contorted in a mixture of deep sadness and deeper rage. “…To die in my sleep, and be forced to stay here, awake for eternity, trapped alone in a six cubic-foot prison for the waking hours of the day, when the other Michaels aren’t around to sustain the Nexus… where’s the justice?!”
He lashed out, splintering the side of a crate in with a fierce kick. “I don’t want to be trapped anymore. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to be held back anymore.” His crazed eyes locked with Student 989’s, forcing him to look away. “Is that so wrong?”
“So, tell me, Student 989.” He hunched forward, whispering in his ear. “Have you also lost your way?”
*Bang!*
Student 989 froze. Time seemed to stand still, as he felt the warm blood trickle down his forehead.
Not his blood, but the Magistrate’s.
The Nexus lurched again, leaving Student 989 alone in a 12-foot cubed room, with the Unknown Michael, a smoking pistol in his grasp.
“God, he never shuts up, does he?” the killer sighed, speaking to Student 989 for the first time. He had a mild voice, with a passionate timbre at odds with his demeanor. “Do you know how many months I had to listen to him rave, day in and day out, before I could get him to listen to me?”
He sighed, passing a weary hand over his face. Then, kicking a crate into place in front of Student 989, he threw himself down on it, knees wide.
“I should probably apologize,” he murmured. “There’s really no excuse for this. The chances are ten billion to one that you deserve this, but that’s a chance I had to take.”
He ejected the magazine from his .22, loading a newly summoned bullet, before returning it to his firearm. “We can make anything in this world, you know,” he muttered to nobody in particular. “As long as we understand how it works, each individual piece. As soon as I realized that, I studied firearms like my life depended on it.” He chuckled softly. “It sort of did, after all.”
“I don’t understand,” Student 989 admitted. “The Magistrate I get, but what could you stand to gain from this? You’re just a regular Michael, like me!”
The Unknown Michael fiddled with his pistol for a moment, before finally locking eyes with the terrified Student 989. “It was last year,” he explained, his eyes distant. “I was living a simple life. I’d only gotten swapped twice, and I hadn’t lost anyone important. I had a chaste relationship with Jenna, and we’d even promised we’d marry when we grew up. All in all, I was satisfied with my lot.”
He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. He sat like that for almost a minute, and when he continued, his voice had a flat, emotionless tone, like one narrating a textbook. “That was when I was swapped for the third time. When I opened my eyes, I was in the middle of a crime scene. It wasn’t long before I realized; I was the criminal. Not me, of course, but another “me”, one who was now living my life. But what he did… when I opened the door… Jenna… Oh dear God, Jenna…” The killer broke down in a storm of bitter, choking sobs. It was only after several minutes that he regained his composure.
“I knew, of course, that I could just run,” he explained finally. “Swap out and pretend it never happened. But how could I subject another Michael to that? And they in turn would likely swap out… and on, and on… No. Instead, I faced the charges and pled guilty to every one. But I realized, the sick bastard who’s place I was taking, he’d never face justice for his crimes. He could do whatever he pleased, again, and again, and again, and never pay for it. Only I knew, only I could hold him accountable. Ever since that day, I’ve lived for nothing but vengeance. And now, my work is done.” He raised his gun.
“Wait!” Student 989 pleaded. “You said yourself, it’s a one in ten-billion chance that I’m guilty! I swear, I’ve lived on the straight and narrow my whole life! Let me go, and I’ll never bother you again!”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “But as long as the chances are non-zero, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” He primed the slide. “I won’t forget you, Student 989.”
Student 989 fought violently against his bonds, but to no avail. He looked into the eyes of the man before him, dark, inscrutable pools that betrayed nothing, no glimpse of either satisfaction or remorse.
Just death.
“Who… are you?” Student 989 breathed.
“Michael. Michael Ocenar.”
He pulled the trigger.
*******
The Nexus was silent now, a six-foot cube containing nothing but one boy and one smoking gun.
“It’s over,” he breathed, sinking back to the empty ground. What would happen now, he wondered? His idea to set an alarm for 2:00 AM had worked as expected. Once his Michael had woken up and yanked him from the Nexus, it was simply a matter of waiting for the panicked crowd to do his dirty work for him, before falling back to sleep and cleaning up the remainders.
He hadn’t bothered setting any further alarms, however. In fact, he didn’t even know what would happen now. When a Michael died in his sleep while his consciousness was in the Nexus, he remained trapped there, as demonstrated by the Magistrate’s curious case. But what happened when Michaels died in the Nexus? Did a multiverse of Michaels simply pass away quietly, into a sleep they’d never wake from?
Michael looked at the pistol in his hands. Justice was done, but at what cost? Was this murder, what he had done? Was it suicide? If so, what was one more suicide, strictly speaking? Who could he ask for guidance, who could explain it to him? What prior case could be reviewed, to determine his guilt or innocence?
Did he deserve to live?
He raised the gun to his head.
Give me a sign, he thought. I’ve carried this burden alone for too long. Oh God, what do I do with my life now?
His finger brushed the trigger.
*Bang!*
Michael’s eyes shot open. The first thing he saw was his ceiling lamp. Not the gates of heaven, or hell, or even some dark void between. Just his plain old ceiling lamp, with the shadow of three dead flies in it.
*Bang!* *Bang!* *Bang!*
Michael’s head jolted in the direction of the noise, the door to his room. Stumbling to his feet, his eyes bleary with fatigue, he approached it. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled it open.
*Whump!*
Jenna Blankenship’s fist rapped him right in the face, knocking him to the ground in surprise.
“Oh shi-… Are you okay?” She reached out to help him up. “I wasn’t expecting you to open the door right as I was knocking!” She laughed, a sound like silver bells.
“Jenna?” Michael looked up in disbelief. “W-what are you doing here?”
“What, you don’t like your fiancée paying you a wake-up call?” She grinned impudently, flashing the costume jewelry ring on her finger. “If we’re getting married when we’re older, this much is nothing!” She pulled him to his feet.
“You’re really my Jenna.” Michael reached out and touched her cheek, tears in his eyes. “And I’m finally me again.”
A worried look came into Jenna’s eyes. “Hey, are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”
“No.” Michael wiped his eyes and smiled, his first real smile in a long, long year. “I’ve never been better.” Reaching out with his mind, he made a tentative command, closing his eyes.
“Switch!”
He opened them again.
There was Jenna Blankenship, the love of his life, a worried expression on her face. But it was his Jenna, unchanged.
“I’m going to make you the happiest woman alive,” he promised in a low voice, kissing her on the forehead. Her answering smile was like dawn’s first light.
“I know.”
Hand in hand, the two left the room. But as the door shut, Michael’s eyes strayed to his ceiling lamp, and the blurred shadows of the dead flies within. A wave of nausea roiled up, as his thoughts went to the now-empty Nexus, mass-grave to a multiverse of Michaels. Was it alright for him to be this happy? He stopped in his tracks.
“Coming?” Jenna pulled at his hand, flashing her pearly whites, and breaking him from the prison of his own thoughts.
“Yeah.” He nodded. That’s right, there was still Jenna to live for. An ordinary middle-school girl, who would never know how much she meant to so many.
I’ll live on for you, he thought to his countless dead selves. A life you’d be proud of. I’ll protect what mattered most to us.
His doubts diminished, if not wholly dissipated, Michael descended the steps, following his fiancée.
But the plain truth was, Michael Ocenar was still alive.
The End.