EARTH.
Non looked at the icosahedral home, part of a large, lonely estate. Wheelchair ramps. His first breath alarmed him. “I might be suffocating.”
“You’re used to 280 CO2 levels. Earth Medieval. This is 470.” The teen completed a second portal leading to a familiar garage. “There. Step on through and give me the forms.”
EARTH.
Non arrived in a tidy garage with boardgames in the back. He handed over the forms Junk to Get and Note to Self. “I bought this Honda just before the pandemic. He bought it. I don’t think he’s gone a thousand miles in it in the years since then. In a zombie novel, he learned ethanol gas degrades.”
Duracotus browsed the forms. “Do not touch the dusty car. You’ll get the full memory set after you help me unfold this tarp. No sightseeing, in and out. Watch your head. The ceiling is 243 centimeters.”
“Will my dog be okay? His dog? Tycho’s aggressive.”
“The dog chewed a vacuum cord. Your old Earthself fell while digging a grave.”
“Dammit.” The taur’s eyes glistened as he ducked into a doorway. “Could we save them?”
“He’ll live on through you, Non. You’re the backup copy. His consciousness will join yours soon, but you’ll mesh on first sleep. No dumb stuff. Don’t talk to yourself. Avoid introspection.”
Non had seen other friends who suddenly had their earthly selves take residence in their dreamed-of bodies. Most of the time, the new memories sort out well. Most of the time. He looked out a window at his Earthself in the backyard slumped with his dog. ‘He’d like that.’ Duracotus patted his back. After coaxing, they unfolded the tarp and Non settled on it with his staff over his upper chest.
“There’s circuitry in it?” Lines on the tarp glowed under him.
“Count retrograde from five factorial,” said Duracotus. Non delved recursively into his thoughts.
“We’ve started.” Memory transfer underway, the teen stepped back to the garage, where a feathered female harpy in a police uniform tossed junk boxes through the portal. “Constable Song, I’m Duracotus. Here’s the junk list. I’m with you for the Middy Zola escort, too. Let’s head in.” She followed the teen.
“Actually, it’s now Middy Zola and Swee the troll. Tentative murder-suicide. I’m still getting updates. TASC moving the bloody moon wreaked havoc. Male taur?” She grabbed an unused ratchet screwdriver.
Duracotus gestured to centaur art and then to the equitaur. “Correct. The eclipse on Icarus skewed the portal system. I didn’t know about Swee. Es ist kaputt.”
“English or Greek, please. Looks like hikikomori.” The harpy touched the staff. “He rated an item?”
Duracotus pointed to other posters with mathematical images. “Lernea sponsored it. His math intrigued me and it fit his character. Memory upload – almost done – wake him up.”
“No math.” She furrowed her brow in impatience and then tapped the screwdriver against Non’s chest.
“Wake up NOW, centaur! Equitaur. Whatever you are.”
The equitaur awoke in his living room. A winged bird woman over him held a form marked Questions. A heavy black staff over his upper chest. Icosian? The weapon of his equitaur character? His wrists had feathering, much like his four horse legs as he laid on his back. His horse legs? He shifted his gaze from himself to the eagle with a gleaming badge on her chest. Then he spoke with a voice not his own.
“Constable Song, we have a successful transfer. I’m Non. But I feel freaked out.”
“That’s normal. Who is your equitaur father?”
“Lagen Cruciger. He has a swoosh on his side like an hourglass dolphin.”
“Very good, we have Icarus. What are icosians?”
The equitaur excitedly explained. “It’s a set of 120 unit quaternions on -1=i2=j2=k2=ijk. Start with (2,0,0,0) and (1,1,1,1), then apply plus/minus, permutations, halving and dot products with (1,i,j,k) to get the 24-cell. Add (0,1,𝜑,1/𝜑) for the icosians or tetraplex. Am I babbling? Wasn’t I burying my dog? If this is the staff Icosian, can it do the Raising the Bar trick?”
The grimacing eagle lady raised a winghand to halt further math or questions. “Earth person verified.”
The black staff lifted dramatically into the air and cycled through different markings and abilities.
Icosian [https://i.imgur.com/smmkIYl.png]
║ ICOSIAN. CONTACT STAFF OF VECTOR MANIPULATION. WC ALLOY, 216CM, 20KG, 4 EXABYTES.
║ OPAQUE SCREENS. SLEEVELESS OLYMPIC BAR BONDED TO NON SEQUITUR THE EQUITAUR.
║ (SPARSE RULER MODE) MEASUREMENT, SUMMONING.
║ (GOLOMB RULER MODE) VECTORS, AREAL COORDINATES, QUATERNION MAPPING.
║ (DIFFERENCE SET MODE) IMMOVABLE (INERTIA). 8MG LIMIT.
║ DIGITAL LIBRARY SIZE: 123201 BOOKS. HOVERING ENDS IN 3, 2, 1.
“It’s Icosian!” The staff floated above him. ‘That’s awesome! 123201 is one of two neighboring 13-smooth numbers, but the 19-smooth case from the fourth root of 9.1 does a–’ The heavy staff dropped directly on the distracted taur’s chest.
“We have Earth. Why didn’t you catch that? You can stand up now, be careful.”
Non could explain! “Consecutive numbers 26·52·7·11 and 36·132 are very–”
“Stop! You let the staff drop on you because you were factoring?” Her head feathers crested before she locked eyes. “Non, I know you’re still sorting out memories, but–”
“Brains rely more on a hashing scheme; you wouldn’t want to use sort on–”
“Stop! We’re both from a backup planet named Icarus. I’m originally from New York City and wrote about a harpy named Song. I died and woke up as my harpy character. Me. By the authority of the Galactic Core Corps, we’ve copied your Earth memories into a living version of your long-term favorite character, Non Sequitur. Don’t bang your head. If it’s rented, plugged in, charged or claimed, leave it be. Otherwise, fair game. Get up, get moving and get out of here! And don’t activate any smart devices.”
Non carefully arose, aware of his newfound height, strength, and four hooves. He lowered his head to avoid hitting the ceiling. “Is it summonable?” *Vorp*. The staff appeared in his hand.
“I suppose so. Get things you value and get out before your time expires.”
“I recognize the markings! This is a–”
The harpy whacked his chest with the giant screwdriver. “I don’t care about the markings! Get the things you want. Leave things others know about. Leave no trace. Do not create a crime scene.”
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Non Sequitur reasserted himself near his cell phone. Electronics without shielding tended to fry.
“You can help yourself,” said the equitaur. “I’m a nobody. No one will notice anything.” He avoided looking at his former body and his dog in the backyard. ‘Guess I died a failure.’
‘But wow, I’m an equitaur! And I have Icosian! Look at my biceps here. I have abs again. And the pouch? My pattern really moves? The pilomotor rotator idea works! I should start getting things.’
A mirror reflected his equine face. ‘Blue eyes. I must be 8 feet tall. Can Icosian read my thoughts?’
║ YES. YOU HAVE LOTS OF THOUGHTS. HELLO, NON.
The harpy pulled down his nose. “Ogle yourself later. Move it!” She walked off to scavenge.
Non kept his head lowered as he moved toward his den, pausing at the chewed cord of the vacuum. What did he want? Non lifted his dicebag, then his unfinished RPG Fate variant: DICEBAG.
♫ LITERARY MODE ACTIVATED: HARLEQUIN EQUITAUR.
“I’m a Harlequin? My follicle fantasy for fancy fluidic motifs functions fantastically!”
♫ THE HORSE KNOWN AS MR. ED COULD TALK. HE COULDN'T HAVE BEEN BAMBOO HARVESTER.
🎭 MASKED MAN: EDIT YOUR OUTER GRAYSCALE VECTOR PATTERN. TOOLBAR AVAILABLE VIA ICOSIAN.
”Did I just gain an ability? What are those notes?”
║ YES YOU DID. THE NOTE ♫ MEANS CENTRAL CHARACTER CONTROL.
At the whim Toolbar, tools and a midair editing screen appeared. Non gave himself zebra stripes for a moment.
Equitaur with vector control [https://i.imgur.com/24pkyrm.png]
The harpy stood furious in the doorway. “Stop playing with yourself on my time. We’re on a schedule!”
Non satisfied Song by lifting a courier bag, then adding pens, paper and puzzles. Years earlier, for a Jan 3 Tuesday 2:23 AM PST adventure to the backyard, he had prepared the bag with fun items for the World Dungeon. Nothing happened, back then. His Earth mind favored metal items, while his Icarus mind wanted hard-to-get plastic items.
“Even with digital copies, I want a book. Gravitation.”
Ñ̰ CAN I PAGE YOU? YOU WERE ATHENS ARENA ROBOT?
║ YES YOU CAN. GLAD TO MEET A FAN.
Ñ̰ SOME TUNES MIGHT CALM ME. CAN YOU PLAY MUSIC?
║ HERE’S THE LAST TUNE YOU MEMORIZED, BY THE KIDOODLERS.
The catchy tune Pop Corn Man started in his mind as he collected items and thoughts. ‘I’m an equitaur! And I have Icosian! Look at my biceps here. I have abs again. And the pouch? I can change my pattern. Whoops, low ceiling!’
Non heard a clatter as the harpy nabbed things in his kitchen. then noticed a lively teen wearing a d20 shirt.
”Non, you got your dicebag! And that book! Your boss Lernea convinced me to be your field agent. I found a box with hundreds of these.” Duracotus held up a weird 12-sided die.
“I remember meeting you, Duracotus. That’s the tetartoid. Dicelab used my solution to make skew d12 dice and sent me a box. Take anything you like. As for Gravitation, I want to understand it now that I’ve mastered the underlying geometric principle.”
Duracotus pocketed the skew d12. “I’ve loved polyhedra, tiling and gravitation for a long time. As soon as I finish the next portal job, I’ll help with orbit calculations. Is that a d120?”
“Yes! The disdyakis triacontahedron. Icosian rotations on the triangle (0,1/𝜑,0,𝜑), (0,0,1,𝜑), and (0,0,0,5 𝜑/(𝜑 + 3)). This one has the Bob Bosch numbering. Take it!”
“Speed it up,” said the harpy. “No more math from either of you!”
Ñ̰ NO MATH? WHAT SORT OF HELLSCAPE AM I GOING TO?
║ THAT’S JUST HER. I LOVE MATH. WE’LL NEED TO TALK LATER.
Duracotus glanced at his own unseen screens. “Our next stop explodes in twelve minutes.”
“My next Earth mission blows up? I need to drop off this taur and my scavengings.” The harpy cop had two large bags of items she’d claimed from around his house, along with his toolbox and the ratchet screwdriver. “Get the tarp and go.”
Non Sequitur got the tarp, then pondered handkerchiefs his father gave him. The harpy rammed his butt with the toolbox. “No time for pocket handkerchiefs or towels. Go through the portal.”
“Avoid scraping the edge; it’s a harsh fractal,” warned Duracotus.
Non grabbed a Count von Count plushy and stepped through the portal carefully.
EARTH.
Non found himself on a concrete patio situated between two portals. A giant d20 home loomed behind him amidst three storage garages and a van. However, the harpy directed him toward the next portal.
“I’ve been here before, as both human and equitaur.”
Duracotus nodded. “Okay? But now you’ll go through a superportal named Somnium that joins the first Lagrange points for Earth and Icarus. Named after my book. Step on through.”
PLANET ICARUS, PELION.
Non arrived on a wide grassy ledge on a mountain. The sky held a dazzling number of stars. Wind sweeping the clouds away revealed even more stars. The air was sweet! The agent donned dark glasses to observe another section of the sky, prompting the equitaur to turn in the same direction, gazing in awe.
“The fiery black disk with coronal filaments is a total eclipse of our sun. The black disk with accretion rings next to it is Sagittarius A*. Sagittario. Center of the Milky Way. Galactic Core. Don’t stare.”
The total eclipse and black hole were the same size. ‘Not size. Same angular diameter. The moon is closest, the sun larger and farther, and Sagittario the biggest and farthest. But the black hole is farther than that. I know this. And I shouldn’t introspect too much, for some reason.’
As Non gawped, the harpy dropped her load. “He said don’t stare! Planet Icarus is one of several backup planets. This saddlebag, feedbag and this junk are yours. See the shed there? Fold up the tarp and put it in there, along with junk you don’t want. The other two piles with the sword and chisels, leave them. Follow the road to Queerqueg Tavern. Read your Note to Self.” She handed him a folded page.
Ñ̰ FOR THIS COMPUTER INTERFACE, I’LL NEED A FIREWALL, BENCHMARKS, AND CHECKS FOR VIRUSES AND MALWARE.
║ I’LL SET THOSE UP, SIR.
Non stuffed the page into his pouch as he finished a calculation. “Does lensing make Sagittario appear closer?” He looked from the sky to a set of chisels and hammers on the ground, then a massive sword with SWEE on the sheath. Then back through the portal with the metal d20 home.
“Yes, Sagittario maintains an array of gravitational lenses to protect us from radiation. Awaiting a portal adjustment due to the eclipse. This next task just got messier,” said Duracotus. “After this, I have to help with the Boltysh impactor.”
“Shouldn’t we get backup?” asked the harpy.
“There is no backup! TASC moved the moon for a publicity stunt! I haven’t slept in two days. Arpanet in and out. Ten minutes to ignition. Agents gone; memory transfers are almost done.”
Ñ̰ DID HE SAY ARPANET?
║ ALSO CALLED THE INTERGALACTIC COMPUTER NETWORK. STARTED ON EARTH BY AGENT LICK IN 1963.
“The other gear here belongs to Swee the War Troll and Middy Zola. Both writers, Sicilicis and Ginni Anatto, must have died. I knew them both. That d20 in the portal, I named it the Icosahedral Cathedral.”
The teen agent appeared perplexed. “You named this place?”
Non looked at the teen, a fan of polyhedra, tiling, math, conic sections, orbital harmonics and gravity. And he’d mentioned a book named Somnium. Where had he heard that?
Ñ̰ DOES MY LIBRARY INCLUDE WIKIPEDIA? LOOK UP DURACOTUS?
║ MAIN CHARACTER OF SOMNIUM (1608) BY JOHANNES KEPLER. CONSIDERED THE FIRST SCIENCE FICTION NOVEL.
Non couldn’t hide his excitement. “You’re Kepler! You’re Johannes Kepler!”
Duracotus was less enthused. “Used to be, but I’ve changed. Don’t always share what you know.”
♫ YOU BUMPED THE CEILING WHICH NOW MUST BE WASHED AND STERILIZED. NO REWARD.
Non Sequitur dismissed the staff’s wonkiness. “Pre-internet, I ran a centaur zine and visited many authors. Ginni invited me. I wrote it up in my zine and called it the Icosahedral Cathedral. But the trip was meant to be private. Sicilicis hated the name, but it stuck and they uninvited me. Then a drifter–”
“Stop,” said the harpy. “Don’t always share. You’ve already died once today digging a grave.”
“And time to go!” Duracotus jumped through.
“Follow my earlier instructions!” The harpy trailed behind the young Kepler.
Alone again, Non Sequitur sighed and looked at the tarp he needed to fold. The staff wanted to talk. The harpy told him to go to the tavern down the road. He had a personal note to read, which he had tucked away in his pouch. He placed a few items near the storage shed, setting down everything but his staff. Duracotus and the harpy had tossed a lot of his junk over here. Could he claim it? Would his Zometool set hold any value here? The toolbox? The old computers from the garage? The trashcan packed with plastic grocery bags? He added the white gloves to the pile, wanting to see his hands.
║ THIS PLANET SKIPPED A CARBONIFEROUS ERA. NO OIL OR COAL RESERVES. PLASTIC BAGS HAVE REAL VALUE.
Non found a loose manifest for four 40×40×60 sealed crates. A comforting, relaxing list of books on A4 ratio paper. A crate that size holding two unabridged dictionaries seemed unlikely, but something to check later. A breathtaking mountainscape extended before him. It was beautiful, yet a nearby fence featured a damaged slat. If heaven, it needed maintenance. He put the manifest next to his Note to Self.
Non on a Mountainscape [https://i.imgur.com/104z0td.png]
Non cast a glance back through the gate. They’d be facing Swee the War Troll with the mind of Sicilicis. In a magnesium-shelled home rigged to explode. What if Kepler died there?
When he wrote to Sicilicis as a teen, he asked if Swee could teach young Non a lesson.
When he met Swee as a colt, the troll cut off his leg and took his father as a slave.
Non strapped the surcingle around his girth. Perfect fit.
With a firm decision, Non opted for the portal.