A month ago

"What are you working on, honey?"

Strykland leaned back from his workbench, and peeled off the one-of-a-kind goggles he'd designed himself. Bulky, scratched, but essential to manipulating super-fine electronics, he dropped them on one of many piles of paper that obscured his workbench. He smiled at the plump, homely, but—in his eyes—beautiful, one-and-only-woman in his life perched on the corner of the bench. Well, one of two: little Anna was a joy to both of them.

"This is it, Maggie!" His words were quiet, but full of the suppressed excitement he knew would sound like a shout in her ears. "You remember that paper on inter-dimensional physics?"

"By that nutter who claimed he'd be able to travel to other dimensions?"

Strykland smiled. No intellectual lightweight herself, his wife had never been backwards in coming forwards. And he loved her for it. "Well, yes—some of the claims were excessive. But the underlying mathematics seemed promising. That's what you looked at for me last week."

"Oh, is that what that was?" As a PhD in mathematics turned fulltime mother, she more than matched the mad scientist he'd become. She shrugged—a simple unaffected gesture. "The proofs seemed sound."

"And that's just the point, Maggie," he said, unable to contain himself. "You showed there might be something to it."

She frowned, her nose becoming even more like a button, but he waved her concern away. "Oh, nothing to do with that other gumph—pure sci-fi fantasy that would put most authors to shame. And he was on the wrong line entirely, though I'll have to give him some credit. I really think there's something to it. Energy, Maggie! Almost unlimited energy! From the ether, awaiting our call. Only needing to be summoned, siphoned, made usable. It could reshape the world. Imagine …"

She held up a hand and broke into his monologue before he reached a head of steam. "Hold on, Einstein. I want to hear all about it. But you can tell me after dinner. Your little girl is about to eat the cutlery."

He laughed. "You're right." But before he could stop himself, his mouth raced away again. "To think what I might have stumbled onto. Why, it could be the biggest thing since—"

"Strykland!" she said, her tone more forceful now. The tone of a woman who knew what it took to compel her husband's obedience. "I mean it. We eat, you read your daughter a story, and then you can tell me. And not before. The future can wait."

He snapped his mouth shut. "Yes, dear," he said with a sheepish smile.

She patted him on the cheek. "I knew we would get there in the end. And you might want to consider changing out of those pyjamas. You're not setting a very good example for your little girl."

He looked down at the dressing gown that covered his full-length flannelettes and slippers. The sheepish smile became a grin. "Oh," he said. "I'd forgotten. Guess I must have started early. Bet my hair looks a sight as well."

She stood and held out her hands in mock despair. "What are we going to do with you?"

He laughed. But more to the point, he thought, what would I ever do without you?

***

Strykland sat on the edge of the bed, reading Anna's favourite story, albeit the saddest. She knew every word, but that didn't stop her hanging onto his every note—and Strykland always liked that.

"Jessie didn't wait for Jack to respond," he said. "She darted out into the street, grabbed the pup by the nape of its neck and flung it onto the sidewalk. Jack could only watch as Jessie sprang out of the way herself. But she leapt too late. The car knocked her hind legs and she tumbled to the side of the road."

Strykland's little girl gasped. Pillows plumped all around her, sitting up in her bed, Anna's cheeks lost their chubbiness and her lips opened, full of terror for Jessie as always.

"Jack hadn't moved an inch," Strykland said in a low voice and leaned closer, "stunned by the speed of it all. The car didn't even notice and sped off into the night, taillights flashing as it veered round the corner. Jack gaped at Jessie, willing her to move. Then, head hung low, he trotted to her side. He nudged Jessie with his head. Nudged again. But Jessie didn't get up. Jack squatted on his haunches, raised his head to the moon, and howled. Jessie had passed to the land-beyond-the-sky. Without Jack."

Strykland always wanted to finish the story there. At the point most true to him. But Anna always made him continue—whether for the next bit or to finish the story, Strykland never knew. Perhaps one day he would ask.

"What happened next, Daddy?"

Strykland smiled. Like her mother, his little girl knew he wouldn't continue without being prodded.

"Jack howled and yowled. It seemed to him he wailed for hours. Then he heard something. Another voice howled with him. Or rather, tried to howl with him. It didn't seem to know how. He stopped and gazed around. The pup Jessie had saved sat on its bottom, muzzle to the sky, trying to imitate him. Furious anger overcame Jack. How dare it! If not for that ball of fluff, Jessie would still be here. How dare the pup mock his misery? Jack growled, but the pretend howling didn't stop. He stalked to the interloper with determined steps, anger quivering in every muscle. The pup still sat there in clumsy imitation of Jack's howl. Jack stomped right up to the pup, bared his teeth and snarled in its face."

Anna shivered. A lock of her light-brown hair escaped from behind an ear, no longer enclosed in pigtails. The big bulldog about to attack the pup always scared her—even though she knew what came next.

"Jack's snarls had reached the end of the line when he noticed music. He didn't know when he'd first caught the sound, because even now, bit by bit, it grew louder. A harmony joyful, soothing, and out of place. The song sprang from behind and commanded Jack's attention. Confused, Jack's growl vanished and he stared over his shoulder. Jack's jaw dropped. A dim glow, a halo, surrounded Jessie's body and reached up to the sky. In the glow, hovering over Jessie's lifeless body, floated … Jessie herself."

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As always, Anna gasped. Her big blue eyes, the only part of her courtesy of Strykland, opened wider. It made him want to cry.

"Or rather, not Jessie," he said, holding the tears at bay. "The song came from the light; the glow indistinguishable from Jessie, but made of stars. The star-Jessie gazed at Jack and smiled. Tears dripped from one eye; tears that disappeared. Then the star-Jessie spoke. 'It's not the pup's fault,' she said. 'Blame the fates. Blame me for trying to save the pup. Blame me for being who I am. Because even if I knew what would happen, I wouldn't change anything. It's not so bad. I'm going to a wonderful place—where I'll be waiting for you. Forever.' Jack went to speak, but the star-Jessie stopped him with a slow shake of her head. 'No, you can't come with me. It's not your time. There's so much left for you to do. Thank you, Jack, for our time together. Treasure that, as I treasure it.' The star-Jessie rose into the sky; into the land-beyond-the-sky. 'I will miss you, Jack.' Her voice became faint. 'I'll be waiting for you, and when it's time we can be together … forever.'"

Soft, quiet tears dripped from Anna's small chin. Strykland found the sadness unbearable. And joyful.

"Jack howled as the star-Jessie disappeared. The soft glow faded, leaving Jack alone with Jessie's lifeless body. But Jessie no longer inhabited her body. Jack now knew it to be just flesh; no more than discarded fur. For Jessie existed elsewhere, waiting for Jack. And Jack wasn't alone. The pup still tried to imitate Jack, raising its muzzle to the moon and howling, sounding more like a sick cat. The pup that Jessie had died saving. But Jack couldn't be angry anymore. It hadn't been the pup's fault. Just as it hadn't been Jack's. Sometimes, things happen. Jack would never forget the time he'd shared with Jessie. But now, he had things to do. The pup stopped howling and batted Jack's muzzle with its paw. Jack almost smiled. 'You, sir, will need to learn some manners,' he said. 'Jessie saved you for a reason. Guess I'll have to wait around and find out why.' And so saying, Jack wrapped his jaw around the nape of the pup's neck with care, picked it up, and carried it into the night. Never looking back at the unmoving body on the side of the road. For Jessie no longer dwelled there. Jessie had left for the land-beyond-the-sky. Waiting for Jack. Where they would be together. Forever."

Strykland glanced up from the page at his little girl. Anna smiled through her tears. He closed the book with a soft snap and murmured, "The end." He helped her snuggle into her covers, kissed her forehead, and whispered that it was time for little girls to sleep.

"Thank you for the story, Daddy," she said, fighting with the sleep that had already claimed her eyes. "Daddy, is there really a land-beyond-the-sky?"

"Yes, honey," he replied. He tapped her button nose, her mother's nose. "And if I'm ever there before you, I'll be waiting for you—forever."

Anna drifted off with a smile on her face. He turned off the bedside light and backed out of the room, closing the door with a quiet click. "I certainly hope there is," he said to himself in a murmur too low to be heard over Anna's gentle breathing.

***

Strykland knew the bashful grin remained on his face when he entered the lounge. He always liked this room; light and airy, it reminded him of a field of flowers. He stepped over the toys that had escaped the daily clean-up, a mixture of dolls, building blocks and complex machinery he'd created for his daughter. "Anna's sleeping like a log."

"That's good." Margaree—Maggie to her husband alone—went back to brewing the after-dinner cocoa, as only the French can do. The kitchen held all kinds of appointments, the use of which Strykland held but the vaguest idea. "Other parents tell me horror stories about endless yelling and screaming." She shivered, in unconscious imitation of her daughter. "The way we sleep, awake at the slightest sound, we would go stir-crazy. Anna must have a guardian angel."

"You think so?" Strykland said in a tone that spoke volumes about his agreement and his seriousness. "I'm sure she gets it from her mother. Soon she'll start snoring."

Maggie threw a blunt missile at him from the kitchen in mock indignation. "Just for that, you can take the night shift if it's ever needed."

He laughed, pulling the wet tea towel from his face. "The pleasure, madam, will be mine."

Maggie brought the hot drinks to the couch, still scowling.

Strykland took a big whiff. "This is heavenly. I knew there was a reason I married you."

"And you call that praise?"

"I call that teasing. Praise would be repeating that I cannot live without you."

She curled up next to him with a smile. "Flatterer."

"And that must be the real reason you married a fashion-disaster like me."

The quiet chuckle rang like a melody in Strykland's ears. "There's only one time you're ever serious. Okay, Newton, tell me your tale. You know you're bursting to."

"Ah, my dear—where to begin? Energy, Maggie. Unlimited energy. Just floating in the air, waiting for harvest."

"And how has this miraculous source gone unnoticed?"

"It hasn't," Strykland replied. "You may have come across the term Dark Energy—it's everywhere. More than half the universe. Einstein hypothesised its existence—his cosmological constant. Based on my experiments, I'm pretty sure Nikola Tesla found it and tried to gather it, but he couldn't make the process viable. And now that dimension-travelling nutter has worked out some proofs that just happen to incorporate Dark Energy. But none of them worked out how to use it."

"And you have?"

He turned to her, uncertain of her meaning. But her face expressed no more than a simple query. "Not exactly," he said. "It doesn't work yet. And I'm standing on the shoulders of giants without fully understanding what they were seeing."

"That can be dangerous."

"Yes," he said. "And in this case more than just figuratively."

Her arched eyebrow, mirrored by the play of her lips, held question enough.

"I expect the laws of entropy to apply between dimensions. That nutter hypothesised weak points between dimensions, where energy—and perhaps matter—can pass. All over the place." Strykland's enthusiasm mounted. "This is my contribution: there's no reason for the dimensions to be the same age! Time must move faster in some than others."

He checked to see she still followed, and she nodded for him to continue. "Now, if the amount of energy in each universe is finite, but the universe is expanding, then pressure of energy would be higher in a slower dimension—where it's young and hasn't expanded too much. By all accounts, there's too much, or too little, energy in the universe, and this I think is why. Entropy forces energy from a slower dimension to a faster—just as heat moves to where it's coldest. And that's the key. I'm planning to pull electrons from another dimension, one by one. That's the energy source—that's what Dark Energy must be."

Margaree considered, her finger pressing the small of her chin. "And how will you find these holes between dimensions?"

"That's the tricky bit. And here I'm only guessing. You see, there also isn't enough matter in the universe—which is why there are theories of Dark Matter; black holes and the like. But the amount of energy and matter is theoretically constant. So if a highly charged electron comes through …"

She whispered. "Energy or matter must return in its place."

"Exactly, exactly," he said, excited. "So I'm searching for a place where there's a constant oscillation of energy and matter. I expect that's why there are ultra-high-energy cosmic rays—they pass through a weak point in the universe and swap matter for energy."

She nodded, returning an errant strand of mahogany hair, much richer than her daughter's, to its proper place. "So where does the danger come in?"

"Well, theoretically—and mind you, only hypothetically—if the tiny holes between dimensions expanded, a lot more energy would pass at once. And if there was too much energy…"

Hazel eyes narrowed with her frown. "Boom?"

"Boom," he replied. And then, when the frown became more pronounced, hastened to clarify. "But for that to happen, a hole would have to be ripped between dimensions. And the power required to do that—well, let's just say the sun shouldn't be enough."

"Hmm, you're sure about that? You are experimenting below your daughter's bedroom, after all."

"Don't worry—why, I would have to want to do it for that to happen."