Hwaet! It was a snowy October morning in Kansas City, Missouri, when Dr. Ethelred Irving's eldest daughter Avonlea and her family saw him off at the International Airport. Even at that early hour, the airport was already a perfect picture of chaos as people hurried to and fro with their luggages and whatnot.

"It's snowing, pappy. Aren't you gonna cancel your flight?" asked little Milly, his daughter's youngest.

Ethan's eyes crinkled. "If the airline is not going to, then I won't. Besides, it's only snowing a little bit."

Goodbyes were said, hugs traded, kisses exchanged, and promises made to bring back gifts and, most importantly, to return in time to host this year's Christmas dinner for all his children and grandchildren just like always. Then Ethan gripped his walking cane, dragged his suitcase with him and went to stand in line.

After a long bit of security theater and other assorted rituals, finally Ethan got to board his plane. Luckily, they had let him board with his cane. He sat down and cracked open his Portuguese-English phrasebook.

Manaus awaits, he thought. Nora had always wanted to visit the Amazon rainforest the most of us two. Now I go alone. It was a sad thought. Finally had Ethan both the time and money, as he entered his retirement, to do all the things they had always wanted to do, and yet no longer was she there to spend their golden years together. God rest her.

It had already stopped snowing when the plane finally took off, and soon it became just a little dot of white lost in the wide blue sea of the sky.

Ethan dozed off...

Until, suddenly, there was a small sound of tearing aluminium as Dr. Ethelred Irving and his seat vanished without a trace.

His disappearance would remain a famous mystery for a long time to come.

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Ethan woke up with a start to the sight of two moons far above, one white and one blue-green, as he and his seat slowly plunged down a night sky. There was just enough time to grab the upwardly-moving phrasebook and begin screaming and then—

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The seat and its occupant landed with a soft thud and bounce upon a solid white concrete floor. The cameras outside the bulletproof glass wall of the chamber had just the time to register the old man before he vanished from the severed chair and—

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—Found himself softly hitting the cushioned seat of a train car. His scream died in his throat. His heart hammered in his chest, against which his right hand still held the open phrasebook. He realized he was hyperventilating, and his left hand had his cane in a death grip.

He started counting, 1, 2, 3. Slowly, slowly he got his breath under control. Finally, he took stock of his surroundings.

He was sitting in a passenger car. There was an empty window seat at the right side of his own, and two others opposite him, also empty. At the seats on the other side of the aisle to his left, an old man in black and a young woman in purple were staring at him with surprise. They were formally dressed, in fine clothes that looked like they could be from two or so centuries ago.

He looked up and down the aisle. The car had an open plan, and it was almost empty of passengers. Those it had were looking at him. Everyone's clothes were like that first pair's, rich and old-fashioned. In fact, the car itself looked much the same: the seats and curtains were of a navy blue velvet that felt very soft, the walls had a dark wood paneling, the floor was carpeted in entrancing emerald-green patterns, the windows had diamond-patterned glass...

He shuffled himself onto the window seat to his right and looked out.

Nothing.

Almost nothing.

The world outside was a featureless twilight. The train tracks upon which the train ran seemed to stand upon thin air. Looking down the train, the railroad gently curved until the tracks disappeared into the foggy purple. There was no horizon. An orange light shone from nowhere and everywhere.

He closed the window, then his eyes. His breath had quickened up again.

What, when, where? Had he had a stroke?

Eyes: his vision was no worse than the usual. Face: he forced a smile, no weakness or paralysis there. Arms: he raised those into the air, both strong enough. Speech:

"Bom dia, boa tarde, boa noite. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog."

No slurring. No chest pain. Count your blessings.

Still, he felt like he might be on the brink of a stroke.

The other passengers were still staring at him. He closed his eyes again. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3, 4... He let himself feel the deep rumble of the train passing through his body. An eternity passed. No one spoke to him and he spoke to no one.

Suddenly there came an announcer's voice, "We are now approaching Etherica Station." Some time after that the train slowed down to a stop, and again came the voice, "This is Etherica Station."

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Ethan left with the other passengers. He exited onto a platform, between two trains. Above his head was a line of what looked like great hanging gas lamps, ornamented and casting a bluish-white light. Far above, a huge ceiling of green glass panels was supported by very long black columns of wrought iron, decorated with spiraling iron vines and flowers. A bluish smoke was on the air, with a harsh chemical smell.

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Ethan walked around in a disoriented daze, staring at everything and everyone. Strange figures crowded the terminal, mostly people in old fashioned clothes or black robes, but also some in what looked like Ren Faire costumes, some with strange-looking mechanical limbs, and, most concerningly, some with swords at their belts.

As Ethan moved to the front of the trains, he made way for an entourage of such-armed individuals: people in red doublets guarding a man in vivid blue robes. This man, although good-looking, looked at him with an haughty expression. A female guard kept staring straight into Ethan's eyes until there was some distance between him and them, and her hand never left the hilt of her arming sword.

With a startle, Ethan noticed that all in the entourage had pointed ears.

Past the front of the trains, the glass-ceilinged building transitioned into a huge, stone-ceilinged entrance pavilion, with plenty of large windows of a clear glass, through which one could see a street and buildings under that same featureless twilight sky. Inside this pavilion was a multitude of all sorts of shops and eating places, and a thicker crowd than near the trains. Above, great beautiful mechanical clocks showed the time, either on the walls or hanging from the ceiling. The time was high noon.

All this disoriented staring didn't go unnoticed. Ethan felt a cold, hard hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, do you require any assistance?" said a metallic voice.

The speaker was, apparently, some kind of human-sized toy. Like a classic mustachioed and red-uniformed toy soldier, except in blue uniform, staring at him with eerie black lens eyes and a painted smile.

Ethan composed himself and spoke in an amiable tone, "Oh, I might have gotten a little lost. Could you tell me where am I?"

"Sir, I saw you disembark with the passengers of the Crepuscular Express. You cannot possibly not know where you are."

"I heard they say 'Etherica Station', but I do not know where that is."

"Sir. One does not enter Terminal City, much less my Etherica Station, by accident," his voice took a warning tone, "I will require that you show me your passport, sir."

"I... Very well."

Ethan took out his passport from his coat pocket. The robot took it from his hands.

"Sir, I know of no country called the United States of America in any of the Concert Worlds. From what earth are you from?" his tone grew harsh.

"I. Well. Just Earth," Ethan hesitated.

"'Just Earth'. I have never heard of such a place," his voice sounded resigned, "And, let me guess, you have no license?"

"License? From who? To do what?"

"From any of the charter nations of the Concert of Five Worlds. A License to Transmigrate," the toy soldier put his well-articulated hand on the grip of a very real-looking revolver on his belt, "Sir, without a License to Transmigrate your presence in Terminal City and Etherica Station is in violation of the Charter of the Concert of Five Worlds. You, sir, are trespassing. By the authority invested in me as an Inspector of this station by the Council of Terminal City, I must take you in."

Ethan took a step back.

The Inspector took an step forward.

There was silence.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his empty hand and Ethan found himself dragged in a run towards the doors by a woman in a purple dress. He let himself be dragged and took a look behind. For some reason, rather than giving chase the Inspector was waving around his gun in the air and looking from left to right.

They didn't run for very long. Once they were outside the doors, they stopped right under a lamp post. Its light buzzed with a soft sound and there was again that chemical smell from before, although lighter.

"It's okay. No one can see us." Her voice was deep, specially for a young woman.

"You're the girl from the train. No one can see us?"

"And you're the passenger who appeared out of nowhere. We're invisible."

"Invisible..." he stared at the people passing around them. He could see the Inspector inside the Station surrounded by other men in blue uniforms, humans apparently. He thought they might be organizing a search. "Why did you help me?"

"Curiosity," she said, and indeed her eyes burned with it, an unblinking electric-blue gaze which never left his own. The color was too vivid. It was creepy.

"You were listening to my interrogation?"

"Yes. You are a Transmigrator," she extended a pale hand to him, "My name is Katharine Mortaugh, I am the daughter of Professor Didacus Mortaugh, head of the chair of Polycosmometry at the Imperial College of Troynovant," a pause, "That's in the world of Etherica."

He shook her hand. She had a steely grip. "My name is Ethelred Irving, I'm a doctor. Of medicine. Polycosmometry?"

"That is the study of the Many Worlds through mathematical means," and still she never blinked, "You said you are from 'just Earth'. Am I correct in assuming that this means your world has had no contact with another yet?"

"I... not that I know of, no."

"I see. Most earths only adopt a distinctive name once they have had contact with another world. At least, that's how it was with the Five Worlds."

Ethan put his weight on his cane and fell into a silence. His head swam. Many Worlds, Transmigration... this morning, he had just wanted to come to Brazil.

"Transmigrating means to cross worlds?"

"Exactly. I take it you did not do it intentionally?" He nodded. "Thought so. In almost all known cases of individual Transmigration, excepting those done by means of Terminal City, the Transmigrator crossed worlds unintentionally."

"Terminal City is a means of crossing worlds?"

"Yes. It is a place between realities." She gestured at the featureless sky, "A nexus that connects five different worlds. It is a space of diplomacy, and war."

"War?"

"Yes. Terminal City has only existed for some twenty odd years, a result of accidentally synchronous experiments with alternate realities in five different worlds at once. When it first formed, there was a rush among the portal-controlling nations to conquer each other before they were invaded themselves. The Concert of Five Worlds formed as the result of a stalemate," she blinked for the first time in their conversation, "But what I really wanted to do is ask you questions. Is this the first time you have transmigrated?"

"I..." Ethan paused to think back of what happened between him falling asleep on the plane and now. "I think I might have been in two others, in rapid succession. First I saw a sky with two moons, then a white room, then the train."

If her eyes were burning before, now they did it with twice the intensity. "A Recurring Transmigrator! You jumped worlds three times! There is only one such case in the literature, our meeting is historical! Oh, there is so much to ask—"

Whatever else Miss Mortaugh wanted to ask would have to wait another day, for suddenly Ethelred Irving had vanished once more.

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Where did he end up this time? Choose what sounds most interesting between:

1) In the living room of a consulting detective in Troynovant, capital of the Albionese Empire, in the world of Etherica.

2) Accidentally summoned as an extra fifth hero to a team of four by a kingdom in peril, in a fantasy world.

3) In the middle of an ongoing heist in a cyberpunk world, where human life is cheap. Someone is bleeding out and a doctor is needed.

4) In a high society gala in a luxury spaceship cruise, attended by humans and all kinds of aliens, in a space opera galaxy. Something bad is about to happen...

If you would like to suggest a different destination yourself, write it in the comments, just don't make it very detailed or an already existing fictional world. If I like it, I might add it to the poll.