A Man of Many Dimensions-
a short story by Michael R. Lockridge
The reporter sat precariously on the three-legged camp stool his host had offered him. His host, Garmen Grender, sat on a similar stool, and seemed quite comfortable.
Comfortable, but obviously bored.
Garmen made another cast. The ripples moved out steadily from the little float that bobbed on the water.
“Tell me again how you learned I was here.” Garmen said, addressing the young reporter. “What was your name, again? Dave?”
“David Thompson, of the Winston Valley Gazette.” the young reporter replied. “I was researching a UFO encounter in the north county, and the guy mentioned what you were. He told me just where to find you.”
Garmen chuckled. “Those UFO guys are usually pretty off.” he mumbled. “I will have to keep an ear to the ground in the future.”
“Eh?” grunted Garmen. “Oh, nothing. Just making a note to myself. Go on with your questions.”
“The gentleman who studies UFO’s said that you were a dimensional shifter.”
“Did he, per chance, explain what that might be?” queried Garmen, turning his eyes from the float out on the water to the bright eyed young man.
“Not really. He started talking techno-babble and drawing pictures in the dust.”
“I gathered that he believed you traveled between dimensions.” the young reporter ventured.
“You haven’t been doing this very long, have you?” inquired Garmen.
“I am a first year journalism student, over at Winston Junior College.” replied the young reporter. He sounded a bit defensive. “I am a stringer for the Gazette.”
Garmen’s eyes returned to his fishing float. He watched it bob serenely on the surface of the lake. The young reporter waited, trying to appear patient.
“Well, this time your lead paid off.” Garmen finally said. “I am, indeed, from another dimension.”
The young reporter was taken aback. “Uh. Which dimension?” he asked.
“I don’t really know. I have been moving from dimension to dimension for the better part of a year.”
“Uh. Wow. What is your dimension like?”
Garmen paused a moment, and reeled in his hook. The bait was missing. “Sneaky little bastards.” he mumbled. He fitted a new worm on the hook, cast it out, and settled back as if no question had been asked.
“Pretty much like this one.” he finally answered.
“Uh. Pretty much?”
“Well, exactly like this one might not be an overstatement.”
“I don’t know for sure. So, pretty much. Exactly.”
“Um. OK. No real difference, then?” continued the young reporter.
“None that I can detect.”
“How do you know you have changed dimensions, then?”
“Mathematics?” asked the young reporter.
“Mathematics. And technology.”
“Uh. Yes. I see.”
“Do you?” asked Garmen.
“How do you know you aren’t just going back and forth between two dimensions that are just alike?”
“Wow. That one verged on being original.” said Garmen. He set his pole down into a holder that had been driven into the ground by his stool. “Come with me.”
They walked together to a motor home that sat nearby. Garmen opened a door near the back. Inside were many wires and circuit boards. Some lights were blinking here and there.
“Technology.” said Garmen.
The young reporter snapped a picture.
Garmen pointed to a small monitor in the corner. Complex equations were drifting across the blue background. The symbols were bright gold.
“Mathematics?” the young reporter asked.
Garmen nodded. He closed the door.
“All of the dimensions are pretty much the same?”
Garmen nodded again. “So far.” he said.
“That must be pretty boring.” the young reporter observed.
“Yep.” agreed Garmen. “That’s why I am fishing just now. I am taking a bit of a break from the whole dimensional thing. It’s pretty boring.”
“I can see that.” said the young reporter. He offered his hand. Garmen shook it. “Thanks for the interview.”
Garmen watched the young man walk to his car. He waved when the young reporter turned his way. The young fellow waved back, got in his car, and drove slowly away.
“I should just print up a handout.” Garmen said, as he sauntered back to his fishing spot. “Frequently asked questions. That’s the third time I have seen that young man in the last three dimensions.”
Garmen picked up his pole, and slowly reeled in the hook. The bait was missing again.
“What did he say his name was? Dave? Could have sworn it was Richard.” he mumbled as he baited his hook. He cast it out into the water, and watched the ripples spread from the float as it bobbed on the surface.
“Over three hundred dimensions and the only difference I have found in almost a year of travel is one man’s name.” he mumbled. He started to think on this, but was interrupted when the float ducked under the water.
“Ho! Fish on! Now that’s a change worth noting! I may have fish for supper!”