[Fiction] Meeting On High

[Mithril]

Meghan was momentarily taken aback by the possibilities which Timeslip and Pachacamac had offered. It simply hadn't occurred to her that the parallels between her home reality and this one would be so strong.

"Wow, that would be weird," Meghan thought, pondering what Flicker, or Knockout, or Regina Newcastle would be like in this reality. Would they meet as friends or strangers? For that matter, were they already friends with her counterpart--

Her counterpart.

Meghan's narcissistic streak knew no boundries, and she was immediately fascinated by the possibility of meeting herself. Hell, if she hasn't popped yet, I could help her along, she thought. Wouldn't that be a hoot and a half?

Meghan leaned forward on the divan, almost visibly vibrating with excitement. "Do you have an OpNet or Internet or the like here? I'd love to look up someone especially close to me. Her name is," Meghan blushed and smiled sheepishly, "Her name's Meghan Cutter."

Meanwhile:

Mission Commander Peyton Campbell peeered through the doubled acrylic viewport which separated the airlock of the International Space Station from the hard vacuum of outer space.

"I'm not fooling," he said again into the radio microphone which he held in his hand, "There's a girl outside the station dressed in a Domino's pizza uniform. No space suit. Just clothes."

There was a long pause from Houston.

"What does she want?" asked the ground controller.

"Hell, I don't know," Robert replied. He made a warding motion to push his fellow astronauts back from the window, where they crowded to look for themselves. "She's just floating out there. Okay, now she's waving. I think she's got a pizza with her."

There was another long pause from Houston.

"ISS, you're authorized to let her in. But do not let her touch anything."

"Roger that."

[z-Pachacamaq]

Pachacamac's full lips twitched into an amused look at the eager look on Meghan's face. "I can understand your interest in this," he told her, running his thumb over the precious stones embedded in his golden cup. "I have often toyed with the thought of meeting another version of myself, on another world. Only my duties here have held me back."

Pachacamac glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on one of his priestesses. He didn't have to motion her forward. When she saw his eyes rest on her, she hurried to his side in a flutter of white cloth. "Show Silver Feathers to the computer room," he instructed, placing a glowing hand on the crown of her head. The woman shivered with delight and nodded eagerly.

Moving to Meghan's side, she crouched next to her until Meghan moved to her feet; then the woman bowed deeply and began to lead the way from the room. "This way, please, Silver Feathers," she whispered, smiling shyly up at Meghan before heading toward the exit.

[Mithril]

Meghan followed Pachacamac's nameless priestess further into the depths of his home. As the priestess lead the way, Meghan took the opportunity to look around at Pachacamac's home.

He definitely likes himself, she thought, as she noticed the numerous idealized statues and figures which lined the wide hallways.

Her guide opened a wide pair of doubled doors and showed her into a very large library. It was three stories tall, with an open-air atrium. The ceiling was domed and inset with numerous skylights. Meghan took one step into the library and paused, taking in the sight of so many books in one place.

"Oh, nice," she murmured, "I have got to get one of these. I wonder if Neil will let me build one."

The temple priestess had opened the top of an enormous mahogany roll-top desk, incongruously revealing a grey and silver computer nestled inside. Meghan remembered the way Procyon's home in Chicago -- the one that was destroyed, she sadly noted -- had been similarly decorated, and she smiled.

"Some things never change," she said with wry amusement. "Thank you," she said to the priestess, who bowed formally and departed, leaving Meghan alone in the study. Meghan sat down in Pachacamac's office chair, cross-legged. She waggled the mouse, and the computer awakened from its sleep mode, revealing a desktop littered with icons and folders all labelled in a language she could not read.

"Hah," Meghan said. She located a browser by looking in the usual place, and was rewarded with a web browser with what looked like a search bar in the top-right corner. She clicked on that bar and tapped in "Meghan Cutter," and clicked on what should have been a GO button.

After an unusually short pause, she was rewarded with a page of search results. Without reading too far, it was already obvious that this world's Meghan Cutter was something of a celebrity. Her own page headed up the list of results, followed by numerous fansites and news references. Meghan clicked on one of the news articles, and sucked in her breath in surprise when it loaded.

"She looks like," Meghan said out loud, "like I did before."

On the absurdly large flat-panel display, Meghan Cutter looked back at Meghan Cutter through her still-human hazel eyes. Mithril paused a moment, then clicked on the BACK arrow, returning to the search results. She clicked on Meghan's official website, and waited a fraction of a second for it to load.

This reality's still-flesh-and-blood Meghan Cutter waved cheerfully from the screen. A navigation sidebar linked to the various areas of the site, but the one that caught Meghan's eye was the CHAT link. Under it, blinked the text "Meghan is IN."

Trembling, Meghan clicked on the link. A chat window resolved on the screen, and chief among the dozen users listed in the chat was "Meghan Cutter."

Meghan logged in as "Mithril."

ZapCHAT 2.5.3 welcomes Mithril to the chat. Please respect other users. Type /? for a list of commands.

Meghan Cutter waves to Mithril.

Theron Keyes: Greets Mithril

Mithril: Peoples!

The_FADD laughs.

The_FADD: Mostly peoples.

Meghan Cutter: I'm still a people too, The_FADD.

Mithril: . . .

Alicia in VA kicks The_FADD.

Meghan Cutter: New here, Mithril? Cool screen name, btw.

Alicia in VA waves to Mithril.

Mithril: @Megh Thanks! Yeah, you could definitely say that I'm new around here. O.o

The Viper: Glad to have you here Mithril. Where from?

Meghan Cutter: Mithril: first visit?

Mithril laughs out loud.

Mithril: Meghan, yes, hell yes. I'm uh, new to this plane of reality.

The Viper: . . .

Alicia in VA: Man what?

Meghan Cutter has sent you an invite to private channel "Meghan's Bedroom". Type /accept to enter private channel.

Joined private channel "Meghan's Bedroom". Two users present: Meghan Cutter, Mithril.

Meghan Cutter: Beg pardon?

Mithril: ?

Meghan Cutter: New to this plane of reality? I just ran your OP address, and you're logged on to Pachacamac's private OpNet domain. What's going on here?

Mithril: Dang. You're good. Um, yes. I'm at Pachacamac's place. Darn nice, by the way. You should see this desk.

Meghan Cutter: I'm sure. Who is this? Pachacamac?

Mithril: No, no, I'm not him. I'm visiting him. He's eating dinner right now. I'm alone in his library. Is this chat secure?

Meghan Cutter: More or less.

Mithril: I'm a nova from another timeline.

Meghan Cutter: STFU.

Mithril: Seriously. Hang on. . .

Invited user Meghan Cutter to join video chat.

User Meghan Cutter accepted invite to video chat.

Opening. . .

Meghan Cutter: Holy crap.

Mithril: See?

Meghan Cutter: So you're metal, plastic, what is that? And you look like. . .

Meghan Cutter: No way.

Mithril: Metal. And yeah, I'm you. You're me. Hi there!

Meghan Cutter: . . .

Meghan Cutter: This is weird. No offense, I mean.

Mithril: None taken.

Meghan Cutter: So you're from an alternate timeline where I erupted into metal?

Mithril: No, you're from an alternate timeline where I erupted and stayed human.

Meghan Cutter: I'm the real Meghan Cutter.

Mithril: Wait, I think I know where this is going. New topic.

Meghan Cutter: Check. What's on your mind, metal-me?

Mithril: . . .

Mithril: Wanna meet up?

Meghan Cutter: I'll be there in 20 minutes. Everyone knows where Pachacamac's temple is.

Mithril: 20 minutes?

Meghan Cutter: Yeah, I'll fly in.

Mithril: You can fly that far in 20 minutes? Damn.

Meghan Cutter: Can't you?

Mithril: Uh, no.

Meghan Cutter: You suck. ;D What do you do, then?

Mithril: I shapeshift, and I'm pretty sure I'm immortal.

Meghan Cutter: . . .

Meghan Cutter: Wanna trade?

Mithril: Let's talk in person.

Meghan Cutter: kk. See you soon.

user Meghan Cutter has left the chat.

/quit

Logged out from ZapCHAT 2.5.3.

Meghan leaned back in the chair and stared at the screen for a long moment.

"That was surreal," she said bemusedly. Meghan logged off from the terminal and closed the desk. Meghan appreciated how the roll-top slid smoothly into place, seemingly without friction. It spoke of expensiveness. Meghan took another look around the library, then walked quickly to the door she'd come in. The priestess was waiting patiently for her.

"Oh, hi again," Meghan said, surprised. "Let's go back to dinner?"

The bronzed priestess bowed and led the way.

[z-Pachacamaq]

Pachacamac made polite small talk with Timeslip, awaiting Mehgan's return. It was no great burden to speak with the starscape woman, and he was glad for any chance to speak with her at length. She had a keen mind, with a tendency to broaden his own mind; her unique perspective had forced him to rethink his position from time to time, and he hoped that he had done the same for her.

But all things have their cycle, and Mehgan returned to the table in good time. "Silver Feathers," he greeted her as she dropped into a cushion. "Did you find what you were looking for, my friend?" he asked in his deep, charming voice.

[Mithril]

"I think you could say that," Meghan replied cheerfully with a broad smile. She glanced quickly from Timeslip to Pachacamac, and wondered briefly what they'd talked about in her absence. Meghan plowed forward, sharing her discovery:

"In this reality, Meghan Cutter's popped too. But she came out totally different than I did-- with different abilities, I mean, and she didn't even look aberrated at all. She looks almost exactly the way I did right up until I erupted." Meghan thought she saw something in Timeslip's expression change, but she wasn't sure.

I wonder what she thinks of that, Meghan pondered briefly.

Meghan turned to Pachacamac and continued more bashfully. The combination of his sheer physical presence (which never really went away) and the awkwardness of what she had to say forced her to lower her tone. If she'd been capable, she would have blushed. "Oh, uh, and she's on her way here now?" Meghan waited for the world to end, and it didn't. "She said it'd take her about twenty minutes to fly here from Calgary. Is that okay?"

[z-Pachacamaq]

"Of course," Pachacamac said with a smile. If he was put out by Meghan's action, he didn't show it at all. "I've heard mention of her, and meeting another nova is always a pleasure." He has a thought and chuckles. "I should say, it is a pleasure to see her again, given that I have met one version of her." He nodded to Meghan unecessarily, but the movement fit his statement so well neither woman could fault him for it.

Turning to his priestesses, Pachacamac spoke. Several got up and left the room. As he returned his gaze to his guests, he said, "I asked them to prepare a room for her, as well. Would she like dinner, or should we meet her in another room?"

[Timeslip]

"Well, this should prove interesting," Timeslip chimed in. "I remember the first time I sought out another version of me. The results were... surprising. I've a hard time picturing myself winding up in service to anything even as restrictive as Project Utopia, let alone an Imperial Japanese Nova Corps.

"So Meghan, what are you hoping for with this meeting?"

[Mithril]

Mithril was relieved that Pachacamac was not displeased.

"I totally forgot to ask her about dinner," Mithril admitted. "I imagine she'll be okay with whatever the local standard of etiquette suggests. I scanned her OpNet site--or whatever you call it here--and it says she's the daughter of a diplomat. That's one thing that's the same here and there." By there Mithril had meant in my home reality, but she assumed her meaning was plain.

"She's flying in," Mithril continued, "so I imagine she'll be able to spot us as she arrives. We're a pretty conspicuous-looking threesome."

Mithril turned to Timeslip, and caught up with her last question. "I don't know what I hope for, really. I hadn't thought that far. This was sort of a spur-of-the-moment idea. I'm still wrapping my head around the idea that I'm in another timeline and that I'm about to meet the representation of me who lives here. I mean, she's not just a mirror of me or anything--she's her own person and she grew up her own way--yet there's a kind of commonality that I can feel but not describe."

Mithril brightened from her thoughtful monologue and delivered a punchline, hoping to lighten the mood: "Besides which, she's hot," Meghan grinned.

Meanwhile:

Meghan Cutter streaked through the thin upper atmosphere on a ballistic arc. This high up it was meaningless to speak of Mach numbers, because her flight more closely approximated that of a missle than an airplane. At the apogee, she checked her handheld GPS device and began the long plummet into Coricanchac. Far below, she picked out the cluster of city lights which marked her destination.

[Mithril]

Meghan Cutter descended through the night air over Coricanchac, and as the city resolved into individual lights she modified her hypersonic sub-orbital dive back into controlled atmospheric flight. Levelling out, she easily spotted Pachacamac's temple, and bore for it at a sedate 250 kilometers per hour-- slow enough for the local air-traffic controllers to deal with her presence. As an experienced flyer, she respected the needs of those who still relied on airplanes and helicopters to fly. The transponder indicator on her handheld GPS flickered every few seconds, registering a "hit" from the local radar. Without it, her flesh and blood body would no more register on radar than a goose would. With it, she registered on radar as clearly as a small airplane.

The temple grew larger at a disproportionate pace to the surrounding terrain, because of its deceptively large size. Eventually, surface details became visible, and Meghan spotted the high open terrace upon which Pachacamac, Timeslip, and Mithril relaxed. She slowed her approach again and released a small quantum discharge--a ping--to announce her presence.

She emerged from the dark sky and gently alighted at the edge of the terrace. Meghan pulled her black bodysuit's hood back, and shook out her hair, and she tucked her goggles into a zippered pocket on her flight jacket. It was festooned with patches from a number of different nations' space agencies and exploration organizations. Where Mithril excelled in sofa loafing, her more-human counterpart had clearly set her sights further afield.

Emerging from the hem of the jacket, her black bodysuit continued to her ankles, disappearing back into very large basketball sneakers.

"Haw imata ñinki!" Meghan said with a half-formal and half-friendly wave directed to Pachacamac.

[z-Pachacamaq]

"Welcome, Meghan," Pachacamac said in greeting, a warm smile crossing his face. His priestesses blushed, swayed by his smile, even when it wasn't directed at them. He waved back to her, then to the table. "Let my priestesses bring you another seat, and you can join us." His offer was open and sincere.

Any protests that Meghan might have had were uselesses; his priestesses were fast despite being baselines. Soon, another pile of pillows was heaped at the open end of the table, facing Pachacamac and between his two guests. "Meat? Fruit?" Pachacamac eagerly offered the bounty of his table to his third guest.

[Mithril]

Meghan surrendered gracefully to Pachacamac's flawless hospitality, not to mention his astonishing charisma and beauty. She moved to her pile of pillows and paused before sitting. First she turned to Timeslip to introduce herself, knowing that if she started with Mithril, she'd never stop talking, and that would slight the starry nova.

"I'm Meghan Cutter," she said affably to Timeslip. "Glad to meet you."

Is she naked? Meghan wondered. I think she's naked.

[Timeslip]

Timeslip smiled wryly at the new arrival. It's like Mithril with caffeine, she thought with a chuckle.

"I'm Timeslip; pleased to make your acquaintance, though I'm pretty sure that you're a little more interested in meeting someone else..." She nodded her head slightly in Mithril's direction, and the smile in her strangely echoing voice was unmistakable.

[Mithril]

Meghan reluctantly pried her eyes away from Timeslip's intriguing form as she gracefully sat on her pile of pillows between Timeslip and Mithril.

"And you're Mithril," she said, turning to her left. She tilted her head a little bit, considering the appearance of her cross-time counterpart.

"Yep," Mithril replied, indistinctly. She too was lost in her counterpart's visage, a reminder of what she'd left behind when she erupted. She knew it would be rude to stare too much, but could not help herself. "It's like looking in a mirror."

"Only not," Meghan finished, softly, similarly taken by Mithril's metallic features. She wondered how it was that metal could move in such a fluid and organic manner.

"Yeah." Mithril whispered.

Meghan shook her head once, as if to re-center her thoughts.

"So, you came all the way from another frame of reality just to visit, eh?" she asked conversationally, the brief reverie broken. "I feel like a total lamer in comparison; I haven't been farther than Mars."

Mithril looked embarassed.

"I just hitched a ride with Timeslip," Mithril admitted modestly. "The farthest I've flown on my own is just across the ocean to England."

"I thought you said you couldn't fly," Meghan pointed out.

"Oh, I can fly," Mithril clarified, "I just have to turn into the shape of something that flies. I'm a shapeshifter. That's my big thing--that and not dying, I mean. Anyway, I can't just jump 'up up and away' the way normal flying novas do, so it really limits my speed."

"Bummer," Meghan said with a small amount of sympathy. She couldn't imagine life without being able to break the speed of sound several times over. Meghan changed the subject. "Can I ask why you have feathers on your head instead of hair? Did the native people of North America win the battle against the Euros in your timeline or something?"

Mithril laughed.

"Actually," she stage-whispered, "I'm just trying to fit in around here." She continued at a regular speaking volume. "They've taken to calling me 'Silver Feathers.'"

Meghan plucked a piece of cheese from a bowl and popped it into her mouth.

"That's cute," she said with a smile, "But I like Mithril better. Would you believe I've been unable to come up with a decent nova handle?"

Mithril nodded emphatically.

"Oh hell yeah I believe that," she said rapidly. "At first, everyone--me included--thought I was made of titanium or something similar, so I went by 'Girl Made of Titanium' for the longest time. How lame is that?"

"That's. . . different," Meghan offered. She rolled the word 'Mithril' around in her mind, trying it on. "Mithril. Mithril, Mithril, Mithril." She turned to Mithril. "I think I like that. I might use it, too. Do you mind if I do? I mean, it's not like there will be any overlap, right?"

Mithril shrugged and smiled.

"Okay sure," she said agreeably, "but you have to wait until after I go home."

Meghan and Mithril bumped fists and laughed together. After a moment, Mithril realized they'd been excluding Pachacamac and Timeslip.

"Sorry about that," she said brightly. "This doesn't happen all the time."

[z-Pachacamaq]

"No," Pachacamac agreed wryly, his eyes flicking from one nova to another. "I confess, this has made me curious about my counterpart in your world. I know he would not be a god, as your world doesn't have a place that reveres you as dieties. Someday, I will have to meet him."

Those blue eyes settled on Meghan, the wieght of his personality clear in his cerulean gaze. "Meghan, perhaps you and Mithril might compare how you both erupted? Perhaps that will clear up some of the questions about differences in your divine... hmm, sorry. What do the American researchers call it, Meghan? It is quantum expressions rather than divine manifestations?"

[Mithril]

"You and Procyon," Mithril said to Pachacamac playfully with a bright grin, "would be too much awesome in one place. Reality might snap like a rubber band. I kid." She continued more earnestly: "I do think it would be neat for you two to meet someday. As much as you two are alike, you're opposites, too. His starlight is cold and white and northern, where you're warm and golden and southern, if that makes any sense."

Mithril paused, and Meghan leapt into the momentary silence.

"Our Canadian researchers," she said, applying a light touch to the word 'Canadian,' "do call it 'quantum expression,' but I've always found that term to be a little bit dry and uninspiring. Anyway, since you ask, I'll tell you how I popped." Meghan mostly looked at Mithril as she talked, but she spared the occasional glance for Timeslip and Pachacamac.

"I was living with my parents in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan at the time. They worked in the consulate there. My bodyguard was driving me to school when we were ambushed by Muj rebels. Terrence died in the gunfire, and the bastards kidnapped me and threw me into the back of their van. They took off out of the city and headed for a camp out in the boonies, but some other faction ambushed them in turn, and the whole thing went all stupid. The van crashed and got all shot up, the towel-heads mostly killed each other, and somewhere in the middle of it all, I popped. I found myself in the middle of bloody nowhere with the summer sun beating down on me and nothing but arid wasteland as far as I could see. I guess that's why I ended up with the ability to survive any environment, flight, and a body that'll stop a tank shell without so much as a scratch."

"You're impossible to kill too?" Mithril asked.

"Probably," Meghan replied. "I took a hit from a tank gun once. It left a nasty purple bruise. That aside, I think I might be immortal now. Anyway, I flew back to Bishkek, and lived happily ever after, so to speak."

"Wait, you said 'parents,'" Mithril said. "Both Mom and Dad?"

"Sure," Meghan replied. "Why?"

"Um, I'm an orphan," Mithril explained. "Dad went into the foreign service because Mom was a religious loon, and I went with him, also to Kyrgyzstan. He died when the Canadian consulate was attacked during an attempted coup, and I survived our car being blown up with a shoulder-carried missile."

"I'm sorry," Meghan said.

Mithril nodded and continued.

"Like I said, Mom was a religious nut, and a member of a rabidly anti-nova terrorist church. One thing led to another and I ended up being returned to her custody, where she promptly had a sniper with a military-grade antitank rifle try to splatter me all over the lawn. They almost succeeded." Mithril shuddered briefly, remembering what it had felt like to have her head blown off of her shoulders and reduced to a fine spray of metal droplets. "Anyway, in the ensuing manhunt, she and her bunch were killed in a standoff with the Mounties, so I'm an orphan. I'd hooked up with a couple of really cool young novas, though, so we have a weird sort of family thing going. It's not too bad all around."

"It's weird that we both erupted in Kyrgyzstan," Meghan said.

"Totally," Mithril agreed. She continued more quietly, "So, uh, how are Mom and Dad doing?"

Meghan could see where this was going.

"Want to meet them later?" she asked.

Mithril mulled that over. They wouldn't really be her parents, she realized. They would look like them, but they were totally different people who had lived different lives on a different world. Still, the parallels were striking. Would there be enough commonality between the two worlds that there might be some kind of familial recognition? Mithril nodded once, slowly.

"I think I would like that, yes," she said, blinking to hold back a silvery tear.

[Timeslip]

Watching the two Meghans discuss matters of shared parentage left Timeslip a bit out of her depth. There were no tears for her own parents, no moments to be restored through the wonder of her temporal gifts, no hope for reconnection. They had been hateful in her eyes since long before her eruption... an eruption that she knew all too well had saved her from death at their neglectful hands.

There was nothing in the sense of familial connection between the same-yet-different women to which Timeslip could truly relate, and listening to them discuss the matter was almost a clinical exercise.

"Well, I'm certain that should be a possibility, though I'm not at all sure how long you wanted to stay in this timestream, Mithril. I believe it's safe to say that if your schedule is clear, you're a welcome guest for the duration... though in large part, that would be up to our generous host."

[Mithril]

"I'm good with whatever," Mithril said to Timeslip. She looked to Pachacamac. "I mean, I won't abuse your hospitality. We don't have to stay here in your temple the whole time. There's a whole big world out there to check out, right?"

"I could show you around some, too, if you have the time," Meghan offered.

"Oh, I have the time," Mithril replied. "I'm on one of those 'discover who you are by going to other places and talking to other people' trips lately. This is just the sort of thing I want to be doing."

[z-Pachacamaq]

Pachacamac shook his head as he leaned back onto his elbows, stretching his legs underneath the table. "I don't mind at all," he stated, his eyes gleaming with benevolence. "You are my guests, and welcome to stay - or explore, if you wish - my temple. No one will bar your way or impede you." The golden god said it not as a threat, but as a simple statement. No one would bother them because he had said they wouldn't.

A priestess brushed his arm, and Pachacamac glanced at her before adding with a chuckle, "Though if the door is closed, you might wish to knock, especially later this evening. Perhaps, just so that you don't stumble into private rooms and see something you might not wish to see, you would accept one of my priestesses as a guide?"