out again? Not that I mean to rush you, but—”
“You know I’m not going to be staying?”
“Of course I know.”
“Yes. You would.” She had never questioned his going. They both tried to be responsive to each other’s needs; they had always regarded one another as equal partners, free to do as they wished. “I can’t say how long I’ll stay. Probably not long. Coming home this soon was really an accident, you know. I just planned to go on and on and on, world after world, and I never programmed my next jump, at least not consciously. I simply leaped. And the last leap deposited me on my own doorstep, somehow, so I let myself into the house. And there you were to welcome me home.”
She presses his hand between hers. Almost sadly she says, “You aren’t home, Chris.”
“What?”
He hears the sound of the front door opening. Footsteps in the hallway.
“You aren’t home,” she says.
Confusion seizes him. He thinks of all that has passed between them this evening.
“Elizabeth?” calls a deep voice from the living room.
“In here, darling. I have company!”
“Oh? Who?” A man enters the bedroom, halts, grins. He is clean-shaven and dressed in the clothes Cameron had worn on Tuesday; otherwise they could be twins. “Hey, hello!” he says warmly, extending his hand.
Elizabeth says, “He comes from a place that must be very much like this one. He’s been here since five o’clock, and we were just going out for dinner. Have you been having an interesting time?”
“Very,” the other Cameron says. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Go on, don’t let me keep you.”
“You could join us for dinner,” Cameron suggests helplessly.
“That’s all right. I’ve just eaten. Breast of passenger pigeon—they aren’t extinct everywhere. I wish I could have brought some home for the freezer. So you two go and enjoy. I’ll see you later. Both of you, I hope. Will you be staying with us? We’ve got notes to compare, you and I.”
16.
He rises just before dawn, in a marvellous foggy stillness. The Camerons have been wonderfully hospitable, but he must be moving along. He scrawls a thank-you note and slips it under their bedroom door. Let’s get together again someday. Somewhere. Somehow. They wanted him as a house guest for a week or two, but no, he feels like a bit of an intruder here, and anyway the universe is waiting for him. He has to go. The journey, not the arrival, matters, for what else is there but trips? Departing is unexpectedly painful, but he knows the mood will pass. He closes his eyes. He breaks his moorings. He gives himself up to his sublime restlessness. Onward. Onward.
FOR FURTHER READING
COMPILED BY ROSS E. LOCKHART
What follows is a selected bibliography of portal fantasies and parallel universe fiction. Some imagine multiverses; others, worlds just slightly shifted from our own in space and time. Some reveal elfin doorways to strange realities; others offer gateways to grandiose planetary romance; still others posit entire universes held within the hearts of atoms. Titles notable for their high literary value are marked with an asterisk. To paraphrase e. e. cummings: there’s one hell of a universe next door…
To learn more about the stories in
Abbott, Edwin A.
Alexander, Lloyd
Allston, Aaron
Anderson, Pohl
Anthony, Piers
Applegate, K. A.
Asimov, Isaac
Bach, Richard
Ball, Margaret
Barker, Clive
Barron, Natania
Baum, L. Frank
Baxter, Stephen
Brown, Frederic
Burroughs, Edgar Rice
Carroll, Lewis
Cavendish, Margaret
Coney, Michael
Crumley, Andrew
Dean, Pamela
DeChancie, John
