'Landmarks?'
'Not necessarily physical ones. A big whopping fact that could identify your world?'
Max straightened up. It was worth a try. The agency, Max 2's agency. If he could find a world in which it didn't exist…?
'Yeah, I think so,' Max said.
'Good. Hochstader got up and walked past Max and into the other room. 'Let's get you home.'
Max followed him. 'You'd do that for me?'
'To get you out of my hair, I'd carry you. Follow me.'
Max obliged, dogging Hochstader's sneakered steps through the back room, under the arch and out into the mad scientist's lab. And this one really looked the part. Things had been moved around, new equipment added. The place looked even more spooky than it had yesterday, and Max hadn't thought that possible.
Hochstader got busy at the computer work station, hitting keys like a concert pianist.
Max looked over the kid's shoulder. (Well, this Hochstader looked a bit older. Maybe 27. No, 25, tops.) He watched numbers and symbols dance on the CRT screen.
'I think we've got it,' Hochstader said.
'We do?'
'Yeah. Try the portal now.'
'The portal? Oh, you mean just walk back into the office?'
'Right. Go through, and you should be in a world that's like the one you left.'
'Can I use your phone?'
'It's not mine.'
'It's not?' Max said as he pushed the curtain aside.
'You'll see.'
Max passed through the back room and went out into the office.
And there, sitting at what looked like the identical desk, was another Hochstader.
'Jesus Christ,' Max gasped. 'Is there no end of you?'
'Nor is there of you, pal,' Hochstader 3 said.
Max swallowed hard. 'Have a phone book?' he asked quietly.
'Sure. Right here.'
Max paced frantically through it. Burke Dumbrowsky Taylor was there in bold letters.
'Damn!' Max glared at the curtain in the back room. 'That little creep.'
'He's not back there, you know,' Hochstader said.
'What do you mean? I just left him.'
'No doubt he re-tuned the portal. Go back and look.'
'I will,' Max said.
He strode to the curtain and peeked through.
The lab was there, and again it had undergone a rearrangement. Less clutter, more neatly arranged. Hochstader 2 was nowhere in sight.
Max returned to the office. 'The runt must've ducked out.'
'No, I told you,' Hochstader 3 said. 'He and his world are gone. You're in my world now.'
'It doesn't matter,' Max said. 'You'll do. I want to try it again?'
'Try what again?' Hochstader asked.
'Try a different world.'
'You mean play musical bodies with one of your doubles? I'm afraid I don't indulge in that sort of thing. Very unethical.'
'What? I thought that was your whole shtick.'
Hochstader 3 leaned back in his swivel chair. This variant was different from the other two clones, hair less unruly, clothes impeccable-he wore a jacket and tie.
He said, 'I'm well aware of what some of my alternates do. It's entirely their business. My organization, which is spread out over several million aspects, is nonprofit and dedicated to probability research. We collect and process data on different civilizations.'
'Look,' Max pleaded. 'I'm a man without a world. You've got to help me. It was one of your alternates who got me into this.'
Hochstader was shaking his head emphatically. 'No, I'm very sorry.'
Max paused. 'I'm pretty desperate,' he said meaningfully.
'Oh?'
'Very desperate.'
'I see,' Hochstader said cautiously, casually moving his left hand toward the middle desk drawer.
Max sprang. After a short tussle, he managed to wrest the bell-ended weapon out of Hochstader's small hand.
'You nearly broke my finger!' Hochstader 3 yelped, nursing a reddened left pinkie.
'What's this thing called, anyway?'
'Did you hear what I said?' Hochstader yelled, then put the hurt finger in his mouth and sucked. He popped it out and snapped, 'It's called a minitranslator, you bloody twit!'
'Sorry to be so rough.' Max leveled the strange pistol at him. 'Shall we go?'
'Go where?' Hochstader growled.
'I want you to take me back to the world I came from-my world of origin.'
'I don't know where you come from! I have never spoken with you before this instant!'
'Sorry, but I'm getting a little desperate. You have to help me.
'Absolutely not.'
'Okay, then. I guess I have to zap you.' Max raised the minitranslator.
Hochstader's eyes went wide. 'Wait! All right, you're in trouble and you need help. I'm willing to help, really I am. But finding the exact Hilbert coordinates for the kind of minute variant factors you're talking about would take a month of calculation.'
'But I have a landmark to look for.'
'Finding the landmark will not guarantee that it's the exact world you want. You could blunder into that world and find an alternate self occupying it. You might be-'
'I'll take my chances. Let's get going.'
'How do you propose we go about this?'
Max thought about it. 'How many alternate worlds are there, total?'
'Total? There is no total,' Hochstader said.
'What do you mean?'
'There are an infinite number of possible worlds. Infinite universes! No end to them.'
'No kidding,' Max said, amazed. 'Well, I guess it's just a matter of spinning the wheel until we hit the right one.'
'You mean, we just randomly…?'
'Yeah, just pick a universe, any universe. Come on. Let's go back to the lab.'
'But searching for it like that could take forever!'
'Time is subjective,' Max said. 'By the way, do you know a good mantra?'
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was a long trip back to Zin.
After two days the cart's right wheel came apart. Benarus hammered it back into lopsided shape; then he and Rance proceeded slowly and painfully on their way, the iron sky-stone making a heavy load.
It had stormed most of the first two days, a cold wind pushing a cold stinging rain out of the north. Lightning crackled around them, barely missing Benarus on several occasions.
