Dark Matter(101)

It’s unavoidable—I make eye contact with the nearest Jason, his envy and jealousy a living thing. Dressed in tattered clothes, he reeks of homelessness and despair.

Says to me in a low growl, “Why should you get her?”

The Jason beside him says, “This isn’t about him. It’s about what she wants. What our son needs. That’s all that matters now. Let them pass. All of you.”

The crowd begins to part.

We move slowly through the corridor of Jasons.

Some are crying.

Hot, angry, desperate tears.

I am too.

So is Daniela.

So is Charlie.

Others stand stoic and tense.

Finally, the last one steps out of the way.

The box looms straight ahead.

The door wide open.

Charlie enters first, followed by Daniela.

I keep waiting for something to happen as my heart hammers in my chest.

At this point, nothing would surprise me.

I cross the threshold, put my hand on the door, and catch one last glimpse of my world.

It’s an image I will never forget.

Light from the high windows streaming down onto the old generators as fifty versions of me all stare toward the box in a stunned and eerie and devastated silence.

—

The locking mechanism to the door triggers.

The bolt shoots home.

I turn on the flashlight and look at my family.

For a moment, Daniela looks like she’s about to break down, but she holds it together.

I pull out the syringes, the needles, the ampoules.

Set everything up.

Just like old times.

I help Charlie roll his sleeve above his elbow.

“First time’s a little intense. You ready?”

He nods.

Holding his arm steady, I slide the needle into the vein, pull back on the plunger, see blood mix into the syringe.

As I fire the full load of Ryan’s drug into my son’s bloodstream, Charlie’s eyes roll back and he slumps against the wall.

I tie the tourniquet around my arm.

“How long does the effect last?” Daniela asks.

“About an hour.”

Charlie sits up.

“You all right?” I ask.

“That was weird.”

I inject myself. It’s been a few days since my last use, and the drug smashes into me harder than usual.

When I’ve recovered, I lift the last syringe.

“Your turn, my love.”

“I hate needles.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve gotten pretty good at this.”

Soon we’re all under the effect of the drug.

Daniela takes the light out of my hand and steps away from the door.

As it illuminates the corridor, I watch her face. I watch my son’s face. They look afraid. Awestruck. I think back to the first time I saw the corridor, to the sense of horror and wonder that overwhelmed me.

The sense of being nowhere.

And in between.

“How far does it go?” Charlie asks.

“It never ends.”

—

We walk together down this corridor that runs into infinity.

I can’t quite believe I’m here again.

That I’m here with them.

I’m not sure exactly what I’m feeling, but it isn’t the raw fear I experienced before.

Charlie says, “So each of these doors…”

“Opens into another world.”

“Wow.”

I look at Daniela, ask, “You okay?”

“Yes. I’m with you.”

We’ve been walking for a while now, and our time is running short.

I say, “The drug will be wearing off soon. We should probably get going.”

And so we stop in front of a door that looks like all the rest.

Daniela says, “I was thinking—all these other Jasons found their way back to their world. What’s to say one of them won’t find their way into wherever we end up? In theory, they all think the same way you do, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to open a door, and neither are you.”

I turn to Charlie.

He says, “Me? What if I mess up? What if I take us to some terrible place?”

“I trust you.”

“I do too,” Daniela says.

I say, “Even though you’ll be opening the door, the path to this next world is actually one we’re creating together. The three of us.” Charlie looks at the door, tense. “Look,” I say, “I’ve tried to explain to you how the box works, but forget all that for a minute. Here’s the thing. The box isn’t all that different from life. If you go in with fear, fear is what you’ll find.”

“But I don’t even know where to start,” he says.

“It’s a blank canvas.”

I embrace my son.

I tell him I love him.

Tell him I’m so proud.

Then Daniela and I sit on the floor with our backs against the wall, facing Charlie and the door. She leans her head against my shoulder and holds my hand.

Driving here last night, I assumed that in this moment I’d be terrified of walking into a new world, but I’m not afraid at all.

I’m filled with a childlike excitement to see what comes next.