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Maggie flew out of the vortex. In an instant she was struck by Mallory, who was thrown on top of her. Rembrandt and Diana followed.
"Heh heh, sorry about that," Mallory said with a smile. "You'd better get off me," Maggie returned, with a punch to the gut. Mallory rolled over and grabbed his stomach before slowly getting up. "Hey Diana," Mallory said. "Isn't there something we can do about these landings? I mean, we never had these problems with the old timer." "I'll see what I can do," Diana said as she put the timer in her pocket. "So, I wonder what this world has in store for us?" Rembrandt spoke up. "Nothing, I hope," Maggie said. "It seems we always get into some sort of trouble on these worlds. A break would be nice." "Amen," Mallory replied. It took the sliders a second or two to notice the pair of policemen approaching them, talking on cell phones. They knew this couldn't be good, so they did the only thing they knew to do in a situation like this - they ran.
What if you found a portal to a parallel universe?
What if you could slide into a thousand different worlds, where it's the same year and you're the same person, but everything else is different?
And what if you can't find your way home?
Starring: Cleavant Derricks as Rembrandt Brown Kari Wuhrer as Maggie Beckett Robert Floyd as Mallory Tembi Locke as Diana Davis   by Q-Ball79 and Chaser9 Produced by Q-Ball79 and Chaser9 Based on a concept by Blinker "Man, that was some chase," Remmy said as he and Maggie ran up to the Chandler Hotel. "I think we lost 'em though." "Just barely," Maggie said. "I can't take much more of this guys," Diana said in between breaths. "My sides are killing me!" The group looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and aside from the endless line of phone booths along the sidewalk, they immediately noticed something was missing. "Hey Diana," Rembrandt said. "Where's Mallory?" "I don't know. He was right behind me," Diana answered. "Should we go after him?" Maggie asked. "We'd be walking right into trouble. The cops must have picked him up. Let's get a room first," Rembrandt suggested. "Then we can figure out what we're going to do." The sliders entered the Chandler Hotel and walked up to the front desk to find a phone sitting on the counter. On the phone was a small sign that read Use Phone For Service. Maggie picked it up, and a man in a Chandler uniform immediately stepped up and picked up a phone of his own from behind the desk. "Welcome to the Chandler Hotel," the man said into the phone as he looked at Maggie. "How can I help you today?" "Umm, is this really necessary now?" Maggie said, holding up her receiver. "That's very funny ma'am," the man replied. "You must be from outside the U.S. right? Canada?" "Ha, you guessed it!" Maggie returned. "We'll take a suite if one's available." "Okay, I'll give you suite 32," the man said into his phone as he handed the key to Maggie. "I just need you to fill out this form first." "What's the purpose of this?" Maggie said into her phone, holding up the form. "Political preference?" "Oh, that? That's just a standard question we ask all foreigners. You all are from Canada, so it shouldn't be a big deal. Oh, and since you're new here," the man continued. "You might want to take this pamphlet with you. It explains how things work here in the good old U.S." The man extended the pamphlet to Maggie. "Thanks," Maggie said, reaching for the pamphlet. Still holding her phone, she returned the form to the man. "Here you go," she said. The man looked it over. "Ah, Democrat, huh?" he said. "Good answer." Maggie shot him a weird glance as she hung up the phone. The group looked around the lobby and noticed that despite the number of people ambling around, it was almost silent. Further observation revealed that there were phone booths lining the walls. There were one-on-one conversation phones, 2 and 3-way conversation phones, and even a conference room with phones at each place on a table. Maggie looked at the pamphlet, which was entitled No Talking: A Quick Reference Guide to Phone Laws. She put her finger up to her lips and motioned for Remmy and Diana to get into a phone booth. Once inside, each picked up an extension and they began talking. "One question," Rembrandt started. "What the hell is with all these freakin' phones? I mean what is this? Phone Booth World or somethin'?" "Well it says here that all forms of interpersonal communication have been outlawed." Maggie answered. "No talking is allowed apart from telephones, and whispering is considered a felony." "You've got to be kidding," Diana said. "What's the purpose?" "Well, there isn't much information on how or when these laws were passed," Maggie said. "But according to this, a man was sentenced to life in prison for whispering a few years ago. It says that while they try to give foreigners the benefit of the doubt when they catch them talking, they are more questioning of their motives." "That must be why the police tried to arrest us, and took Mallory away," Diana said. "It says that customary procedure for such a situation is for the offender to be taken into custody, questioned, and unless further unlawful activity is suspected, released with a warning." "So Mallory should be okay then, right?" Remmy said. "They'll release him if he says he's from out of town." "Well, theoretically yes," Maggie responded. "But what if they think he's up to something?" Mallory sat in front of a wooden table equipped with two telephones - one on his side, one on the other. He had been waiting in this dusky room for what seemed like ages for someone to return and tell him why they brought him in. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, two officers entered through the door, and with them a burst of light that before had been struggling to enter little by little. One officer was a large, dark-skinned man - the other a tall, gangly pale one, who had an appearance of coldness about him, almost as though he were made of ice. They each wore dark sport coats and ties. The dark officer picked up Mallory's receiver and handed it to him, as though he wanted him to use it. The pale one sat down across from Mallory and picked up his. "What's this for?" Mallory asked. "Are we ordering pizza or something?" "I will ask the questions here," the officer hissed at him through the phone. "Do you care to tell me why you were talking to those people when we found you?" "What do you mean? Are you charging me with talking?" "I will ask the questions here!" the officer yelled into the phone. "Are you aware that it is illegal to hold conversations apart from phones here in the United States? What were you saying to your companions when we stumbled upon you?" "It's not important," Mallory said. "Just small talk really. I'm sorry, I didn't know about the talking rule. My friends and I just got into town." "Out of towners?" the officer returned. "If it was only small talk, and you didn't know about our laws, then why did you run from us?" "Well, where I come from, we usually run if someone's chasing us down with a gun." "These were uniformed officers!" The officer said to Mallory. "We catch a group of foreigners talking amongst themselves. They see us approaching, and they run. That makes it look real innocent." "Officer, I swear! It was just small talk!" "Small talk indeed!" the officer shouted. "Answer me this: are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist party?" "What?" Mallory answered. He was taken aback by this seemingly unrelated question. "What does this have to do with anything?" "You're avoiding the question," the officer replied, his pale white face now growing red with anger. "Are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist party?!" "I swear I'm innocent!" Mallory looked back to the dark officer behind him and read his name badge. "Officer Jones, you believe me, don't you?" "What are you doing playing around with that computer?" Maggie said into her cordless headset to Rembrandt. "Don't we have other things to worry about, like helping Mallory?" "Well, I'm running an internet search on the history of Phone Laws," Rembrandt said. "I'm thinking maybe we can take a look and get an idea on what Mallory may be in store for." "Good idea," Maggie said. "We might find something we can use later." "I'll try this first result," Rembrandt said. "Phone Law Institution… it says here that Phone Laws were established back in the sixties with the full support of President Joseph McCarthy." "McCarthy? How on earth did he get elected?" Maggie asked. "Let's run another search here…" Rembrandt typed as fast as he could. "Here we go… this page says that the assassination of President Kennedy was revealed to be a Cuban conspiracy organized by Castro himself. The media really played this angle up apparently, and in 1964, McCarthy ran on an anti-Communist platform. Since Kennedy was so well loved, the American people wanted to do everything they could to destroy Communism. McCarthy took it to the extreme with these Phone Laws, allowing the government to monitor any and all personal conversations and screen them for 'Anti-American rhetoric'." "This is insane," Maggie commented. "You're telling me…" Rembrandt uttered. "What's that next result?" Maggie asked, pointing to it on the screen. "Cryingman.com? Click on that!" Rembrandt clicked the link, which brought up a page with his name at the top, along with a recent press photo of this world's Rembrandt Brown. "Man, this is incredible!" Remmy said. On this world, I'm still puttin' out the hits. They even have sound clips of my double's songs!" "Let's hear that one," Maggie said, pointing to a link on the page. "Phone Booth Outta Heaven?" Rembrandt said. "I never wrote anything like that!" "You didn't come from phone booth world either," Maggie reminded him. Rembrandt clicked the link, and within a couple seconds the song was streaming, and Diana joined the two to listen to it. "Remmy, that's the most beautiful song I've ever heard," Maggie said before bursting into laughter. Remmy had already lost it - tears streamed down his cheeks as he laughed uncontrollably. Diana was laughing also, but not as loudly as the other two. She hadn't heard Rembrandt's other song of the same tune. Rembrandt explained to her that he wrote a song just like that one about a woman, but because she hadn't known beforehand, the effect was lost.Straight outta Heaven… "I'm not a communist!" Mallory insisited. "A likely story," the pale officer replied. "Maybe so, but it's also true." "And why should I believe you?" "Why not?" "I'll tell you why not," the officer began. "You acted guilty then, you look guilty now, and your answers are just the kind a guilty man would give if he were trying to talk his way out of this." "Listen, I promise I'm telling you the truth," Mallory said. "If you don't believe me, I'll do a lie detector test." "Very well," the reply came from the officer. He motioned for his partner to bring in the necessary instruments. "Okay guys," Diana interrupted. "What are we going to do?" "I think I have an idea," Rembrandt answered, rising from his computer chair. "Follow me." The group took their headsets off, and Rembrandt led the women out of the room, down the stairs and out of the building. Maggie and Diana wondered what Rembrandt had in mind. He obviously didn't tell them because they could have been monitored on the phones, and he wasn't telling them now for fear of being caught talking. They would just have to remain silent and follow his lead. After working together many times before in situations that were just as bad or worse, they figured this would be a snap. Still, the high degree of uncertainty didn't help matters. Rembrandt led them about a quarter-mile from the hotel, where he opened a phone booth and dialed 911. A phone on the other end rang. Good, it works, he thought. A voice on the other end answered. "911, what is your emergency?" Rembrandt spoke into his receiver, and Maggie and Diana had to do a double take when they heard their friend mimicking a Russian accent. The accuracy with which he reproduced the vocal inflections was stunning. "There is a bomb underneath Mayor Bono's house. If he or any member of his family survives, they will wish they hadn't. Detonation will occur in six hours." Rembrandt hung up the phone and stepped out of the booth as if nothing unusual was going on. With a straight face, he and his companions walked back to the hotel lobby and headed for the three-way conversation booth. Maggie was the first to speak. "That was AMAZING, Remmy. I didn't know you could do that!" "You learn a lot of stuff in the Navy, girl," Rembrandt answered. "You did NOT learn that in the Navy," Maggie said. "Did you?" "Okay, you got me. I used to do accents back in high school just for fun. I never thought it would come in handy, and it never did until now." Mallory was still seated at the table, but now he had various attachments clinging to him. There was a pulse reader clipped to his fingers and stuck to his temples and neck, and strap-like devices around his chest, abdomen and upper arms. It was enough to make even the most truthful man jumpy. The interrogation was about to begin when the both officers' cell phones began to ring. As they answered them, a familiar officer barged into the room, wearing a cordless headset. "Hawks, what are you doing?" the pale officer hissed. "Guys, we've gotta go," Hawks said. "They're sending everyone out to the mayor's house. There's supposedly a bomb out there, planted by some Soviet terrorists or something." "What about the prisoner?" the dark officer asked. "Lock him up. He'll be guarded by the few that stay behind." The pale officer shrugged his shoulders and shut down the polygraph machine. He detached Mallory from the device and cuffed him. "You may have been granted a temporary reprieve by this," he said. "But you'll get what's coming to you when I get back - I promise you that." "That's enough out of you, Levy," Hawks barked. "Tell you what, you two go ahead and I'll take care of Mister…" "Mallory," Mallory spoke up. "Quinn Mallory." "Okay, Mr. Mallory, come with me." Hawks paused for a moment, then addressed the two other officers. "Go on, gentlemen. Nothing to see here." The two officers reluctantly exited the small room, knowing there were now more important things to take care of. Hawks turned off his headset as he followed the departing officers with his eyes. When they had gone, officer Hawks motioned for Mallory to sit down. Rembrandt, Maggie and Diana sat in their hotel room, watching a live news feed about the fiasco at the Mayor's house. "This is a CNN special report. I'm Jerry Falwell," the thin, dark-haired reporter said. "Since the bomb threat earlier today, the LAPD has sent most of its force to the mayor's house. The National Guard is expected to arrive on scene shortly to help control any rebels, rioters or looters that may hinder the work being done here. "It is not known what sort of device is inside the house, but many believe it may be a nuclear device, planted by Soviet terrorists or underground rebels. The unidentified man who called in the bomb threat said, and I quote, 'If he or any member of his family survives, they will wish they hadn't,' - he, of course, referring to Los Angeles mayor Sonny Bono. This is what leads many to believe that there will be some sort of radiation fallout if this device is detonated. The mayor and his family have evacuated, as have many others here in Brentwood. We're going to go live to our correspondent in Los Angeles, Maria Shriver. Maria, what do you have for us?" Rembrandt turned off the television and looked at his two companions. "You two ready?" he asked. "As ready as we'll ever be," Diana returned. Maggie nodded in agreement. The three sliders hung their headsets up and walked out of the room. "Okay, let's get this stuff hooked up," Hawks said, hooking Mallory up to the lie detector once again. "Shouldn't you be on the phone?" Mallory asked him. "This interview's off the record," Hawks said, sounding more like a journalist than a police investigator. As he spoke, he continued to set the machine up. "I was listening to you in the other room while you were being interrogated. I believe you were telling the truth. I just want to give you this test to make sure." Mallory just sat there, not knowing what to say, or if he should even speak. He figured it would be best to remain silent until the questioning began. "Okay, here we go," Hawks said as he fired up the machine. "Let's start with a few basic questions. What is your name?" "Quinn Mallory." "What is your birthday?" "September 26." "Where are you from?" "Canada." "Okay, that's a lie. Where are you really from?" "I'm from California… sort of." "Sort of?" Hawks asked. "What do you mean, sort of?" "It's kind of a long story, and I don't think you'd believe it." "Why wouldn't I, unless it was a lie?" Hawks pointed with his eyes to the polygraph. "Try me." "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." Rembrandt, Maggie and Diana stood outside the Chandler hotel, hoping to flag down a cab. The streets were full of people trying to evacuate the area, and as a result, it was difficult to find an available cab. The fares would likely be much higher than usual as well. With the traffic the way it was, it would take quite a while before they would actually arrive at the police station. Rembrandt shook his head and motioned for the girls to follow him. The group entered the hotel and Rembrandt stepped up to the front desk, picking up a handset. A man immediately stepped up to help him. "I need a city map," Rembrandt said. "Do you have any of those?" "Certainly, sir," the man replied, pulling a map from behind the desk. "Here you go." Rembrandt walked over to a conversation booth, and the ladies followed. Each picked up an extension. "According to this map, the police station's only a mile and a half from here," Rembrandt said. "With traffic the way it is, I think our best bet is to go on foot. How much time do we have before the slide, Diana?" "About three hours." "Damn." "Wow, that's an interesting story you have there," Hawks said. "You're either an insane pathological liar, or you're telling the truth. I don't think you're insane though. Your description of my double described my personality to a tee… I even considered a career in journalism, but freedom of the press waved bye-bye years ago. I took a job on the force because I thought the rebels could use a man on the inside. Plus there's opportunity for political advancement. Anyway, maybe I'm off my rocker, but I believe you." "Thanks, I appreciate that," Mallory replied jokingly. "As you may have noticed," Hawks began. "I'm not a big fan of these phone laws myself. Not only do they negate the very freedoms on which our nation was founded, but the entire system's basis is hypocrisy. If the chief knew anything about this, he'd have my badge. But I don't think you'll report me, and even if you did, they probably wouldn't believe you." "I won't report you," Mallory replied. "I agree with you 100 percent on these phone laws. All I want is to get out of here so I can meet my friends before we slide out." "All right. We've got to get you out of here, but in a way that would be the least damaging to my job status." Hawks rubbed his chin and thought for a few seconds. "How about you knock me out and run? There's nobody else here to stop you. The few remaining officers are guarding prisoners." "You want me to punch you?" Mallory said. "I don't know…" "C'mon! Deck me! I can't just let you walk - you have to escape!" "Okay… don't take this personally," Mallory said before belting Hawks with his fist. It was time to get out of there before anyone returned. Rembrandt's plan was flawless. They'd simply bail Mallory out of jail, and if that didn't work, they'd have to use a little force. Of course that was how the plan was supposed to work. Rembrandt approached the main desk at the police station. An older officer lifted his phone and spoke, "What can I do for you?" Rembrandt lifted a phone on the desk and spoke, "We're here to bail out Quinn Mallory." "Really?" the officer replied. "How's about you tell us where he is first?" Several officers approached Rembrandt, Maggie and Diana and attempted to detain them. "What's going on here, man?!" Rembrandt screamed. "The three of you are under arrest for aiding and abetting Quinn Mallory in his escape." The sliders were cuffed and searched, and the timer seized. The officers locked them in a holding cell. "Way to go, Rem! We've got a little more than a hour left until the slide, we're trapped in a jail cell and the timer's been confiscated." Maggie was angry. Sure they'd come close to missing the slide before, but this situation seemed too different. Things didn't usually happen like this for the group. Things usually had a funny way of working themselves out, but not this time it seemed. Rembrandt's mind drifted back to what had happened. "How was I supposed to know that Fogboy had already escaped? And how was I supposed to know that we'd be arrested for asking about him?" The three noticed a familiar-looking man approaching them. He looked around cautiously and spoke in almost a whisper, "I'm a friend. Name's Hawks. I'm the one who helped your friend escape. If you're going to make the slide, you'll need this." Hawks slipped the timer to Rembrandt. "Thanks, but how do we get out of here?" "Leave that to me. Is there some way I can reach Mallory?" "Your best bet would be The Chandler," Diana replied. "Okay, I'll get in touch with him and have him meet us at the 'Reach Out And Call Someone' rally in the park. Sit tight and be ready for my signal. I'll be back shortly." Mallory entered the group's hotel room at the Chandler. The others were gone, more than likely on their way to rescue him. He figured his best bet would be to wait by the phone and see if they got in contact with him. The phone rang and Mallory jumped for it, "Hello?" "Mallory. Hawks here. Your friends are in jail. There's about an hour left till the slide. We will meet you in the park at the rally." "I'm on my way." Mallory hung up the phone and ran out of the room. Officer Hawks calmly escorted Rembrandt, Diana and Mallory out of the station. With most of the officers still preoccupied at the mayor's house, it wasn't all that hard. The three began their trek to the park. With only a short amount of time left until the slide, tensions were high. All four of them were wearing headsets with cell phones attached to them. As they made their way into the park, they noticed it was the same everywhere. "What the hell?" Maggie said. "It's the annual 'Reach Out And Call Someone' Rally," Hawks replied. "It's been going on for years. It's the one time out of the year that everyone gets together and celebrates these phone laws." There was a stage erected in the park and on it was a man wearing a headset attached to a phone. His words were being broadcast through a series of speakerphones. The group saw Mallory and headed for him. Rembrandt spoke, "Cutting it a little close aren't you, Fogboy?" "Don't I always, Rem?" Mallory cracked a smile. "Don't look now gang, but it looks like we have company," Diana said. Three officers approached them and suddenly their words could be heard on their headsets. "You five are coming with us." It was Levy. "Hawks, I can't believe you'd turn your back on the force for them. Do you think we're stupid? You know all phone calls are monitored. We knew all about your little escape plan." Hawks' face filled with rage. Rembrandt turned to his companions and spoke, "In the words of an old friend of mine, RUN! Run like hell!" The five figures took off in a dead sprint for the stage. "Diana, how long till the slide?" Rembrandt asked. "Two minutes and counting." The five figures rushed up onto the stage. The main speaker on stage turned and spoke, "What's going on here?" Mallory grabbed the headset off the man and said, "Thanks, you won't be needing this." As the police approached the stage through the crowd, Mallory began to speak. "People, listen to me. This phone law stuff is wrong." People in the crowd immediately started voicing their disapproval of what Mallory was saying with boos and hisses. "You have been living your lives behind a receiver for too long," he continued. "How long will it take for you to realize that these laws, conceived for your protection, are actually hurting America and the cause of Liberty for which so many men died so many years ago?" The crowd grew quieter now, as some had actually stopped to listen to what he was saying. Hawks spoke up, "These laws were enacted to protect us from the threat of Communism - does no one else see the hypocrisy in instituting a Communistic policy to achieve that goal?" Diana lifted the timer and spoke as the police climbed the stage, "3. .2. .1." The vortex opened and the audience gasped almost in unison. Mallory spoke up again, "I come from a place where face-to-face communication is a natural part of life, a place where you can have a conversation without a phone in your hand, or strapped to your head." Mallory continued speaking as Diana and Maggie jumped into the vortex. "I urge each and every one of you to think about what this system has done to your society. Is this how you really want to live? You may say that it's not worth fighting for; that there's no way you can change things. Well, nothing will change if you don't do anything! I encourage you all, right now, right where you stand, to send a message that we will not tolerate it anymore. I ask you all to take your phone right now… and hang it up." Mallory pressed a button on the phone and suddenly a dial tone blared through the speakers. Rembrandt turned to Mallory and spoke, "Let's go Fogboy." Mallory and Rembrandt dove into the vortex and it closed. Hawks was the first. He slowly took off his headset and pressed a button on his phone. The crowd was almost silent. Soon the only sound that rang through the area was a dial tone. The officers that had chased him onstage began to approach, but one of them stopped the other two and walked up to Hawks alone. It was Jones, from Mallory's interrogation. "You'd better get out of here before reinforcements arrive," Jones said. "What?" Hawks replied, bewildered. Jones removed his headset, hung up his phone and dropped them both to the floor. Levy began protesting, but Jones knocked him out with a blow from his fist. "Go NOW!" he shouted. At that, Hawks took off alone, not knowing where he would hide. The End
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