The Lost Witch (8 page)

"What mess?"

"Why The Great Conundrum of course." The professor pressed his fingertips together
and peered thoughtfully at her between them. "Technically speaking, a multitasker doesn't
actually jump to a different dimension but rather to the beings living in that dimension. If there is
enough commonality between us and them, we can create a mental bridge and with the help of a
connector jump over for a visit. It can be a lot of fun, but it requires a good deal of training and a
great deal of concentration."

He furrowed his eyebrows into a fuzzy vee. "A jumper must be extremely focused and
single-minded, while at the same time flexible enough to trust his intuition. Otherwise he gets
totally confused and ends up spinning around in circles until..."

"Until Point Puke! Oh, I get it now."

"Precisely. For many students, even years of training is not enough. They simply don't
have what it takes. And unfortunately, a flexible mind is still no guarantee when dealing with the
monobrains!"

"How so?"

"Miss Sylphwood, you of all people should know the answer to that question. It is
because monobrains are the most stubborn creatures in all of existence."

"Not Hal."

"Indeed?" Philamount raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. He always said someone like you'd turn up."

"How extraordinary."

"Yes he is. And anyway, if monobrains are such a problem, why bother with them at all?
I mean what's the big deal about one measly planet if you've got millions of others to visit? "

"We bother because we must."

"Why?"

"Because the monobrains are refusing to evolve."

"So what? I mean I'm certainly not defending them, but what's it matter to you what they
do?"

"It matters because by not evolving, they're holding the rest of us back."

"How can they be holding you back?"

"It's just the way things work; one of the universal laws. No one can be left behind, and
these people are about as far behind as they can possibly get, without actually devolving."

"So you're stuck until you can get the monobrains to move forward?"

"Precisely."

Carole snorted. "Fat chance of that!"

"You have a firm grasp of our dilemma."

"Wait a minute. That must mean multitaskers still visit; still come here."

"In the past a few have managed. Now it's impossible."

"No it's not. You're here."

"Technically I am still in the Nightshade Realm. You are able to see me only because of
the dimensional overlay, but as soon as our two dimensions drift apart, you and I shall also go
our separate ways."

Her belly lurched with the realization.

"Yes, now you understand fully. Stand up please," Professor Philamount rose in one
fluid motion.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"I would be extremely remiss if I didn't prepare you as best I can, in the time
remaining."

"Prepare me for what?"

"For what awaits."

Carole wasn't able to resist. "So, does everyone else at the Hub look like you?"

Professor Philamount, his long fingers resting on his thin hips, looked very much like a
scarecrow, an irritated scarecrow.

"Well?"

His frown deepened.

"It's just that you say I'm from the Hub but, no offense,
we
don't exactly look
alike. I resemble the average monobrain a lot more than I resemble you. How can you be so
certain I really am the lost multitasker?"

"You have certainly mastered monobrains' ill-bred and discourteous habits. Now would
you please demonstrate your soft-walking skills."

"What?"

"Soft-walk."

Carole tiptoed across the grass.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking softly, like you asked."

"I did not ask you to walk softly. I asked you to soft-walk." With the subtlest of motions,
Philamount's body lifted, to hover barely an inch above the grass.

Carole peered under his toes. "You did that the other night, too. But how? There's
nothing sharp beneath."

"What has sharpness to do with soft-walking?"

"I can only glide over dangerous stuff." She spied a large thistle nearby. "Like this," She
tried to jump on it and slid harmlessly over the plant.

Philamount pursed his lips, stretching them out until his face looked rather aardvarkish.
"And this method works whenever there's danger underfoot?"

"Saved me from the mist."

"Rather shoddy technique, but I suppose it'll do." He sat down and motioned for Carole
to do likewise.

"Professor Philamount," Carole said, before he could speak again, "you never answered
my question. What
do
people at the Hub look like?"

"Exactly as they feel. How else would you expect someone to look? And just what is
this obsession you have with appearances, Miss Sylphwood? Is it associated with some obscure
monobrain custom?"

"Sort of."

"You'd be well advised to forget about being a good little monobrain and instead
concentrate on the business of multitasking yourself home."

"What? I thought you we're coming to get me."

"No. As I've already explained to you, each universe is anchored to The Hub by its own
unique dimensional connector, so in order to reach your Monobrain Realm, I'd need to jump
through the monobrain connector."

"Then do it. Go back to The Hub and jump into the monobrain connector!"

"Miss Sylphwood, you are forgetting that the monobrain connector is no longer tethered
to The Hub. It is somewhere around here."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"We are doing it now."

"What?"

"Preparing you to make your own way back to The Hub."

"How?"

"The same way you visited The Westhill Witches. By multitasking."

"But I don't know what I did, or even what I'm doing here in the first place."

"An interesting series of coincidences, so I've been told. Apparently you were standing
near the linkage point at the time of The Great Conundrum. When the connector snapped off, it
must have scooped you up and deposited you on this planet."

"The Great Conundrum. Was that some sort of bomb?"

"In a manner of speaking. The Great Conundrum was a result of the Terrible Tiff, and
the Terrible Tiff was a result of these monobrains." Melodious straightened his legs and began
wiggling one toe after another until they were undulating like a sea fan in the surf. "For some
time now, we have been trying to get the monobrains to focus on things that really matter."

"Evolving."

"Precisely. For instance, long ago we sent in MSL instructors."

"MSL?"

"Multitasking as a Second Language."

"And?"

"The cretins tried to burn them at the stake."

Carole shuddered.

"Oh, our instructors escaped easily enough, though their monobrain students weren't
always so lucky. Since then we've tried less dangerous methods."

"Such as?"

"Such as projecting transdimensional imagery onto their brains while they were
asleep."

"Didn't work?"

"Woke up screaming about flying saucers and alien abductions. In short, nothing's
worked. Eventually talk turned to the idea of abandoning the monobrains altogether."

"I didn't think that was allowed?"

"It isn't, which is why those discussions led to The Terrible Tiff."

"What's that?"

"Two esteemed Hub philosophers, Snively Hotspot and Meron Seafeather, have become
the focus of the monobrain dilemma. Seafeather doesn't want to give up on the monobrains. He
feels we just need to find the proper approach. Hotspot figures if we look the other way until
they destroy themselves, our problem will be solved. The two have been debating the subject for
years. Once Seafeather even went so far as to propose bringing monobrains to The Hub to try
and jumpstart their brains."

"Like shock treatment."

Philamount nodded. "But Hotspot said the idea was preposterous, that monobrains were
alarmingly unpredictable and vicious creatures, and that misplacing even one of their kind could
endanger the entire cosmos. As I've said, the two have fought it out for years--in a very civilized
manner of course--and over time, more and more multitaskers have taken sides in the debate.
'Leave them alone... Shake them awake... Send in more teachers... Teach the pigs.' That sort of
thing.

"Seafeather and Hotspot debates were guaranteed crowd pleasers, and they sold out
every performance. In fact, the men became quite the celebrities about The Hub, but eventually it
all sort of went to their heads, and they began to take it a little too personally."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that this Monobrain Realm was beginning to influence the professors, and a
number of other multitaskers, in such a way that they began to act in a very uncharacteristic
manner, a manner now known as The Monobrain Effect. Meaning that ultimately the debates
became nasty, and well, turned into a Terrible Tiff. And then it happened."

The professor closed his eyes, as if to recall the scene. "It was a spectacular performance
by Seafeather. He really wowed the audience. Perhaps he wowed them a little too much, because
the very next morning, a group of gifted, though short-sighted, graduates decided to put his
theory to the test and they...um...invited a monobrain to The Hub."

"Invited a monobrain?" Carole arched her eyebrows in an imitation of his.

"Sort of against his will," he added, clearing his throat.

"You mean they kidnapped him?"

"Not a very enlightened thing to do, I admit, but they were only students after all and
really meant no harm."

"And?"

"The monobrain refused to believe anything that was happening to him."

"So what's the big deal about that?"

"The big deal," the professor said quietly, "was The Great Conundrum."

"You mean..."

"I mean Kablooey! Bringing that closed-minded, inflexible monobrain to The Hub, was
like throwing a canon ball into a stained glass window. Our world shattered into a thousand
pieces. Buildings collapsed, storms raged, dimensions snapped off. It has taken us these past nine
years to rebuild The Hub--better than ever I might add--and to track down and reconnect all of
the missing dimensions. All, that is, except one."

"That would be mine." Carole sighed.

"Correct."

"But why only this one?"

"Because when the other dimensions broke away, their connectors stayed behind. The
presence of that monobrain at The Hub caused such a stress on the monobrain connector, that it
tore right out of its mooring, and without that link you were on your own.

"Arghthelprragnitleeriall!"

Carole jumped. "What's the matter?"

"Arghthelprragnitleeriall!"

"Do you feel sick? Are you choking?"

"What am I saying? Arghthelprragnitleeriall!"

"I haven't the foggiest."

"Come on, come on, translate my words. Arghthelprragnitleeriall!"

"What words?"

"Translate them telepathically. Arghthelprragnitleeriall!"

Carole giggled. "I'm sorry," she hastily added, noticing his face darken, "but it sounds
like your clearing your throat."

"This is the language of the Algeronian steeds from the Tiburian Realm. Really Miss
Sylphwood, do you think everyone speaks English?"

"Well I--"

"Ignore the words and translate my thoughts. Many species do not articulate words.
Others have no mouths."

"Well..."

"Telepathic translation is the preferred method of communication. Concentrate.
Arghthelprragnitleeriall!"

"I dunno, some sort of warning, maybe?"

"Focus on my thoughts not my sound."

"Wait a minute," Carole said, stalling for time, "you never told me what happened to the
monobrain. Is he still stuck at The Hub, or did he get dumped like me?"

Philamount suddenly turned his attention to a dirty toenail. "We...ah..." He began
picking at the toe. "...assume the other half of him returned to the Monobrain Realm relatively
safe and sound."

"The other half... You mean he...? Oh gross! Was he the only one?"

"Fortunately, yes. Amazing as it seems, the monobrain and you were the only two
casualties, at least on our world."

"It's not fair! I had nothing to do with this Tiff, yet I'm the one who gets dragged
off."

Melodious shrugged his shoulders. "Arghthelprragnitleeriall."

"Time's running out," Carole said without thinking.

"Correct."

"It was?"

"Next, plasticate please."

"Whaticate?"

"Plasticate. Alter your features." He demonstrated by flapping his ears until they'd
stretched past his shoulders.

"Oh." Carole held out her arm and bent it back like a bow.

"That's it?"

"I can do this, too," she said, and wrapped one leg around her neck like a scarf.

"Pathetic, Miss Sylphwood. On average, your multitasking skills match those of a
preschooler."

"Big deal. What difference does it make, if I'm stuck here for the rest of my life?"

Philamount twanged the tip of his nose with a forefinger and the sound reverberated
through the air. He placed his hands lightly upon Carole's shoulders, "I do not think that needs to
be the case. As I've already remarked, I believe you are quite capable of finding and reconnecting
the dimensional connector yourself."

"But how do I do that?" She fidgeted under his clammy touch. "You just told me the
connector has to be at The Hub in order to do a transdimensional jump."

"True enough," He removed his hands and blew upon them as if they'd been burnt. "But
it wasn't always this way. At some point in the very distant past, The Hub was not the center of
all things, and the dimensions were not all neatly connected. Mind you, there are no records of
those ancient times, only meager scraps of fables and legends. Those fragments hint of an age
when we multitaskers explored the dimensions by free-fall. And I believe that is what you have
done.