Dexter’s Laboratory Porn Story: Dimensional Terror Chapter 3

This is part three of a ten-part story, which is designed to publish a new chapter every month, leading up to November 2001 when the new “Dexter’s Laboratory” episodes finally premiere. The intent is to keep DL fans (and myself) interested in the show while we wait out the unending torment we must suffer until November.
Here it is, the long-awaited and much-hyped chapter three. I know I’ve promised some Mandark/Dee Dee-shipping and much weirdness and- well, there definitely is that. If one part gets too mushy for you to handle, skip on to the next section, and I guarantee it will be quite different. It’s all to prove a point, nee? ^_^ There’s a reason this part is much longer than the others thus far, and I promise there will be much more of Dexter in the next part. It’s a story, and stories require components!
“Dexter’s Laboratory” is Y 1996 Hanna-Barbera Productions and Cartoon Network.
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He could see nothing, not even the dimmest of outlines that always conjured themselves from the blackest nights. Absolute darkness stuffed into his eyes until he felt overwhelmingly nauseated. Blinking a few times, trying to clear his vision, produced no results. There was a faint sensation of walking, being drawn in some indefinite direction, but the rest of his senses had not yet caught up with him, and there was no certainty of what he felt or saw or heard, or even the damp vapours that steamed inside his mouth in anticipation of a chance to speak. Timidly he extended a hand in front of him to seek out a stationary object on which to steady himself, but instead brushed against some smooth fabric. He gasped and withdrew his hand. Where am I? he whimpered. Something was clutching his arm, came the realisation, and the hairs on his neck began to prickle in consternation. Was he a prisoner of an interdimensional patrol force? Maybe Olga had found her way inside the fluxitator and was exacting her revenge. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought but continued his submissive march to whatever impending doom awaited him.

“Hold on, dear. We’re almost there.”

That soothing, mellifluous voice held such a familiar overtone to it Where did he know that seraphic sound? It suddenly occurred to him that the “shackle” on his arm was only a steady hand guiding him on his trek, and he moistened his lips in relief. More aware of his movements now, he stumbled- his body seemed disproportionate and awkward to him; not at all like the motions he was used to making- but rejoiced in the comfort that some dimensional being was helping him along. Such kindness he had rarely known. “All right. You can look right about now.”

Promptly something was lifted from his eyes and he could see- and indeed it was a sight to behold! On a round table before him burned burgundy candles set into lavish candleholders of silver that tossed the reflection of the flames onto the flecks in the granite tabletop. Two plates, steaming with sumptuous steaks, grilled vegetables, and a gooey yet enticing orange substance sat on either side of the cozy setting. A bouquet of crimson roses flourished to one side. “It looks delicious,” he said, in awe. What else could he possibly say?

“Thank you, love. I prepared it myself.” The hand slid from his arm up to his shoulder, and touched lightly to his cheek. He twisted his neck to glance at the speaker- and nearly collapsed.

Dressed in a black knee-length skirt, a neatly pressed button-down shirt of hot pink, a round onyx pendant and a diaphanous pink scarf that clung wispily to her throat was the most beautiful idolatress he had ever had the great pleasure to lay eyes on. Blonde pigtails extended subtly downward from the nape of her neck and wide, pale blue eyes gazed lovingly at him from behind black-rimmed frames. Though definitely aged and wisened, the beauty and joy that emanated from her was unmistakable.

“Dee Dee!” he cried.

She smiled and flung her slender arms around him, squeezing him tight. “Happy anniversary, sweetie!” she exclaimed.

Placing a firm hand under her chin, he brought her face to his in a movement so slick it impressed even himself. What’s going on here? he tried to rationalise. Here was the girl of his dreams, right in his arms! How was he supposed to respond; should he pretend to know what she was talking about? How did I get here anyway? But then, it certainly wasn’t daily that Dee Dee threw herself at him like this. What reason do I have not to go along with it? “Happy anniversary, my love.” They kissed only briefly, but it felt like thousands of needles pricking at his skin and grinding him into infinitesimal confetti pieces of bliss. Oh, sweet rapture!

“Go sit down,” she suggested, “and I’ll pour your wine.”

After seating himself in the curved velvet chair, he paused to absorb his surroundings. A sleek black kitchen faced him, with railings running up either side to what appeared to be a bedroom loft. To his right was an entertainment quarter overflowing with electronic equipment and various stylish pieces of art, most in black and white or the primary colours. The whole apartment, he concluded, was but one streamlined room divided neatly into quadrants, decorated in lush tones of khaki and plum and maroon and black. A window at the far wall of the entertainment area gave way to a nighttime metropolis raging with lights, though he could hear no city noises. Soft beeps alerted him to the presence of numerous inconspicuous devices scattered throughout the residence.

At the sound of pouring liquid, he turned back to the small table where Dee Dee was filling his glass with vermilion wine. “Allow me to pour yours,” he found himself saying, and she surrendered the bottle to him and took a seat. He emptied the flask with such diffidence, and not the clumsy manner he had feared he would, that even Dee Dee- my wife, he corrected himself enthusiastically- looked surprised.

“A toast,” she proposed, lifting her goblet high, “to the Nomenoffs.”

The impeccable class their surname possessed when spoken by her sweet mouth overcame him, and he had to regain control of himself before raising his glass to hers. “Yes to Astro and Dee Dee Nomenoff.” They interlocked arms and drank from one another’s glass.

This must be an alternate dimension, he reasoned. That much was obvious, given the circumstances of how he had arrived. But what incredible good fortune had he come across that permitted him to marry this unearthly siren? Was this what the future held for him now, instead of that sickening trauma he had suffered through a few weeks back? Hazy memories of life- nothing pivotal, but dim recollections of the trail that had brought him here- were slowly being dredged from his subconscious. A dreary college afternoon with rain soaking him to the bone as he sat under a tree, hours spent toiling away in a cubicle, a nightmarish event in the university’s laboratory There were beautiful instances with Dee Dee, too; evening soirees and midnight walks along the river, and countless trips to the Performing Arts Centre. How can I make sure that this is the life I live?

“Do you remember our wedding?” she asked, chewing on her steak. “You’d better!” He began to cut his own.

“Of course,” he grinned. “Your brother was pretty mad when I asked him to be the best man.” Where did that come from? What am I talking about? All the memories were still trying to catch up.

She snickered. “You could tell he wanted to, but he had too much pride back then to admit things like that to you, or anyone else. One time when we were little, I was helping him with a science fair entry, and he was doing it wrong and I tried to tell him but he wouldn’t believe me, and he lost to me for it. Nothing like how he is now- I’m glad he’s learned to treat us with some respect! I mean, seeing as how you’re his boss, and all.”

Mandark paused with the fork almost to his mouth. Somehow he did remember all this. He turned to look at the wall to his left; in a black lacquered frame was a photograph of a wedding party inside a lavish Russian basilica. He and Dee Dee stood in the centre of the photo- my word, that dress looks stunning on her– in astonishingly ornate bridal attire. Olga was on the left holding Dee Dee’s train, as were Dee Dee’s girlfriends, Mee Mee and Lee Lee. Dexter in a tuxedo was standing next to Mandark, looking rather sour.

“It was so beautiful,” she reminisced. “The dresses and suits I designed, the church, the cake and you, my dear. It’s a shame they tore the church down a few months later, but government regulations are regulations”

He wasn’t listening as a sensation of blushing touched his cheeks. “What divine intervention permitted me to marry you, my angel?” He had to know. If there was a very real possibility for him to marry Dee Dee in the future, he had to make certain to take every precaution he could so life would indeed turn out this way! Though more memories were perpetually entering his mind, it was impossible to piece them into one coherent story.

She laughed merrily, swirling the glass in her hand. “Don’t be so silly.”

For the first time he could remember, a smile of true happiness came over him. “I’m serious, darling. Let me hear your side.”

“Well, you know” Another giggle. “All of grade school, I could tell you kind of had a crush on me.” Kind of? he thought. “It was cute, but my interests were elsewhere back then. Once we got to college though” He zoned out momentarily, noting how much she had matured since elementary school. Her words actually sounded orchestrated, instead of coming in random bursts of incoherence like the way she usually spoke. It was different; whether it was an improvement or not, he couldn’t decide. “I don’t know what happened. You were more independent; less helpless around me. You’d defend yourself instead of letting me walk all over you.”

He smiled. “I suppose I had a bit of an epiphany when I nearly let your brother trick me into blowing up the science lab in exchange for getting me a date with you.” Where did that come from? He rattled his head and ate some more steak.

“That’s when I really started to like you, yeah. But then I was afraid maybe you didn’t feel that way for me anymore.” She dropped her eyes.

Rushing to swallow the food in his mouth, he found himself asking, “Is that what you were wanting to talk to me about? During your last year of graduate school?”

“You mean the rainy day? Yes. When the storm came up, I figured it was off and I’d discuss it with you some other time. But well, after a while, I started to get worried. So I called Dexter and he said you’d been gone for two hours- and that he was getting more work done than he had all semestre, the dork- so I went out there and- well, you know the rest.” Her hand reached across the table and came to rest on his.

He blinked as a strange notion came to mind. “So if I hadn’t waited-“

“We’ve talked about this before. I knew you did still care, therefore I didn’t need to spill my heart and walk away. Now go on, eat your dinner. Look, you haven’t even touched your myudi sauce!” His eyes lowered to stare at the orange substance on his plate. “Go ahead,” she coaxed, “it’s all the rage in East Asian cuisine.”

The goo dripped from his fork when he tried scooping it up. “It looks great, darling.” He forced himself to swallow the bitter-tasting dish. Hastily he set the fork back on his plate and snatched the napkin from his lap, catching sight for the first time of his attire. What’s this? A white button-down collared shirt was layered underneath a soft grey sweater. Looking downwards, he saw black slacks laced with cream pinstripes and black Oxfords on his feet polished to perfection. Hey, he mused, I look pretty good.

What are you doing?

He jumped and almost knocked the cutlery from his hands. Wha- huh?

I am you. What are you doing here?

Too unnerved to answer his own thoughts, he deftly stuffed some more of the myudi into his mouth and nearly gagged.

“And what’s your side of it, love?” Her actions were so full of grace- the way she sliced her meat and deposited it in her dainty mouth, and gazed into his eyes. He watched her, entranced by how she still radiated such youth after- after well, however long it had been.

Eighteen, echoed a thought.

What?

Eighteen, he thought again, feeling more exasperated this time.

He blinked. It wasn’t as though he was talking in his mind to someone else- or even himself, for that matter- but rather that he held two conflicting ideas in his head at once. Each was spawned from two sets of memories and emotions and experiences, all fighting one another for dominance in his mind, struggling to be the only life he would remember. One insisted he was lost somewhere beyond the fourth dimension in perhaps an alternate future, while the other lambasted his childishness and filled him with three times the memories and thoughts. Only his present conscious, the internal voice of the here and now, was left with the task of trying to sort out one life for himself.

“Um, Astro?”

He gulped down the orange glop that had slowly been dribbling down his throat as he debated with himself. Let me handle this. “You know the story well. Since I left Russia at age eight you’ve been my inspiration and saviour. Of course, I was somewhat foolish about it back then.” Mentally he scowled at that. He did not feel that he was actually saying the words, but they were formulating themselves and guiding him to remember more details of his alleged life. “Do you remember when I first immigrated and your brother tricked you into wrecking my childish lab?”

“Vaguely,” she sighed. “All the brilliant ideas of yours that were probably lost because of me I was so out of control back then.”

He waved a hand. “Do not fret. Obviously your dancing back then has done you good.” Director of the Citysville Performing Arts Centre, the second voice boasted.

Her face reddened again, and she shoveled some more steak into her mouth. “You’re doing pretty well yourself, Mr. Bigshot CEO,” she beamed around a mouth full of meat.

His eyes bulged. CEO? Me?

“What a wonderful first year we’ve had,” he reflected.

Finishing off her plate, she let her pale gold wedding band and enormous diamond engagement ring sparkle in the candlelight as she held her hand out before her. “And may we have many more. Would you like your present now, dear?”

He nodded eagerly. “But then it’s my turn.”

“DM2873,” she called, and a sleek robot of black steel approached.

“Yes, Mistress Nomenoff?” The android’s voice held no artificial quality to it whatsoever- only a smooth androgynous tone. Mandark stared at the servant in awe. He had designed thousands of robots in his life, but none half so impressive, so complex, and so streamlined as this one? Its body consisted of rounded cylinders, smoothed impeccably, with billions of compartments concealed along its sides that must serve a countless number of tasks.

She leaned over the table’s edge to address the short robot. “Bring me the anniversary gift for Master Nomenoff.” As DM2873 rolled away, she turned to him with a playful smile. “I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Half closing his eyes, he pondered his predicament in the present world. Dee Dee as his wife? That alone made it a perfect utopia- but CEO of a large company as well? From the looks of their apartment, he- they– must be incredibly wealthy to afford so luxurious a place of residence! Was all of the world like this? All the furnishings and appliances and even the very rooms themselves were so smooth and rounded. Surely Dee Dee herself had decorated the space; he felt like such a fat cat, a glorious sybarite, lounging in the hinterlands of perfection with the deliriously gorgeous muse by his side.

The glistening robot rolled back to the table and handed a square box to Dee Dee with its spindly steel arms. “The present you requested, Mistress Nomenoff.”

“Thank you, DM2873. You are dismissed.” The servant scurried away. “Happy anniversary, darling.”

As a huge grin overtook her face she slid the box to him; it was wrapped in thick cream-coloured paper and adorned with a velvety crimson bow. All he could do was stare at it in abject amazement. Dee Dee’s never given me anything before in my life.

Don’t be stupid! Just open it! He picked it up, a little apprehensive at its unexpected weight, and began to cinch the ribbon from the box in a very meticulous manner. Peeling the paper off, he shimmied the polished metal box from its wrappings and flipped the lid open. “Oh, Dee Dee”

“Go on, take them out.”

Two large gold cufflinks glinted at him from amongst their cotton packing. Emblazoned on each diamond-shaped face was a black M. I’ve seen these somewhere before. He rotated them slowly, letting the light glint off their surfaces. Then a wave of images from one of his minds bombarded him, horrifying glimpses of his encounter with Dexter a few weeks back. No! It can’t be!

“Well?” she asked expectantly.

“Oh, honey” He quivered. “They’re perfect.” I can’t become that monster! I can’t!

“Then try them on, silly!” He cringed, but rolled up the sleeves of the grey sweater and fastened the cufflinks onto the white dress shirt beneath. They shined at him and hung heavily on his wrists as a constant reminder of what he still could become.

“They’re wonderful. Thank you.” He began to stand up.

Her glare, however, quickly changed his mind. “Sit down!” Then she once more was smiling. “There’s more.”

More? he shuddered, taking his seat again. What more reminder of that nightmare do I need? He lifted the layer of cotton from the box. A large lump of lacquered black metal sat on the bottom, and he pulled it out. “A pocket watch?” The lid was engraved with an intricate swirling pattern of spikes and vines and spirals, all twisting around a giant M in archaic lettering in the centre of the circle. He opened the watch to see the white face with black gothic type inside.

“I designed the lid myself,” she explained, and he turned to gape at her in awe. “I just took it to Jim and had him cast it for me. He’s the only jeweller in the city that still does his craft by hand, you know.”

“Yeah, and I’m afraid they’re going to get him for that soon,” he sighed. What am I talking about? I’m making less sense than her moronic brother usually does.

She nodded sadly. “Poor Jim. But I’m more worried about you.”

“Fear not, my precious angel. So long as I keep researching and developing for them, they wouldn’t touch me.”

“I certainly hope so.” She looked somewhat dubious of his assurances. Oh, how he hated to see those big blue eyes look so sad!

He rose and strolled over to the other side of the table. “Thank you. They’re wonderful.” He leaned and kissed her pale cheek. One part of him sill felt such a thrill at finally being able to place his lips on so sacred a being, while another saw it as merely a commonplace occurrence in their relationship. “And now for your present, my love.”

Grabbing the black handkerchief she had earlier used as a blindfold on him, he tied it loosely around her glasses. “No peeking! Now stand up; I’ll guide you there.” She giggled and leaped from her seat to hook onto his arm. He swiveled his head and gazed upon the woman. This can’t be true. He led her towards the staircase to the loft, just letting his feet guide the direction, though for the most part he had no idea where he was headed or what the present was supposed to be. I sure hope I know what I’m doing.

“So, what is it?” she cried giddily as they reached the steps.

He studied the stairs before him; this wasn’t going to work if he intended to keep from breaking her neck. “You know I can’t tell you that yet. Here, let me carry you.”

“Okay!” She jumped into his arms rather unexpectedly, and though he faltered, he regained his balance and pulled her body close. I’m holding her in my arms A peculiar instinct rippled through him, and for a moment he thought he might faint.

Wobbling, he placed a foot on the first step. You idiot, you just put one foot in front of the other and walk! And yet he was paralysed with fear, for her carried such precious cargo; everything that had ever given light and hope and beauty in his life was contained in his arms

Oh, get over it already. She’s your wife. He bolted up the flight of stairs and set her back down.

“An archaic tradition states that on a couple’s first wedding anniversary they should give each other gifts of paper,” he expostulated, guiding her towards a shelf near the bed in the loft. “But paper is almost impossible to find nowadays, so this was the best I could do.” He pulled a lever on the wall and a partition extended, a large framed painting being revealed that was set into the segment. Grinning coyly, he slipped her blindfold off.

She squealed at the sight of the large piece of artwork, which was more a collage of abstract sketches and nouveau curling portraits of Dee Dee and himself, inked in thick black. He only appeared in two of the vignettes; she was of course the subject of the minimalist work. The whole collection was set on a background that brought to mind his second childhood laboratory. “Who’d you get to do this?”

“Peter, of course. I came up with the concept and worked with him on it.” There was a distant feeling of speaking without actually thinking the words again- they just coagulated on their own inside his mouth. Oh well, it’s probably for the best- otherwise I don’t know what I’m supposed to be saying! Peter who?

After studying the piece for a few seconds and leaning on his arm she said, “Peter Marceaux? He didn’t mention anything about it to me!”

“Of course he didn’t, my sweet,” he chuckled. “That’s because it’s a surprise.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders; she was nearly as tall as he was now, he noted. “Thank you,” she murmured, and continued to hold him close. Her soft eyelids closed and her lips began to approach him, her nose pressing against his. Please, oh, please, he begged, don’t let Olga end this, too!

It came like an electric shock and nearly sent him staggering backwards, head swarming with the power of dozens of memories that came soaring in and out of his conscious. A fierce passion tore at him relentlessly with the scent of a delicate orchid trembling in an early frost; he was overwhelmed with the glee of fulfilling his lifelong desire. To kiss those heavenly lips! He looped his arms around her waist and held tight.

“Breaking news. The leader of Moskovia has been assassinated-“

“Ooh, that damn thing! I forgot to put it on DND!” Dee Dee yanked away from him and stomped down the stairs. “Honestly, I know it’s useful for informing the State of important events even when it’s turned off, and I like it when I want to watch my shows, but all they ever talk about is Moskovia! Every hour, it has to turn on with more news!” He leaned over the railing and watch her approach a large screen set into the wall and surrounded by a metal plate. Buttons filled one side of the screen; a green light shone brightly on the other side. She punched one of the buttons. “There, that should do. Unless it’s Level 3 news, of course.” She threw her hands up in disgust. He had never seen her anything but cheerful before, always traipsing carefree through the halls of school, a perpetual gracious smile on her face even as she tormented Dexter. But now he realised that even when she got angry, she was adorable. “Honestly, dear, why do you have to manufacture such filthy things?”

“So I can buy you everything your heart desires, beautiful,” was his automated response. Arm shaking, he clutched the rail and eased his way down the stairs. Whether he was shaking from the kiss or from the sudden awareness of the vile screen, he didn’t know. Moskovia Yes, there was something about that somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was too buried by the cluttered false memories to dislodge.

He stood before the screen in awe. It was taller than he was! It was of technology far more advanced than anything he knew back home, the display infinitely crisper than liquid crystalline. At once it was both impressive and terrifying. Engraved into the very bottom of the plate was a logo reading “M Industries”. “I’m sorry?” he squeaked. It was masterful technology, granted

“Don’t worry. I know government specifications are to be obeyed. I’m just grateful you installed the lights on ours so we can tell when they’ve turned it on us.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “You’re so sneaky.”

A bewildered half-grin manifested on his face.

Something on the wall space next to the screen caught his eye; a framed magazine cover- though it was shaped more like a disk of some sort- that looked to be only a few months old. It was titled “Urban Citysville Weekly” and featured a big portrait of Dee Dee on the cover. “Interview with Dee Dee Nomenoff,” read the caption, “Voted Citysville’s Woman of the Year by Urban Weekly Readers.”

“Call for Master and Mistress Nomenoff from their siblings,” came a robot’s voice.

“Wouldn’t you know it,” she grumbled, and punched a few more buttons on the set. “Accept,” she yelled back at the computer.

The screen flickered, then showed a view of a considerably less affluent apartment, a very geometric zone with little decoration. Two figures came into focus, one a slender, squirrelly-looking man with fluffy orange hair and thick glasses hanging off his pale nose. He was hunched over a somewhat chubby woman of medium height with straight black hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a business suit that consisted of a lavender skirt and jacket over a white shirt, while he wore black pants and a white lab coat. “Happy anniversary!” their sniveling voices rang out, making it sound more like they were whining.

“Uh,” Dee Dee stuttered, “thanks.”

Mandark blinked, dumbfounded. “Dexter?”

“Y-y-yes?” whimpered the scrawny man.

“How have you been?” Then he was surprised to hear himself say, “I haven’t run into you at the office lately.”

Dexter sniffled. “Oh, just fine. I’ve been busy.”

“We have something important to tell you,” the woman interrupted. Oh, please tell me that’s not who I think it is.

“Oh,” Dee Dee said flatly, still looking rather irritated at the intrusion. “What’s that?”

A cheesy grin overcame Dexter’s face, and he looked at the woman and took her hand in his own. “Olga and I are engaged, as of last Thursday.”

It was her, it was! His rotten sister engaged to his worst enemy? He craned his neck to look at Dee Dee, and they raised perplexed eyebrows at one another. “That’s great,” she finally said, and Mandark murmured an agreement.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you long, but we wanted to know-” She snorted. “If you’d be in the ceremony.”

“I’d be more than honoured to have the company president as my best man,” Dexter added whilst sniffling. He had certainly changed a lot since a year ago, when the wedding photo was taken.

Dee Dee looked at Mandark dubiously. “Of course we will. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to get going. Dinner reservations.”

The two on the screen snickered, spit flying everywhere. Dexter pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Oh boy, you and your fancy restaurants. Olga and I wondered if you could recommend a nice place-“

“That’s nice. Talk to you later! Bye!” She turned the screen off as fast as she could. “Aren’t they creepy?”

Still dazed by the frightening possibilities he had just been presented with, he could make no response. He shook his head to clear his thoughts of the unsettling visages. Then sudden inspiration overcame him; in a swift arc he snatched her hand and spun her around till she was bent over backwards. He pressed his face towards hers; inhaled the sweet vapours of her skin. “My lady love,” he purred, “would you care to dance?”

“What a silly question,” she giggled, nuzzling his cheek. “But first,” she cried, leaping back to her feet, “you have to catch me!”

That’s definitely the Dee Dee I know, he swooned. Straightening his collar and smirking to himself, he called to the robots. “Make certain we are not disturbed for the remainder of the evening. I don’t care who calls!”

“Yes, Master Nomenoff.”

He surveyed the apartment; tried not to get too distracted by the luxurious feel of it all. His eyes passed through the black kitchen and the dining table, which appeared to have been cleared by the robotic servants; the inviting plum couch Shrill twittered could be heard, and a blonde scalp bobbed from behind the sofa He crept up and pounced onto the cushions, hands fumbling for her shoulders where she sat in back of the couch. “Got you,” he whispered. She laughed and twirled to kiss him on the nose.

“Very well,” she ceded, then stood up and walked around the sofa. “Let’s dance!”

Breezy jazz music flooded the room; she tangled her arms around his shoulders and buried her face into his neck. He started to go weak in the knees as he pulled her close. I spend years trying to get close enough to even touch this sacred goddess and all I really had to do is- wait, what did she say I did to get here again? Well, whatever it is, it can’t be too hard. I am the smartest genius this world has ever known, after all. He smiled and kissed her shining hair, a tropical scent lingering on his parched lips. Don’t ever let this end! He let his hands- so much stronger than those he was stronger than those he was used to- tighten around her waist so that she may never slip away.

“Do you remember the first time we ever danced?” he asked her, their feet flawlessly moving across the hardwood floors. He could feel his nonage slipping away the longer he held her close; the matured memory was taking over and making the age of nine a frozen memory. It became less awkward to be so intimate with his idolatress, though no less enjoyable. At least five years had passed since they had begun dating, he was sure. But how? No, it’s best to not question those small favours I am granted in life.

“Yeah. You and that silly laboratory.” Her twinkling eyes rolled up towards head with a malicious grin. Silly? What? I’ll show her-

Oh, get over it. You’re wasting time. There was that patronising older voice again.

The music clicked over to a rapid swing number, and she gripped his forearms and spun him around. Initially his eyes widened in horror, but as they continued to spin, he took note of her deliriously joyful expression, so he tried to relax and cherish the moment. How long do I get to stay here? One evening of this was all the heaven he needed in life, but seeing as he could find no way to get back to- well, whatever this sanctuary wasn’t- he figured it wouldn’t hurt to wallow in the glory of this a little longer.

More framed magazine covers- oddly shaped ones, he observed- whirled past as they continued their romp about the living room. Either his profile or Dee Dee’s was plastered to the front, if not both. It it scared him. This is too perfect. As she spun, he caught her by the wrist and dipped her back over his arm, just like he’d seen in films. Now what?

You imbecile, let me show you how it’s done. Obviously your sad youth and delusional belief of intellectual superiority has left you somewhat inexperienced. All right, so maybe his older self was getting a little annoying. Oh, just shut up and watch a master at work.

He slowly brought the back of her hand to his lips, then paused to inhale her fragrant skin. My word, what an angel has fallen into my life! Proceeding up her arm, she giggled, “You’re acting like a kid again!”

“Is that so bad?” he cooed into her ear.

“Of course not.” She reached out and yanked his head towards hers, fingers wrapping themselves into his hair and palms resting behind his ears. Once again he felt electrocuted by her kiss; shocked that it came so natural a motion to him, and enchanted by the delicate way she executed it- though he expected no less from her perfect being. She tasted of the syrupy red wine but it came as a very soothing sensation that washed through him and cleansed him and gave the feeling that his soul was rolling around inside of him.

Without total consciousness of what he was doing he lowered her so that she was sitting on the couch and he perched next to her, ever leaning closer. Dee Dee. This is my Dee Dee, the goddess I have always loved! Every night of his nine-year old life he had dreamed of the moment they would finally kiss, fantasised about it every time he saw her in the hallways of school, and daydreamed of it in class whenever he wasn’t busy outsmarting her brother. It was almost wrong that so soon he should experience such immense pleasure. Almost.

He placed a hand on either side of her neck, gently tilting her face towards his, then gradually let them slide down to her shoulders. Her eyes looked into his own, reflecting her adoration for him and complete trust. She held the gaze, then kissed him tantalisingly once more. He leaned towards her with a sly grin. This is better than in the movies! This must be the life I lead, it must! How can I ensure it?

Trust me, he assured himself, it only gets better.

Their lips met again, and he tightened his grip on her shoulders. Savour the taste, the feel, the smell… He felt sure he would drown from all the happiness building within him! As he closed his eyes he sensed her hands upon his waist

“Come get me!” she squealed, wiggling out from beneath him and dashing from the couch. She kicked her black shoes off as she trotted from the living room, and they skidded across the wood floors before crashing into granite pillars that stood randomly placed in the space between the kitchen and the stairs to the loft.

Clamoring to his feet, he took the shorter route around the other side of the sofa towards the staircase. She paused during intervals of her ascent to turn and make faces at him. “Ooh, come back here!” came his cry. “I’ll get you yet!”

And at last, at the crest of the stairs, he did. He pounced on her, and her white tights easily sent them sliding across the polished wood floor and they crashed into the steel railing that overlooked the living room. They laughed for a moment, Dee Dee seeming to have momentarily forgotten about the pursuit. While she was distracted he crooked an arm around her waist.

“Got you!”

“Yep,” she shrugged. “You sure did.” Straightening her glasses, she began to saunter off.

Hey, wait a minute! Don’t I get another kiss? He pouted. I really like kissing. Perhaps he could try to kiss Dee Dee back in his world- not that he really wanted to go back.

Dee Dee had positioned herself between the painting and their bed, and was scrutinising the intricacies of Marceaux’s artwork. “You did an excellent job of designing this with Peter, darling. But- what’s this? Come here!”

He approached her with trepidation. “What’s what?”

With one hand, she flung the glasses from her face and onto the silvery nightstand nearby. With the other, she grabbed his arm and wrenched him around, crashing him onto the poofy mattress. “I got you back!” echoed her shout of victory. “I got you back, I got you back, I got you back!”

He blinked a few times, a little flustered. Then his more refined instincts kicked in. He reached up and pulled her down next to him and pinned her with one arm as she gave a yelp of surprise. With the other hand he stroked her porcelain cheek. “Now I’ve got you for good.”

A fragile smile graced her mouth as he drew her close. Snuggling her nose into his neck, she conceded, “You always will, my love.” Oh, please let it be so.

The apartment was silent; he could hear only the clean sounds of her breathing. Gently lifting her face to his, he kissed her slowly and reveled in the euphoric tingle once more. Something was different in it this time, though; a new sensation had seized him and he felt his heart begin to pound. He kissed her neck, kissed her collarbone

What am I doing? he gasped, realising his hand was resting on the top button of her pink blouse, running the edge of it underneath his fingernails.

You’ll see. He kissed her throat once more and felt her hands encircle his waist.

His eyes bulged. Oh, no. We can’t do that!

Sure we can.

He cringed, but couldn’t keep from kissing her pale neck. But I’m only nine years old!

No, I’m not. I’m twenty-seven. I’m married to her, for goodness sake! You have absolutely no grounds to complain!

Oh, he mused, a sly grin coming to his face as he felt the last button slide through his fingers, I’m not complaining.

Too groggy to recall where he was or why, he rolled over and tried to pull the sheets tighter around him. These are not my flannel sheets. His eyes opened. Insufficient lighting made it nearly impossible to see where he was, but he knew for sure that it wasn’t his cramped bedroom. Where am I-

Oh.

He sat up in the rumpled bed, its pristine sheets of white linen cascading around him. To his left was a very large painting sticking out of a compartment in the wall, and a few feet beyond the foot of the bed was a railing looking over a huge room decorated in shades of plum and burgundy and khaki and black. One solitary window gazed out at a cloudy metropolis.

I’m still here. He remembered one of his last conscious thoughts before falling asleep being a concern that once he awoke, he would no longer be in this alternate dimension. I could gladly stay here forever. The previous night was returning to him; the most beautiful evening with Dee Dee and the powerful relationship they shared. She was so angelic was the only word that came to mind. He envisioned her touch and the way she kissed him, how they had danced, and most shocking of all

I can’t believe I did that. It was nothing like what he had expected from the scientific textbooks that he had read. His years of smothering his affections for her had been released. I’m more in love with her than I already was.

He turned to give the goddess a wake-up kiss but found her side of the bed was empty. “Dee Dee?” he cried. Grabbing a pair of briefs from a nearby chair, he hopped into them as he looked over the railing to the living room below. “Dee Dee, where are you?” He turned to look though the bedroom loft again, and noticed a doorway on the other side of the bed. When he scampered over to the doorway, he found himself in a silvery bathroom.

“Dee Dee?” A sink was set on the wall opposite him, underneath a rectangular mirror. Faint sounds of running water could be heard from behind a metal door on one side. Oh, she’s in the shower. He blushed and backed out of the bathroom.

“What shall I wear today?” His hand intuitively went to a button on the wall, and a compartment sprung out before him filled with sweaters and blouses and shirts and skirts and neatly-pressed pants. Everything pink was obviously Dee Dee’s; he shuffled through it and found himself a mauve sweater and a white shirt to wear with grey pants. Now I’m really classy, he grinned.

He sauntered down the staircase on bare feet and made his way to the breakfast table. A bowl of some sort of thick stew-like liquid was in his place, and lying next to it was an electronic device that looked like it might be a personal planner.

He took his seat before the bowl and picked the planner up. Its screen was amazingly clear and large, and in sharp colours. Drawn on the screen were swirls and hearts, decorating the carefully lettered words “I love you”. He clutched the planner to his chest and sighed.

“I see you found the breakfast Mistress Nomenoff prepared for you.” He jumped at the voice; spun in his chair. A thin metallic arm deposited a card on the table. “Your daily Citysville Journal, Master Nomenoff.”

“Why, thank you.” He nodded, and the droid rolled away.

Some rudimentary instinct told him to insert the card into the back of the electronic planner, so he did. A programme arranged like a newspaper appeared. “‘Moskovia Leader Assassinated- Again’,” he read. Why did that name sound so familiar? He continued to flip through the sections. Sports, Fashion, Society

“‘Are the Nomenoffs Too Powerful’? What?” A caricature of himself and Dee Dee sitting on thrones with buildings and peasants stacked beneath the chairs appeared to the side. “‘Though investors have had their eyes on Astro Nomenoff- or shall we call him Mandark?- since he was raised to VP of what was then Huber Industries and Scientific at age twenty-five, he has become a highly noteworthy figure throughout the State. He came to own and run what is now M Industries and Scientific just four months ago, after the highly suspicious resignation of former CEO Jim Novak. But let us not forget the other half of this ubiquitous couple’s foundations in our fair Citysville. Appointed director of the Arts Council seven months back, Dee Dee-‘ Oh, this is total drivel.” He dropped the planner in disgust.

Scooping up a spoonful of the liquid, he let it dribble down the sides of the spoon. “No offence, love,” he whispered to himself, “but I’m not really hungry.” He trotted back up to the loft and reentered the bathroom.

There was a slight shadow on his face, he noticed as he studied himself in the mirror, and he rubbed his cheek to find it rough with stubble. His hand went for a razor that sat on a small shelf over the sink. No way! I’m not even going to try. But despite his protests he found himself lathering up. The razor blade glinted in the harsh lighting. He took one stroke down his right cheek

Hey, that didn’t hurt at all! He examined his cheek in the mirror for any signs of bleeding. “This isn’t so difficult as I thought.” He swiped once more, and then again, the right side of his face quickly being cleared away. “I can handle this-“

The blade snagged on a patch of stubble, and he felt his skin cracking. Throwing the razor into the sink, he howled in agony, and clutched his cheek. “Blast you!” After whimpering for a moment he pulled his hand away and noted a few drops of blood on his finger. “Great. Now I’ll go to work looking like I’ve been butchered,” he whined. The minor wound was visible in his reflection and he wiped some more of the blood away with his finger, then stuck it in his mouth and let the bitter iron taste soak through him. Forget this! I’m growing a beard.

He opened his eyes back up and looked to his reflection. It began to oscillate and swirl, and promptly he felt dizzy, felt himself become a free-floating object in time and space, melting and stretching in every direction. No! Please don’t make me leave here! Everything faded into the dank ghost of time, and all he could hear was the sound of the shower.

—–
A ceaseless stream of numbers ran before his eyes in a doomed parade across an endless screen. He lifted his head from the desktop on which it rested and rubbed at his eyes. This world was hazy, misty; an intangible quality clung to the surroundings as though they could waver and vanish at any moment. Still, the room was dark, stuffed with computer panels and cords that flowed over desks and tables and snaked against the metallic walls and floor. The chair beneath him screeched tormentedly as he swiveled the seat to look around. A doorway set into the far end of the chamber caught his eye, light coming from behind it though it was partially closed. He tried to stand to move for it but was jerked back by the wrist and he fell again into the chair. Im handcuffed to the desk! he noted, appalled, upon seeing the shackle on his right hand.

Where are you going, my dear? chided a graceful voice. He spun to see the back of her head, two blonde braids growing from underneath a black hat.

Oh, Dee Dee, he sighed with relief. Thank goodness shes here. She turned to face him in a slow, calculated twist.

He screamed.

Indeed, she wore her silky hair in two braids under a shiny black cap, tied off in satiny black ribbons. Thick dark eyeliner coated her eyes, and black lipstick covered her lips. A spiky collar hung around her neck, and what seemed to be a vinyl corset was cinched eye-poppingly tight around her torso- that warranted a second look from him. A black-and very short- hung from her hips. Beyond that, her legs descended into the shadows, but he guessed those were knee-high boots that he saw. In one hand she wielded a bullwhip.

That is not the name to address me by, fool! she snapped. I am Dee Mentia!

He cringed and nodded acknowledgment.

Now, my slave, how are the calculations coming? Are we nearing preparation?

He blinked; glanced to the computer screen, then turned back. Of course umm Mistress Dee Mentia. Ive almost completed the rerouting of the data.

Her eyes narrowed and a wicked grin overtook her face. Thats fabulous, darling. Im so proud of you. She bent over to his level and pressed her face towards his and he tried not to cast his eyes down. But of course- I wouldnt expect you to fail me, she hissed.

Swallowing audibly, he shrank back from her gaze, but she flung her arms around his neck and swung her lithe figure into his lap, stretching across his legs and dangling her booted feet in the air. She brought one hand to his head, and let a black-lacquered fingernail wrap around his short hair. You are so pathetic, she remarked. Thats why I love you. Thats why I love She dug her nails forcefully into his scalp. To hurt you.

He whimpered in pain but dared not open his mouth.

Youve always let me have such power over you, she continued, removing her hands form his hair and instead running her fingers across the fat braids of the whip. You never could stand up to me; it never occurred to you in all your supposed intelligence, hmm? She coiled the whip around his throat and held it taut. Defy me. Go on, just try.

Never stood up to her? But in the last place I visited, she said she admired me for-

What are you babbling about, you imbecile! Do what Mistress says! Obey her command and defy her!

He felt the fibres of the whip digging into his skin.

Well? she asked.

Timidly, he gasped, I defy you.

She loosened the cord with a wicked laugh that rattled his teeth. See? Such power I have over you that even when you try to defy me, it is only obeying orders! She stroked his cheek. How I love you and the control you give me. You worthless, hopeless, trapped little creature.

Must obey the Mistress. Must obey the Mistress.

What are you talking about?

Must obey the Mistress.

Holding his head firmly between her hands, she thrust her lips toward his, and kissed him in a rough and painful fit. This is nothing like that last place where are these places anyway? These have got to be alternate realities. Her nails clawed at his neck as she pressed against his face harder and harder. At last she pulled away.

“What the-“

She held one finger to his lips and instantly he fell silent. A smirk grew from her charred mouth, and she traced the edge of her fingernail down his chin, his throat, his chest For the first time, he glanced down and noticed the black muscle shirt clinging to his scrawny form and leather pants in which he was dressed. Get back to work; youre almost done for the day. She stood back up form his lap, the short skirt flipping dangerously high. How am I supposed to take over the world if you dont do it for me? Go on, and maybe Ill give you a treat later. She winked and pranced from the chamber, slamming the door behind her.

Treat? I am not her puppy dog! Im the greatest genius this world has ever known! he cried.

The numbers on the screen blinked again and he turned his eyes to them with despair. I dont even know what Im supposed to do. He traced the scars and bruises running up and down his arms and chest. I cant be much older than in that last place. What happened to make me into this pathetic mess?

Must obey the Mistress. Must obey the Mistress.

Oh, shut UP!

He tried to look at the room more objectively than his initial gathering. Everything was so filmy, despite the darkness, ready to deteriorate into nothing at a moments notice. One thing he could be sure of, fortunately, was that it wasnt a direct future- he hoped, anyway- because his romp in the fourth dimension before any of this started had proved no such thing could exist. Was this another of the paths that could be? Just like that last one oh, that sweet heaven. He sighed wistfully. How was it that she was so sublime and saintly there, and so devilish here? This must be the corresponding side to some decision I made that either led me here or there but what?

Must obey the Mistress! Must obey! Must work! Must! Must! His hand struggled against him to make their way onto the keyboard.

Oh, would you stop it? I dont even know what Im doing here! The hands continued their clamour towards the keys nonetheless. Perhaps if I just let my instincts take over, theyll do whatever it is I need to do.

He let one hand hover above a button that looked particularly inviting. Which me is it that wants to push it? He hesitated. Oh, well.

Nothing happened.

No problem there. I guess Im done! He removed his finger from the indented button.

There was a rumbling, felt long before it was heard, and the room began to glow a flashing red. A deep monotonous buzzing sliced into the hazy shadows.

Mistress will punish, I have been bad, I have failed, I deserve punishment, I am worthless-

Would you please shut up? What is wrong with you?

The door crashed open and splintered against the wall. No need to turn around, he sighed, knowing who was standing there. MAN-DARK! she howled, voice resounding off the computer screens throughout the room, compounding as it bounced to slam into him more powerfully.

He hunched down as far as he could. Y-y- He swallowed. Yes, Mistress Dee Mentia?

You have ruined it! Everything! Why did you deploy them without my permission? Now our timing is all off! She clomped up behind him in those stiletto boots. We were going to rule the world together, you and I. If they reach the city before my message, it will all be ruined!

I have failed the Mistress and should be punished-

Look, Dee Dee, he growled, I love you to no end but Im not going to be your slave.

She giggled her familiar high-pitched laugh- about the only thing about her that resembled the old Dee Dee, he noted sourly- and let it grow into a demonic cackling. You poor fool. Dont you know its far too late for that now? Perhaps if you would have taken a stand, oh, ten years ago it might be different. But youre way too enamoured with me. She smirked and lifted a palm in triumph. You and the rest of the world. Soon they would be eating out of my hand, if only you had not just destroyed all that we have worked for. But it may still work yet. Propping one foot on the edge of his table, she leaned in on the bent leg and smiled at him, giving him her best bedroom eyes. Consider yourself lucky I deem you worthy enough to aid my cause. You are my cohort, my accomplice, my lackey. I need your expertise to command the technical side of my missions, if you wont botch them up al the time. She leaned further, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his head up. And keep you around for my personal amusement, as well.

But thats all beside the point, she snapped, standing back up and walking around to his other side. You may very well have destroyed everything weve worked for thus far, that will not pass without serious reprimands. She clapped her hand to his wrist. Are you ready? she hissed into his ear. He lowered his head and tried not to look at the revolting monster that could not possibly be Dee Dee.

She unchained him from the workstation and threw him to the floor. His glasses popped from his face. You imbecile! she shouted- and a horrible laceration struck across his back. He whimpered but found no breath with which to utter a cry. The burning on his back was too much, all he could focus on

Four such blows came, each accompanied with cries from Dee Mentia that he could not decipher. His mind was concentrating only on the pain. This is ten times worse than anything Olga has ever done to me! And its Dee Dee- my love! He squinted; tried to reach out for his glasses. At last his fingers fell across them, and he brought them to his face

Drop those, she commanded in an ephemeral gutteral growl. A pointed toe slammed into his jaw and the frames spun away from him once again and soon he had the acrid taste of blood in his mouth. Blackness encroached on his mind. Please let this stop! This cant be Dee Dee! The darkness grew thicker and he thought he was going unconscious, until the familiar sensation of his bone being ripped from their sockets and brain boiling in his skull came over him. Colours flashed all around and the pain form the blows started to fade, as did everything else.

—–
Stand up! Get back in line! What is your name, comrade?

Polished black bots were before him, and for a moment he feared he was still being tortured by Dee Mentia. But those boots were definitely not the same ones, he realised, and heaved a sigh of relief. He pushed himself from the grimy concrete and stood to face the irate soldier dressed in the taupe attire of the Red Army- and adorned with the red star pins to match.

Oh, great!

Why, I am Astro Nomenoff, my good sir. He brushed off his light brown threadbare coat.

The officer peered at him quizzically. In Russian, in Russian! We will have no spies here!

Mandark blinked; the officer was speaking Russian, and yet it all came very naturally as one and the same in his mind. Menya zavut Astro Nomenoff, moi tovarisch. The words came far more fluently than he anticipated; it had surely been a number of months since he had last even attempted to speak his native tongue at home.

Very well. Stay in line, Comrade Nomenoff, and if I catch you trying to jump ahead again, I will do a lot more than just trip you. Chuckling to himself, the soldier sauntered over to one of his counterparts and lit a fresh cigarette.

Comrade Nomenoff! cried someone from behind him. You must forgive me; I did not recognize the back of your head. The man chortled. How are you, friend? Its been nearly a month since we last spoke.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Mandark spun on his heel to face a stocky brown-haired man, dressed much lie himself, with thick stubble coating most of his face. Ive never seen this guy in my life! Hello, Dmitri, though, he found himself saying nonetheless.

How are things at the institute? The wife?

Wife? He rubbed his jaw in remembrance of his latest encounter with Dee Dee, though it wasnt sore. Dare I even ask? Same as ever. Work on this and that His eyes followed the stark stone face of a nearby building upward, past decorative accents of stars and sickles and hammers, and stony-faced labourers, past a jagged spire crowned with a red star, to a dusty, unmistakable winter sky ready to dump dirty snow on its unsuspecting denizens at any moment. As he burrowed his face deeper into the brown scarf wrapped around his neck, one corner of his mouth crept upwards in a tiny smile. Im home.

Oh, sweet Mother Russia! he exclaimed, and threw his arms around Dmitri in a joyous embrace. It had only been a year- to his nine-year old self, anyway- since they had left, but aside from Dee Dee, he was dying to go back.

Are you feeling all right, Astro? Dmitri took a step backwards and regarded him warily.

A grin on his face, he tousled Dmitris wispy hair. Quite all right. Just singing the virtues of this beautiful day.

But of course, comrade. He tossed his hands into the air. Every day is beautiful when you live in the Soviet Union!

Mandarks eyes flew open. The Soviet Union? But they toppled it when I was four! These buildings are just left over from the era! He spun around in place; the endless line of bundled-up people in which he stood, and the militiamen that watched them; the banners portraying some unknown mans face; the red star badge on everyones coat What the heck is going on here?

I Ive got to go, Dmitri, he stuttered, and began to stagger away.

Astro, wait! Dont you want your bread for the week?

Eat it yourself, he mumbled, and stomped down the slimy streets, past millions of sullen comrades weaving in and out of lines. He was somewhere near Kutuzovsky Prospect- at least, so it had been called when he first lived here- but everything looked so much wearier. Whatever mind of his he was occupying, it was being far too quiet to be of any help. Wake up already and take me back home!

My name is Astro Viktrovich Nomenoff. Then he fell silent once more.

Sneering irately, he continued down the road. The least you could do is guide me in the right direction. How the heck am I supposed to know where I live?

I live in Block 753, Building 5, Apartment 12A. Well, it was a start. I am thirty years old and I work at the Techno-Chem-Phys-Institute. He sighed and pounded along; it sounded more like the mind was reciting the contents of the documents he no doubt carried in his right breast pocket. Why he didnt think to look at it beforehand was a mystery.

In short order he was cramming himself into a tiny elevator not even an arms span wide with an old woman and her fluffy dog, a young couple more than happy to make more room by scooting closer together, and a burly man who easily could have been an interrogator for the KGB from the looks of his bulging muscles and terminal scowl. All four and the dog gave Mandark a dirty look as he manouevred his way inside. The doors whined shut and the car began a nervous and reluctant climb up the shaft.

He practically fell out of the car when it reached the twelfth floor. Scraping himself off the exposed concrete, he saw the tiny corridor that branched into two direction; 12A to the left and 12B to the right. Here goes nothing, he muttered, and pressed on the partially-open padded door to 12A.

The apartments layout was exactly like that of every other working-class Russians apartment he had ever been inside. Down a short hall to his left was the kitchen and the washroom and the toilet closet, and before him were two bedrooms and the living room.

But cant you tell me why? wailed a badly-dubbed voice in Russian, the original English still audible underneath it.

His face dropped; finally he hesitantly moved for the living room at the back of the apartment. Hello? he asked squeamishly. He pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. Light blue wallpaper was visible where it wasnt covered by cabinets or thick Persian rugs hanging on the walls. Scientific books filled the shelves of the cabinet, alongside gaudy glass figurines, painted matrushka dolls, and liquor bottles. Alongside the wall nearest him was a brown deteriorating couch- and he jumped at the sight of a person laying on it.

She was no different from any other middle-aged Russian woman he had seen down to the fiery orange dyed hair cut short around her face that had been the fashion since the late 1970s. She wore a light green apron over a black and white dress and tan hose full of runs. Arent you supposed to be at work? she asked, eyes not moving from the television set as she took a sip from the shot glass in her hand. It smelled strongly of fermented potatoes.

Perhaps it was just the fumes from her drink, but he felt overwhelmed suddenly. Stumbling into the room, he promptly fell into a striped armchair.

I asked you a question.

All knowledge of the Russian language he had ever possessed escaped him just then. I cant live here! I want to move back! What about my laboratory? What about His heart sank. Dee Dee?

Are they He swallowed. Are they still showing Santa Barbara reruns on NTV? Surely youve seen the whole damn series five times by now.

I cant believe Im sitting here, talking to a statue, said the sultry brunette on the screen.

No, Ive never seen this episode before, so be quiet. She turned the volume up. Shouldnt you be at the institute?

He would have gone to the institute, if he only he had known; he could have constructed some means to escape this insane reality. He looked down to his hands and wrung them, feeling the grime rub away as he did so. This is my life? He only wished he could say it was nothing like the Russia of his childhood. But it was the same, and the things that once had been bad had merely become more so. He caught sight of himself in the cabinets mirror and screeched. I look fifty years old, not thirty! His skin was creased and worn, drooping sadly, and his hair was thinning and wispy. The trademark M he always parted into his bangs was gone. He still wore the thin coat and the moth-eaten scarf.

I decided not to go today, he stammered. One thing his dad had always told him about communism was that it was all too easy not to do ones job.

She finished off her glass of vodka. Moscow needs its leading scientist. Very well, Ill call you in during the next commercial break.

Oh. He relaxed and sank back in the chair a bit. Shell just call me in sick. This shouldnt be so tough.

A dull pounding began to rattle the shot glasses in the cabinet; he felt the sound more than heard it. Too exhausted to pay much attention to the disturbance, he tried to formulate a plan instead. Obviously Im cycling through several alternate universes- any fool that can understand aqueous constants could figure that out. Something must have happened to my dimensional warper to make it go crazy like this! If I could just get back to it and walk through the ring- but Im stuck over here on the other side of the globe-

Finally the thumping outside was too much; he couldnt concentrate with the addition of trumpets and chimes and voices, chanting and blaring incomprehensibly. I cant take it anymore! Whats going on out there?

Just another parade for the revolutions anniversary next week. Itll be one hundred years, you know. He stated to choke. One hundred years? What about Gorbachev, and Yeltsin? Which reminds me, our anniversary is in a month. Are you going to drag me to Georgia again or can we go to Odessa this time?

Though already he knew the awful answer, he still wanted to ask just on the off chance What anniversary would that be?

Oh, our tenth wedding anniversary.

Why did I marry you again? The words blurted out before he had a chance to stop them. His annoyance with her was too strong, and that stupid talking statue on the TV was driving him nuts.

The state told you to.

The chanting grew louder now, but his Russian was still too rusty to make sense of it. How he was having a conversation with this strange woman who was supposedly his wife was beyond him. Why dont we go to America instead?

Slipping from her hand, the shot glass bounced on the rug a few times before rolling underneath the sofa. Weve never been before, I dont see any reason to now-

Do you mean we as in weve never been together, or that neither of us have ever been?

Well, you said youve never been, and I know I certainly havent-

What are you talking about, you orange-haired freak? Finally she stopped staring at Santa Barbara and turned to look at him, heavily-makeuped eyes full of fear. I moved there when I was nine, a few years after the fall of the Soviet Union! Why wasnt his other self stopping him from saying this? There I stayed! Im not moving back here! Theres Dexter, and Dee Dee, and Mr. Luvinsky and Dee Dee He sighed. I dont know whats going on here, but Ive got to leave!

Forget the commercial break, she gasped. Im calling right now She flew from the couch and darted into the main hall, and he saw her activate some sort of projector. The face of a Red Army man appeared.

How may I help you, comrade?

She smoothed her apron nervously as she spoke. Well, originally I was going to call to turn in my husband for refusing to go to work. But now hes gone crazy, and hes started yelling at me in English, and ranting about America, and some spy mission called Dee Dee to topple the Soviet Union, and I dont know what to do!

Was I speaking in English? His hand involuntarily clapped to his mouth.

Fear not, comrade. Were on our way!

Just stay calm, the blue bust of Caesar on the TV told the woman. The fire wont harm me.

The chanting was now quite audible form the streets below. Long live the State and may it never fall!

With a crack the padded door to the apartment flung open, smashing into the coat cabinet behind it and knocking hats, shoes, jackets, and scarves to the ground. Surrender to the State! Dissention will not be tolerated!

NO! he cried back. Now I really know Ive lost it! I am the worlds greatest scientist! You cannot live without me!

There he goes in English again, his wife sobbed.

The statue added, Besides, I know how to save your marriage with Rodrigo.

Seven troopers stormed their way into the rec room with their bayonets- youd think they could do better than that after a hundred years– and surrounded him. What is the meaning of all this, comrade?

Long live Lenin! rose the cries through the window.

Must speak in Russian, he reminded himself. Ya buil I was confused. Confused! Whats the word for confused? Oh, forget it! I was mistaken, obviously, because Im supposed to be back home in America, where Im only in elementary school, but apparently Im trapped in some messed-up alternate dimension where the USSR never fell and Im married to some nasty hag instead of my love goddess Dee Dee! His eyes were narrowed and he could feel his face going red with fury. And yes, I know Im speaking English, but maybe instead of shipping me off to a Siberian labour camp you could help me out a little and get me the heck out of here!

The phone began to ring. Oh, thatll be Olga, his wife called. Ill get it.

But I think he slept with my best friend Katie, the television moaned. The woman had the same dubbed voice as the statue.

The soldiers looked at each other in bewilderment, then looked to the commander of the group. Ubitye! he howled.

Blunt handles of the bayonets descended upon him in a grotesque flurry, bludgeoning and pounding him. Why am I always getting beat up in whatever future I go to?

Dolgo zhivot revolutsia!

Wait a minute A strange possibility came to him. The razor, and Dee Mentia maybe these guys are helping me out. He began to smile. They just dont know it.

Why are you grinning, you fool? Stop that! He smashed the rifles butt against Astros mouth.

Oh, by the way, Olga- yeah, it was bound to happen someday, he just snapped. So you wanna go to the disco with me tonight?

He felt his teeth knock loose into his mouth, and with excruciating pain came the sweet taste of iron. Yes, yes! This must be the dimensional link! And sure enough, the familiar feeling of being torn limb from limb was present, and blackness washed over him. He welcomed the approaching void.

Dolgo zhivot revolutsia! Dolgo zhivot revolutsia! Long live the revolution!

—–
Now what? The darkness abruptly dissipated to luminous white, washing over everything. A bell sounded far in the distance and the blinding light began to diminish to reveal that he sat in a circle of four seats, the room still very white and surreal.

He tried adjusting himself on the soft cushion; his legs were crossed underneath him, he noted, and his hands raised slightly to his sides. Silky white paints and a loose shirt clung breezily to his skinny form, wrapped with a silvery belt. I dont even want to know. Just get me out of here.

Is there something you wish to add, Mandark?

His head jerked up to stare at the speaker- and felt his mandible fall from its hinges. The woman had to be Olga- that chubby body and the pigtails were unmistakable- but a silky dress draper over her like a toga, and like his, her legs were tucked together and her hands held a little lower than her shoulders.

No, he blurted, not knowing what else to stay. He stared at the pearly round disk on her forehead.

Very well. Lord of the Sun, your reports?

Mandark didnt want to look; he truly didnt. Nevertheless his head snapped around to his left, to the miniature boy with the big orange hair in an outfit identical to his, save the golden sun bored onto his forehead.

Ive gotta get out of here!

All he needed were some bolts, screws, an amplifonic dethrasonifier, and some simple hand tools. It would take him only an hours worth of work He scanned the rounded room, but no exits were visible.

My quarter is peaceful, boasted Dexter. Dee Dee, your report?

Mandark couldnt decide whether he wanted to see the beauty or not. Granted that just the sight of her was ample to heal his aching soul so long as she wasnt Dee Mentia again, he wasnt sure if he could bear to see her trapped in this freakish locale. Perhaps I can take her with me when I leave.

No news. All is well with the Quarter of the Moon. We are blended with great power now, my celestial siblings. Should your quarter be well, Mandark, Lord of the Stars, then the time for the Rite will have come.

The beautiful voice got to him; he had to look. Dee Dee was as pretty as ever, perched as she was on her cushion, silvery white folds of her silk dress curtaining gracefully around her body. A silver belt was wound about her waist and its buckle adorned with a crescent moon. Her blonde hair was curled and piled on top her head, and another crescent was painted on her forehead. She really is a goddess now, he sighed.

Well, Mandark? Your report for the Quarter of the Stars?

They all were staring him, not so much impatiently as expectantly. Its fine, he squeaked. Yeah. Whatever. Now could you please help me get out of here? I really dont know whats going on

Once more chimed the distant bell and they all frowned at him, but only briefly.

The Dythetic Rite, then, Dee Dee pronounced. Dexter! Lord of the Sun!

Dexter withdrew a long-bladed knife with a sun on the handle form its sheath and extended it before him. For the Sun, which brightens all things, and the power with which it rules the Universe!

Lalavava! Lady of the Earth!

She, too, held out her own dagger. For the Earth, which spawned all life, and the power with which it rules the Universe!

Mandark! Lord of the Stars!

He ran his hand along the belt he wore in search of the sheath, which he finally found, and fumbled the knife from its casing. The hilt consisted solely of three carved stars, which made it difficult to hold properly. Umm for the Stars, he improvised, which are really hot and gaseous? and the power with which it rules the Universe?

Dee Dee shrugged, for the most part unphased by his ad libbing. Dee Dee, Lady of the Moon! For the Moon, which governs all cycles, and the power with which it rules the Universe!

They paused, still suspending the daggers before them, all except Mandark with their eyes closed. The circular mosaic in the centre of the floor around which they all sat suddenly retracted, and a gushing fountain of ivory carved all over with celestial scenes rose slowly from the floor. It snapped into place, and all was silent once more save the muffled babbling of the water. Maybe if I drown myself I can get out of here. I really dont want to have to bleed again.

One of Dee Dees eyes popped open and peered at him. Mandark, thats your cue, she whispered.

Right. He rose slowly from the pillow without the slightest idea of what was expected of him. A little help would be nice, he thought, but his host body was making no response. What do they want me to do? Umm.

Go on, she coaxed.

He squared his shoulders. This is insane. I really dont know what Im doing here, you see. A chime sounded again. I was in the fourth dimension, see, and now I keep getting stuck in al these alternate realities. The chime rang. Almost all of them have been weird but this is the freakiest of them all. Now if you would happen to have an amplifonic dethrasonifier, Id be more than glad to get out of your way and leave you to your primitive rituals.

Now the bell was gonging crazily, and their temple began to shake. It has begun, incanted Dee Dee, eyes going wide.

Our universal reign shall collapse, Dexter agreed. The dust of plaster began to cascade around him in increasingly thick clouds, and then a chunk of ceiling hit his shoulder. The bell was still ringing spastically.

It shall end now. Olga crossed her arms in front of her face. The Universal Quatrain is doomed, we are all broken, and the unity of the Holy Conglomerate shall dissolve.

Umm he swallowed, Im sorry?

Now what have I done? There had to be a way out of this place before the whole thing exploded. The floor cracked and split beneath him. Well, based on how I got out of the other universes He trotted over to Olga and extended an arm before her, covering his eyes with another hand. More pieces of moulding berated his head and shoulders. Olga, he started, Im going to ask you to do this for me, just this once. I want you to scratch me.

She opened her eyes but kept her arms raised. What?

Scratch me! he sobbed, watching the while behind her crumble and reveal a lush garden. One by one, the trees and plants withered up and crumbled to rotting charred husks. You do it all the time in the real world! Please, oh please, do it now, just this once!

I cannot harm you, Lord of the Stars, even for destroying our empire. No emotion dared bubble through her tranquil voice, and she closed her eyes one last time, as though in anticipation of her final demise.

He turned away from her condemning face, only to find that Dexter and Dee Dee were in the same pose. Ill just have to do it myself. Gingerly he pressed a fingernail to his forearm and winced as he dug it in.

The walls were almost completely razed now and the fountain was spitting water in all directions at random intervals. He glanced at his cushion just in time to watch it erupt into flames, burning feathers drifting into the air. Still the bell rang as noisily as ever. Now what, now what, now what? His attempts had left nothing more than small red welts on his arm, quite insufficient to draw blood.

Dee Dee, please! Snap out of this! She did not even twitch at his pleas. Plaster and rubble piled around her, enveloping her in a cloud of dust, and a large pillar swung down and smashed behind her. The trees in the gardens beyond- at least, their wither trunks were melting into black lava.

Im going to be killed if I stay here any longer! The fountain had ceased his flow, and he could just barely see Dexter through the dust on the other side as wrinkles grew on the boys face. Abruptly the fountain began spewing blood, which quickly filled its basin in grotesque billows as it shot from the spigots.

Oh, how disgusting! He winced. But its my only option.

He took a flying leap into the broad basin just as a huge chunk of marble fell where he had been standing. The blood did not cushion his fall at all, and he nearly smashed his skull into the towers of smaller basins. The fountain poured the liquid over him, washing through his hair and filling up to his neck until he thought he would be sick, until at last he was torn from time and space altogether.

————
Poor, poor Mandark! If the sight of a Dominatrix Dee Dee wasn’t enough to give him a heart attack, it’s all this alternate dimension travel, quickly depleting his sanity and blood supply! Where will he end up next? What crazy invention is Dexter up to now? And just what did Dee Dee do to Dexter’s lab in the last chapter, anyway? And what about Olga, for the love of god, what about Lalavava?!?!? (And yes, Santa Barbara really is that crazy of a show in Russia, I’ve watched it many a time on exchange trips.)Find the beginnings of answers to some of these questions in the next stunningly boring, explosively long and expounding Chapter Four: Don’t Lounge Around, coming at the start of May. Now write me a review already. ^^
Drawings from this chapter:
Mandark & Dee Dee, Part I |
Dexter & Olga, Part I

The Mandarkers Society
/mandark