I come to sitting on a park bench. Backpack in one hand, small black notebook in the other. I’ve a vague idea who I am, but none as to where I am or what I’m doing here. Check the backpack. Full of money, fat stacks.

Shit.

Check the notebook.

“If you’re reading this, you may have amnesia.”

Ah-ha.

“It’s only temporary.”

Whew.

“Here’s what you need to know: You got a DWI after a serious, near fatal crash. Did 10 years hard time. Released on parole, then tried to make it with no license, no friends or family, and a big black-marked record. No luck. Then—the bag and notebook. Money’s to start a new life with instructions on how to get to an alternate dimension.”

Say what?

“Sounds crazy, but trust me. Already tested it. So explore, enjoy the ride, and find the right world to settle in.

Yours Truly,

Yourself.”

Fuck.

Unless this is an elaborate prank, that’s my handwriting. And the rest? I get up to see for myself.

I begin thinking about what I’ll do with all the money. That’ll set me up nicely. I can get a decent apartment, maybe a cheap car, food and clothes and essentials for new place, and a few months rent while I get situated and find a job. Then I realize I need to find out about this place first, see it it’s right for me. Make sure aliens don’t run it or anything. I laugh at this, but I’m nervous.

Everything looked normal enough, similar to my city in my homeworld (feels strange to think that). The notebook has instructions for finding “doors” at certain angles to other worlds (it’s complicated; science that works like magic, but it does work), and an index of worlds by numbers in no particular order. 437 crossed out last. 117 next; current world?

Then I see the sign: a black cat with red circle and slash over it. Cats are illegal?

Then a billboard: “Got Rabbit’s feet?” with picture of the same.

A building’s front sign: “Close all umbrellas outside.”

Construction crews with scaffolding and ladders, signs warning not to walk under. Is everyone here superstitious? I explore more.

With some pocket cash I try out a burger place. The numbers one and three are never next to each other. Everyone has small tokens they go to for every little thing, for luck. One lady argued the mayo had to be between the lettuce and the cheese or her luck turned. And when two people said something at the same time, they both froze, horrified. What started off amusing quickly got annoying. Especially when I had to wait on the restroom because an employee had to “sweep it” with a “bad juju cleanser” (his words). I opened the door for a lady and she glared daggers at me.

Enough of this, I’m out.

Plus the burgers sucked.

Around the corner I see a “door,” take a breath and step through.