April 7th, 2026

After school, I check out my locker. It’s adorned with sparkles and stars I don’t remember putting in. On the right side, there is a mini-poster of the calendar pop girl I saw at home. Her name is Daisy - assuming the subtitle under the image is supposed to be her name, that is. Needless to say, this isn’t the Daisy I know.

I see a hint of either sadness or boredom in Daisy’s smile. Before I can analyze further, though, Blossom interrupts me.

“Can I ask you something?” Blossom asks me.

“Sure…” I mutter.

“Ok,” Blossom replies, “what do you think we did the past four days? Before the party?”

I take a deep breath before summarizing everything I can remember: the Waterloo tour earlier, our brief texts on Saturday; heck, our motives for going to Waterloo in the first place as well as discussions about the TADC movie rumours. None of them seem to ring a bell to Blossom.

“Look,” Blossom states, “I really think you need to see a doctor. You’re acting weird today, and you can’t even seem to remember much from before we went to the party. The only thing you got right beside that was the university tour.”

“...Really?” I wonder. My memory can’t be that bad, right?

Blossom fingers something in her purse with her right hand before sliding it out.

“You know the lab the tour guide told us not to enter?” Blossom starts. “Well…something went off there when you passed out. I’m not sure what, but I did manage to find the business card of someone who works there. Maybe she knows.”

I stare at the business card. It belongs to a woman named Nasrin Ali, and lists part of her phone number and work email. The print is too faded to make out her full info, but there’s enough information left for me to look her up on Waterloo’s website and decipher it all. I then make note of what I find on my phone.

“I’m going back to Waterloo,” I tell Blossom. “I need to find whoever the hell this woman is!”

“Uh….good luck!” Blossom weakly smiles. “She’s not easy to contact, so I’m not sure what you’re planning’s gonna work...”

Whatever, I think, I don’t care.

…

My mom’s surprised by my decision to go back to Waterloo. She thought I found the university boring and only went because I couldn’t get to Toronto Film School’s open house. Despite her confusion, she allows me to return to Waterloo’s campus grounds after school so long as I get back before 10:00 PM.

I bring a map in case the Internet goes out and I get lost on the sprawling property that is the University of Waterloo. After a few wrong turns and asking some students around, I manage to find my way back to the forbidden lab I passed out near.

The time is 7:50 PM, which means the Physics building is about to close. I see an olive skinned, curly dark haired woman walking out of the room who I instantly figure is Nasrin due to the name tag on her white lab coat. Frenzied, I take out her business card from my pocket.

“Excuse me, m’am?” I say. 

“Yes?” Nasrin swirls around, face tense and startled.

“I think you forgot this,” I show her the business card.

Nasrin inspects the slip in my hand as she narrows her oak brown eyes. 

“Ohhhhh,” she chuckles, “that’s where it went!”

“Anyways,” I change the topic, “I passed out around here two nights ago, and now I can barely remember anything about my life.”

The scientist’s expression loosens a bit.

“Dang,” she replies, “you kids must have partied like crazy!”

“Listen,” I tell her, “I really don’t think it’s just the drinks. I can still walk and talk and write without scribbling, it’s just that I literally can’t remember anything else important about my life! My school assignments are somehow not done even though I clearly remember turning them in, my friends are acting weird, and I definitely don’t recall applying to film school!”

Nasrin freezes in place once again.

“Alright, kiddo,” she changes her tone, “Come with me. Now.”

I am taken to the inside of her lab: a strange room with sparkly clean beige walls and floors. The organization, however, leaves something to be desired, with boxes unceremoniously stacked on each other and machines facing in haywire directions. I don’t tell her any of this, of course.

After about 20 or so minutes, two assistants arrive at the lab to set up equipment. Nasrin then instructs me to lie back on a clinic-style mattress.

“This might hurt a little,” Nasrin warns me, “but I gotta do it to find out what’s wrong.”

“Ok,” I reply. “But…I can’t stay all night.”

The assistants wrap me with some sort of wire. It’s dark grey with a hint of blue, and an itching sense of warmth punctures through its coating. The wire isn’t quite comforting, but it’s tolerable enough to keep me still as they probe me.

After the assistants hand signal to Nasrin and step away from me, she fires on another machine. This device has a few dark screens with various readings, none of which I quite understand. Nasrin then instructs me to close my eyes, so I do. 

I see brief visions of…something - maybe my friends and I arguing? Soon enough, though, Nasrin’s voice wakes me up.

“Oh my God,” Nasrin tells her assistants, “I can’t believe this actually works!”

“Ummm,” I hesitate, “what does?”

Nasrin swirls at me, somewhat caught off guard by my remarks.

“This,” Nasrin explains, “is a multiversal travel machine.” 

A multiversal machine? I wonder. Like in a superhero or sci-fi movie?

Nasrin goes on, unnervingly giddy.

“Now,” she continues, “pretty much everyone here at the U thinks my team and I are nothing but frauds and losers. Sure, string theory exists, but actually going to another universe is just a joke in mainstream science. Still, with the power of quantum entanglement and lots of experiments, my team managed to secretly switch out dust and food crumbs from different universes. But I never would’ve expected to transport a human girl!”

“Wait…” I respond, “Nasrin, can you slap me hard right now?”

“Do you think this is a dream?” Nasrin asks.

I sigh.

“Yes, I do,” I reply. “A lot of things might have happened lately, but I know damn well I’m not in a Marvel movie.”

Nasrin adjusts her gloves right before hitting my face. A sting echoes across my cheeks.

“Well…I’m still here…” I mutter. “Is there any way to get me back?”

“I think so,” Nasrin replies. “According to my readings, you should still be quantum entangled with your other self. Lie down again and I’ll try something.”

I return to the position her assistants probed me in. The trio attempt to repeat the process again, with Nasrin triggering an additional switch. This time, though, I hear something crackle. It isn’t much longer before the machines all go dead.

“Kiddo,” Nasrin sighs, “I’ve got some bad news for you.”

“What happened?” I ask - even though I already suspect the answer.

“...The connection severed,” Nasrin responds. “You’re not going back for a long, long time.”

I grit my teeth at the answer.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1647823072-the-daisy-theory-chapter-4)

(Tumblr version: https://www.tumblr.com/talesfromasnarkylisa/823789042659475456/the-daisy-theory-chapter-4?source=share)