“Next.”

I swipe away the notifications on my communication tablet with a flick of the wrist. This is the third world in a row that we’ve had to reject. I only hope the next one will be better. I’ve heard that usually our boss can pass on up to ten on a good day; on bad days, the number triples — I know cause I’ve had to deal with the aftereffects of his pickiness. 

Filling out the paperwork every time was a royal pain in the ass, since inevitably it’d be followed up by letters from the ones who found out he denied them entry… and those letters were the worst to read. They were nothing but sob stories from people whose worlds he wouldn’t save; handwritten notes from children, parents begging for a second chance, young couples in love, and sometimes photos of pets. After a while, I stopped looking before I threw them away. It was just too much.

“We’re moving on to…”

Today must have been a good day for the man upstairs, ‘cause we got a few approved. A world obsessed with fried chicken — approved. A world where up and down were reversed — approved, surprisingly. A world that was entirely oceans and islands was, somehow, approved — but only for its coastlines, I'm guessing. I can't imagine how it's all going to fit.

The world we're in right now is… well, was… we're leaving anyway. But it was a world that was nothing but parking lots. 

“Clark?”

Open parking lots going on forever in both directions and no sign of life — it gives me the creeps, actually. I can't wait to get out of here. No wonder the boss rejected this cesspit! The cars here are so old-fashioned compared to the ones back home. Those wheels, those shapes, no anti-gravity—

“Michael Clark!”

I snap back to my senses in the middle of the parking lot, startled by my supervisor Leonard's gruff bark.

“Leon! Sorry!”

He gives me a quick pinch on the upper arm. “Stop spacing out, Clark. What were you going to say?”

“Sorry sir, I—”

Leonard frowns, and the wrinkles across his face deepen into indelible fissures. “Don’t lose focus in the line of duty. One moment off your guard and it’s all over.”

Poor guy hasn’t recovered from the days before his merger, I guess. Leon still thinks it’s an eat-or-be-eaten world, and I can’t blame him for thinking that way. But, damn, sometimes I wish he’d just lighten up for a moment. It’s already taken enough of a toll on his appearance — the dark bags under his eyes and the crows’ feet around them, plus a head of salt-and-pepper hair that’s all salt and no pepper — all that stress does him no good. The ladies back at the office love him, but so far I don’t see what all the hype is about. He reminds me too much of my own dad.

“Finish your sentence already, Clark.”

I cough to clear my dry-ass throat. “Right, as I was saying… next on the agenda is 95086.”

Each world is assigned a five-digit number as soon as we discover them. 95086 was special in one way — someone there discovered us first.

“That one, huh?” my coworker Anis says. “I remember! That’s the one that reached out the other day. Weird, right? What do you think they have to offer? Any cute boys? Or girls?”

Anis is the second of my three coworkers. Her hair is styled into a mid-length style that curls inwards at the ends, it gradates in color from pale blonde at the tips, back to brunette at the top; flyaway strands bounce with every movement. She’s about a head shorter than I am but makes up for it with her larger-than-life personality, which she uses to sweet-talk people into submission. I see her around the office talking to everyone; she’s popular with both men and women, but doesn’t seem to have anyone she’s going steady with. Although she’s supposed to be a surveyor as well, Anis is more of a reserve — or so she told me. Explains why I never see her name on the survey team roster, at least.

“Resources, hopefully. Did you do that equipment check I asked you to?”

And there’s Vita, the third of my colleagues for the day. She’s a cool, smart beauty with short hair and a sharp stare — and no need for food whatsoever. That’s right, she’s some kind of hyper-advanced humanoid robot, created by a brilliant scientist — a brilliant scientist who died long before I was born. In human years, Vita’s probably closer to Leon’s age than mine, despite looking like she could be Anis’s older sister. I think she runs on nuclear power or something… but, honestly, I’m too scared to ask. 

“Hmph, Vita, you’re no fun.” Anis pouts, putting a hand on her hip. 

“I’m assuming you didn’t. Michael, can you conduct the equipment check?” 

“Right away.”

Anis, Vita, Leon. These three are members of the Survey Team, a group that little old me in my office job almost never got to work with. Until now, when for some reason every other person they could have called in for fieldwork was sick… and the baton was passed to me, even though I wasn’t running in their race at all. I mean, I’m just a junior worker in the acquisitions department — how useful can I be? Except for crunching numbers, which I’m sure Vita could do a lot better… I’ve got nothing, other than enough meat to shield maybe Anis.

I start with my own supplies first, making sure everything is in order. Every member of the survey team has a standard array of equipment; a bulletproof vest, enough food rations to last a week, and an easily concealable dagger. There are also some kits for sampling air and soil quality of worlds that the boss approves of — and, to get out of the worlds he doesn’t like, warp guns for everybody, holstered at the waist in EM-proof holsters. On top of all that, we have communicators that can send info back to headquarters or between each other. All of my stuff seems fine, so I move on to Vita’s gear.

As expected, she’s got everything working at maximum efficiency. Her warp gun is fully charged — no doubt she’s juicing it up at every stop with the portable chargers. Her rations are perfectly untouched, obviously. Her sample kits are the only things not in pristine condition, but that’s a good thing — means she’s been using them.

“Me next, Mike!” Anis calls. “Um, can you check if my vest is broken?” 

After I finish with Anis’s backpack, I pat down the ballistic vest, inspecting it from every angle. I don’t exactly know how these things work, but when I squeeze them it feels like there’s some kind of hard yet flexible mesh inside. So that’s probably it. Anyway, everything is in place as far as I can tell. “You’re good to go, Anis.”

She smiles brightly. “Yay!”

Last up is Leon. I find nothing wrong with his stuff either, so that means it’s time to head out to the next world.

“Can you open up the gateway this time?” Leon asks, nodding over to Vita.

“Alright.”

Vita aims her warp gun at a particularly empty patch of air, and fires. The sound is…

No, the sound isn’t.

I can never get used to these warp guns. Unlike regular firearms or even laser guns, our warp devices don’t make any sound when they fire. They’re more like microwave guns — firing invisible “rays” that spread out over a distance. I wasn’t too bad at physics back in the day, and the explanation Vita gave me seemed to make sense.

She told me our guns worked by distorting gravitational fields. If space-time was a piece of fabric, then these guns would be the seam rippers — tearing holes to allow for easier travel between worlds, which in this analogy would be like layers of fabric… I think. I'm no good with words. Electrical potential energy is converted into gravitational potential energy and then used to bend spacetime in just the right way to create a portal between worlds. The reason these guns don't make any sound is because all the energy used is converted into heat, light, and kinetic energy (but not sound!) — which results in a hot flash that pushes everything away from the epicenter of the gateway. Since making a gateway is so flashy, it's better to do it in a large, empty space, to let heat dissipate quickly… and to avoid prying eyes.

Like regular guns, warp guns have a safety catch to ensure they won't accidentally fire when holstered; unlike regular guns, they require a set of end coordinates to be input before they're fired. Otherwise, without coordinates, they won't budge. Vita told me it was something to do with particle configurations, but after five minutes I was completely lost.

“Mike!” 

Ah, shit. The others are already through — Anis is the only one left. She's holding the gateway open for me, thankfully. 

“Come on, Mike!” Anis waves me down. “We don't have all day!”

She disappears through the gateway and I follow her, my clumsy footsteps like falling rocks on the tarmac.

Another thing I can't get used to are the “gateways”. Better known as “wormholes”, these are how we travel between worlds before they're merged with ours. Despite their speed and convenience, I couldn't hate using them more than I already do. Going through a gateway is like being squashed and stretched at the same time, spinning around in a giant centrifuge all the while. I must have gone through more than ten gateways today, but every time I get out I feel like I'm going to vomit all over the floor wherever we end up.

This gateway is no exception to the rule. I'm in, then I'm out, and I have to stop my breakfast from coming out with me too. Good thing the ground beneath me is covered in nice soft grass… because I just lost all the strength in my legs.

Through the haze of my dizziness I can make out a wide grassland with clear skies up top. Summer… It reminds me of summer.

I rub my eyes, sitting up to try and clear away the fuzz at the edges of my vision. This world, 95086, could be dangerous. After all, it’s not every day that the worlds come to us rather than the other way around. We try not to disappoint whoever the boss doesn’t pick — so, hopefully, he picks these guys. If they’re worth it.

Geez, 95086 sure is a sight for sore eyes. Bright blue sky and a picturesque mountain range in the distance, with conifers all around. Warm sunlight. Fresh breeze. Wildflowers everywhere, short little things with stubby petals. If this is what the countryside is like, I’m jealous of everyone who’s ever lived there. Bucolic, idyllic, restful — the perfect place to spend the rest of your life.

But as much as I want to, I can’t lie down in the grass forever. There are people who need saving — and that’s why, no matter how tired and sick I feel, I get back up on my feet and catch up with the rest of the Survey Team.