Original Fiction: Welcome to Wormhole Operating System 6.9
What if your phone's operating system allowed you to enter any picture you dowloaded?
Dave pounded on the door again. It was raining, which he was glad of because he wasn’t sure, but he might be crying.
If you missed the last chapter, read it hereNeed to start from the beginning? Start here!
“Mike, come on, I need your help! I know I left you, but I came back dude! That’s what counts!”
“And you hit me in the head with driftwood. I have a gnarly scar, because I was trapped inside some travel brochure photo and couldn’t get stitches! I am not opening this door. I told you, I did the best man thing because I love your mother, and I didn’t want to disappoint Val, but you and I? That good ship friendship has sailed, man.” Mike’s voice came from the other side of the door.
It had been weeks since Dave had booted up the Wormhole OS 6.9 App and taken Mike into a bikini model photo shoot, then marooned him, hopping back into the real world while Mike lay bleeding on a photographically preserved, static beach, like part of some super sick still life.
He’d gone back after him almost as soon as he’d returned, but it hadn’t been that easy. Wormhole was a tricky app and the photo Dave had taken his friend into had been altered.
Since Mike hadn’t been in the original photo, Dave’s jumps kept taking him back to the same pristine beach, with scantily-clad bikini models posed for their closeup, but no Mike.
Finally, he’d used a recovery app to reopen the deleted photo and retrieve his friend.
He’d nearly gotten shanghaied himself by Mike, who was rightly upset.
The wedding came off without a hitch.
Mike had been the consummate best man, true to his word, but he hadn’t returned a single one of Dave’s phone calls, or texts since. This was his second visit to Mike’s apartment, once the evening after the wedding.
He had left his new bride in a bubble bath and jetted across town to try and talk to the man who had been in his lifelong best friend, and now tonight, but tonight was different.
“Mike, just open the door for one minute and let me explain. I screwed up bad and I need your help,” Dave sobbed.
“Man, whatever it is you did; you did on your own; Val will eventually forgive you, and if you let me go back to sleep, in about twenty years, even I might come around. Go home, you're drunk!”
Dave pounded on the door again. “That’s just it man, there is no Val! She’s gone!”
Dave could almost hear Mike's sigh from the other side of the door. They'd been finishing each other’s sentences since grade school.
“Man, she’ll come back. You just need to give it some time. What did you do?”
There was a long silence. Dave was trying to figure out how to say what came next. “It wasn’t me, exactly; it was Wormhole!”
“Wormhole? You still have that damn app on your stupid phone after what happened?” Mike yelled. “I should have turned you into the police the night I found out about the antiques. None of this would ever have happened! What did you bring back, a hooker?”
Dave grinned wryly, in spite of himself. “I deserve that, I really do, but that’s not it, man. I didn’t bring anything back, including Val.”
The door slammed open and Mike grabbed Dave by the front of his shirt, drug him into his entry hall and slammed the door shut against the rain with his foot. He gripped Dave’s collar and pressed him up against the wall. His voice came out barely louder than a whisper.
“What te hell did you do?”
Dave wanted to collapse, hug his friend, ask for a whiskey and explain the whole thing while he dried out in front of the fire he could see burning in the gas fireplace in the next room. But Mike had blood in his eyes, and Dave knew he needed to choose his words very carefully.
“I took her on a magic honeymoon,” he said softly, then dissolved into sobs.
Mike threw him back against the wall with both hands, then turned away in disgust “I cannot believe you, man! That app is going to get someone killed! Alright, tell me what happened.”.
Mike walked into the living room where the fire burned. Dave headed toward the sofa, but Mike stopped him with a look.
“Take one step off that tile, and that katana over my mantle won’t be just for show anymore. You’re soaked, and I do not feel like cleaning up any more of your messes than necessary.” He pulled a plastic folding chair out of a closet with both hands and pressed it against Dave’s chest. “Sit.”
Dave did as he was told, mournfully eying the bar, six feet away that held a decanter and two highball glasses on a tray. Mike was into old movies and shows like Mad Men, so he accessorized like a Mid Century bachelor.
“You are not getting any of my 40-year-old single malt. I’ll get you a glass of water,” Mike paused; he was beginning to soften. “tea, hot tea, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks.” Dave took off his coat, careful to contain the drips on his own lap. When Mike returned he handed Dave a red mug and a towel.
“Thanks,” Dave said, rubbing the towel across his wet head.
“That towel is not for you; it's for my tile, mop up after yourself,” Mike said, crossing to the bar and making a show out of pouring two fingers of golden amber liquid into a single glass. He crossed to the sofa and sat, facing his friend, sipping whiskey. “So, what happened?”
Dave sipped the tea and thought for a moment.
“Well, Val figured something was up after the ring, so I pretty much had to tell her or have her snooping into my business for months trying to figure it out. So, we decided we could use it one more time, for the honeymoon of a lifetime, without spending a dime, you know?”
Mike ran his finger along a slight ridge at the back of his neck, where his “friend” had nearly killed him with a driftwood log not so long ago. He grimaced, “Sure, sounds like a great plan, what could go wrong? Oh, yea, you lost her.”
He took a big swig to finish off the whiskey and went for more. This time he splashed some into a second glass and offered it to Dave.
“You might want this, to take the edge off the beating I am going to give you as soon as you have finished this story.” He sat back down on then sofa, glaring.
Will they recover Val? Will Mike let Dave live? Find out next time!
Great writing man! I enjoy it a lot. Check out my novel, too, if you like. Cheers.
Thanks, I will do that.