*reupload from 2015 due to Blogger shenanigans*
She'd been drinking again.
Conrad picked his way through the strewn glass that had blossomed from what had probably been a very nice sculpture. It hadn't been here when he'd last visited. It must have been very expensive. But money wasn't a problem for the Svilzerian family anymore.
She was slumped over the kitchen worktop on a high stool. One hand had a highball glass in it. There were two empty bottles of port, and another half-empty. She was crying. He sighed. She'd apparently conquered this, some time ago (exactly how long ago was a guess at best, with their twisted timeline). But nowadays...
He walked over and lifted one of her arms over his shoulder. Picking her up was easy.
"He's gone," she sobbed.
"I know, mom."
Conrad didn't have many memories of his dad. There weren't ones where they went to the ball game, or went to see a movie as father and son, or anything like that. His dad just... didn't figure into his life very much. Most people in movies who had absent dads got hung up about it. He'd never felt that same desire to reconnect, and he didn't quite know why. Maybe there was something wrong with him.
"He said..." She gulped for air. "He said he'd be there."
"I know, mom."
He lifted her up a bit so she didn't step on the glass in the hall.
"He left... could be anywhere, could be dead... 'm married to a dead man..."
Conrad said nothing. He made sure she threw up in the toilet, and got her water to drink, and got her into bed, and held her hand until she fell asleep. Then he went downstairs and cleaned up the glass, and threw the bottles away. He'd done this three times now. He wasn't sure what to do. Was he angry? Upset?
He knew he was definitely tired.
His phone buzzed, playing the chorus of the Discworld anime's theme song. He flipped it open.
"Hey, C-rad." It was Ellie. "Everything okay?"
Conrad looked around the huge, white house he didn't recognise, with the remains of a glass sculpture he hadn't seen whole, having just taken care of his drunk mom crying over a father he didn't remember properly.
"Yeah," he said. "Everything's fine."
"Great! Wanna come over? The Valentine's update for Proxy War dropped and I wanna hit level 90 before anyone else does."
He smiled.
"Sure. See you soon, babe."
---
Sean stared down.
"What am I eating?" He said eventually.
"Wheaty-Os." said Dimitri, in his head. "Though judging by the scans of your mouth I just did, I highly doubt there's any wheat in them. Not in this day and age. Welcome back to the land of non-trauma, by the way. I'm sure we're past the worst of it."
Sean look around the apartment for the first time.
"Where," he said, slowly, "am I, exactly?"
"Apparently, the planet Earth, Year 2015, in what the locals call the Zoofights Universe."
"Say what? We world-hopped?!"
"Yeah, turkey-fucker wasn't nice to us." Dimitri sighed heavily. "So, how much do you wanna know -"
"One second." Sean pushed himself away from the table and dashed to the grimy window, and looked out onto Las Vegas.
"Oh," he said. And then, "oh, wow."
"Pretty, yeah? Want me to fill you in?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, small words time. You know how reality diverts like a river going backwards? How they're all different, like I told you? This is a branch of Earth Prime, numero uno. Here, some jackass stole some gold and invented super-steam-power and a whole bunch of shit and used it to run animal fights. His company changed the world. They invented space travel a hundered years before Earth Prime got men on the moon, and then dimensional travel right after. Then it got nuked to hell in a war with psychic sea creatures. Then it built itself back up. And now it's a schizophrenic mess of high-concept tech, magic, and dimensional irresponsibility."
Sean looked out at the moving carriages ("cars, they're cool, but you don't need them with your augments"), the tall buildings ("six hundered people in that one alone, buddy"), the neon castles and towers on the horizon ("oh man, if my records are right, you're gonna lose your money and your virginity there in like an hour"). Then he looked in the glass at his reflection. It looked like someone had painted a coat of "old and tired" over him. His ash-blonde hair was a mess. His grey eyes had bags under them.
Dimitri had told him stories of how the Before People had hopped across worlds with the help of their Minds. He didn't think it'd happen to him. He didn't think he'd hate it so much.
"What do I do now?" he whispered.
"Woah, hey, don't get excited, rocket man." Across his foreheard, Dimitri's wires pulsed red in time with the voice's cadence. "That's a big question. I'm guessing prio number one is getting back home, yeah?"
Sean nodded.
"Well I think we can find someone to help you with that, but the question is, if turkey-face sees you're back, why wouldn't he just rip you in half?" Dimitri paused. "You're gonna need to find some back-up. And I think I know where to go for that, too. There's a bunch of, well, people, who deal with this sort of thing. They're kinda crazy, but they get the job done. All you gotta do is -"
And then an anime store popped into existance across the road. The sign said, in yellow on black, "Manga Encarta." Sean blinked.
"Does... Does that happen often?" He asked.
"Yeah." If Dimitri owned a mouth, there'd be a grin. "All the fucking time. It's great."
