Anyway, here’s the punchline.

The pain was short-lived in that the concept of time had ceased to exist. It was, for the same reason, eternal. Zeke became aware of his own existence again in a void. There was nothing he could see, nothing he could hear, nothing he could feel, nothing he could smell, and nothing he could taste.

No, that wasn’t right. He could taste something. Strawberry lip gloss. Roxy was kissing him, and with that knowledge, his sense of touch returned. He was able to get his eyes open, but his brain was still scrambled from being stunned. He tried to ask a question, but what came out was closer to, “Flarb?”

“Vital signs are normal,” Lieutenant French said. “You were out for about five minutes.”

“Are?” Zeke asked. That was a real word, at least. He tried to remember how his hands worked.

“We’re definitely not on our Earth,” French said. “We’ve lost comms to Unified Space Command, and there’s no sign of the Sally Ride.”

Instead of trying to speak, Zeke managed to raise his eyebrows into what he hoped was an expression that conveyed the obvious question.

Roxy gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry,” she said.

Doctor Waller explained. “We patched into the phone network. Your mother’s number isn’t in service. Obviously, it’s been a few years, so it’s possible she changed it?”

Zeke tried to sit up, forgetting that he was strapped down. Roxy released the straps, and he tried to sit upright, failed, and slumped sideways. “Muh?” he asked. They followed his gaze to the viewport. The blackness of space had been replaced by blue skies and treetops.

“I didn’t anticipate that. Probably should have,” French said. “Our relative position changed when we jumped. I guess we’re lucky we ended up somewhere safe.”

“Maybe not just luck,” Waller said. “We know that the exotic matter is triggered by certain brain patterns, and it seems like it’s linked to a self-defense reflex. Possibly his subconscious influences exactly where we land. It might even explain why the universes he was drawn to resembled works of fiction from his memory. If that’s true, it might even be possible for him to learn to control it unassisted.”

“Where do you find a teacher for that?” St. George asked, sarcastically.

Zeke finally found his voice. “So where are we?”

“It seems pretty normal,” French said. “I think we’re in New York. Or whatever the equivalent of New York is in this universe. This looks like Central Park. Probably a good thing the cloak turned on automatically. I need to take some readings and adjust the calibration. And you’ll need a few hours to recover before we try again. It might help if you can figure out whether this universe maps to anything you know.”

St. George nodded to Mon’a. They produced a knit cap and pulled it down over their forked ears, then put on a pair of sunglasses to conceal their eyes.

Zeke tried to stand up and stumbled. Mon’a caught him. Zeke blinked a few times. “I remember now. Where I saw you before.”

“This is our first meeting.”

Zeke shook his head. “Not you-you. Your… Your actor I guess. I couldn’t place it because of the eyes. But a bunch of years ago you played the leader of a gang of underprivileged street toughs who befriended an Asian-American senator. Y’all were recurring characters in the last season before he became vice-president and the show ended. I liked that show.”

“Quite,” Mon’a said.

The six of them cautiously emerged from the hatch of the invisible space ship. The sun was shining, the air was sweet, the weather, pleasant. The crowd was sparse in this section of the park; no one seemed to take much notice of them.

“Keep a low profile,” St. George said. “Be on the lookout for…” He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. “Hijinks.”

“Hijinks?” Waller asked.

“Hijinks. Think about what kind of TV shows are set in New York. It’s basically fifty-fifty whether it’s a crime show or a zany sitcom.”

“That’s actually a good point,” Zeke said. And then he stopped talking, because he, among with the other four humans, stopped in their tracks to stare wide-eyed at a group of people a few yards off.

“It appears this universe has open contact with non-terrestrial life,” Mon’a said. “I do not recognize the species.”

St. George leaned toward Waller and said, sotto voce, “Okay. I didn’t really believe this whole TV Show Universe thing until right this minute. I think I owe you ten bucks.”

“I want to ask. Can I ask?” Roxy said, excitedly.

The members of SPACOM 3 quietly exchanged glances at each other. “We probably should go if we can,” French said. She was clearly struggling to show scientific detachment. “It would help with my measurements.”

“Quite,” Mon’a said.

“With your measurements?” St. George asked, skeptically.

“Yes, sir,” she said, stifling a giggle.

“Okay, go,” he said to Roxy. She skipped ahead.

“Excuse me,” she asked the four-foot tall creature. It turned its large, furry, orange head toward her and regarded her with large, googly eyes.

“Yes?” it asked. The inside of its mouth was flat black except for a tongue that looked painted-on, and it had no visible throat.

Roxy took a deep breath and with a broad smile, asked, “Can you tell me how to get, how to get to…”