Clattering. Clacking. Screeching.
Matthew pulled the pillow tighter around his head, burying his face in the stuffy sheets. Just an hour of peace. That’s all he desired.
A massive crash and a squeal of fright.
He groaned. Rolling out of bed, Matt dragged his calloused hand across his stubble-ridden cheek. The door slid open to a darkened hall, light streaming through a crack further down. Pillow grazing the dirty floor, he trudged to Greg’s study.
At least, that was the intended purpose.
The holographic screen to the right lay abandoned, cursor blinking beside a half-written paragraph. Books lay scattered across the floor instead of neatly organized on the shelves. Matt moved his foot before putting his full weight on a forgotten cluster of bolts.
The whir of a drill grated his ears. Greg dropped the tool with a squeak, screw crooked but holding the intended pieces of metal. He adjusted his taped glasses, long hair getting caught in the thick frame. Lean stature dwarfed by the odd contraption in front of his desk, he appeared more like an overactive child than a thirty-something man.
Matt stooped to grab the headset linked to the hologram. “Writing’s quieter.”
Greg tripped on a stack of books, grimy bare feet flying into the air. “Why aren’t you at the scrap yards?”
His eyebrow quirked upward. “It’s 2 in the morning.”
“No.” Greg crawled through the minefield of trilogy box sets and metal to retrieve a small dome. 2:14 am emerged in a beam of yellow light when he tapped it, a cartoonish moon dancing across the black surface. “Oh.”
Matt sat the headset on the desk, eyeing the door-sized mechanism. “What is this?”
“Don’t touch.” Pages snapped and metal clattered as Greg regained his footing and stumbled toward him. “It’s not done yet.”
“But what is it?”
A childish grin revealed specks of celery in his teeth. “The future of books.”
Matt squeezed his eyes shut, scraping his fingers through his hair. “Greg…”
“Remember that symposium I told you about?”
“The one you’re not going to.”
“I think we can work it into the budget.”
What budget? Matt shuffled toward the window, finding the creaky chair with the broken armrest. He blinked at the city lights outside, or what he could see of them beyond the building next door. Whereas downtown had the silence of electric motors and frictionless hover technology, the roar of engines and puffs of exhaust filled the street beside them.
“Anyway,” Greg sputtered on, “the symposium is featuring a new technology that turns written words into gateways. See?”
Matt’s head rolled toward his brother, gaze confronted by a magazine spread of AI-generated graphics. A doorway with 21st century time travel sparks. “Wow.”
“Right!” Greg stared at the insuperable fantasy with awe. “Imagine going to see it in person.”
“Keep imagining.”
He dropped the magazine in favor of a screwdriver and wiring. “I was. Then I went to JC’s book launch at the little store on Daedalus Street and there it was.”
Matt squinted at his brother.
Greg shrunk slightly. “Well, a cardboard cutout of it. But there were brochures talking about the technology. It’s not that hard to build one.”
A chortle burst from Matt’s chest, making Greg cave even more. Clearing his throat, Matt replied, “They won’t give trade secrets like that in a bifold.”
“See for yourself.” Greg jabbed his screwdriver at the cluttered desk.
Sifting through the materials, Matt found the brochure. More computer-generated graphics, some eye-popping adjectives. His brow tightened when he skimmed actual scientific jargon.
“Now you’re interested.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Matt leaned back. “So you’re building this realmmaker?”
“Can’t you tell?” Greg tapped the frame as he continued, “It looks just like the picture.”
Matt saw the resemblance. If he crossed his eyes and tilted his head long enough.
His brother sighed, leaning on the desk. “I know you’re not a fan of all this.”
“Babysitting you while mom spends thousands funding your fantasies?”
Greg flinched. “Ignore all that and realize what’s before you. If I create the first interactive novel in the world, we’ll be rich. You won’t have to work the scrap yards, mom can move out of the state facility.” He stared at his contraption, joy sapped from his eyes. “My writing won’t be for nothing.”
Matt drummed his thumbs together. Time moved so quickly now, technology overtaking every aspect of life. Few knew what the real world looked like, faces covered by goggles that portrayed an augmented version.
But Greg kept dreaming of something different. Worlds of magic and adventure left his fingertips and became spellbinding novels. But no one took time to read anymore, letting whatever monotone voice they preferred tell them what to think.
Matt analyzed the hodge-podge construction. “You do realize how ridiculous this is.”
Greg gave a sheepish grin. “As insuperable as me sleeping through the night.”
Rising, he took the tools from his brother. “Stick to writing through the night and I’ll work on your impossible doorway.”
Greg nodded, grabbing his headset. Words scrolled across the holographic screen, dictated directly from his mind.
Weeks passed, the brothers working around each other. Matt would return from the scrap yards with spare wiring and gears. Researching the contraption, skimming manuals, and all-around guessing. Greg wrote quietly, the words slowing whenever he snuck a glance at his older brother. Every now and then he’d curse and command the computer to delete a section, 30th century technology emerging in a fight scene with a hydra.
Matt rubbed his eyes and stared at his completed work. Nothing like the brochure, but hopefully functional.
“We ready?” Greg could barely stand, shaking with untold enthusiasm with a USB in hand. The hologram was turned off, headset abandoned.
Matt pointed to the left of the frame, port blinking red. His brother inserted the story, both men stepping away from the contraption.
Fans whirred and gears clattered. The whole structure shook, vibrations carrying through the floor and their bones. Bolts shuddered and smoke billowed.
Silence.
Matt growled, moving toward the frame.
Greg dragged him back.
A whoosh attacked their ears. Hair standing on end, the air seemed to glow with pinpricks of light bouncing between molecules. Matt sucked in a breath, heart racing. His vision seemed to expand, taking in the entire room.
And the white whirlpool in the gateway.
“It worked.” Greg scrambled toward the swirl of light.
“No, wait.” Matt tried to grab him. He caught his shirt as his brother crossed the barrier. Hand disappearing in the blinding light, he felt his body being dragged deeper.
White light enveloped him, body numb to any sensation.
He slammed into the ground, something gritty filling his mouth. Matt choked, spitting out grass and dirt. Clouds floated in a lavender sky, mountains lining the horizon. No exhaust, no hovercrafts, no skyscrapers.
A yip caught his attention. Greg skipped through the valley, dandelions scattering in the wind. “It’s just how I wrote it. We’re in my book.”
Matt glanced around them. The gateway was nowhere to be seen. “How do we get out?”