Hard Landing
It was, or should have been, a simple enough job. Hook up a small server to some lab equipment with Cat 5 network cable, and configure a small wireless network for the dozen workstations they were using for monitoring and controlling whatever experiment they were running. Normally they would have had a couple of lab techs do it, but there was a flu bug or something going around and High-Energy Physics were short-handed, and it was a slow day over in IT Support, so I offered to lend a hand.
"What's it do, anyway?" I asked the research assistant who was along to set up what he jokingly called the 'physics package'.
"Condensed version? It lobs loads of high-energy particles through the mirrored cloud chamber you're standing in whilst we watch and see what happens."
"I see. Try not to create a black hole or a gateway to Hell or something, eh? And double-check it's not plugged in, will you? I don't really want my gonads irradiated," I added, finally getting the cable into the socket placed awkwardly underneath the business end of something that vaguely reminded me of an electron gun out of an old CRT monitor. I crawled out from under it, just as an ominous hum began to emanate from the machine. I scrambled to my feet, alarmed. "Hey! I told you to make sure it was-!"
BANG! I yelped and covered my eyes as the mirrored surfaces began to glow with painful intensity. There was a brief sensation of tumbling, and then...
Splat! I landed heavily on what felt a lot like soggy turf, my glasses flying off somewhere and the breath knocked out of me. I rolled onto my back and wheezed for a few seconds, then groped around for my specs and put them back on. They were grubby and speckled with moisture, but they enabled me to see the sky and the outline of a hedge above me.
"How the hell...?" I gasped weakly, levering myself upright with some difficulty.
A cursory self-examination revealed no life-threatening injuries, though my left side twinged every time I inhaled, probably from a cracked rib; I'd better watch my footing and walk fairly slowly, but there wasn't much I could do about it until I got some painkillers and maybe directions to the nearest walk-in clinic.
I climbed over a stile by a five-bar gate at the corner of the field I'd landed in, and found myself standing in a lay-by. A church steeple was visible a few miles up the road, the familar outline offering the first definite confirmation that I was still in England. Presumably it'd have a phonebox, or even a wi-fi hotspot if I was lucky; I used Skype with my beloved Eee PC micro-laptop rather than carry a conventional mobile phone. If I was really lucky there might even be a GP's surgery where I could get my ribs strapped up, or a hostel catering to the local hiking traffic where I could do something about the state of my shirt and jeans and maybe get a bed for the night if I couldn't get a bus home until morning.
A car passed me from behind, and I had to quell the sudden urge to duck into the hedge, feeling acutely self-conscious; I was going to have a devil of a time explaining how I'd ended up of foot in the middle of nowhere, covered in mud and with no idea of where I was. Hopefully, by the time I reached the village I'd have something plausible put together.
And then once I get back, I'm going to track that research assistant down and stick my boot up his arse! I added irritably to myself, fishing my MP3 player out of my hip pocket.
An hour or so later I came to a sign welcoming me to some village I'd never heard of called Osmotherly, and also helpfully informing me that I was in the borough of West Riding; I couldn't be much more than twenty miles from my flat in Sheffield. I was cheered somewhat by this; whatever the particle accelerator had done -which I was choosing not to think about in any great detail right now- could just as easily have landed me at the other end of the country or a thousand miles out to sea, or sent me on a one-way trip to the Dimension of Pain for that matter.
A few moments later, I noticed something slightly odd. The clock in the church tower stated that the time was some two hours earlier than my watch told me it was. I blinked a couple of times, then shrugged; presumably either the mechanism was getting an overhaul or a power cut had outlasted the backup battery and nobody'd got around to doing anything about it yet. The rationalisation helped quell my growing unease, but not by much; it occurred to me that there were more than three dimensions I could have been displaced in, which was something I really ought to surreptitiously look into before...
I rounded a corner and came upon what seemed to be the village green. Several children were playing on it, watched over by their parents and...
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me..."
I ducked down a narrow side-street and collapsed onto a nearby bench, mind reeling. "What... the... fuck?" I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief.
I'd been hanging out on the fringes of the furry fandom for years, admiring the art and the stories -including much of the better-crafted and less unpleasantly weird porn in the genre- but never really feeling compelled to make it a full-on lifestyle. This had not left me well-equipped to meet a real one, let alone apparently be entirely surrounded by them. And I mean, real ones; anthromorphs of at least four different species, complete with kids. And there was no way it was just people in really good fursuits either; go out in public in one of those costumes amongst the good burghers of West Yorkshire and you'd probably find yourself burned as a witch.
Okay... I told myself. _Let's not panic, shall we? I'm not in any immediate danger; these people probably aren't any more superstitious, ignorant or prone to panic than my own species -though if this world is a true mirror to my own I could scarcely throw a brick without hitting a Daily Mail reader in this kind of place- and they self-evidently speak English. All I need to do is explain my predicament and ask politely for their assistance.
Which can wait until I've got over some of the culture shock, methinks. So, next question. What are the odds of anyone being able to send me home?_
Not high, I decided; the fact that I was even in a parallel universe defied everything I thought I knew about physics, starting with the Law of Conservation of Energy, and in any case there were an infinite number of them and probably no reliable way of targeting one in particular. I certainly wasn't going to start hopping through them at random on the off-chance, either; I could just as easily end up in some lame Harry Potter fanfiction where the titular hero is Severus Snape's willing catamite that way! No, things definitely weren't as bad as they might have been, and I wasn't about to risk making them any worse. One way or another, I was going to have to make the best of it here.
On an emotional level, I wasn't all that bothered by that concept. I was single, my parents were both several years dead and I'd never really been close to my siblings; there was no bad blood between us, we just didn't have much in common apart from Mum and Dad. I had no really close friends, no pets and a perfectly tolerable but not especially interesting or well-paid job. My flat was small and sparsely furnished, my savings were minimal and my only really valuable possessions were on my back and in my pockets. I had read the last ever Discworld novel. On one level, starting from scratch here wouldn't be all that bad.
On the other hand, any kind of normal life in this world was going to be decidedly difficult. Even if I could devise some halfway plausible cover story -Sphinx Cat/something-or-other cross, perhaps?- and/or got a telecommuting job, I would be instantly recognisable anywhere I went and probably an object of intense curiosity, which would be a whole lot of absolutely no fun whatsoever. I had no National Insurance number, or whatever the local equivalent was. My qualifications were totally meaningless, and my skill with computers probably wouldn't translate to whatever they used here very fast or easily.
Well, there was no point sitting around and brooding about my future prospects. I stood up and strode towards the village green, intent on meeting Destiny head-on.
And promptly collided head-on with someone coming around a blind corner. We staggered apart, and two bags of shopping scattered their contents everywhere. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, frantically picking up tins and packets and stuffing them back in the bags.
"Quite alright; I should've been looking where... Oh my goodness!" The female Husky clapped her hands over her mouth in astonishment.
I smiled wryly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you I was living proof of the fact that Sphinx cats and Komodo Dragons should never, ever marry, would you?" I quipped, plucking the second species out of the air.
"Don't sell yourself short," she replied, getting a little of her poise back. "And unless you're either a time traveller or from another dimension..."
"You know, it's funny you should mention that."
The woman -I refused to think of her as a bitch, even if it was technically accurate- regarded me for a long moment, her head on one side. "I'm thinking we ought to talk about this over a cup of tea," she concluded.
Tea. Yes, that sounded like an excellent idea. Tea was something reassuringly familiar in a bewildering world, which I was sorely in need of right now. "That sounds wonderful," I declared.
She giggled, a pleasant, rather musical sound. "Least you're English. Come on, my place isn't far."
I followed my new acquaintance, whom I couldn't help noticing was really rather pretty if you happen to like exceptionally buxom and curvaceous humanoid canines, -and it so happens that I do- down yet another narrow side street (this must be a hell of a place to deliver furniture in) towards the edge of the village with the merest hint of a spring in my step. You know, I mused to myself, this place might not be so bad after all.