UR

Blue Lament , hitting his credit card with another $4.50 charge, and pushed the Kindle over to Robbie once the book had been downloaded to the ever-growing library that was Wesley’s Kindle. While Robbie read, at first from the beginning and then skipping around, Don went down to the main office and brought back three coffees. Before settling in behind his desk, he hung the little-used CONFERENCE IN PROGRESS DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door.
    Robbie looked up, nearly as pale as Don had been after dipping into the never-written Shakespeare play about the African prince who is brought to London in chains.
    “This is a lot like a Travis McGee novel called Pale Gray for Guilt ,” he said. “Only Travis McGee lives in Fort Lauderdale, and this guy Higgins lives in Sarasota. McGee has a friend named Meyer—a guy—and Higgins has a friend named Sarahc” He bent over the Kindle for a moment. “Sarah Mayer.” He looked at Wesley, his eyes showing too much white around the irises. “Jesus Christ, and there’s ten million of thesecthese other worlds?”
    “Ten million, four hundred thousand and some, according to the UR BOOKS menu,” Wesley said. “I think exploring even one author fully would take more years than you have left in your life, Robbie.”
    “I could die today,” Robbie Henderson said in a low voice. “That thing could give me a freaking heart attack.” He abruptly seized his Styrofoam cup of coffee and swallowed most of the contents, although the coffee was still steaming.
    Wesley, on the other hand, felt almost like himself again. But with the fear of madness removed, a host of questions were cramming his mind. Only one seemed completely relevant. “So what do I do now?”
    “For one thing,” Dan said, “this has to stay a dead secret among the three of us.” He turned to Robbie. “Can you keep a secret? Say no and I’ll have to kill you.”
    “I can keep one. But how about the people who sent it to you, Wes? Can they keep a secret? Will they?”
    “How do I know that when I don’t know who they are?”
    “What credit card did you use when you ordered Little Pink here?”
    “MasterCard. It’s the only one I use these days.”
    Robbie pointed to the English Department computer terminal Wesley and Don shared. “Go online, why don’t you, and check your account. If thosecthose ur-books came from Amazon, I’ll be very surprised.”
    “Where else could they have come from?” Wesley asked. “It’s their gadget, they sell the books for it. Also, it came in an Amazon box. It had the smile on it.”
    “And do they sell their gadget in Glowstick Pink?” Robbie asked.
    “Well, no.”
    “Dude, check your credit card account.”
    .
     
    Wesley drummed his fingers on Don’s Mighty Mouse mousepad as the office’s outdated PC cogitated. Then he sat up straight and began to read.
    “Well?” Don asked. “Share.”
    “According to this,” Wesley said, “my latest MasterCard purchase was a blazer from Men’s Warehouse. A week ago. No downloaded books.”
    “Not even the ones you ordered the normal way? The Old Man and the Sea and Revolutionary Road ?”
    “Nope.”
    Robbie asked, “What about the Kindle itself?”
    Wesley scrolled back. “Nothingcnothingcnothcwait, here it—” He leaned forward until his nose was almost touching the screen. “I’ll be damned.”
    “What?” Don and Robbie said it together.
    “According to this, my purchase was denied. It says, ‘wrong credit-card number.’” He considered. “That could be. I’m always reversing two of the digits, sometimes even when I have the damn card right beside the keyboard. I’m a little dyslexic.”
    “But the order went through, anyway,” Don said thoughtfully. “Somehowcto some one. Somewhere. What Ur does the Kindle say we’re in? Refresh me on that.”
    Wesley went back to the relevant screen. “117,586. Only to enter that as a choice, you omit the comma.”
    Don said, “That might not be the Ur we’re living in, but I bet it was the Ur this Kindle came from. In that Ur, the MasterCard number you gave is the right one for the Wesley Smith that exists there.”
    “What are the odds of something like that happening?” Robbie asked.
    “I don’t know,” Don said, “but probably a lot steeper than 10.4 million to one.”
    Wesley opened his mouth to say something, and was interrupted by a fusillade of knocks on the door. They all jumped. Don Allman actually uttered a little scream.
    “Who is it?”