Previously, some universes away…
With that last answer, the various monitors from which Mr. Morningstar was speaking began to shut down one by one. At the same time, Amanda's device started to activate again with a loud noise.
“What the hell!?”
YOUR DEVICES SHOULD HAVE THIS POCKET DIMENSION REGISTERED WHEN THEY ARE REACTIVATED SO YOU CAN RETURN WITHOUT PROBLEMS. OR TO YOUR RESPECTIVE REALITIES. THE NEXT JUMP WILL DISPERSE YOU AMONG MULTIPLE UNIVERSES IN IMMINENT DANGER. SEARCH WEDNESDAY ADDAMS. DETAIN ANY MEMBERS OF THE NINE YOU FIND.
“Wait a minute!” roared a semi-transformed Enid, “Are you just going to send us off like this, with no more plans, no more preparation!?”
I TRUST IN YOUR SKILLS. I TRUST YOU.
§§§
Amanda Buckman regained consciousness, partially.
Her mind was working again, but she felt as if her body was still getting started and all her senses were diminished, muffled. It took her a few seconds to process that part of it was the feeling of permanent oppression derived from the astronaut suit that kept her whole and alive.
But even after realizing this, she kept her eyes closed, letting her mind continue to dwell on what had happened a few...
Seconds? Minutes before?
How long had she been unconscious?
She knew Morningstar was planning something, that sending her to try to rescue all those Wednesdays over and over and over again had some purpose beyond trying to prevent The Nothing. But even she didn't expect such a damn chaotic move.
Amanda felt something. Like someone tapping on her helmet.
She opened her eyes with a grunt and made the effort to move her arm so she could lift the visor of her helmet. Her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light before focusing and clearly distinguishing the figure standing next to her, gently tapping her helmet with her foot and looking at her with an expression that would make a plant wilt in seconds.
She was a young teenager dressed entirely in black, with long black hair falling loosely over her shoulders and a vertical scar marking the left side of her face.
“Monday,” said Amanda, “How long have I been knocked out?”
Monday Jones, cousin of Wednesday Addams (or at least, of a Wednesday Addams), raised an eyebrow in a gesture that could be interpreted as disbelief or arrogance, or perhaps simple irritation. “Since we got here? It's only been a minute.”
“Can you give me a hand? You know I have a hard time getting up with this thing on...”
For a second, it looked as if Monday was going to refuse, her face remaining completely expressionless, but after a brief moment she leaned forward and took Amanda's outstretched hand, pulling her up with surprising strength for a young woman of her petite size, helping the multiversal astronaut to her feet.
“Thanks,” said the blonde, lowering her visor again.
“Hmm,” muttered Monday, the closest thing to a “You’re welcome” that would come out of her mouth.
Now that she was more clear-headed, Amanda looked around and...
Oh.
Okay, this was going to be weird.
They were in a forest, in a small clearing surrounded by old oak trees, the ground covered with fallen leaves stirred by the wind whistling through the trees. The air was cold, and the position of the sun and the pale light filtering through the branches suggested that it was early morning on some autumn day.
But there was nothing strange about that. What was strange was...
“Monday?” Amanda asked, a slight hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Yes?”
“Maybe it's because I hit my head or because my condition has worsened, but... Do you see...?”
“Yes, I see it too.”
“Oh. Okay, okay,” said Amanda, “That reassures me, but it also scares me for many other reasons.”
“Believe me, my mind is also compartmentalizing another existential panic attack,” replied Monday.
There was a moment of silence between the two of them as they observed their surroundings. Until Amanda finally couldn't take it anymore and said aloud what they were both thinking.
“WHY IS EVERYTHING BLACK AND WHITE!?”
Indeed, the entire forest around them lacked any color whatsoever. Everything was a harmony of whites, shades of gray, and blacks in varying degrees. But it wasn't black and white like a photograph or an old movie.
There was a strange and unreal essence to the whole environment. A certain intangibility.
As she tried to focus her attention on something specific, on the details of her surroundings, Amanda felt as if tiny blades were piercing her brain and eyes, and a sense of disorientation, as if trying to look at something closely caused a minor revolt in her brain and senses.
But it wasn't the lack of color; it was something else, it was...
“Pencil strokes,” Monday said.
“What?”
“It hurts... it hurts to focus your senses to perceive it, but... It's as if everything around us were made of pencil strokes and ink.”
Amanda looked at her traveling companion, stunned, before taking another look at the forest. And yes, despite the painful sensation, she made the effort to focus on the outline and features of the tree closest to her and...
“Oh God. Monday... we're in a fucking drawing.”
NOT EXACTLY.
If it weren't for the weight of her suit, Amanda would have jumped in surprise at Morningstar's unexpected, booming voice emerging from the dimensional device on her wrist.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Amanda, looking at the device with a mixture of surprise, alarm, and genuine anger. “Mr. Morningstar!? What was all that about throwing us into the multiverse without warning?”
MY SINCERE APOLOGIES, MISS BUCKMAN. BUT TIME WAS OF THE ESSENCE, AND I COULD NOT AFFORD TO WASTE IT.
“Any particular reason we're... in whatever this is?” Monday asked.
FIRST OF ALL, I WANT TO THANK YOU. YOU HAVE FULFILLED YOUR MISSION, OR AT LEAST PART OF IT.
YOUR ODYSSEY TO RESCUE WEDNESDAY ADDAMS HAS FINALLY BEARED THE FRUIT I HOPED FOR.
“But... all the times I failed before, all those worlds...”
TRAGIC LOSSES. BUT YOU SHOULDN'T BLAME YOURSELF FOR THAT, AMANDA.
IF
ANYTHING, BLAME ME. I SENT YOU ON A HUNT WITHOUT A DESTINATION IN THE
VAIN HOPE THAT YOUR JUMPS THROUGH THE MULTIVERSE WOULD LEAD YOU TO THE
RIGHT WEDNESDAY ADDAMS.
AND SO IT HAS BEEN.
“A Wednesday who knew danger was coming for her... It can't be just that,” Monday interjected, crossing her arms. “Wednesdays with visions of the future and other psychic abilities are relatively common, and none of them had been as prepared as this one.”
“None of them had another handful of variants accompanying them, to be honest,” Amanda added.
TRUE. THE KEY TO THIS WEDNESDAY WAS NOT SO MUCH HER GIFT AS HER COMPANION, HER SHE-WOLF. THE VOLVAUGR.
TOGETHER,
THEY HAD PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE WITH THE THREATS OF THE MULTIVERSE, AND BY
INTRODUCING THEM INTO THE CURRENT CHAIN OF EVENTS, MY HOPE IS THAT THEY
WILL INITIATE A PROCESS THAT WILL LEAD TO THE DEFEAT OF OUR ENEMY.
“So in the end, it's all a gamble...” said Monday.
MY MEANS ARE MANY AND MY RESOURCES ARE EXTENSIVE... BUT I AM NEITHER OMNISCIENT NOR OMNIPOTENT. AND MY DEPENDENCE ON TECHNOLOGY IS A WEAKNESS... I HAD SOME IDEA OF WHICH REALITIES TO SEND OUR GUESTS TO, BUT I COULDN'T DETERMINE WHO WOULD TRAVEL WITH WHOM, AS MY ATTENTION WAS FOCUSED ON KEEPING YOU TWO TOGETHER.
“Why?” asked Amanda, “It's not that I don't mind continuing to travel with Monday, but... why go through all that trouble?
TO THANK YOU. TO KEEP YOU SAFE. AND TO ASK YOU ONE LAST FAVOR, MY FRIENDS.
Amanda and Monday exchanged a silent glance. In all the time they had worked with him, Mr. Morningstar had never referred to them as friends. Either he was trying to score sympathy points or he felt genuine regret at having to place another burden on them.
A few moments passed. Amanda exchanged another glance with Monday, who simply nodded. The multiversal astronaut closed her eyes and let out a long sigh before speaking again.
“What is it?” Amanda asked, resigned.
IN RESPONSE TO MISS JONES' QUESTION, I HAVE SENT YOU TO THE UNIVERSE WHERE YOU ARE NOW AS A REFUGE AND LAST LINE OF DEFENSE IF THINGS GO WRONG.
“Find the local Wednesday and be a bodyguard, the usual,” said Monday.
YES. BUT IF MY CALCULATIONS ARE CORRECT, THE ENEMY IS NOT YET AWARE OF THE EXISTENCE OF THE UNIVERSE YOU ARE IN, NOR OF ITS NATURE. THAT GIVES YOU A SMALL ADVANTAGE AND TIME.
“True, its nature...” said Amanda, “What the hell is going on with this place, Morningstar? We've been to realities and universes where the laws of physics took a vacation, or worlds that were basically living cartoons, but our senses always perceived them to some extent as something... real, to use a word. Here, on the other hand, it seems that reality is like a suggestion.”
THAT'S BECAUSE YOU ARE IN A PRIMORDIAL UNIVERSE. A VERY OLD UNIVERSE, BUT AT THE SAME TIME VERY FORMLESS, ALMOST CONCEPTUAL. SOME MULTIVERSE SCHOLARS CALL REALITIES LIKE THIS “PRIME,” BUT IT'S A TERM I DON'T LIKE TO USE.
“Why not?” asked Monday, genuinely intrigued. An ancient universe but not fully formed... the concept itself was an existential headache that appealed to her most masochistic instincts like a siren song.
A TERM LIKE “PRIME” IMPLIES “FIRST.” BUT BEING THE OLDEST UNIVERSE DOES NOT MAKE YOU THE FIRST.
“PRIME” ALSO CARRIES IMPLICATIONS THAT A UNIVERSE IS A KIND OF SOURCE OF ORIGIN FOR OTHERS.
AND
ALTHOUGH IT CONTAINS MULTIPLE CASES OF ALTERNATIVE TIMELINES WITH
SIMILAR ORIGINS, THE MULTIVERSE ITSELF IS NOT GOVERNED BY SUCH
SIMPLISTIC CAUSALITY.
Amanda knew that was true. There were realities that could easily be classified as direct divergences from others due to the most trivial of decisions, but in other cases the differences were so many and so varied that, despite the similarities, it was impossible to consider that one universe came from another. And of course there was no one universe that was the source of all others. It was not the basic rule of the multiverse, not by a long shot. But the concept of a “primordial” universe still struck her as strange...
“Even so... from the way you talk about it, this place is still important, isn't it? You wouldn't have sent us here if it weren't,” said the young blonde woman.
EXACTLY.
DESPITE ALL THAT, LIKE OTHER PRIMORDIAL UNIVERSES, THEY REMAIN KEY COGS IN THE MULTIVERSE MACHINERY.
THAT'S WHY I PREFER TO REFER TO THEM AS LYNCHPINS.
“Let me guess,” interrupted Monday, “The destruction of this lynchpin would accelerate the whole process of multiversal entropy that you fear, wouldn’t it?”
IN AN IRREMEDIABLE WAY, YES.
“Well, then we definitely need to find the local Wednesday Addams and pray we get lucky again like we did last time,” Amanda said, “and hope the others can do whatever it is you think they need to do.”
THAT WON'T BE A PROBLEM. MY EFFORTS WERE NOT ONLY TO SEND YOU TO THAT REALITY BUT... WELL, I'M AFRAID I MUST LEAVE FOR NOW.
ENJOY THE COMPANY.
“Hey, wait a minute!” exclaimed Monday, “Morningstar?”
Amanda tapped the dimensional device on her wrist, but heard nothing but static. “He's cut the connection... okay, that was damn cryptic. I wonder what he...”
“Hello?”
The voice that spoke was that of a little girl. And in her polite and cordial tone, one could also sense a note of gloom and sadness that permeated the atmosphere around her in a way that almost felt tangible. Like a miasma of misery.
It was extremely woeful. There was no other way to describe it.
Amanda and Monday turned to look at the newcomer and were not surprised to see who it was. Even in that colorless world, the girl seemed to be more discolored than her surroundings. Her deep black clothes and hair, like ink stains, contrasted with skin so pale it would make snow look tanned. And in her every little movement, there were hints that she was not made of flesh and blood, or at least not flesh and blood in a way they could comprehend.
Pencil and ink.
The girl watched them with an expression somewhere between sad and curious, her dark eyes seeming to absorb the light around her.
“Uh... Wednesday?” asked Amanda.
The girl tilted her head slightly. “No, today is Thursday.”
“No, I mean... You are Wednesday Addams, right?”
The girl looked at her, a certain air of strangeness crossing her serene features, “Am I?”
Well, this was weird.
“It's... it's your name, isn't it?” Monday asked, exchanging a glance with Amanda. Had they gotten the wrong girl, even though her appearance clearly screamed ‘Wednesday Addams’?
“Do I have a name?” asked the child.
Amanda and Monday couldn't articulate anything in response.
Yes, definitely weird.
“Er... yes?” said Amanda, being the first to recover somewhat from the surprise. “Yes, you are... you're Wednesday Addams.”
The girl put her hand to her chin, thinking, “Hmm, I know we're Addams. We're the Addams Family. But I never had a name. They always called my brother and me ‘the kids’ or 'the children', or ‘daughter’ when is just me, or lots of other nicknames... but I never had a name.”
A shadow of a smile flitted across her lips. “But I like it. Wednesday. It reminds me of a line from Mother's favorite lullaby that she used to sing to me when I was little... Wednesday's child is full of woe.”
When the child uttered those words, reality seemed to reverberate around her. As if a drop of water had fallen into a pool and rippled its surface. The little girl didn't seem to notice, but Amanda and Monday saw it clearly. It was as if the child and her surroundings suddenly became sharper... more solid.
“Your mother...” Monday said, a thought suddenly crossing her mind, “What are your parents’ names?”
The girl shrugged, “I don't know. They've always been Mr. and Mrs. Addams. Well, my brother and I call them Father and Mother, of course... Do you have names for them too?”
“Yes... I suppose so,” said Amanda, trying to overcome the oddness of it all. “Hey... you’re actually very calm, considering you’ve just met two strangers in the middle of the woods.”
“You are polite and have given me no reason for alarm,” replied the girl, “And you are strange. Strange is good, and I have seen stranger things than you in these woods.”
“A wise approach to life,” said Monday. Amanda simply sighed resignedly again.
“Could we... could we talk to your parents?” she asked. “There's a reason we're here, and I think they should know.”
Although the aura of sadness and almost perpetual gloom did not completely dissipate, a small smile of genuine joy lit up the little girl's face for a few moments. She took both of their hands and began to guide them through the forest.
“Of course! Come, come! It's been so long since we've had new guests in our home that are not from the authorities,” she said. “I'm sure Grandmama will be delighted to cook something or someone for you.”
Wait... someone?
NOTES
Hey, look! It's Amanda and Monday! Do you remember Amanda and Monday? I told you we'd hear from them again. After all, they kind of started the whole mess.
And yes, things have definitely gotten weirder than ever.
Folks, please welcome with a drum roll the Wednesday Addams from the original 1938 comic strips. Woeful, indeed.
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