"What if you found a portal to a parallel universe? What if you could slide into a thousand different worlds where it's the same year and you're the same person, but everything else is different? And what if you can't find your way home?"
--Quinn Mallory,
Sliders opening theme
Three years ago.
San Francisco suburbs.
Chip Maplewood adjusted his bomber jacket as he sized up his opponent. Five inches tall. Three quarters of an ounce - give or take. Knuckles almost white due to his fierce hold on the twig as he took a few practice swings. Determined glint in his eye as he grinned wickedly.
"Come on, Chip. I wanna get home in time to see the Red Badger of Courage movie marathon."
"You got it, Dale." Chip wound up and let fly with a fastball, or more accurately, a fast acorn. The duo hadn't played baseball in quite some time, and when Dale suggested a Saturday outing to the best ball field in the suburbs, Chip had jumped at the chance. He'd been surprised that the field was located in the front yard of a private residence, but here it was, a perfectly formed baseball diamond in the grass.
Dale's twig bat connected with the acorn but just barely. The acorn glazed off the bat and flew in a high arc over Dale's head. It struck the silver mailbox on the other side of the chain-link fence. The name emblazoned on the mailbox was Mallory, and the errant acorn left a slight dent in the O.
"Hey," Dale joked. "Will you look at that? A bullseye!"
Chip shook his head, a bemused expression playing across his features. He stooped to retrieve an acorn from the nearby grass. "All right, Jose Mouseco, you've got one out left and we've got one ball left. Try not to lose this one."
This time Chip threw a slider. Dale's swing sent the acorn barreling towards Chip. A quick duck saved the chipmunk from being hit, but sent the acorn through the open basement window.
"Nice going, dummy. That was out last ball," Chip fumed.
Dale frowned, "Gee, I'm sorry, buddy. I'll get the ball."
Chip put up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm closer." He scampered towards the open window and into the basement. He quickly located the acorn in the middle of the floor. Checking for any humans or cats and finding the coast clear, he quickly retrieved it and dashed back into the shadows. The chipmunk prepared to ascend the wall in the same manner that he'd descended-by using the depressions in the cinderblock wall where the blocks met as a makeshift climbing wall. He found it impossible to do so with an acorn tucked under his arm. He puzzled over it a bit before slapping himself for his own stupidity. Was he cuh-razy? He was a chipmunk. He could carry the acorn in his mouth.
He opened his mouth to deposit the acorn when he heard voices nearby. Using the nearby hot water heater as cover, he held his breath and waited.
"Now, Quinn, remember you've got classes later today. I don't want you missing another class because of this project of yours."
"I won't, Mom," the speaker was an exasperated young man in is early twenties with a mop of dark brown hair. He had some kind of saucer in his left hand. His lunch, Chip supposed.
"Besides," Quinn continued, "it only happened once."
"Okay, hon."
Quinn shook his head and smiled. He loved his mom, but she didn't understand the importance of his work. He placed the saucer on the ground. Chip could see the saucer contained not Quinn's lunch but rather milk.
Chip gulped. A saucer of milk could mean only one thing.
"Here, Spartacus," Quinn called, "Here Sparty, Sparty, Sparty."
Chip heard a slight meow as a cat awoke not ten feet away from him and stretched. Spartacus sniffed the air and cocked his head for a moment. He trotted over to the saucer and began to slowly lap up milk. Chip let out the breath he'd been holding. Apparently sleep had dulled the feline's senses. He hadn't caught Chip's scent.
In the center of the room Quinn activated a video camera and began a well-rehearsed diatribe about a strange looking device. Chip listened enthralled as Quinn told his story to the camera. While trying to build an anti-gravity machine, the young scientist had stumbled across the key to inter-dimensional travel. After weeks of trials, the Mallory-Arturo inter-dimensional traveling device (as he was toying with naming it) was ready for an organic passenger.
Chip balked. He couldn't believe a human would enter a device like this that had only been tested on a toy tyrannosaurus. Lost in his reverie, Chip didn't notice Spartacus slowly creeping up behind him. A quiet growl alerted him at the last moment before the cat pounced. Chip took off like a shot weaving around the heater and through the legs of the camera tripod. The chipmunk desperately searched the room for something to hide behind. He wasn't fast enough to elude the cat for long, and he knew it.
Meanwhile Quinn droned on, oblivious to the chase. In a final attempt to elude capture, Chip jumped over Quinn's shoe and ran between his feet. Unfortunately one of the scientist's shoelaces had become untied and Chip tripped over it.
Chip turned himself over and tried to move, but found himself tangled in the shoelace. He desperately tried to untangle himself, but it was too late. The cat was too close. Chip slammed his eyes shut and reflexively raised an arm in a meager attempt at self-defense. He hadn't had time to even let out a surprised shriek.
Spartacus launched himself at the chipmunk, teeth-bared, eyes wide, and claws at the ready, intent on delivering the killing blow. He landed in the arms of Quinn Mallory, his claws a hair's breadth from Chip's throat.
Without missing a beat, Quinn righted himself from his stooped position, and continued addressing the camera. "...and Spartacus here-wave at the camera, kitty-Spartacus will be the first living test subject."
Chip dropped his arm in relief. Apparently Quinn wasn't as dense as he'd believed him to be. The human scientist wasn't taking any chances with his own life just yet-not when another test subject, albeit an unwilling one, was nearby. Spartacus growled his annoyance at being denied his prey. Chip smiled smugly and gave a little wave as he untangled himself from Quinn's errant shoelace.
Holding Spartacus in one hand and flipping a few switches that activated his machine with the other, Quinn continued his narrative. "I have developed a timer, so to speak, which will automatically reopen the wormhole after a pre-programmed amount of time and return the wearer to this dimension." Quinn smiled. "Of course, you already saw this device in action last week with Rex here." He indicated the plastic dinosaur with a nod.
Behind Quinn the machine hummed to life. He retrieved a small device from a desk drawer. It was the size of a wristwatch and had a four digit digital display and had a small button on the side that functioned to activate both the countdown and return sequences. Of course, the button was unnecessary for the return sequence as the timer would automatically reactivate when the time ran out.
"Assuming no one grabs Spartacus and removes his collar, Spartacus will return in..." He set the timer. "...five minutes." Quinn cast a sideways smile into the camera and spoke like a mad scientist. "As soon as I press the little red button. Mwa ha ha ha ha ha!"
As the chipmunk below attempted to free himself of the shoelace, Quinn fought a losing battle to attach the timer to the squirming cat in his arms. Finally free, Chip stood in exultation only to be hit on the head by the falling timer. The chipmunk rubbed his injured head and examined the device that had struck him.
***
Dale Oakmont scratched his head nervously. Chip sure has been down there a
long time! he thought. Dale ambled over to the basement window. He was about
to call out when he spied a human struggling with a cat. He quickly ducked out
of sight, his heart violently thudding in his chest.
Soon his concern for his friend outweighed his fear, and he sat up scanning
the floor for his best friend. He heard a sharp cry of pain and spied Chip rubbing
his head and looking intently at something in his hand.
The cat struggled violently in the young man's arms. It would be only a matter of time before he freed himself.
The cat sank his teeth into the human's hand.
The human screamed and released the cat.
Dale called out.
Chip looked up.
***
What happened next caught everyone off guard. Quinn clutched his bleeding hand. Spartacus licked his lips in anticipation of fresh meat. Chip fell back, applying pressure to the button to the timer. Instantly a beam of energy shot out from the timer like a bullet ripping a hole in space. Or like a pebble striking the surface of the body of water known as reality, causing ripples to emanate from a center point.
Unfortunately for Chip, the hole in space and reality took shape directly beneath him and his feline predator. Quinn's left food slipped into the wormhole. For a panicked few seconds Quinn's short life flashed before his eyes. His childhood, the death of his father, his mentor-protégé relationship with Professor Arturo. The young scientist managed to free himself seconds before the wormhole dissipated.
When all was said and done, the wormhole had claimed a chipmunk, a cat, and a dirty size eleven sneaker. In its wake were a young scientist who'd just reconsidered his life's work and a chipmunk who'd just lost his best friend.
***
The wormhole opened in the middle of a busy intersection. Chip and Spartacus
emerged dazed and in the path of an oncoming truck. Their feud momentarily forgotten,
they scrambled to the sidewalk barely making it to the curb. The cat and the
chipmunk panted heavily and collapsed.
"You okay?" Chip asked after catching his breath.
Spartacus responded with a growl.
Chip laughed nervously. Noticing he still had the timer in a vise-like grip, a simple plan took shape. Quinn said the wormhole would automatically reactivate when the timer reached zero. The timer indicated he had three minutes forty-five seconds left. If he could keep the cat busy until then, he could get home.
Shoving the timer into his mouth, Chip took off like a shot on all fours. He scaled a nearby tree in the middle of the sidewalk. It took nearly a minute for the cat to climb the tree. The timer read 2:56.
Chip hopped over the cat's head, slid down his back and tail, and landed roughly on the ground below. Wasting no time, he shimmied up a drain pipe in hopes of reaching a mailbox on the side of building. Spartacus had other plans. He attacked the pipe, managing to shake it from its moorings. Chip felt like a man at the top of a falling ladder. But instead of allowing the fall to take its course, he launched himself from the pipe onto a Harley Davidson motorcycle parked by the curb. He caught hold of the handlebar, did a few gymnastic rotations, and somersaulted off into the street. The timer read 1:15. Below him, Spartacus had already reached the middle of the street, his mouth open and salivating. Chip knew he wouldn't make it. He frantically wondered if he could activate the wormhole early, and if he did so, whether it would damage the timer. Quinn hadn't mentioned anything, but perhaps he hadn't had the time.
Catching sight of Spartacus's approaching maw, Chip made his decision. He pressed the timer's button. The sound it made troubled him a bit, but nevertheless it did open a wormhole directly below the chipmunk. Just before he passed through the inter-dimensional portal, Chip spotted a Chrysler barreling toward the cat. He tried to shout a warning, but his voice was lost to the noise of the wormhole. Though he later discovered it was impossible to hear anything when in transit between dimensions, Chip could have sworn he heard tires screeching and a dull thud.
For a while everything went black.