Jack, Kayrantz, and Tayver entered the luxurious cabin of the pontoon. It had been set up as a sort of mobile lab - monitors and control panels were integrated among the plush couches and carpeted walls.
Jack approached the female scientist and offered her his research on the downed plane.
"How are you tracking it?" asked the scientist.
"We've locked onto the beacon," answered Jack. He showed her a blinking blue dot on his screen, indicating the beacon was almost directly below, though it was drifting back and forth due to the relative motion of their boat.
"Oh good," replied the scientist, studying the screen. From her expression, Jack could tell she was encouraged by this information.
"We've got a bot to go down," continued Jack.
"Excellent," she said. "Though, we have to be careful in these parts."
"Sure, sure. But, it's doable?"
"Certainly," she answered, smiling.
Jack handed her his gadgets and motioned to his two companions. They left the cabin and returned to the open air section of the pontoon. The small watercraft was still docked, and some people were milling around the deck, listless but not unhappy.
Jack spied the band van a short distance away on the road. He made his way over, careful not to cross the border of the temporal distortion envelope.
Inside the van sat one the girls, wrapped in a blanket and shivering slightly.
"You cold?" asked Jack.
"Yes," she replied sheepishly.
"You know, it's warmer in the cabin of the boat."
"Oh yeah, I know. I might stay here with the cats. There's two tingle devices back there.
"Ok."
Jack sensed motion and saw a track passing by very slowly. Alarmed, Jack turned to Andray.
"Are we moving?" asked Jack. "It feels like we're moving." Andray looked around and shrugged.
Jack jumped out of the van and saw that they had indeed rolled about fifty yards away from the pontoon. Jack sprinted back to the boat, dreading what he knew had already happened - he'd crossed outside of the temporal distortion that surrounded the boat. It was night outside the boat, but looking onto the deck he could see early morning daylight reflecting off the wood and metal. The effect had reset, and he would have to start that day over.
Annoyed, Jack jumped into the distortion once more. The old versions of himself and the others on the boat would continue on in their timeline until the day's end, while a new version of the same day would now begin anew, though the events would play out the same. Jack began fast-forwarding, hoping to quickly reach the point where he'd left off before rolling away on the van. He had to be careful, though - if he passed the point, he'd have to start all over, committing yet another copy of himself to the void.
He slowed the time down just before the stopping point and let the rest play out in real time. He watched as the other copy of himself sat in a corner of the deck, surrounded by long, red cylinders. He knew he was about to explode, this was all part of the day. At the exact split point, the pile exploded, sending old Jack, bloody and broken, to be impaled along the deck rail, as the current Jack was placed instantly back onto the pile, unharmed. Current Jack would continue on through the day, but it was over for the old Jack.
"Water...water....water..." moaned old Jack, who now closely resembled a doll. His desperate pleas went completely unheard - he was invisible and inaudible, as the current Jack had taken his place in the timeline. Old doll Jack's cries became weaker and weaker. His blood coursed out of a thousand wounds, and his face seemed to melt and distort as he came closer to death.
"........water.............wat...er....please....w..a......mommy.....water......"
Then old doll Jack died.
Old Jack splashed into the shimmering water of the afterlife. From third-person perspective, he swam up to the surface toward his small rowboat. All around was water, impossibly clear and incredibly temperate. Parched, Jack swallowed large gulps of the liquid, pleased but unsurprised to find it to be freshwater. He paddled around joyously, taking in the bright sky. This would be an excellent way to spend eternity.
He climbed into the rowboat to find his fish companion swimming around in a small bowl. The two had chosen each other, and in that way had an instant bond. Jack and the fish floated in the boat for an indeterminate amount of time, just existing.
The fish began to sing.
"Mi mi mi mi mi!" chirped the fish. This is something new, thought Jack.
The fish jumped out of the bowl and into the sea. This worried Jack - he would probably need to be around that fish. He made a grab for it, but his fish companion darted nimbly out of the way. Jack started chasing it, and was surprised to see it leading him towards a large shelf rising out of the sea. They got closer and Jack could see other large shelves, several stories high. Many of them contained books, while others were empty. Floating among the shelf towers were wooden platforms of varying sizes and lengths. In this region, the sky seemed to be shorter, forming a ceiling of sorts and creating a strong sense of being indoors. Many of the towers extended all the way up to this ceiling.
Jack made one last grab at the fish before it disappeared under into the depths at the base of one of the towers.
This new locale confused and worried Jack - although it was still pleasant, he had assumed the afterlife would be uniform and unchanging. Regional differences and varying features suggested something different, and much closer to the life he had left. Jack pondered this as he climbed out onto one of the platforms and became a flea.
"I am the alligator," intoned a deep voice. "I am the most powerful, and I am the only one."
Beside the platform, a large alligator rose out of the water. It had a long, thin snout and tiny, pointed teeth. To Jack, it looked almost like a cartoon alligator given depth - it was brightly colored and its skin had a plasticine quality.
Jack was fearful. His flea body stood no chance against an alligator, and even getting away seemed like an impossibility.
"Hi...umm..." Jack stammered. The cartoon alligator gave the tiny flea a long look.
"I think I will eat you," announced the alligator.
"No!"
"This is the way it works," explained the alligator. "I am the only one."
Jack looked around frantically. He considered briefly skirting along the base of the shelf tower, but behind him was the open sea from which he'd came, and that would offer not protection. Ahead, the other shelves seemed like a better option. Jack's mind traced a path along the floating platforms to the next nearest tower, and his flea legs powered him from his platform, to the snout of the alligator, and off again to the next platform, narrowly avoiding a snap of the alligator's teeth.
The alligator chased Jack, but the flea was just fast enough to make it to the shelf. He quickly ascended to the top and hid among the books. The alligator gave the flea an appraising look from below, a mix of grudging respect and resignation at losing his prey.
"Find the master of design," called the alligator. "Get the tickets. Gate 14. It might get you to Indiana." With that, the alligator swam away.
Relieved, Jack found an envelope containing cash among the books. Upon it were names, other travelers who had passed by, pilgrims on the same journey. Jack grabbed a pen and wrote down the information the alligator had told him, though he kept dyslexically writing "Gate 41" instead of "Gate 14."
A door opened up down below, and people in various robes began filing out and climbing to different levels of the shelf tower. As one passed by, Jack got her attention.
"Are you the masters of design?" Jack asked.
"No, we're the masters of decency," she replied.
Jack looked around at the books and the shelf towers and the water. He now knew that this was not the afterlife at all. The alligator's mention of Indiana confirmed for Jack that he might still be on his old plane, on his old planet. He wondered where exactly on that planet he was, racking his brain for old geography lessons on large, freshwater seas.
