They chatted for a while longer about this and that. They found that they had much in common, even if their worlds were so different. After assurances that her world was still creeping along, and that only a few more seconds had passed there, Alex said "Good night" to Deanna, who went into an adjoining room. Alex slid under the heavy quilted covers and soon fell asleep.
In what seemed like no time at all (Alex was beginning to feel unsure how to use the word 'time'), she was awakened by sunlight streaming through the curtains on the windows. She went to the window and gazed out over the strange forest before her. There was a slight mist rising slowly from the tops of the trees. In many places, she could see clearings and the roofs of houses. But there was certainly no evidence of a congested village anywhere. A few minutes later, Deanna knocked on her door, and wheeled in a tray with breakfast.
"Hi, Alex," Deanna said. "It's a really nice day today. Did you sleep okay?"
"I guess so. I don't remember a thing," she answered.
After breakfast, Alex showered, thinking that a shower seemed out of place in a castle, then found an electric hair dryer, which worked. She dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt that Deanna brought for her. The telephone, which she hadn't noticed before, rang. The old castle was starting to feel like a Holiday Inn.
"Good morning to you, Alex" said a deep male voice. "I'm Deanna's father."
"Good morning, sir" she replied, assuming a Time Warden was someone who commanded a great deal of respect. She wished she had asked Deanna if a Time Warden should be addressed as 'Your Worship,' 'Your Holiness,' 'Your Timeliness,' or whatever.
"Did you sleep well, and are you ready to meet with us?" he asked.
"Yes to both of those," she answered, though she was not quite so sure about the second part.
"Good. Deanna will be there for you in a few minutes. See you soon. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," she replied, and slowly hung up the phone. She thought back over the events of the last day and night (or the last few seconds, depending on how you looked at it) and realized that, while yesterday seemed dream-like, today seemed real. Something was about to happen, she had only a vague idea what it might be, and she wasn't so sure she liked it.
True to his prediction ('no big deal,' she thought, 'he is a Time Warden after all') Deanna knocked again, asked if she was ready, and together they walked the long corridor. She was able to see that the sconces that looked like arms were finely molded brass fixtures with a nice greenish color. Maybe that meant they were bronze - she wasn't sure, and didn't particularly care right now. She found herself becoming annoyed that they had lured her away from her own world and time, and the only thing that was keeping her from really getting angry was the knowledge that real time was passing so slowly while she was here.
But how did she really know? She had only the words of people she had just met, though they certainly seemed nice enough, especially Deanna.
Come to think of it, she still wasn't so sure this wasn't a strange dream, or the result of bumping her head, or heat stroke, or temporary insanity.
With these thoughts nagging at her mind, she was not paying attention to where they were going, until Deanna stopped and pulled a thick rope hanging in front of a heavy, deeply carved wooden door. Inside, a doorbell rang, sounding just like the common ones back home. Just an unimpressive 'ding-dong' where Alex had expected a loud 'bong' or two. If this is a dream, she thought, it should at least have better sound effects.
The door swung open, creaking loudly. That's much better, Alex approved.
"Gotta get that thing oiled," said a tall thin man, hurrying toward them. He had black hair, a thin face, and was wearing a black cloak and black trousers. He looked spooky at first until Alex saw his eyes, which were smiling just as he was.
"Alex, may I present my father, Joseph John Lennon Krynicki."
They shook hands, and Alex said "very pleased to meet you," and she was. He had a look about him, once you got close to him, that was reassuring. "You folks certainly have interesting names," she said.
"Thank you," he replied. "We can change the middle ones when we want, and usually we pick someone we admire in your world or ours."
"Your names are longer than the ones I'm used to," Alex said.
"You should meet my friend who is obsessed with your 1950's rock and roll music. I never introduce him to anyone unless we have plenty of time," he responded. After a moment, the twinkle disappeared from the smile in his eyes, and he looked more serious. "But now, down to business," he said.
The three of them, father, daughter, and other-worldly visitor sat on chairs grouped around a low table. On the table were scattered books. Alex noticed that all were either written by or about Samuel Clemens - Mark Twain.
"First," he began, "I believe that you know something about the relationships between our worlds."
"Yes, Mr. Joseph John Paul Ringo ..." she stuttered, and father and daughter laughed. Alex joined them after a moment.
"Please call me Joseph," he said.
"Okay, Joseph. I know some things, but what I know is confusing. Is Sandorra in our imaginations?"
"No, not at all," he answered. "We're as real as you are, but our laws of physics are very different. We occupy the same space your world does. Some of your scientists and science fiction writers spoke of 'parallel universes' and they weren't far off the mark."
"But," he went on, "since we share the same space, we also overlap in some ways." He pondered for a long moment. "Think of it this way. You know, of course, that when you're watching a movie, it seems like continuous motion to you, but it's really a series of still pictures. Your eyes and brain smooth over the gaps. Between the still pictures, or frames, the screen is dark for a moment."
"Yes, I know that, but I never think about it during a movie."
"Exactly," he said. "Only if the projector stops at the wrong time do you see the dark parts."
"Okay, I understand so far," she said.
"Now, suppose that while the screen was dark in between frames, another projector was showing another movie. You could only see the movie you paid to see, while the person next to you might be watching the alternate movie."
"How could you see only one of the movies?" she asked.
"How should I know?" he answered. "This is only an analogy. Stay with me on this."
"Okay," Alex said. Deanna stifled a giggle.
"Alright, so you're watching one of the movies," he went on, "and you're oblivious to the other movie." When Alex looked puzzled, he said "You can't see it. But it's there, and completely real to the other person, who in turn is oblivious - can't see your movie."
Alex made a mental note to remember the word 'oblivious' and said, "I understand."
"Now suppose the two projectors sometimes ran at slightly different speeds. Sometimes a frame of one movie would just slight overlap a frame of the other movie. Understand?"
She nodded, but not with great assurance.
"So," he concluded triumphantly, his arms outstretched, "you can see that cross-temporal chrono-synchronous transfer becomes possible if the relative time-spin axis of Universe A is parallel, though in opposite direction to the time-spin axis ..." his voice trailed off in response to the glazed look in Alex's eyes.
"I'm oblivious," she said. Deanna couldn't suppress this giggle.
"In other words," he sighed, "sometimes a Bridge opens and some people can cross over." This now sounded just like the other explanations Alex had been hearing.
Recovering himself, he said "you don't really need to know the technical parts anyway. Let's talk about the mission."
"My mission, if I should choose to accept it," Alex said to herself.
Joseph heard her, smiled, and said softly, "Please remember that everything you do here is voluntary. We're trying to give you as much background as we can, so you can make the judgment for yourself. If you choose, you can go back to your own world at any time. Okay?"
"Okay," she said, smiling in return.