The Accident

Ryan Foster wasn't anyone special. Or at least, that's what he told himself most days as he slipped through the crowded halls of Westview High, blending in with the sea of faces that seemed to shift around him without ever really seeing him. He wasn't popular, wasn't brilliant, wasn't even particularly bad at anything. He was just Ryan—average height, average looks, with a mop of dark brown hair that had a mind of its own, and a tendency to hover on the edge of things, watching instead of acting. It was easier to be unnoticed than to try and fail at standing out.

Ryan preferred it that way. Attention brought expectations, and expectations were messy. People liked to be surprised when you exceeded them. They didn't like being disappointed when you fell short.

That afternoon, as he sat in his usual seat by the window in Mrs. Hendricks' physics class, Ryan's mind was anywhere but on the lesson. It wasn't that he disliked physics—he actually found it interesting in a detached kind of way. It was more that Mrs. Hendricks had a talent for making even the most explosive topics sound like a lullaby. Her voice droned on about vectors and force diagrams as the sunlight filtered in through the narrow window, casting long shadows on the scratched-up desks.

Ryan's eyes wandered to the corner of the classroom, where a few students had gathered around Derek Collins, the school's golden boy and the captain of the swim team. Derek was laughing, tossing a crumpled piece of paper back and forth with his buddies while Mrs. Hendricks, oblivious, continued her lecture. Ryan half-smiled. Derek had the kind of charisma that pulled people in effortlessly, like gravity. He always seemed to be in the center of things—whatever those things happened to be. Ryan couldn't even imagine what that kind of life was like.

Suddenly, a sharp knock broke the monotony, causing heads to turn toward the door. Principal Vargas entered, a tall, stern man with iron-gray hair and a permanent frown. He wasn't alone.

Behind him was Dr. Evan Blake, the head of the Westview Research Institute, the shiny new tech facility that had recently opened near the edge of town. Ryan had never seen him in person, but everyone knew who he was. The institute had been a major point of conversation over the past few months. It was rumored they were doing something groundbreaking—some kind of work on multiverse theory, though no one really knew what that meant. At least not in any way that wasn't pure speculation. Still, the place was shrouded in enough mystery to fuel endless whispers in the halls.

"Mrs. Hendricks," Principal Vargas spoke, his voice heavy with formality. "Apologies for the interruption, but Dr. Blake has requested some of your students for a demonstration this afternoon."

Ryan's ears perked up, though he couldn't imagine why they'd be interested in a random group of high school students. The rest of the class looked just as confused, trading curious glances as Mrs. Hendricks nodded politely.

"Of course, Principal," Mrs. Hendricks said, adjusting her glasses and giving the class a tight-lipped smile. "We were just wrapping up with our lesson on forces. Who would you like to take, Dr. Blake?"

Dr. Blake smiled—polite but distant. He scanned the room, his eyes sweeping over Ryan so quickly it was like he didn't exist. Blake's gaze settled instead on Derek Collins and a couple of the other popular kids. Ryan's shoulders sagged in relief. Of course, they wouldn't want someone like him. They were probably looking for students who could "represent" the school, whatever that meant.

"We need a few bright minds," Blake said. His eyes flickered again, and for a second, they landed back on Ryan. "And maybe some who are good at flying under the radar."

Ryan blinked. Was he serious?

Before he could even process what was happening, Blake pointed to him. "You there—Ryan, isn't it?"

Ryan's heart thudded in his chest. How did Blake know his name? He felt every pair of eyes in the classroom land on him, the weight of sudden attention pressing down like an invisible hand. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came out.

"Yes, Ryan," Blake repeated, as if confirming a decision he'd already made. "You'll do."

Ryan exchanged a bewildered look with Mrs. Hendricks, but she just gave a small nod as if to say, Don't question it. Slowly, Ryan gathered his things and stood up, feeling uncomfortably conspicuous as he joined the group of students Blake had selected.

"Follow me," Dr. Blake instructed, turning sharply on his heel and heading for the door.

Ryan didn't have much choice. He trailed behind Derek and the others as they were led out of the classroom, his mind spinning with questions. Why me? he wondered, though he didn't have the nerve to ask. Blake hadn't given any hint of what this "demonstration" would entail, but Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was, it was far more than a simple science experiment.

The walk to the research institute felt longer than it should have. The afternoon sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting the town in a warm, golden glow. Ryan glanced sideways at the other students, most of whom seemed excited, cracking jokes about skipping class and getting to see something cool. Derek, as usual, was at the center of it all, his voice carrying easily over the group as he bragged about his latest swim meet. No one paid any attention to Ryan, but that was normal. He didn't mind being invisible—it gave him space to think, to observe.

The research institute loomed ahead, all sleek glass and steel, a stark contrast to the modest suburban streets that surrounded it. The building was intimidating, and it had an eerie sort of silence about it, as if the technology inside had swallowed the usual noise of everyday life. A wide set of automatic doors slid open as they approached, and Dr. Blake led them inside.

The air in the institute was cool, almost sterile, and the hum of machinery echoed faintly from somewhere deep within. They passed by several closed doors with sleek, keycard-access panels, each one labeled with technical terms that meant nothing to Ryan. Quantum Experimentation Unit, Dimensional Stability Lab, Multiverse Project. Ryan's heart picked up its pace again. Multiverse. The word was always thrown around in science fiction movies and comic books, but what did it really mean?

"Right this way," Dr. Blake said, his voice calm and measured. He ushered them into a large room with walls covered in screens and diagrams, all of them displaying complicated mathematical models and shifting patterns that looked like something out of a dream. In the center of the room stood an odd, metallic structure—a tall, circular frame, not quite a machine but not quite anything Ryan had seen before either. It hummed softly, almost like it was alive.

"This," Blake said, gesturing toward the structure, "is the portal."

Ryan's breath caught in his throat. Portal? Like… to another world? His head was spinning. How could something like this exist here, in their sleepy little town?

Dr. Blake stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back. "What you're seeing here is the culmination of years of research into the multiverse. We've theorized for decades that there are infinite realities, each existing parallel to our own. And now, for the first time, we're ready to prove it."

The other students looked intrigued, some excited, some confused. Ryan stood still, staring at the portal, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. This didn't feel real. It was too big, too extraordinary. Things like this didn't happen to him.

"The demonstration will begin shortly," Blake continued. "We'll be conducting a brief test—just a glimpse into another dimension. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe."

Perfectly safe.

Ryan wasn't so sure. There was something about the portal, something in the way it pulsed and shifted, that made his skin prickle with unease. He wanted to step back, but his feet stayed glued to the spot.

Blake turned to a technician seated at a control panel. "Begin the sequence."

A soft whirring sound filled the air as the machine came to life. The portal frame began to glow, light flickering along its edges like fireflies in the dark. The screens around the room lit up with streams of data, numbers and graphs shifting at a dizzying pace. The hum grew louder, more insistent.

Then, without warning, the light from the portal flared—blinding, brilliant. Ryan instinctively threw his arm up to shield his eyes, but it was too late. The room around him seemed to warp, the walls stretching and bending like rubber. He heard the others shouting, but their voices sounded distant, as though they were calling from underwater. The ground tilted beneath his feet, and for one terrifying second, he felt like he was falling—falling through space, through reality itself.

And then, everything went dark.