The brilliant scientist, Portage McPeeve, does not want to take over the world.
He’s discovered a way to travel the stars, using them as gateways into other realities. With his Gateway Manipulator, he hopes to rule allthe worlds of the multi-verse with an iron fist. However, when his beloved kitten becomes lost through the machine, he does not hesitate to cast plans for multi-world domination aside; instead, he follows her through the cosmos – encountering zombies, higher education for Supers, Greek gods, and killer ninjas along the way.
Will Portage find Mrs. Bumblefrost before it’s too late?
Meanwhile, in another universe-
She’s hardly a social creature, thought Portage, taking time to inspect the bolts and locks on the huge wooden door. Mrs. Bumblefrost’s safety might depend on what he gleaned about the woman who had stolen his beloved kitten, so he couldn’t afford to overlook clues, no matter how trivial. Why did she have to complicate things?
He inspected the studio apartment. Set into its brick walls, double-thick windows led out onto a rickety fire escape. He briefly wondered if the building was up to code. Every wall was covered with artwork: watercolors sat alongside tempura painted canvases. Drawings were tacked haphazardly to walls: some charcoal sketches, some colored pencils, and even some rough pastels.
Many images varied on the same theme, a red desert -in styles both realistic and abstract. The thought struck Portage that the artist’s attempts to capture the scene may have been for reasons other than simple aesetetics; perhaps her need was deeper, closer to obsession. Portage could relate to that. When struck by inspiration, he worked day and night, unable to eat or sleep or think of anything other than his task. Did the mystery woman experience the same compulsion?
He gazed at each image, waiting to see what story each would tell. Aside from the desert themes, her other works held no obvious similarities. An elegant tea party in an old fashioned house gave way to a charcoal sketch of a chain gang; a watercolor of Supers battling with strange weapons perched alongside a pastel drawing of animated corpses.
The red planet scenes seemed the most recent though. He approached a large easel set near the window. He touch the coarse horse-hair of the painbrush on the nearby windowsill; wet crimson clung to his fingertips.
After taking photos with his cell, he took out a large plastic gun and scanned each image. Then he pulled out more tools from his bottomless coat pockets and began scraping small bits from each work. He noticed the author’s signature. “Alice,” he muttered. Looking around once again, he took in the cat statue, the large top hat in the tea party painting, and other minute details. “I wonder…”
A theory, wildly improbable yet annoyingly tenacious, began to worm its way through his mind. There was no way to verify his hunch but return to his own universe. There he could organize the data to track the infernal Alice, along with Mrs. Bumblefrost, through the multi-verse. If he could predict their destination in time, he might catch them before they became forever doomed to fall through the fabric holding the multi-verse together.
He turned back to the where the Gateway should have been and walked-
– into the hard wooden door.
The Gateway was gone.
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**Look for the next exciting installment of Pinholesnext Tuesday, same cat-time, same cat-channel… uh, blog. I mean, blog.