microstories
Curiosity Shoppe of Worlds
by Martine Leavitt
I never skip school.
But today? I don't know – I just needed to be alone for a while. I guess you're not alone alone at a mall, but you know what I mean.
If I were honest, I was missing my girl. I mean, I don't have a girl, but I was still missing her. So I 'm walking around, feeling pretty low, and I end up at this corner of the mall where hardly anybody goes, and there's this this really weird store called Curiosity Shoppe of Worlds.
I go in, and on the shelves are all these Worlds – shelf after shelf of Worlds. Not plastic globes. These are... alive. These are breathing. It's like they have a pulse. It's like a pet store, only Worlds. One World revolves slowly inside the eye of a skull, one balances a top hat on its Arctic ice, another is made of cake, the icing applied to look like ocean waves... Some hang from the ceiling among Solar System mobiles, except there's no strings or wire.... One group, the size of Christmas ornaments, hover among the branches of a bare tree. Many Worlds float just above pedestals like crystal balls. I've seen all the kids at school were getting their Worlds, so I'm pretty interested, seeing as I haven't gotten one yet.
The clerk looks like Stephen Hawking, except he's standing up and talking, and he has white hair.
"You're supposed to be in school," he says, as if he knows me. He smiles – he has resting-joy face – and says, "I was expecting you. You've come for your World, of course."
I realize, yeah, I have. I've come for my World.
Some are showing their dark side and are all lit up with cities. One has airplanes crossing the oceans "like a murmuration of starlings," says Hawking. "How much?" I ask.
"Free," he says.
"I can afford that. Do I get my pick?"
"Yes, you get your pick. But you'll pick yours."
One – not mine – off in a corner where you might not notice, is a World that is more beautiful than all the other Worlds. I'm not exaggerating. It's a girl's World. I'm thinking, if I had a girlfriend, which I didn't and probably never would because of who would go with a loser like me – but if I ever did, this would be hers. The land masses are a prettier green, the oceans kinda frothy and friendly, the clouds in fancy shapes like calligraphy. Her World has plum orchards and fields of cornflowers. I love that World at first sight.
"Whose is that?" I ask.
He smiles. "It's a beauty, isn't it. Unique. Exquisite, really. It belongs to someone all right, but the warranty on it won't last long enough for her to pick it up. Only two more hours, actually. She'll never know how beautiful it is. Was."
"What? How is that fair?"
"Good question. Nevertheless, this is her World."
I can see – I swear I see – unicorns prancing on that World.
"Whose is it? I'll tell her not to pick it," I say.
"She will choose it," he says. "She did choose it. It's hers. The past, like the future, is indefinite and exists only as a spectrum of possibilities."
I wanted to smack the resting joy right off his face.
"Don't let her have it," I say.
"It's not for me to decide," he says.
"You could – you could extend the warranty."
"Look, this is about you, young man. It's time you had a World. Take your time. Choose well."
I think, this guy might be Stephen Hawking, but maybe I can outsmart him.
"Okay," I say. "Okay. Tell you what. I pick for myself a World where her World has a warranty of, like, ninety years. Where's that World? Show me that World. That's the one I want."
He smiles. "Clever," he says. "That would be this model over here. In this World, the warranty on her World will be ninety-two years." He pauses. "Full disclosure. Your model, the World you've chosen here, has no warranty at all."
"Dude," I say.
"Even so, it's a pretty impressive World, this one," he says, like he was a shoe salesman, or a dog breeder trying to sell me a puppy. "A handsome World, heroic even."
I think for a minute about what I'm doing. The World inside the eye socket of the skull stares me down.
"But this World," I say, "it's got her in it? No tricks? No small print?"
"It's definitely got her in it," says Stephen. "These Worlds are a set, really."
"Does she – maybe does she become my girlfriend in this World?" I ask.
The joy on Hawking's face isn't resting anymore – it's leaping. "Girlfriend is too low a word for it. This is the greatest love in the shop."
"I'll take it," I say.
"Good choice," he says. "And it comes with a bonus Sun, your World."
He puts my World and its bonus Sun in a brown paper sack.
The sun is shining right through my paper bag when I leave the mall and head to school.
No warranty, but I'm just going to school What could happen? It's just school.
I'll be there in time for lunch. The first thing I'll do is look for her.
Hi, I'll say. Hi.
