The First State of Being: Chapters 18–22

Ridge, enamored by the “antiquated technology,” asked if he could press the button.

Ridge dutifully pushed each one on the keypad and listened intently as Mr. Mosley’s phone rang.

Or you could ransack a grocery store for supplies and a shelf could fall on you and send you to the hospital.

Then again, if I say, ‘Michael, nothing is going to happen. No disaster will come to pass,’ then you could tell all your friends that they don’t need to worry, and you could go on the news and tell everyone it’s all a big buildup to nothing.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve and took a swig of his milkshake.

He imagined sitting in a booth, getting injected with microchips.

If I lived in the future, could I get an upgrade to make myself as big as Beejee?—but a commercial for Super Smash Mario Brothers came on and diverted Ridge’s attention.

Some people think it refers to the dunes on the Delaware coast.

The paper would have been disregarded as meaningless had it not been encased in a glass frame, hinting at greater importance.

The opposite side of the document once had verbiage, but the image has faded with age and is impossible to decipher, despite numerous attempts by modern science.

The scientific community has never been able to attach any significance or meaning to the word “ridge.”

There are various theories, all of which have sparked spirited debate.

Others believe it could refer to gyri, the ridges on the outer surface of the brain.

Michael took a big bite of his. He was famished.

She says the Conklin Principle goes like this: For every bad outcome you can anticipate, you should consider at least one positive outcome.

The sidewalk lights cast a subtle light in the darkness.

He was jumpy and nervous, pacing Beejee’s living room and wringing his hands.

“I’m going to be in a monumental amount of trouble. Who knows what I’m returning to...”

Disciplinary action in front of the GSC. Revocation of my mother’s scientific license. Shutdown of the lab. The end of spatial teleportation science for all eternity.

Not to mention, the Saeed Theory of time travel could be wrong, and I may have inadvertently changed the course of human history while I was here, and when I get home, I’ll encounter an alternate reality in which nothing from my previous life remains.

“Okay,” Gibby and Michael said simultaneously.

His eyes tried to make sense of what was happening, because it didn’t seem logical, but it was happening—Ridge was slipping in and out of focus.

“I wish I had a camera,” Gibby whispered, her eyes transfixed.

Ridge was coming back into focus, like a hastily reassembled puzzle.

If we involve the GSC, they might dismantle the STM before we get Ridge back.