From: lalsoong@sprynet.com (Christine Wirick )
Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative
Subject: Paradox Delusion  21/23
Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1997 19:00:46 GMT
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                              Chapter Twenty-One

     I'm there again, Sam thought as he leaped into the next host.
This is another dimension.

     He turned around, studying his surroundings, finding he was on a
paved street.  Just ahead several yards, a huge crowd blocked the
roadway.  He approached them, curious about what they were watching.
Urgently, he fought his way through the spectators, somehow knowing
that he didn't have time to waste.

     A boy of about fourteen or fifteen was kneeling on a platform
with his arms tied behind his back.  Hovering over him, a man held a
small object.  Beckett squinted, trying to make out what the object
was.  It looked like a syringe--no, he realized, it was more like a
hypospray used in the futuristic world of Star Trek.  The boy glanced
at Sam and oddly smiled.  The time traveler wanted to stop the
execution, wanted to end the vicious cycle, but he knew, from the
boy's smile, that this death had some purpose.  The man pressed the
hypospray against the boy's neck and within moments, the boy's body
crumpled to the floor.

     Sam wanted to cry out, wanted to show his grief, but the uproar
amongst the onlookers drowned him out.  They were clapping as though
having listened to an eloquent speech instead of having just witnessed
a murder.

     They're at war, Sam realized, suddenly remembering Patrick's
journal and more specifically the entry referring to this world.
People at war do crazy things.  That was why it had been so difficult
to persuade Ben to forgive Karen.

     "Are you coming to the auction?" the man beside Sam asked.

     "Auction?"  How could people talk about such things after
witnessing an execution?!

     The man seemed not to notice Sam's confusion.  "I hear that this
boy is going to go for a fine price."

     Suddenly, Sam remembered every word of Patrick's journal entries
on this world.  "Oh boy. . ." he mumbled.  The body would be used for
twisted autopsy experiments.  Louder, Sam answered the man, "Yes."  He
watched three men carefully place the body in a zipper bag.  "I think
I will."

     "I'm glad to hear that, but I hope you don't think you're going
to out bid me."  He laughed heartily and slapped Sam on the back.
"See you."

     "Yeah, see you," Sam replied without enthusiasm.

     It took Beckett a while to figure out where this auction was
going to take place.  He couldn't come right out and ask people at the
risk of sounding stupid.  Normally, he relied on Al for such
information, and thinking about it, made him miss his friend all the
more.  He wondered if his friend would find a way into this dimension,
but didn't figure it likely.  During the last altered world, Sam had
been there for more than a week when Al showed up.  With the body
auction going on that night, it didn't seem likely that he would
remain here that long.

     It turned out that, unlike the execution, the auction was not
publicly advertised.  Only the richest and most prestigious members of
the community were invited to bid on the body.  In the process of
learning all this, Sam also found out the boy's "crime."  Filup had
been coerced by gang members to steal a doll from a six-year old girl.
Afraid he would never fit in otherwise, the fifteen-year old boy
snatched the doll from the screaming girl's hands and tossed it down a
well.  Apparently, this society believed that dolls possessed souls
like living, breathing people, and Filup had essentially been charged
with murder.

     What the judge called a trial was a joke.  Filup had been tried,
sentenced, and executed all on the same day.  And now his body was
going to be auctioned off for someone's sick necrophiliac pleasure
tonight.  Reminding himself that this wasn't his world didn't help
steady Sam's queasy stomach any.

     When Sam arrived at the old barn where the auction was taking
place, there were hardly any seats left.  Apparently, a rather large
portion of the community was considered prestigious.  He had to sit in
the back row where his view was very poor.

     "Have you heard how many bodies are going to be auctioned off
today?" a fat woman, leaning toward him, asked.

     "No, I haven't."

     "Rumor has it--sixteen.  Can you believe it!  No wonder there are
so many people here."

     "Yeah. . .ah, this is my first auction.  How many bodies are
usually auctioned off?"  Sam hoped he didn't sound foolish asking.

     "Oh, usually nine or ten at the most.  I came close to winning
the bid on one of them last time.  My husband needs one to complete
his thesis in bimolecular engineering."

     Sam didn't like the sound of the "engineering" part given what he
already knew about this world and decided not to ask her to explain.

     A tall, husky man walked up to the podium on the stage and the
crowd quickly quieted down.  "Sorry for the delay, folks," he said
with a smile.  "I know you're all pretty anxious to get this started.
We had just a little trouble transporting a couple of the bodies, but
I assure you that all is fine and no harm has come to any of the
bodies.  And without any further ado--" he turned to look somewhere
off stage.  "Gentlemen, please bring out the first body."

     Carefully, four men carried out a large coffin-like box and
placed it directly in front of the podium.  Slowly, two of them lifted
the hinged lid to reveal the body of a beautiful young woman with long
golden curls and a white silk dress.  She looked peaceful, at sleep.
The four men walked off the stage, casually.

     "Our first specimen," said the man at the podium, "is Ardrion
Kralitz.  She was executed just this morning for aborting her
four-month fetus.  Who will give $500 yingums for this body?"  Someone
raised his hand.  "Do I hear $600?"

     The fat lady raised her hand as she mumbled, "They haven't even
begun."  Within seconds, the bid was up to $7500.

     "Going once, going twice. . ."

     "$7525!" the fat lady yelled, standing to be heard.

     "Do I hear $7550?  No one else shouted out a bid.  "Sold for
$7525.  Come up and sign the agreement form, Ma'am."

     "I finally saved up enough!" she exclaimed, clapping all the way
to the stage.

     Each body continued to go for considerably high bids.  When the
auctioneer reached the body of the young Filup, he started the bid at
10,000 yingums.  This startled Sam.  Why was the boy's body worth more
than the others?  He leaned over to ask the fat woman, somehow sure
she would fill him in on all the details.

     "People bid on the crime committed," she informed him.  "Didn't
you know that?"  She sounded completely flabbergasted.

     "Why is throwing a doll down a well a valuable crime?"

     She snorted and shook her head incredulously.  "He not only
committed murder, but he destroyed a young girl's life.  she has lost
her guardian, the one who would have led her into adulthood and
eventually into motherhood as well."

     Sam was afraid to ask for anymore details.  She was already
eyeing him like the alien he was.  As well were others nearby who had
caught snatches of the conversation.  He decided to leave and stood,
trying to fight his way out of the crowd, but before he could, he
leaped out.

          *         *         *


     Sam found himself leaping into a man standing in the doorway to a
kitchen.  He glanced around, unsure if he was back in his own world or
in yet another bizarre alter world.

     "Are you going to take Matthew his supper, or not?" a woman
inside the kitchen asked Sam, pointing at a full plate.

     "Ah. . .yeah," Sam replied slowly as he took the plate.

     He only hoped he didn't have too much trouble finding the room.
He walked through the living room and down a hall.  Only one door was
open, so he ventured toward it and peered inside.

     Lying on a bed was an elderly man, who appeared infirm.  The man
put forth a great effort to lift his head and smile at Sam.  "I knew
you would be coming," he said in a raspy voice.

     Sam hesitated in the doorway for a moment, staring at the elderly
man and wondering.  "Ah. . .I brought you your supper," he said,
slowly walking toward the bed.

     "Set it down on the nightstand, son.  I'll get to it later.  Pull
up that chair over there and sit with me for a spell.  We have much to
talk about, much to catch up with.  Do you know who I am?"

     Sam studied the man intently from his grey eyes to his grey hair
to his grey beard.  Though weak and wrinkled, the man wore an
expression of contentment.  He'd led a long and satisfying life in
this world.

     "You're Matthew, of course," Sam replied.  His name quavered
slightly on the name Matthew.  Where had he heard that name before?
Oh God, how he hated having to live with a swiss-cheesed brain.  He
always forgot the most important details at the moment he needed to
retrieve them.

     Seeming to understand Sam's confusion, Matthew said, "I've come
full circle.  Do you not understand?  I have lived many lives and
suffered through many deaths.  This life has been a good one.  I have
experienced many years with the love of a wonderful woman.  Together,
we raised four children and now have seventeen grandchildren.  My
wife, bless her poor soul, passed on two years ago.  Now it is almost
time for me to join her.  But we both know I won't really join
her--not yet.  Son, do you know who I am?" the man asked again.

     Sam leaned forward and grasped the man's wilting hand.
"Patrick?" he said.  "I knew, or at least I think I did, but I wasn't
sure whether or not you would know."

     The man chuckled lightly.  "Oh, I've known.  I've lived a long
time, knowing.  I could not tell anyone, not even my wife, Tilya.
Reincarnation is not a strong belief in this world."

     "That must have been difficult for you."

     "Don't fret about that, Sam.  I lived a normal and happy life in
this world.  I have no regrets, no unfulfilled wishes.  I am ready to
go back now--back to our world.  As Patrick, I will realize my
greatest achievements.  Now that my fates in each of these worlds have
come to pass, I will remember them--and learn from them--and grow from
them.  They will be the crux of what I become."

     Matthew closed his eyes and almost at a whisper, said, "I'm so
tired. . .I'm so tired."  His hand slipped from Sam's and grew limp.
Staring at the elderly man, Sam did not even see a flicker of
movement.  After enjoying a long and rewarding life in this world,
Matthew had succumb to death peacefully.

     Sam placed both of the man's hands across his chest and then
stood.  "Rest in peace, Matthew," he said.  "Rest in peace."

     A moment later, Sam leaped out of that world.