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eBook Category: Science Fiction/Fantasy Aurora Award Nominee
eBook Description: Jacob Coin sometimes wonders about that other life he might have had: the one in which he followed his dream of becoming a paleontologist, instead of settling into the comfortable life of a freelance writer. But suddenly it's more than just idle daydreaming; suddenly, things meant for that other version of him start arriving in his mailbox, and Jacob is determined to find out what's going on...

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: TransVersions 3, 1995
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2005

56 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [209 KB], eReader (PDB) [28 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [14 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [14 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [75 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [85 KB], hiebook (KML) [42 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [41 KB], iSilo (PDB) [12 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [15 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [43 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [24 KB]
Words: 4290
Reading time: 12-17 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

The intercom buzzer sounded like a cardiac defibrillator giving a jump-start to a dying man. I sprang from my chair, not even pausing to save the article I was working on, threw back the dead-bolt, and hurried into the corridor. My apartment was next to the stairwell, so I swung through the fire door and bounded down the three flights to the lobby, through the inner glass door, and into the building's entry chamber.

The Pope was digging through his bag. Of course, he wasn't really the Pope--he probably wasn't even Catholic--but he bore a definite resemblance to John Paul II. The underarms of his pale blue Canada Post shirt were soaked and he was wearing those dark uniform shorts that made him look like an English schoolboy. We exchanged greetings; he spoke in an obscure European accent.

A hole in the panel above the mailboxes puckered like an infected wound. John Paul inserted a brass key into it. The panel flopped forward the way a pull-down bed does, giving him access to a row of little cubicles. He began stuffing the day's round of junk mail into these--a bed of fertilizer for the first-class goodies. He left my mailbox empty, though, and instead dealt out a full set of leaflets and sale flyers onto the counter that jutted from the wall.

For most people the real mail amounted to one or two pieces, but I got a lot more than that--including a copy of the Ryerson Rambler, the alumni magazine from Ryerson Polytechnic University. When he was finished, the Pope scooped up my pile and handed it to me. As usual, it was too much to fit comfortably into the box. "Thanks," I said, and headed back into the lobby.

I'd promised myself that I'd always take the stairs up to the third floor--one of these days I'd lose that spare tire--but, well, the elevator was right there, its door invitingly open...