A book store, in the East wing of the Plaza Garden Mall in Woodbridge, Virginia, housed a rather large fiction section. Eli Nelson, a student at Morrison University, was scouring the shelves looking for an interesting story for the basis of his upcoming school assignment. The book report was left open-ended by Nelson’s English teacher, Dr. Amanda Wexler, with its instructions emphasizing that the class should select an unusual piece of fiction and analyze the metaphoric symbolism in the characters, the settings, or the plot. Nelson was struggling to find a book that could effectively satisfy the instructions of the assignment while also being an interesting topic to write on at the same time.

Nelson had spent the last forty minutes searching. The college student avoided the classics, as Nelson thought that would not be ‘unusual’ enough. Nelson also declined to pursue stories some of his fellow classmates and friends had selected for their own reports. Nelson’s older brother, Adam, had come along with the college student and was helping him look.

“How about, ‘A Mystery in Manhattan’ by that Taylor Elkhart guy?” Adam asked from the mystery section in the isle over.

“Jared’s already doing that one.” Eli replied dismissively as he scanned the last few shelves in the fiction section, “I want to try and pick something original.” Nelson skimmed over some other titles on a bottom shelf: “The Long Shadow” by Ryan Michaels, “Ozorn County” by Susan Bollers, “The Road Less Hollowed: A Patricia Stark Novel” by Wallace Davidson, “Purgatory’s Wrath” by Edward Miller, and “The Dreaded” by Oswald Youngblood. The last book on the bottom shelf caught Nelson’s eye. “I think I got it!” Eli announced.

“Cool!” Adam responded, looking relieved, “What is it?”

“‘What is Real Here is Fiction Elsewhere: the Multiversial Parable’ by Keith McEvoy.” Eli answered, flipping through some of the pages, “If I can’t find anything to write about in here, then I’m just going to give up on the assignment.”

“It doesn’t seem very long.” Adam noted as the brothers left the fiction section and headed for the checkout counter toward the front of the store.

“Dr. Wexler said not to worry about length just as long as you can fulfill the assignment instructions.” Eli reasoned with his brother as they approached the counter, “If I can get a ‘B’ I’ll be happy.”    

…

“Richard Dwyer was, by all accounts, a failed writer. The son of a special effects coordinator, Dwyer grew up around directors and producers of movies and television shows who envisioned plots, characters, and settings as if it were simply second nature to them. Dwyer became exposed to all manner of various projects involving any number of genres his father worked on, and inevitably, fell in love with story crafting. Richard Dwyer envisioned a world where he was the author of his own novel, the producer of his own television show, and a director of his own movie.

When the failed writer was nine, one of the directors Dwyer’s father worked with, Denise Winlott, proclaimed, “Stories are only as good as the story teller.” Dwyer took the advice to heart along with a quote from a visionary 19^th century author Dwyer idolized during that time:

“The imagination serves as the engine of all things. To fuel it means to leave this world and to enter another.” Oscar Bryan was a poet and science fiction writer who was best known for his works detailing such things as time travel and interdimensional exploitation. Nicknamed the “Father of the Multiverse,” Bryan’s work helped to narrow Richard Dwyer’s field of interest. Throughout high school and college, Dwyer focused on writing science fiction and fantasy literature.

While in College, Dwyer faced a hard truth; Dwyer was not a very effective writer. Dwyer’s plots were confusing and predictable, the characters were dry and unoriginal and the settings were bleak and boring. Rejection became a friend as Dwyer was given those same critiques time and time again as the failed author tried desperately to fulfill his goal to publish his work.

It was nearing graduation one night at dinner in late March when Dwyer’s parents gave Richard some further advice over the phone:

“Maybe it’s time you start looking for a backup plan?” Those words sank Dwyer into a depression, and his writing prowess, or what little of it was there to begin with, suffered greatly. Richard’s inbox was full of publishers respectfully declining to publish his work and writer’s block had become a dominating presense within the failed writer’s mind. Dwyer spent long nights sitting at a desk inside the college’s library in the fiction section, watching the cars drive by outside the adjacent window. The quote by Oscar Bryan floated around Dwyer’s head:

“The imagination serves as the engine of all things. To fuel it means to leave this world and to enter another.”

A Nightjar soared in from the left to perch atop the narrow window sill. The beige bird plucked at its feathers and twitched its wings before launching itself back out into the night. Jolted from deep thought, Dwyer began scribbling. Dwyer wrote about the bird, how the beige Nightjar possessed magical capabilities, and how it appeared to those who needed inspiration. Dwyer crumpled up the piece of paper he was writing on and tossed it to the floor. Dwyer did the same for the next three drafts, all speaking at length about the bird.

Dwyer envisioned a fictional falconer who trained birds to fly around the world and deliver messages to select individuals. Dwyer scrapped that idea as well. Dwyer, however, remained fixated on the Nightjar and the idea of a mysterious figure charged with providing inspiration to those in desperate need for help.

Four more drafts later and the falconer and the Nightjar both had names. Hermes, the Nightjar, was trained and protected by the Quartermaster, the falconer. Dwyer incorporated his earliest fascinations with science fiction and the quote from Oscar Bryan to deepen the story and its lore:

The Quartermaster, who was a deity from a parallel universe, traverses the multiverse to rebuild and reorganize worlds in the way he sees fit. He uses his Nightjar, Hermes, to deliver messages and information to those of critical importance to each specific universe. Dwyer wrote about how the Quartermaster and Hermes helped build the Roman Empire in one universe, influenced George Washington to sail across the Delaware River in another, and inspired Thomas Edison to construct the lightbulb in a third. Dwyer wrote of wars the Quartermaster instigated in some worlds and the end of drawn out conflicts in others. In no uncertain terms, Dwyer indicated that the Quartermaster was an artist and the multiverse at large was merely an easel.

Dwyer’s imagination took flight, creating a whole host of different fictional characters and interjected them into reality. Dwyer wrote of people who, unbeknownst to them, had indirect communications with the Quartermaster, how they became inspired to fulfill their own life’s work, and how it affected their worlds thereafter.  

Dwyer finished as daybreak gleamed through the window of the library, titling it simply: “The Quartermaster and The Nightjar.” Over the coming months and years, Dwyer would accept a deal from a publisher to publish his novel. A producer would come along soon after that and adapt Dwyer’s story into a movie. Dwyer’s supporting characters took on a life of their own, with Dwyer dabbling in alternative history and incorporating elements of the adventure and superhero genres to create a vast storyline all interconnected by the efforts of the Quartermaster, who utilized his Nightjar Hermes to imprint different historical outcomes onto various parallel worlds that may not have happened had he not intervened.

Over time, Dwyer’s work inspired others and his own works became timeless artifacts of literary fiction. The previously failed writer sat down for an interview the day before his twentieth book were to be published.

“Who do you credit for your success?” The interviewer asked.

“My parents, Jacob and Morgan, first and foremost. They’ve been supportive of me my entire life.” Dwyer answered, “Oscar Bryan was a huge influence on me as well. And I should give a lot of credit to the Nightjar that inspired me in the last few weeks of college.” Dwyer smiled and laughed.

“What specifically is your interest in Science fiction?” The interviewer asked.

“I guess it’s the possibilities?” Dwyer answered with a question, “There are so many stories that could be told. I think the multiverse is an underutilized literary device.”

…

“How can I help you gentlemen?” The cashier asked as Adam and Eli approached the counter. Eli laid the book down next to the register.

“I’d like to buy this book.” Eli answered.

“McEvoy?” the cashier, whose nametag read ‘Quincy,’ noted as he scanned the book, “Interesting choice.”

“Have you ever read any of his stuff?” Eli asked, as he reached into his wallet and paid for the book.

“Yeah, he’s good.” Quincy answered, “I’ve met him before actually.”

“Really?” Adam asked, “Where’d you meet him?”

“Coffee shop up near Alexandria. I think it was right before he started writing this.” Quincy replied, holding up the book Eli had just purchased.  Quincy put the book into the bag and handed it to Eli. “Have a great day!”

“Thanks, you too!” Eli responded. The brothers headed back out toward the mall.

“Want to grab lunch while we’re here?” Adam asked.

“Sure.” Eli agreed, “But you’re buying.” Quincy watched the brothers leave. As soon as they fell out of eyesight, Quincy left his post from behind the counter and exited the book store through a side entrance of the mall. The side entrance led out into the sprawling parking lot, where people were walking back and forth from their cars to the mall and vice versa. Quincy held out his right arm.

“Hermes!” Quincy called. A Nightjar, the same Nightjar that inspired Richard Dwyer to write his novel, landed on the man’s arm. “Good boy.” The man gave the bird a treat before letting the Nightjar fly away again. Hermes flew in a large arc around the parking lot before seemingly disappearing from sight. Quincy began walking down the sidewalk that outlined the perimeter of the mall and also disappeared from sight moments later. No one around seemed concerned or even realized the bizarre occurrence. Everyone just continued on with their day without a second thought. The Quartermaster and Hermes had just left one Woodbridge, Virginia and entered another.

Photo by Mingwei Lim on Unsplash