Hologram

Chapter I

– Do you think Professor F. will recognize your invention?

Roman, focused on overtaking, muttered something indistinctly. Only after a moment, when they stopped at a traffic light, did he say,

“I hope so. He’s one of the best physicists, after all, and he doesn’t have blinders on. I just don’t know if it’s appropriate to give him my work in those folders. And it’ll be uncomfortable to carry them.”

Anna glanced at the backseat of the car. Indeed, the three barely closed white folders, though brand new, weren’t a pretty sight.

“Scientists are forgiven a lot,” she thought, “but it would still be better if it were in a more “sloppy” format.”

Roman had barely managed to print five hundred pages of his dissertation, because, absorbed in his work, he’d only remembered yesterday that Professor F. from the States was to receive his honorary doctorate today. Binding was out of the question, and the binder had just broken down.

"You know," she said after a moment's thought, "you should put this in a nice briefcase, the kind with a handle and a clasp—I saw some at Tesco. Krzyś is already late for kindergarten, maybe we can make a detour there on the way? Or we can take him and come back. You decide."

The traffic light just turned green, Roman hesitated for a split second and drove straight on. Anna was even happier, Krzyś less so: "I don't want to go to kindergarten! I want to go to a hypermarket!"

"We're not going to a hypermarket," Anna explained calmly. "Dad changed his mind. I wonder if there'll be a stationery store on the way...

" "Well, I'm going downtown, I'll just get off somewhere along the way...

" "But where? I don't remember there being one on the route.

" "And the Adam Mickiewicz bookstore? Do you think I won't get it?"

"I don't know if it's worth the risk. You might be overthinking it.

They pulled up to the kindergarten, and Anna dropped her son off.

"So?" Are we going to Tesco?" she asked, getting back into the car.

Roman grimaced as if he'd swallowed a lemon.

"And where am I going to leave the car then? This would be the best place. A few steps to the bus stop and I'm in the city center. Unless I buy a parking space by the rector's office.

" "Oh, and you'll pay a pretty penny for this visit," Anna muttered mockingly. "Better leave it at 'Pestka,' like Witek. There's no parking zone there, and you'll be there in less than ten minutes."

They entered the large hypermarket hall, heading straight for the stationery counter. There were folders with handles, yes, but they were exceptionally ugly. They were about to grab three (3 x 8 złoty = 24, Anna quickly counted), when a large, dark green one made of varnished cardboard caught Roman's eye.

"It's pretty indeed," she confirmed, "but look at twelve fifty-three apiece.

" "I think we'll fit all our work in here," her husband reassured her.

He put the briefcase in the basket and headed for the checkout.

"But we were supposed to buy soy milk!" she protested. "I haven't had breakfast yet, and with all this fuss, I'll be home quite late."

"Then go get that milk, but quickly."

Anna grabbed two cartons and tossed them onto the conveyor belt at the checkout. While her husband was busy paying, a large poster advertising a new lipstick caught her eye.

"The first lipstick with a holographic effect!" the pink letters screamed.

Sipping the milk, they headed toward the car.

"Will Professor F. figure out how your equipment works from work? After all, it's five hundred pages; I don't know if he'll even bother reading it," Anna suddenly worried.

"Most of it is drawings and computer printouts anyway," Roman muttered through his teeth, trying to get the tube to the right place on the carton. "Time travel has always fascinated people, and the theory of rifts is nothing new." My invention isn't a classic time machine, like in Wells's tale. It's more... I'd say... a kind of "rift detector." It actually came to me by accident when I started wondering why ultra-weak luminescence readings sometimes came out so messed up.

"But can it be practically implemented?"

"I don't think so, unless we're sending your yeast into the future, or maybe the past," Roman smiled. "I don't think there are any rifts large enough for a larger organism to squeeze through. Well, maybe an invertebrate, but not a human.

" "Or maybe they're not rifts in time at all, but between parallel worlds?" Anna wondered.

"If they exist, but it seems to me that, at least as far as my invention is concerned, it's more likely to involve time. There you have it! It doesn't fit!

Indeed. About a hundred pages couldn't be squeezed into the folder at all.

" "And what will you do?

" "What can I do? I have to buy another one."

"Maybe buy some self-adhesive letters and mark the pages from-to on the folder, or which folder comes first?

" "And what do they look like, those letters?

" "Okay! I'm coming with you!" she sighed, scrambling out of the car.

They threw the empty cartons into the trash and re-entered the cool supermarket, heading for the stationery counter. They selected an identical folder, but the letters were nowhere to be found.

Roman headed to the checkout, and Anna ran for two more cartons of soy milk. She was just grabbing them from the shelf when she suddenly felt a slight dizziness and the cartons fell from her hands. She quickly picked them up from the floor and hurried after her husband. As she threw the cartons onto the conveyor belt, the cashier looked at them with a glint of déjà vu. She still had a strange expression on her face as she gave Roman change from a twenty-zloty bill for the second time.

Roman headed for his car, and Anna surreptitiously stopped at a cosmetics stand and quickly bought a "new lipstick with a holographic effect." She tossed it into her purse and followed her husband as if nothing had happened. Chapter II Leaving the car at "Pestka," they rode a tram to Kaponiera. Roman headed for the rector's office, and Anna transferred to the "Piątka" tram traveling along Święty Marcin Street. Despite their calm conversation, they were actually arguing. Or rather, she was. "Maybe it's not worth harboring resentment?" she thought. "After all, 'a guy is what he is, everyone sees,' there are some things he'll never understand, why get upset?" She recalled the beginnings of their acquaintance, when they met while working on ultra-weak luminescence. Her boss was building a multinational, interdisciplinary team, and she joined as a biologist, a specialist in yeast, which was an excellent model organism. Romek was one of the physicists, designing and refining the equipment. Love burst forth so suddenly and casually, overshadowing everything. Eventually, Anna, unable to reconcile family life with academic work, left the university for graduate school. Roman, meanwhile, was already finishing his postdoctoral degree. "Do you regret it?" asked her inner Voice. "Actually, no," she replied after some thought. "Writing a doctorate was incredibly boring; the work sometimes required being in the lab 24/7... it wasn't for me. Taking care of Krzyś is much more interesting. " "So, what exactly are you talking about?" the Voice probed. "I think I'm jealous," she admitted. "I put Roman first, and unfortunately, he didn't. He cheats on me with computers, physics, and even football (that's what I've been furious with him about since yesterday). A woman doesn't like so many rivals. A woman doesn't like rivals at all." "And he doesn't appreciate me," she complained to the Voice. "Sometimes when he's working on that ultra-weak thing of his, I'll give him an idea, dig up some literature for him. I'm not that stupid, I still remember what we did, and he treats it as his due, and even... I could swear he's sure he came up with one or another solution himself." She interrupted her inner monologue as the tram reached Strzelecka Street. Two elderly people were getting off ahead of her, first a man with gray hair as a dove, followed by a woman of a similar age. The man turned to the woman and gallantly asked, "Can you help me?" The woman thanked her and left. Anna was tempted to approach the man and say, "It's so nice to meet a real gentleman on the street," or something like that, but she lacked the courage. However, this scene clearly improved her mood. "Maybe men aren't so bad?" she thought, as a driver stopped to let her pass, even though she was crossing illegally.

She turned left, heading towards Maria Magdalena High School, where she was supposed to pick up the teacher supplies she needed before the end of the school year. Chapter III When she finally arrived home, it was already noon. She threw her bag on the couch and turned on her computer. "We need to clean up here," she thought, but a moment later she was completely absorbed in scrolling through her email. Nothing interesting arrived except for kilos of spam and a few new posts from the mailing list. She read them, replied to two, and while the system was busy sending them to the list, she reached for the mirror and pulled a new lipstick from her purse. She admired her "holographic lips" in the mirror for a moment, then returned to the computer. She clicked on the icon for her husband's catalog and opened his dissertation on time rifts. She wanted to read it more carefully, because the last few weeks (hundreds of tests to mark, grading, faculty meetings, and other "pleasures" befalling teachers before the end of the year) hadn't allowed her to do so earlier, and her morning discussion with her husband hadn't clarified anything. She didn't fully understand the camera's operating principles; after all, that was always a matter for physicists, but after learning how to turn it on, she decided to see for herself whether the slits were really absorbing or perhaps deflecting the ultra-weak luminescence. Glancing every now and then at the drawings and explanations displayed on the computer screen, she began connecting the colorful wires. "I think I succeeded," she exclaimed happily when the camera suddenly hummed. She darkened the room, drawing the thick curtains tightly shut, and removed the cover from the "lamp." For a moment, she admired the numbers flashing on the scanner, listening to the monotonous wheezing of the printer, when a printout completely at odds with what she'd read in her husband's dissertation caught her eye. She didn't know much about physics, but with her visual memory, she remembered that the rows of numbers formed a rather distinctive mosaic. This one was different. Well, yes: in the morning rush, they had knocked over a stack of books, and a piece of equipment called a "lamp" had shifted sharply to the side, almost touching a fork-like device that Romek jokingly called a "crack opener." She bent down to gather the books when she felt a tingling. She withdrew her hand. The tingling stopped. She stretched out both hands again. A faint tingling appeared again, first at the fingertips, then it moved to her wrists, towards her elbows... Without thinking about what she was doing, she took a step forward and suddenly... she lost her footing. She felt as if a huge vortex was sucking her in. It was both terrifying and pleasant at the same time. She felt dizzy, closed her eyes, waving her arms desperately... and a moment later, everything stopped. Chapter IV

She was sitting on what looked like a lawn, but the grass (if it even was grass) was much thicker and more even, and above all, it was super clean. No trash, no dog poop...

"Excuse me, can I help you?" she heard, and her eyes widened in surprise. The question came from Pierce Brosnan, dressed in a stylish uniform that looked like a cross between a suit and a tracksuit.

"Are you feeling all right?" he repeated the question, his voice laced with concern, curiosity, and a hint of disgust.

"Yes, yes, thank you, sorry," she replied. "I'm going now." She stood up, smoothing her dress. Today she was wearing a long linen shirtdress that wrinkled easily. Pierce Brosnan followed her gaze, and there must have been something about her outfit that made him lower his gaze, bow, and leave.

Anna looked around curiously, growing increasingly astonished. She was in what looked like a supermarket parking lot, but instead of cars, there were hundreds of streamlined vehicles, which, after some thought, she classified as hovercraft. Two Pamela Andersons walked past her, engaged in conversation. One of them held a black object in her hand, probably some kind of remote control for a shopping cart. They approached a red hovercraft; the other Pamela waved, and the hovercraft's hatch opened.

The cart pulled up and began loading groceries into the vehicle.

Nearby, Pierce Brosnan, this time dressed in a blue jumpsuit, drove a small vehicle combining the advantages of a broom and a watering can. It looked just like the one Anna had seen this morning, mopping the floor in the supermarket—even the color was similar. Pierce drove past her indifferently, as if seeing her for the first time. And perhaps it really was, because in the space vacated by Pamela Anderson, a beat-up hovercraft parked, and out stepped another Pierce Brosnan and Marilyn Monroe, leading a small boy with wide eyes who looked remarkably like a character from a Japanese cartoon

. Anna shook her head. "Either I've gone mad, or I've lost consciousness and am hallucinating, or... who knows, maybe I really have traveled back in time? I wonder where and what year it could be? Or maybe it's some kind of parallel universe?

" "Oh my God, Krzyś!" she suddenly remembered. "Romek is in a meeting with Professor F. and he'll be back late if I don't find a way to get back." The camera is still on, would it be possible to find the crack on the other side?

Frantically, she circled the spot where she had "landed," stretching out her hands and trying to feel for the crack, ignoring the oddity, but the familiar tingling sensation didn't appear.

"That's nice!" – she muttered – if only I could tell Romek to pick up Krzyś... What if Romek doesn't figure out what happened and I stay here forever?

Brad Pitt skated past her, along with two Wiśniewski Mandarins. A few meters away, Marilyn Monroe was screaming at Arnold Schwarzenegger.

"Nothing surprises me anymore," she thought, as five Pamela Andersons marched past, their ample breasts swaying.

Watching the people coming and going through the sliding doors, she started counting the Pamela Andersons, but gave up at the fifteenth. There were about ten Marilyn Monroes, over twenty Angelina Jolies, a dozen Nicole Kidmans, and several dozen more multiples of well-known beautiful faces, plus perhaps a hundred beautiful women, among whom four recurring beauty types could be distinguished.

There were no ugly women or gray-haired women. They were all beautiful, young, and looked to be in their twenties or thirties. She didn't see any teenagers anywhere. There were either children (but only cherubic blondes with curls, or black-haired, big-eyed Mangas) or twenty-somethings. No shapeless teenagers with acne problems.

The men looked to be in their twenties, but there were also some forty-somethings with slightly silvered temples, the latter mostly in the Pierce Brosnan mold. All of them, however, had fantastic figures, without an ounce of fat. Among the younger ones, Brad Pitt dominated in terms of numbers, but there were also glimpses of a (slightly slimmer) Leonardo di Caprio, Tom Cruise, and even Robert Redford and Gary Cooper. Anna wasn't sure if it was an illusion or if she had actually glimpsed Rudolph Valentino and a few Presleys.

"Excuse me," interrupted her observations. "Madam, a beautiful woman with long red hair, resembling Rita Hayworth (one of the four "non-acting" beauty types—Anna quickly classified her). "Maybe I shouldn't ask," the stranger explained, "but where did you get that face?"

"Excuse me?" Anna asked, surprised.

"It must have cost a lot, but my husband earns a good living, you see, I wouldn't dare ask, but..." the stranger's voice trembled dangerously, "...my husband... He said he can't look at me anymore, he sees the same faces everywhere... I wouldn't bother you, but I see you have a hologram, so you're married too, and since you have a face like that, your husband probably already..." the stranger spoke faster and faster, as if afraid that Anna would get impatient and leave. "Because I've tried everything, ma'am. When I was getting married, I had Jennifer Lopez do my makeup. We chose from a catalog together, and he liked her the best. But after a year, he got bored and started calling me 'you colored girl,' first jokingly, then angrily. So I took the money I had saved for the baby"—here the woman's eyes glazed over a bit—"and I had Marilyn do my makeup." It was new back then, you probably don't remember, because I can see from the hologram that you're very young, only seven years married, but back then it was all the rage – Marilyn, because it was such a retro look, and Naomi – so oriental. But since my husband didn't want to look at me as a Latina, I thought he wouldn't like the oriental look either, so I chose Marilyn, because of my fair skin and hair. At first, he was happy about it, but after a year, he started squinting at redheads. Finally, he told me, "Sandra – because I'm Sandra – I got a good job, here's some money, go red." I thought, "Lots of money, so I'll choose one that no one else has." And what do you think? It wasn't a month since I started wearing this face, and half the city started changing.

If it weren't for the hologram, my husband would have mistaken me for some strange woman.

But it's been two years, and my husband tells me he can't look at me. That he can't look at women at all." And even, you know," the woman couldn't hide her tears anymore, "I don't even want to go to bed, you puppet," she calls me.

So when I saw you, and those crow's feet around your eyes, and those freckles... God, if only I had a face like that! How did you get that crooked nose? All children are born with straight ones. It must have cost a lot. Such skin folds... But tell me, I can pay you too, just don't refuse me, I'd really like to finally have my own face..." Chapter V Suddenly, another Pierce Brosnan emerged from the shop, this time in a suit. The woman twitched nervously and whispered, shoving something into Anna's hand. "It's my card. Please call me! I'll pay, I'll pay you really well, you see I wear linen too..." and ran toward the man. Anna could have sworn he was trying to position himself so as to shield her from her husband. "He probably doesn't want him to be interested in my face." Poor woman, she sighed, it's a pity I can't help her... Suddenly someone grabbed her wrist tightly.

"Ah! There you are! So that's what you look like now! Well, well—I've never seen anything like it. A bit shocking at first glance, but... hmm! Interesting..." she heard.

She gasped. Before her stood the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Blue eyes framed in dark frames peered out from under his blond mane, strong muscles bulged beneath his shirt, and his broad chest beckoned her to snuggle up to him.

The man spoke, his white, even teeth flashing, without a trace of fillings, but it took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. He was saying something about a linen dress... But she couldn't concentrate, not just because of his beauty. She felt something about that perfect face didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was exhausting. With great effort, she forced herself to listen to what he was saying.

"I don't understand why you need all these linen dresses. One, maybe two, would be enough to show off your status, and you could wear synthetics every day. Ten times cheaper, and you don't have to pay for an ironing service. Seriously, honey, you went overboard buying a new dress, especially since every other woman your age has the same one. But as for your face... I've always wondered what it is about you that, being so perfectly identical, can also be so close to the original. Especially those grooves at the corners of your eyes and the tattoo on your teeth add to your charm.

" "A tattoo on your teeth?!!" she gasped in surprise. "Surely he's not talking about my fillings?" She tuned out again, and only after a moment did she realize she was comparing the guy to Romek, wondering what he'd be like in bed...

"Are you listening to me?" The guy grabbed her shoulders, and Anna felt her knees weaken.

She took a deep breath and took a step back.

"Excuse me," she said with as much calm as she could muster, "do we know each other?"

The guy burst out laughing.

"You know, honey, you made me laugh! Do you really think that if you change your face, I won't recognize you? You'd have to erase the hologram, and as you know, that's only possible with mutual consent. We kissed seven years ago, and from now on, I'll recognize you anywhere and anytime, no matter how many times you change your face."

At that moment, with the clarity of a lightning bolt, Anna realized what she didn't like about this perfect guy. Lips! The guy was wearing lipstick!

She touched her lips with her finger and remembered her new "holographic effect" lipstick. "

Actually—since the guy clearly considers me his wife, and the gap disappeared..." She felt ashamed at such thoughts. She rubbed her lips with her finger and saw a mixture of astonishment and terror in the guy's eyes.

"There you are, little doggy!" – a sonorous voice suddenly rang out, and a beautiful woman with a shock of red hair threw herself around the guy's neck. – What do I look like?

– “Fourth type of beauty,” Annie thought – but surely not the one with the business card?

"What? How?" the "little dog" stammered, "where? Where?" He looked from Anna to the redhead, from the redhead to Anna, and there was madness in his eyes.

"What happened, Misia? Who is that slut?" She looked at Anna, and anger flashed in her eyes. "What right does she have to have my hologram? You've got your eye on my husband, you rascal!"

Anna took another half-step back and suddenly felt a familiar tingling sensation on her leg. She quickly felt for the crack with her other foot, and before the redhead's manicured hands could catch it, she slid all the way in. She felt a shiver and a slight dizziness. This time, she didn't close her eyes, so she managed to keep her balance on the "landing."

"I hope I found the right crack," she thought, feeling solid ground beneath her feet and two cartons of soy milk slipping out in her hands.

She quickly picked them up and ran after her husband, who was approaching the checkout. As she tossed the cards onto the conveyor belt, the cashier looked at them with a glint of déjà vu.

She still had a strange expression on her face as she gave Roman change from a twenty-zloty bill.