Isle of Me
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About this ebook
A physicist is accidentally transported to another dimension and trapped on a deserted island alone. Soon though, she isn't so alone, when another version of her, from another dimension appears. Then another version of her. And another.
Can they figure out a way off the island? Can they figure out what is happening? Can they stop from succumbing to the curiosity of what it's like to kiss yourself?
Jack Stratton
Writer, hedonist, feminist, queer, kinky, polyamorous, dandy. Join my Patreon for access to over 100 stories, audiobooks, and more. 47 years old. Brooklyn. He/him.
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Isle of Me - Jack Stratton
Isle of Me
By Jack Stratton
Published by Jack Stratton
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2019 Jack Stratton
Discover other stories by Jack Stratton at writingdirty.com
I can’t imagine anyone ever reading this except me. Apparently, that makes it more of a necessity. It also means, since I’m the only one who will read it, I can skip a lot of things.
Though it’s helpful to remind myself who I am these days.
My name is Dr. Angela Wagner. I am, or was, the head of the Applied Physics division of UNSTAI, the United Nations Scientific & Technological Advancement Initiative. I was born in New York, near the beginning of the 21st century.
I’m recording this on what is currently my greatest achievement. That’s saying a lot since I helped invent a machine that creates stable wormholes. One would think that would be my greatest achievement, but in hindsight, it was a really fucking bad idea. My actual greatest achievement was putting together a laptop from shit that washed ashore on this island I am stuck on and rebuilding a solar panel to power it.
I did have some help, but before I explain that, let’s back up a little.
Before I got to the island, I was a hotshot scientist. As much as a scientist could be a rockstar, that was me. I spent my time between Geneva, Boston, London, and a bunch of top-secret military bases. I was a real jet setter. I loved my life. I was working on the most advanced piece of science humanity had ever attempted: the Minkowski-de Siter Stabilizer.
Can you guess the rest? Worked on it day and night, something went wrong, something blew up, I woke up on a lovely, if deserted, island in the middle of the Pacific. If my calculations are right (let’s guess they are) I’m not in the same place I was. By that, I mean I’m in another dimension.
That’s the theory at least. The evidence I have gathered involves the tremendous amount of debris that has washed up on the shore of this island. There is far more debris that I’ve seen on any beach at home and every scrap of paper, every can of food’s expiration date, everything, seems to end in the 1990s. I haven’t seen any airplanes or ships in three years I’ve been here. A couple of birds and lots of fish. Other than that, I’m stuck here with myself on a world that seems to have had an extinction-level event.
The good news is there are plenty of fish. Lots of fruit. A big pool of freshwater that gathers in the center of the island as well as some kind of giant succulent plant that you can poke a hole in and drink your fill from.
Now comes the complicated part.
At seemingly random intervals that range from two weeks to three months, another me drops out of the sky.
It’s always in the same spot, just north of the place I made shelter, about 100 meters from the shore, 10 meters above the water. A thin bluish sliver of light appears for 8.5 seconds, and