Between Worlds: Trade

The morning had started like any other for Alex Chen – a cramped New York City subway car, the press of bodies, and the mild existential crisis that came with being a 28-year-old procurement specialist who felt his life slipping into comfortable mediocrity. His Samsung phone, barely six months old, had been acting strange all morning. The screen kept flickering with odd patterns he'd never seen before, geometric shapes that seemed to move with an almost organic fluidity.

"piece of junk," he muttered, drawing irritated glances from nearby passengers. The subway car rattled through the tunnel, fluorescent lights flickering in that familiar rhythm that had become the backdrop to his daily commute. He tried restarting the phone for the third time, more out of frustration than any real hope it would help.

The teenager standing next to him was watching some video without headphones, the tinny sound adding to Alex's growing headache. A woman in a business suit was applying makeup while holding onto the overhead bar with practiced ease. Normal. Everything was normal, except for his phone.

When the screen finally lit up again, something was different. Instead of his usual app icons and the photo of his parents' dog that he used as wallpaper, there was a single pulsing symbol. It looked almost like a Celtic knot but seemed to shift and change every time he tried to focus on it. Alex pressed it, not thinking about consequences, just operating on the automatic response of a generation raised to interact with screens.

The world... twisted.

It wasn't like in movies, where special effects make everything dramatic and clear. This was subtle at first – the quality of light changed, becoming softer, more diffuse. The sounds around him began to fade, not all at once, but in patches, like someone was selectively muting different frequencies. The pressing sensation of other bodies nearby disappeared, replaced by a tingling sensation that ran across his skin like static electricity.

Alex blinked, and when his eyes opened, the world had changed.

He stood in what had once been Grand Central Terminal – he recognized the basic architecture, the grand windows, the zodiac ceiling. But everything was wrong. The beautiful ceiling was shattered, letting in light from what appeared to be multiple suns – no, not suns, he realized with a start. They were artificial, hanging in the air like luminescent galaxies in miniature.

The marble floors were overtaken by what looked like chrome veins, pulsing with subtle light. They ran up the walls, merging with holographic displays that flickered with symbols he couldn't begin to comprehend. The air itself seemed alive, filled with microscopic particles that caught the light and created shifting patterns in the space around him.

Alex's first instinct was to run, but where? This was Grand Central, but it clearly wasn't his Grand Central. His phone was still clutched in his hand, screen now dark and normal-looking, as if it hadn't just apparently teleported him to... wherever this was.

He heard footsteps behind him – a measured, confident stride that spoke of someone completely at ease in this impossible place. Alex quickly pocketed his phone and turned, trying to project a confidence he absolutely did not feel.

A woman stood there, watching him with an expression that mixed curiosity with something else – calculation, perhaps. She appeared to be in her early thirties, with features that suggested mixed Asian and European ancestry. Her dark hair was styled in an undercut, with intricate geometric patterns shaved into the sides that seemed to complement the strange architecture around them. She wore what looked like tactical gear, but made of materials that seemed to shift and adapt as she moved. At her temple, a small device pulsed with a soft blue light.

"Interesting," she said, her voice carrying a slight accent Alex couldn't place. "You're remarkably calm for someone experiencing dimensional displacement."

Alex's mind raced. She clearly knew something about what had happened to him, but years of business negotiations had taught him one thing – never reveal your position until you understand the playing field.

"You seem remarkably calm about seeing someone appear out of nowhere," he countered, proud that his voice remained steady.

A slight smile curved her lips. "Who said I saw you appear? The sensors detected an anomaly. I came to investigate." She took a step forward, her movements precise and controlled. "I'm Dr. Sarah Mitchell. And you're currently standing in what we call the Aftermath."

Alex filed away every detail – her name, her title, the way she carried herself like someone used to authority. "The Aftermath of what?"

"Now that," she said, "is a very long story." She glanced at something he couldn't see, perhaps a heads-up display in her field of vision. "And we should probably continue it somewhere safer. The atmospheric nanites in this area are reaching critical density, and you don't appear to have any protective augments."

As if to emphasize her point, Alex noticed his skin was beginning to tingle unpleasantly. The shimmering in the air seemed more pronounced now, almost threatening.

"Follow me," Dr. Mitchell said, turning with military precision. "Unless you'd prefer to stay here and see what happens when unshielded organic matter encounters a class-three nanite swarm."

Alex hesitated only a moment before following her. Whatever was happening, she seemed to know the rules of this place. And right now, knowledge was survival.

As they walked, he observed everything he could. The way certain areas seemed to repair themselves, metallic growths shifting and reforming. The occasional flicker of what looked like electricity but behaved like liquid, running through transparent conduits in the walls. Every detail could be important, could help him understand what had happened and, more importantly, how to control it.

Because one thing was certain – if his phone had brought him here, it could probably take him back. And if he could travel between worlds... well, Alex hadn't become a procurement specialist without understanding the value of unique opportunities.

He just had to survive long enough to figure out how to exploit this one.