Ringo paced back and forth impatiently, and finally threw himself into an easy chair with bad grace. His temperament couldn't exactly have been held against him. After all, he had just figured out a way that might send him back home, and the one person who would have listened to it wasn't there. Another of the many problems of visiting another dimension, Ringo mused laughingly, not many people to talk to.

Mozart wandered into the room, unwittingly volunteering to listen to anything Ringo had to say.

"Hey Mo--" Ringo broke off, run over by a train of thought. Mo... the REAL Mo, how was she? Surely she would have noticed he was gone!

And what of the other guys? Were the police looking for him now? Did they think that he had died-- Ringo suddenly remembered Rich. No, the police wouldn't be out looking for him. His likeness would be there, and that would be enough for them. Had Rich figured out what had happened? Had he told anyone? Ringo sighed. There were far too many questions, and none of them answerable. He pushed them into the back of his mind, and flipped a switch that activated the television screen.

"--the pros and cons of hover boarding, an interrogative study. Has what some call a fun-loving sport has become a danger to health? From studies performed by the Alexandrian Health Bureau, it can be drawn that 'riding the air', as teens like to call it, can increase the chance of getting lung cancer. The manufacturers claim that the bureau is overreacting and has not tested fully enough the implications of wearing a--"

The flickering lights and images had a hypnotic affect on Ringo and though it was only about noon, he dosed off.

There was a loud knock on the door, and Ringo was startled awake.

"--crime spree continues," the television screen chattered on, having long ago changed subject "with the notorious criminal 'Macca' still at larg--"

Ringo turned off the screen, not heeding it's chatter, and walked over to answer the door, wondering what he would do if it was someone other than John. Luckily, it was John. ("Rich must not have very many friends!" Ringo muttered softly as he opened the door.)

John walked in to the kitchen and put down a couple bags.

I GOT SOME FOOD. He explained, I NOTICED THAT RICH DIDN'T HAVE MUCH AROUND. And with that, he started to unpack the bags and place various items in the refrigerator.

"John!" Ringo almost shouted, recalling what he had been waiting to explain for hours. John turned around and gave him full, if somewhat confused, attention. Ringo recovered control of himself.

"Sorry, you'd best finish putting that away first. This might take a bit."

John quickly finished putting the groceries away, wondering what had Ringo so excited. He turned and sat at the kitchen table, the table that they had discussed Ringo's first explanation over. Ringo only hoped that this explanation would make sense.

"I think I've figured out how I might be able to get back," Ringo took a deep breath.

YES?

"Alright. Right before that--thing happened, and I came here, I was in a recording studio with the guys. And they were standing about.. there--" he motioned with his hands.

"What I thought was that, maybe if I could get the other three guys, the ones of this world together and get them to si--" Ringo suddenly broke off. He had to get the guys together, and get them to sing. But what of this John? He didn't even speak, let alone sing! Cross that bridge when you get there...Ringo told himself.. if you get there. Ringo quickly amended his speech.

"--and get them together, then it might send me back."

AND RICH BACK TOO.

"Hopefully."

John gave a thoughtful pause. YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT MAKING A JOURNEY ACROSS PERHAPS THE COUNTRY, TO FIND SOME PEOPLE WHO MIGHT NOT EVEN EXIST. AND, *IF* WE FIND THEM, FACING THE DISAPPOINTMENT THAT IT DOESN'T WORK AFTER.

"Well, do you have any better ideas?" Ringo asked, insulted, "Or perhaps I should stay here forever hoping that whatever happened will happen again, randomly?"

John gave Ringo a hurt look. I DIDN'T SAY I WOULDN'T COME. IF IT'S GOT A CHANCE OF BRINGING RICH BACK, THEN I'LL GIVE IT A TRY. ONLY ONE PROBLEM.

"What?"

MONEY. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY DO IN YOUR WORLD, BUT IN THIS ONE, YOU CAN'T ATTEMPT SUCH AN ODYSSEY WITHOUT CURRENCY.

"Shit," Ringo took out his wallet, "I don't suppose that they take pounds eh?"

POUNDS?

"Yeah," Ringo proffered a bill.

NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE.

Ringo sighed, and stuffed the wallet back into his pocket. "Not much bloody use is it now?" One of his rings snagged on the pocket of his pants as he pulled his hand out, and Ringo's attention was drawn to it. He removed a gold ring.

"This one's real, I believe. Do you think you could pawn it for me?"

John picked up the ring.

I COULDN'T. BUT I COULD PROBABLY FIND SOMEONE TO DO IT FOR ME. I'VE LOT'S OF FRIENDS.

"Friends who have friends? But you're a priest--monk-- whatever. How would you meet that type of lot?"

John smiled ruefully, YOU'D BE SURPRISED HOW MUCH MINISTRY IS NEEDED FOR "THAT TYPE OF LOT".

Ringo grinned, and switched back to on topic, "How much do you think you can get?"

AT LEAST ENOUGH FOR FARE FOR TWO TO THE CITY.

"What's in the city?"

YOU SAID WE NEEDED TO FIND YOUR FRIENDS. YOU'VE FOUND ME, BUT I SUSPECT THAT THE OTHER'S WON'T BE AS NEARBY. WE'D BEST FIND THEM, AND A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT WOULD BE TO INQUIRE IN THE REFERENCES.

"References?"

A WAY TO FIND ANYTHING AND EVERYONE.

"And where do we go from there?"

PATIENCE. WHEN WE GET THAT FAR, WE'LL FIND OUT.

"I know that I've no schedule to keep, but you might have. Can you come with me the whole way?"

LOOKING AFTER GOD'S LOST CHILDREN IS MY JOB, John gave a smile, AND YOU'RE AS LOST AS THEY COME... YES, I'LL BE THERE.

"When will go?" Ringo asked, shrugging off John's statement.

FIRST I'VE GOT TO GET THIS OFF, John held up the ring, GIVE ME TONIGHT, WE CAN START TOMORROW. HERE, GET SOMETHING TO EAT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE USED TO... OR IF IT EVEN EXISTS IN THIS WORLD, SO I'M AFRAID YOU'LL HAVE TO MAKE DO.

Ringo was surprisingly tired, considering that he hadn't actually done anything for the past three days. He chalked it up to nerves, and, feeling a bit guilty about snapping at him before, asked John if he needed help with anything. John told him that he could handle it, and, noting Ringo's peaked look, instructed him to get some rest. Ringo took John's advice, and settled down in Rich's bedroom. John stayed up rather later, arranging for their travels the next morning. He arranged a deal with his friend, and sent the ring to him over a linkup process that would have fascinated Ringo, had he been awake. Then, sent back via the same way, John received two travel tickets, and 50 grahams, enough for a room for the night. John then opened up his communications screen to the monastery, and explained what had happened, and how he planned to go with Ringo to look out for him. He asked that they think of it as a rather strange missionary voyage, and the elder concurred. John then made arrangements for Mozart to stay at the monastery, and finally turned in for the night on the couch in the living room.

The next morning, both woke up early and ate a quick breakfast. Over the table, John gave instructions.

FIRST, RICH'S CLOTHES SHOULD FIT YOU, SO A CHANGE WOULD DO YOU GOOD.

Ringo grinned "A Shower too… Sorry."

NEXT, DON'T GAWK AT EVERYTHING YOU SEE.

"Right."

I HOPE YOU DON'T HAVE AN EASILY OVERTURNED STOMACH, John grimaced at Ringo, BECAUSE WE'RE GOING BY RAIL

"What does that have to do with-- ah, never mind," Ringo decided that he probably wouldn't like the explanation anyhow.

About half an hour, and a shower later, they were ready to go.

John was waiting at the door, with Mozart on a leash.

"Hey, we're not taking the dog the whole way are we?"

John handed the leash to Ringo and flipped the Porto out so that it hovered under his hands. Ringo remembered not to stare.

OF COURSE NOT. HE'LL STAY AT THE MONASTERY. WE HAVE TO MAKE A STOP THERE FIRST.

Ringo shrugged and took Mozart into the back car seat. John shut the door to the house and walked out to the car.

"Don't you people ever lock doors?" Ringo asked.

WHY? John typed in.

"Now you'll tell me that this is a peaceful world, without crime?" Ringo responded sardonically.

John smiled, NOT QUITE, BUT FINGERPRINT ENCODED DOORKNOBS AND WINDOWS DO HELP.

Ringo lapsed into silence, realizing that John could not type or drive at the same time.

When they reached the monastery, John asked Ringo to stay in the car while he brought Mozart in. Minutes later they were on their way to the "rail", and Ringo was beginning to wonder just what might be so stomach turning about it. The rail turned out to be a kind of train track underground. John and Ringo handed their tickets to an attendant, boarded a sleek looking long car and sat down.

"And they're off," Ringo muttered to himself.

NOT FOR ANOTHER MOMENT. John once again had his Porto hovering, and Ringo began to take it for granted. John nodded, THEY'RE GETTING STARTED, HANG ON.

Ringo was just about to ask what he was expected to hang on to, in the sparsely furnished car, when he got firmly pushed back into his seat by the motion of the car starting. Then everything went black.

If you've ever flown a jet, or been blown over by a wind so strong that you felt that gravity only held you by a string, then you would understand how Ringo felt. It was an awesome feeling of power, of flying under your own control, of not knowing where you were going, but secure in yourself. It was also over far too quickly. The car stopped, and he was jerked forward, and would have fallen on the floor were it not for a safety bar that had apparently fallen sometime during the ride.

John grinned. WE'RE THERE.

On toChapter 6

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