And yet . . . for so many years, the man before him had represented all the terrible things in his life. George had been there that day. Why hadn’t he saved his parents?

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sato said, momentarily closing his eyes to squeeze away his ill thoughts.

“Splendid,” George said, taking a step back so he could look at the three of them. “Our dear friend Sally is off, too. He, er, didn’t want to say good-bye because of, er, well, you know—what we did to his hair to disguise him. The old chap’s surprisingly vain about his looks after all.”

“Well, I do know how he feels,” Rutger said, smoothing his black hair.

George turned to Sato, his face serious, squinting as if he couldn’t quite focus on Sato’s face. “Are you certain about this?”

“I’m doing this for my parents.”

George nodded absentmindedly. “Yes, yes, indeed. Your bravery would make them proud.”

Sato fumed inside. He wanted to scream at the old man, blame him for their deaths. But he stayed silent, channeling his thoughts into the task at hand.

“The needle and vials are in the outer pocket of your pack,” Rutger said. “They’re bubble-wrapped for protection, but please be careful. You have only a couple of extras.”

George grunted, but Sato wasn’t sure what that meant. “We want you to get in and get out. You’ll be winking to the original Reality, the . . . host Reality where all of this nonsense began. It’s not one of the major branches, and it’s fragmenting as we speak. Still not sure of the event that was so powerful as to make them completely unstable.” He shook his head. “I need not remind you of the necessity of caution.”

“In and out,” Sato said, staring at the wall in front of him. An old picture of Muffintops hung there, a close-up from when she was a kitten, licking something that looked suspiciously like George’s foot. “The first crazy person I meet. No problem.”

Rutger cleared his throat. “It might not be that easy. Most people won’t let you walk up and stick a needle in them.”

“’Specially the crazies,” Mothball added.

“Then I’ll use the . . . thing you gave me.” Sato jerked his head toward the top of his backpack.

“Only as a last resort,” George said, holding up a finger. “A last resort.”

Sato shrugged. “Last resort. What does it matter—they’re all crazy.”

“It matters because we’re trying to save them, find a cure,” George answered.

“But it’s a fragmented Reality,” Sato countered. “Again, what does it matter?”

George shook his head. “It’s not our place to determine the value of their lives, Master Sato. They’re people, just like you and me.”