Free An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes by Randy Ribay

to Dante and doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he turns back to his friends to resume their conversation. Dante punches the “To Go” button and then runs the card.
    The other two order in the same manner and then stand to the side to wait for their food. He hurriedly fixes their orders, but can’t help but overhear their conversation as he does so.
    “. . . No way, man.”
    “Yeah way, dude.”
    “Bro, I thought she was Chad’s girl.”
    “Well, she wasn’t with Chad when Charles and I were tapping that on her parents’ bed tonight.”
    “Oh, man, what a megaslut!”
    The three break out in guffawing laughter and high-fives.
    Dante wonders what his own friends are up to. Certainly not “tapping” Chad’s girlfriend on her parents’ bed.
    He fills their orders and calls their numbers. They grab the sacks and leave without saying thanks. Dante locks the door behind them. Removes his chicken hat. Starts working through the closing duties, all the while cursing his coworker Marco who never showed for his shift.
    An hour later, Dante finishes counting the cash from the registers and then deposits it into the safe in the manager’s office. He clicks off the lights, sets the alarm, and walks out.
    Dante drinks in the fresh evening air. And before stepping into his car, he cranes his neck upward and gazes beyond the humming power lines and signs. He imagines distant galaxies. Galaxies where nobody wears chicken hats.
    Or where chickens wear human hats.
    Dante climbs the stairs carefully. He does not want to wake his grandparents who have been in bed for hours. Like usual, he takes a shower to try to wash away the scent of grease and fried chicken. He feels it’s bad enough to be black and work at a fried chicken joint. He doesn’t need to smell like the stuff.
    After the shower, he returns to his room feeling wide awake. He considers the two PCs on his desk. One works. The other sits with its casing opened and circuitry exposed, like a patient in the middle of surgery.
    After powering on the working computer, he glances at the crack under the door and confirms that the hallway is still dark. He listens for a moment, but hears nothing beyond the comforting hum of his computer.
    Satisfied, he makes his way to a website he likes to visit while everyone else is fast asleep.
    Above rows of attractive, smiling faces a headline proclaims
Hot singles in YOUR area might be searching for YOU right NOW!
    On his profile homepage, a small number two appears next to his mailbox icon. Intrigued, Dante clicks it.
    The first message is from a user named Wonderboy24. Before reading the message, Dante examines the picture. The man, who appears older than both the number and the word “boy” that the username suggests, has sandy brown hair and retro wire-rim glasses. He has a square jaw and nice smile, but his eyes are too far apart and his nose seems too small for his face. Dante deletes the message without reading it.
    The next message is from CuriousPhreek215. In his profile pic, CuriousPhreek215 is pulling a Phillies cap so low that the logo and brim take up three quarters of the shot. Beneath the brim are full lips and a closely trimmed beard. Dante does not fault CuriousPhreek215 for hiding his face, as he still hasn’t put up a picture of himself. Dante opens the message.
    yo i noticed u nt 2 far. wnt 2 mt 4 a fk? hmu.
    Dante deletes the message.
    His inbox clear, Dante begins browsing profiles.
    Picture. Username. Hobbies.
    This is the order in which Dante scans the endless rows of lonely men.
    If he likes the picture, he looks at the username. If the username is acceptable, he examines the hobbies. If the hobbies are acceptable, he clicks on the profile and reads more about the person. Straight lurking. As superficial as it gets.
    He has never met up with anyone.
    He has never contacted anyone.
    He just searches, excited and scared about a world he’s long known he belongs to but has never had the courage to enter,