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by Hector Scofield. Edited and corrected by Ben243.

This story is part of the MFM series.

Professor Bates was there that day, when his colleague Professor Hartford had proposed his idea of the Mandela Field. And like the others at the time he'd laughed about it. A Force field able to connect our minds with Alternate Realities? Generated by Cell phone radiation? Seriously?!

But the idea kept him awake that night and the night after. So he decided to do some research and computations of his own, just to satisfy his curiosity.

He collected reams of data and ran every calculation he could think of. He poured through his results. The truth hit him like a bus: The data correlated, Professor Hartford could be right!

The very next day he approached his colleague, to apologize for his hasty judgement, and to encourage him to continue his research - maybe with a little help. It was a pity the old man had abandoned his project, coming to the conclusion it wasn't worth risking his reputation.

Bates prodded the old man, explaining the results of his research. Hartford refused to budge, telling him that it was a foolish idea and he had been crazy to even consider it. He saw the disappointment in his young colleagues' eyes and told him he was a brilliant scientist, he would surely come up with something far better in no time.

But Professor Bates wasn't ready to give up that easily and he was okay with Hartford leaving the project. That way he wouldn't have to share all the fame and fortune he was expecting as soon as he'd finished his own research on the Mandela Field.

Unfortunately he lacked the necessary funding for his project and acquiring investors would mean having to convince them of something he himself had just turned down as Science fiction mere days ago. He had to keep the project a secret!

Without a source of funding, he would have to improvise and use whatever he had at his disposal, i.e. the neural interface he was already working on. It wasn't fully functional yet, but it was sophisticated enough that he could play Pong on his computer just using his mind. Fortunately he already had access to the Institute's MRI, EEG, and other devices to measure brain activities.

At first it seemed Professor Bates was on the right track. He was able to determine the necessary frequencies and dosage of cellphone radiation needed to trigger the Mandela Field, and to determine exactly which brain regions were influenced and how.

After a while he had all the data he needed and made an interesting discovery: The Mandela Field wasn't just limited to one brain at the time, it could also influence others. It appeared to be what others speculated about as a "Morphic field".

Of course! That explained why so many people had the same "false memories" although they couldn't possibly have been impacted by the same amount of cellphone radiation!

It starts with maybe one or two persons and spreads to the rest, like a virus, until it reaches it's limits. The discovery that Morphic fields actually existed was in itself a big breakthrough, but this revelation that individuals could have THIS much influence on others... wow!

It was here he got stuck. There was no way to go on with just the data and materials he had on his hands. Resignedly, he was about to give up when something rather strange happened.

He was looking for something he hoped he could modify to fill in for some equipment he couldn't afford. After a few minutes of searching, he found some of his equipment at the institute was missing. It didn't make any sense. It couldn't have been stolen by thieves, because the most expensive part of the inventory was still there.

He suddenly realized who it was, after he found out that other colleagues were missing equipment too. The list of these particular parts left him with the conclusion, someone was building a machine to manipulate the Mandela field and there was only one person other than him who even knew what was needed: Professor Hartford.

To be sure he decided to break into Hartford's office to search his computer for clues about his current projects. At first he found nothing but some older abandoned projects and a few recipes for meatloaf. Knowing there must be more, he used a few tricks he'd learned, and was able to find a hidden partition on the Hard drive.

Scanning the partition yielded the information he needed to confirm his suspicions. It had all of Hartford's secret plans and data so far. That lying bastard was indeed building a Mandela Field Manipulator!

Bates thought about reformatting the drive, forever erasing the data. He hesitated for a moment. It seemed like such a waste. This was exactly what he needed to continue his own research!

Bates decided to make a copy and leave Hartford alone - for now! He also installed a piece of spyware so he could keep tabs on the good professors progress. It was much easier if he just let Hartford do all the work so he could be free to collect what he needed in the meantime.

That worked for quite some time. The data he collected from the unwitting Hartford proved invaluable in overcoming some obstacles he ran into. Thanks to that data, and his own research, he was able to build his own version of a MFM, as he was calling it.

He constructed the device out of his neural interface, some equipment he had scavenged and repurposed, and a smart phone for which he'd written a special app. It looked a mess with wires and blinking lights everywhere, but it worked. Mostly.

Bates decided to test it on one of his young colleagues, he met in the corridors of the institute. He asked the student to return $20 he'd allegedly borrowed from him! Which, of course, was a carefully structured deception! At first the young lad had no idea what Bates was talking about. Then he tried to remember - his brain was searching for the necessary information.

Unbeknownst to the student he was within the penumbra of the Mandela Field, targeting the memory engrams of an infinite number of Alter Egos. Until it found one version of him that had indeed borrowed 20 bucks from Professor Bates. And so, finally, a subtle shift, and he apologized and gave him the money...

Bates tried the same scheme with other colleagues and students, just to be sure. It worked every time - he'd never been happier in his entire life! If this kept up, he was sure to win the Nobel prize!

His next test involved a lecture he was giving. Sometimes he mentioned a certain fact he'd allegedly spoken about on a different occasion - which was also a lie. Although they couldn't have possibly known what he was talking about, after a moment or two of confused looks, they all were well informed about the matter.

It wasn't hypnosis! He couldn't control the minds of others, just manipulate their memories and even then, he was still restricted to at least some rules and logic. He couldn't make them believe to be something they could clearly see wasn't real or lie about established facts like the Laws of Physics. He couldn't just claim to be the Tooth Fairy or that either of them could fly! But still, this was a powerful technology!

As soon as he'd figured out how to replicate the special crystalline alloy his rival had created for his MFM extending microchip, he used the institute's nano-precise 3D printer, to build a microchip version of his own device. He fitted it with a small power cell, and a pressure switch to adjust the chip once it was under his skin.

The printing process seemed to take forever, but he had plenty of papers and other work to grade while he waited. Once the process was complete, he examined his prize. He stared transfixed at it for a moment, mesmerized by the way the light reflected off the alloy.

Coming back to his senses, he prepared a jet injector and placed the chip inside. He held his breath, and remembering how much he hated needles, injected it into the palm of his left hand.

Bates made a few adjustments and got used to manipulating the chip's pressure sensor. Everything seemed in order. Only one thing left to do. A trial run.

To test it he "accidentally" bumped into a total stranger and acted, like they'd known each other from college. It worked! She even knew Bate's name and some details he'd never told anyone. But then she asked him about how his wife was doing after her surgery. The thing was: Bates wasn't married!

Back home he realized what just had happened: Altering other peoples memories created "Plot holes" of a sort. To fill the gaps they pull from the same source where their false memories came from.

Under some circumstances this could have catastrophic consequences! What if one of the Alter Egos was a criminal? Would people he trusted suddenly decide to stab or shoot him?

Bates had to admit, he hadn't thought of that and was wondering if he should turn the MFM off! He decided against it. Surely he could figure out how to prevent something like this, simply by altering people's minds even further. Which brought him to the next phase of his experiments...

He took a day off, dressed up in an old business suit and brief case he'd borrowed. He walked down a busy street in town and entered a random Office building. He tried as best he could to hide how nervous he was, and strode in as if he belonged there.

He barely made his first steps inside, when he was suddenly called over by a Security guard stationed behind a large desk.

Bates' heart was beating like crazy, but he tried to stay calm. He turned, and as soon as he had Eye contact with the bald, uniformed man, he knew exactly what he was thinking: "Do I know you? Are you working here?"

Within seconds the Mandela Field had effected him. All of a sudden he identified the assumed trespasser as one of the Office workers, greeting him with "Oh, it's you Mister Bates!", and apologized for not having recognized him sooner. He let him pass and "Mister Bates" went on.

What followed was the strangest day of his life - so far. He entered the office and greeted everyone he met. In one moment they looked irritated, in the next they accepted him as one of their own. He interacted with his supposed co-workers, as if they had known each other for years. He even attended a meeting. After that he went to his desk and began to work on his reports.

At one point Bates looked up from the papers he was currently working on and came to a shocking realization: He looked at a framed picture on the desk. It was of his wife and kids. Wait- these people... they weren't HIS family! This was not even his real desk! What was happening? He could distinctly remember saying goodbye to them this morning. He shook his head. Clearly memories from another him were starting to fill his mind.

The longer he sat there, the more he could feel his old life drifting away and this other mans life getting stronger. How was this even possible? He quickly grabbed his briefcase and ran as fast as he could out of the building. Once he was outside he caught his breath and turned the MFM off. As he stood on the street he could feel his memories slowly begin to return.

Back home he thought about what had happened back there. The machine was clearly effecting him too all of a sudden! He knew how to do the job. Knew the password to the office computer system, and how to fill out all the forms. He even knew how everything was organized, and where the cafeteria was. He could clearly recall the names of all the people around him and the history they had together.

What about the guy who's desk he'd actually occupied? He remembered someone standing beside him at one point, a bearded guy with brown hair, starring down at him, just for a couple of seconds, puzzled at what he was doing there. And then, he turned around and walked away! Bates was sure he saw him later in a Janitor's outfit, cleaning the windows.

That was interesting and all, but nonetheless, he was about to lose control! It seemed as though the more people the field was effecting, the more unstable it became. The protections that prevented him from loosing himself broke down, allowing other versions of himself to take root in his mind. If he left it go long enough, they could overwhelm him.

There was only one thing left for him to do, if he planned to continue his project. As much as it bothered him: He had to talk to Professor Hartford! Together, perhaps, they could overcome the limitations of the field.

Unfortunately for Bates, that would never come to pass. Thanks to what was being classified as an accident, Professor Hartford had met an untimely end. It seems his house had exploded due to a gas leak, leaving little but smoldering wreckage.

The Fire department investigator had found the burnt cadavers of Hartford and of an unknown person, amid the remains of a strange machine. They sifted through the wreckage, but couldn't make heads or tails of it.

It took Bates a while to realize what that meant: The debris would be passed on and examine by every agency imaginable in an attempt to piece together what had happened. It would inevitably lead them back to the university and his Hard drive! He had to return to Hartford's office, as fast as he could. The research on the drive was far too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands!

It was dark when he arrived, and he could see flashing lights by the front door. The police was already there - dammit! He had no choice, other then to reactivate the MFM and convince the cops that he was one of them, to get access. But for that to work he had to make some preparations. There was an officer, approximately his height, his stature and on the way to his car. Perfect! He snuck into the bushes, lured him in and hit him with a hard branch.

Within seconds he had undressed the unconscious man and put on his dark blue uniform. He then turned the MFM back on, took a deep breath and re-entered the building. As before he tried to hide his panic, but the effect took place fast and he was able to pass the other policemen to enter Hartford's office in no time. It felt stranger then before: The texture of the uniform, the weight of the gun on his side, the tingling sound of the keys. And the professional look he had to wear on his face. And over all: The feeling of authority. The acceptance and nods of his supposed colleagues! It really was a different world and in a way, he liked it.

Once there the actual hard part began: He couldn't just delete the files! If there was someone who had the faintest idea what that machine in Hartford's basement could do, they knew where to look and could easily restore the data! He had to remove the Hard drive, but had no tools to unscrew it either! So there was no other way...

Sergeant Henriks, had just finished questioning the last member of the Institute's staff. He looked over and was puzzled as he saw one of his men exiting the victims office. He moved to find out what his man was doing.

As he got closer, he saw it was Officer Bates, always a troublemaker! At least as far as Henriks could remember. He was nonetheless surprised, to find Bates, carrying out Professor Hartford's computer. The CSI guys hadn't cleared the scene yet, so no one should have been messing with the evicence.

Bates was more then a little nervous. Terrified of being caught he tried his best to explain himself. His story was: There had been a phone call from the FBI. They needed him to bring the machine to them immediately - he didn't question it, he's just doing what he was told!

Henriks wasn't convinced yet, this order was completely new to him, and was against protocol! Bates turned to Officer Barclay and asked, if he hadn't told him about the call from the FBI. Barclay looked at him, unsure. Something suddenly flashed across his face, and he remembered. He was embarrassed to admit, he'd forgotten to tell his superior and apologized. Henriks yelled at him, but realized he'd more reason to be pissed off by the FBI and their irregular orders.

Bates was glad his plan had worked, but it hadn't quite. Henriks insisted on accompanying him so he could yell at that FBI idiots instead. That wasn't good! Bates had to come up with a Plan B. He racked his brain until the time they'd reached the Police car.

Unfortunately he couldn't come up with anything, so he put the computer on the backseat, sat himself behind the wheel and tried desperately to come up with something. Anything.

Henriks looked at his colleague. What was he waiting for? Bates asked, if Henriks couldn't drive instead, he wasn't feeling so good! Sergeant Henrik had enough, he bellowed at him like a rabid dog: If he wasn't up to the task, he shouldn't have become a Police Officer in the first place! What was wrong with that idiot?!

Bates had no choice. He started the car, hoping the MFM would help him out anytime soon, and drove... backwards! In his nervous state, he must have put the car in reverse! It made KLONK and the car came to an abrupt halt. Oh no! It seemed he had hit someone. And the worst part: It was the naked Cop whose uniform he was wearing!

Henriks cursed his idiot of a colleague and stormed out of the car. That stupid asshole could only hope that the poor bastard under the rear end of his car wouldn't sue...

Henriks stopped! In Horror! The man they'd just hit wasn't just some unimportant bum. It was... but how...?

Before the good Sergeant could even comprehend what just had happened, Bates had started the car once more, shifted into drive and drove as fast as he could away from all of that.

Professor Bates was on the run now. He ditched the police car as soon as he could as it was too conspicuous, and surely they had ways of tracking them. Reluctantly he gave up the uniform and changed back into some plain clothes.

He'd only returned home to fetch the last pieces of his research and data, to destroy them along with Hartford's Hard drive. He was well aware he wouldn't be coming back to this life! There was no need! He could be almost anyone he wanted to be, do almost anything he wanted. The world was his oyster!

The very next day Sergeant Henriks was questioned by a serious looking pale man in a black suit. So was a young bearded Janitor who according to his wife was supposed to be an Office worker. Also brought in were some of Professor Hartford's other colleagues, who told him about his absurd idea of a Mandela Field.

After the interrogations the pale man called his superiors. It was clear they were on to something. Something that could be a powerful instrument in their hands! For now, they could only try to start their own research on the matter, until they could find this Professor Bates and by any chance, the data he seemed to have stolen.