This is my entry into the Rhino Writing Contest #3 (see https://steemit.com/fiction/@carolkean/30-sbd-prize-pool-rhino-writing-contest-3-reminder-deadline-12-december-2017 and https://steemit.com/fiction/@carolkean/his-name-is-in-my-house-on-a-hard-drive-somewhere-rhino-writing-contest-3). Depending on the space-time continuum this may be too late to be considered. I don't get time zones. Anyway, I had fun writing it anyway! 

![toomanyjonos.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmaHfyRumK8CNYrGjW6n3AKCgLaXaxmuTyrynVXFbJgUe7/toomanyjonos.jpg)
*His name is in my house, on a hard drive, somewhere.*

That is what the strange creature told me, its final words barely audible, little more than a dying breath. 

I stumbled home, my bruised legs hard to walk on. I gathered my cloak about me, against the night. It’s tattered cloth would do little to protect me from the cold, let alone the creatures of the shadows, looking for an easy prey, already weak and wounded. 

The cobbled streets were dark. The lights that flickered from their housing on the high walls did little to illuminate the way. It mattered not: I had found my way home in states worse than this. 

The house was as I left it. At least from what I could see. The door still hung from it's hinges, singed with the dragons-breath firesticks of my enemies. I pulled it behind me and secured it as best I could. I took a candle and lit it and moved into the room. It did not look as if anyone had entered in my absence. I had no valuables to take. And my reputation as a sorcerer, devil, man to be feared and avoided would only be enhanced by the large explosions and fire coming from my house during the battle. The fact that there appeared to be three or four “copies” of the same person would secure my place in local folklore. And probably the gallows too.

I had no real idea of what i was searching for. My Jono, the first “other” to appear in my home, had a magic block that lit up when he touched it. Was this a *hard drive?* We had discussed my magic and his “science” and “technology” at length, but I don’t remember the word. Whatever this *hard drive* looked like it would be out of place here, and so I should know it when I found it.

If I were a strange creature from another “dimension” where would I hide something that so obviously didn’t belong in this place and time? I lit an oil lamp and looked about me. The fireplace dominated the main room of my house. It was cold so I prepared and lit the fire, at the same time looking for anything not usual amongst the logs and kindling. By the time the fire had taken I had searched the whole room. There was nothing but papers, crystals and some potions I had been experimenting on before the arrival of Jono. The first one. *My Jono.*

I had an idea and climbed the ladder to my chamber. I would look in the place that Jono spent most of his time: my bed. The mattress was well made of good quality straw, it had cost me almost the earnings of a whole year. I was reluctant to destroy it on a strange idea (Jono had once referred to this feeling as ‘intuition’). I carefully examined the stitching. At first glance there did not appear to be anything wrong. But holding the candle (very carefully!) close I could see that there was a part of the thread of a different colour to the rest. Whether Jono had done this on purpose, or if it had been the only thread available to him, I could only guess. I took my knife and slit the mattress open. I plunged my hands into the dense straw within, wincing at the aggravation to my already scratched hands.

I was almost ready to give up, when my hand touched on something. It was hard and smooth and slightly larger than my hand. I pulled it out, wincing as the straw needled into the wounds on my hands. The thing was black, about the same measurements of my tinderbox. The size of the magic block that Jono had. But this did not appear to have any light box within it. 

This *must* be the hard drive. Now, how to get the name from it.

There did not appear to be any ‘buttons’ to press. I tried shaking it. I had seen Jono speak at his magic block so I asked the object if it would reveal the name it contained. Nothing.

I climbed back down into the main room, where there was more light from both the oil lamps and the fire. I poked and prodded the thing. I spoke to it, I shouted at it.The block remained silent.

I was so engrossed in trying to get the block to divulge its secret that I did not hear the squeak of the hinges on the broken door, nor the creak of the floorboards. I did, however, feel the cold of the metal of the dragon-fire stick pressed against my temple.

“I’ll take that,” he said.

Jono.

Not *my Jono*, of course. Nor one of the other three Jonos that had come to kill him, and that I, in turn, had killed to revenge him. But it was *a* Jono. And when I looked into this Jono’s eyes I could see the same cruelty of those who had come for *my Jono*.

It was still hard for me to grasp the concept of the “multiverse” as *my Jono* had called it. That there were other worlds like this one, but different somehow. That somewhere there were other versions of me, too.

“Give it to me,” this Jono said, as I tightened my grip. I heard a click and I knew that the dragon-fire stick was ready. I had three choices: to give the magic block to this version of Jono and give him the name he wanted (and destroy everything that *my Jono* had worked for, let him kill me and he would take it anyway. Or…

Instead of fighting *this* Jono I used his momentum. As he tugged I pushed back towards him. The block, together with his fists and mine collided with his face and he fell backwards. The block fell and slid along the floor. Both of us went for it, kicking, punching and cursing as we did so. My hand closed on it first and I threw it onto the fire restraining this Jono as the flames took hold.