There exist many worlds parallel to our own, and in each of them we exist also, albeit completely differently.

This has been speculated by a great many people, but now I know it to be true. Perhaps by accident I came across this truth, and now feel it is my responsibility to reveal it.

In 1976, a little-known Swedish physicist by the name of Sven Ragnarsson began research on the existance of multiverses. He studied in secret and made great progress, but by 1979 he had fallen gravely ill. In his final months he passed on his work to my father, until finally succumbing to tuberculosis in September of that year.

My father never spoke much of the project, except that it meant a great deal to both him and Dr. Ragnarsson. I was sure he told my mother much of it, though I never really asked her much about it, as my interest in the matter only piqued in recent years, after her death and my father's disappearance.

Yes, my father went missing in the spring of 2004, exactly one year after my mother's untimely passing. Whether he left in grief or if something terrible befell hi m I may never know. As I was planning to sell the house and was packing up their things that winter I came across my father's notes, and also those of Dr. Ragnarsson. At first I gave little heed to them, as I myself am a mere librarian and equations and scientific jargon don't exactly tickle my fancy. However, whether it was out of sheer curiousity or simple desire to read my father's handwriting again, I sat down and read the complete work. "The Yggdrasil Report," it was called.

I didn't believe it at first. I thought it was a work of fiction, more fantastical than anything I've come across in the library. It told of infinite worlds, stretching beyond time and space, yet at the same time right under our noses. It told of alternate pasts and alternate futures, alternate versions of ourselves and everything else. More intriguingly, though, it told of contact.