A Paradox Broken, page 15
Yes, Andrew. Shall I show you?
“Show me? How?”
If I may, Tim said, and my right arm lifted on its own. I started to protest before deciding to let him play things out. Thank you, Tim added with full, genuine gratitude. I could tell he appreciated how weird the situation was becoming.
My hand moved toward my chest, and the twinkling lights in the distance started to move at a slow, steady pace. I watched, licking lips that needed no moisture, as I felt my chest tightening with each passing moment.
The first explosion happened, and it made my eyes bug out as my jaw attempted to reach for my feet.
It was brilliant. Every color of the rainbow within a ball of light extending to a distance that I couldn’t even fathom.
There was a burst of color in my periphery, and I snapped my attention to confirm another star had exploded.
“I … I—I …”
Tim moved my hand even closer to my chest, speeding up our passage of time, and soon, the entire universe was filled with balls of light like what I imagine God’s own private firework show would look like.
“Jesus …” I exhaled, feeling my eyes trying to fill with tears. Fortunately, my body was still comprised of pure energy, and much like my lips, my eyes held no moisture.
A question came to mind like a dense fog over a bridge that obstructed the view of the road beyond and wouldn’t be denied.
“What if we go back to before I … did whatever it is I did?” I asked aloud as if to myself while taking back control of my arm and reversing course.
My hand moved away from my chest and, one at a time, the expanding clouds of vibrant colors retreated to their singular points of light.
“Hey! It worked! Ha-haaa!” I cried out in explosive relief at reversing the destruction I had wrought.
If I may, Tim politely asked; I could feel the muscles in my arm tense.
“Oh. Y-Yeah. Go ahead.”
Tim took control over my body once more and moved my hand closer to my chest.
“What are we looking for?” There was no real thought behind the question, as I already knew what Tim was seeking. And though he didn’t answer, the truth quickly slapped me in the face like a rogue tree branch at night.
The points of light began bursting into colorful, expanding spheres once more as each star died before my eyes.
“But … I didn’t do it again. I didn’t send out the—the gravity stuff this time!”
Just as I anticipated, Tim let out with a long sigh.
“What?!”
The gravity you saturated this universe with has permanently reshaped the fabric of space and time.
“Wha—Why is reality made of fabric?” I stammered, letting my mouth translate the rampant impulses in my brain before they could form a coherent thought.
Well, they don’t call it the sheet metal of space and time.
“You’re not helping.”
I think this is a good thing, Andrew, Tim started, letting my arm drop and effectively ceasing our expedited flow through time.
“A good thing?! How?!” My voice shook as I fought back the emotions after learning I had destroyed an entire universe and could do nothing to reverse it, even with my Chronos Scale.
If you are able to destroy a universe with gravity …
“Then I can save one,” I asked in a statement rather than a question. My eyes scanned the universe of beautiful colors—the last remnants of the light. I could feel the weight of it trying to crush my heart. “I can save mine,” I grunted, pushing back against the gravity well inside my own heart. “But how?”
I’m going to have to process the data I have collected here and run some simulations before I have a better understanding of how to reverse it.
“But it’s possible? Right?”
If you are able to exert enough gravitational force outward—
“Then I should be able to do the opposite,” I mouthed, cutting him off.
Hope was powerful, even more so than fear … or anguish. Hope to not only see my family again but keep them and my universe alive.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Andrew. You passed out from a singular exertion of energy. And though it did result in a drastic cosmic shift, I very much doubt you would be able to sustain an outward hold on our own timeline.
An idea came to me. One that was so obvious I almost screamed in frustration.
Ali’s research.
“Tim,” I said with a steady voice, “I know what I have to do.”
I would really prefer if you let me test my theory first. But I already know that isn’t an option.
Ignoring his request, I closed my eyes, picturing my home … my family. Hope fueled my will, and I knew I wasn’t going to fail.
Lifting a hand, I swiped at the space in front of me, and felt myself shift.
CHAPTER 21
Well, hot damn! Ya did it! Tim called out with a terrible Southern accent.
I let my arm lazily drift back to my side as I took in the welcoming sight of Alison’s lab.
“You still have your subminds?”
I keep trying to convince them to return to the source, but they are being stubborn.
“Wonder where they get that from.”
Why do you ask? an annoyed Tim said.
“I want to examine another timeline’s research. See if it says the same thing.”
Do you even know which universe we are in? We didn’t traverse the tesseract, so there is no way for me to know.
“What does that matter?”
Andrew, Tim started softly, please keep in mind that any research we discover in a timeline so far from our own might not contain everything we are searching for due to the temporal shift.
I moved to the bookshelf and began searching. When I didn’t answer, he continued.
It is only a developing theory of mine, but I will move forward with the notion that events create branching timelines.
“How big an event? On a global scale like World War II? Or an individual one, like not noticing a fresh coffee stain on your shirt the first time you meet your new boss, giving the impression that you are clumsy and resulting in getting passed up for that big promotion.”
I honestly couldn’t tell you simply because I was unable to sense the scale of the tesseract. There might not even be a boundary, allowing for infinite timelines.
“An hourglass with infinite sand,” I muttered mindlessly, barely providing half my attention as I pulled out the VHS box of Beetlejuice. Shaking it once, I registered that there was definitely not a tape inside. Which meant I had guessed correctly.
Well, that’s a far cry from Disney. Tim chuckled before continuing. Anyway, for the sake of moving forward with the conversation, let us assume it is global events that create new timelines.
“Makes sense,” I agreed, moving to the couch with the VHS box in hand. “Things like 9/11 caused millions of people to experience powerful emotions all at the same time. The future changed for the entire world that day, one way or the other.”
My reasoning exactly. Which leads me back to the probability that what we are searching for might not be contained within Beetlejuice.
“Oh, I’m not here for the hard drives.”
I don’t—
The unmistakable sound of a doorknob stole Tim’s tongue as I turned to the stairs, giving a knowing smile. “If we aren’t finding the answers we seek in the research, then let’s ask the person who wrote it.”
You know we can’t intervene, Andrew! Tim pleaded.
“I thought you said this had a far enough temporal drift where it wouldn’t matter.”
That’s not what I said, and you know it!
“Is someone down there?” Ali asked as she descended the stairs. I could tell by her voice that she was somewhere in her twenties, or perhaps thirties.
“Just me, sweetheart,” I called out, using a voice only a father could use toward his daughter. Love filled my words along with a steadfast reassurance that everything was okay.
“Dad?” Her legs and head came into view almost at the same time, prompting a smile. As she neared the bottom, her stance straightened. “I thought you were on a cruise with Mom.”
Hearing her say the words Dad and Mom filled my chest with a powerful emotion, and for different reasons. Dad was so close to Daddity, which I longed to hear from my baby’s mouth more than anything, so the utterance of the three-letter word borrowed a modest amount of the fulfillment that the full word would have brought.
And Mom meant that my beautiful soulmate, Sylvie, was still alive in this timeline.
“HellOOOOooo?” my adult daughter asked, planting a hand on her cocked hip as her other arm rose and fell in mild annoyance. “Are you just going to stare at me? Or are you going to answer the question of how you are here but also supposed to be in the Bahamas right now?”
I thought about fabricating a story, but decided I didn’t care about the rules any longer.
“I probably am in the Bahamas, Ali,” I replied with a small sigh, mentally preparing for her reaction to what I was about to say. Her arms moved to cross over her belly as she shifted her stance and arched a questioning eyebrow toward me. “Have a seat, sweet girl,” I said, patting the couch next to where I sat. The fabric was a hilarious dark green, like something fashionable from the seventies.
“Nuh-uh. Don’t use pet names with me while you sit there, wearing my father’s face.”
It struck me as odd that she didn’t like me calling her sweet girl like … like I did when she was a child. I honestly had no idea what kind of relationship I might have with my adult Ali. And if I had to guess, I would assume that this timeline’s Alison Frost had engaged in a conversation with her father at some point about the use of cutesy names—which was only serving to increase her wariness of the man who couldn’t possibly be sitting on her couch.
“Though I understand your trepidations, I assure you that I am Andrew Frost.”
“And yet, that sentence only makes things creepier,” she replied, taking a single step back up the stairs while keeping her body squared to me.
In answer, I held up the VHS box of Beetlejuice, lightly shook it once, and gave the warmest smile I could.
Though she didn’t take another step away from me, she did say, “The smile is a bit much.”
I let my lips close, hiding my teeth, but couldn’t seem to relax the muscles that pulled up on the corners of my mouth.
“Why are you holding that box?” she asked, taking a step back down to fully stand on the landing. However, her arms were still crossed, her eyes narrowing in confused fascination at the man wearing her daddy’s face and holding her life’s work.
“That’s why I’m here, sweetheart,” I said, beginning to open the VHS box.
“Um … okay?” Her foot returned to the bottommost step, still primed to flee. The confusion on her face revealed wrinkles that showcased what she might look like in fifty years.
“It’s okay, Ali. I know about—” I cut myself off as I looked inside at something no father ever wanted to see. Slamming it shut, I frantically tossed it on the coffee table as if it were burning my hands instead of just my eyes. “W-Wrong box,” I stammered, feeling blood flush my face fast enough that I doubted my legs would work if I tried to stand.
“You don’t say …”
“I … I didn’t know they still made Polaroids …”
“Phones can be hacked. Physical pictures can’t.”
“Why—” I started to ask, but then decided I just didn’t want to know the answer. Ali extrapolated the question and spoke anyway.
“They were for my ex. I made him give them back before I dumped him.”
I felt a tiny whisper of relief flow over me before my dad instincts kicked in.
“What if he just took a picture of them with his phone?”
“First, I wouldn’t have been with him if I didn’t trust him enough not to do something like that. Especially after I explained my concerns about phones and computers being hacked.”
“But if he—”
“If he did it anyway,” Ali cut me off, once again anticipating my question, “it wouldn’t work,” she said, confidently moving to sit on the couch next to me now. Her trepidations were mysteriously absent, turning me into the confused one. “Hey … where are your shoes?” she asked, making it a point to look down at my feet.
I followed her gaze, realizing I had forgotten to put on the one remaining boot I had.
“Long story,” I answered, wiggling my toes as a question formed in relation to the subject we were on. It was mostly to avoid the embarrassment of explaining the synthetic foot Tim had cannibalized from Retnuh’s arm. “Why would him using his phone to take pictures of the, um, pictures not work?”
“I coated it in a film that distorts any pictures. If you felt them—”
“Don’t say … that …”
She beamed a smile at seeing how uncomfortable I was. “If I painted your wedding photos with it, it would feel like sandpaper to the touch.”
“Glass?”
“Close. It’s a type of coating that solidifies into tiny spherical crystals that distort any photos of them. Imagine your same wedding photo with the film on it. If I were to take a picture with my phone or any device, the image would come out pure white. Almost as if it were glowing.”
“Clever girl,” I said just under my breath.
“Thanks.”
“So why’d you dump him? If you were close enough to … to …” I gestured toward the VHS box full of brain-scarring Polaroids.
As Ali explained about her work taking precedence and her ex not understanding, I mentally asked Tim, Hey. Can you erase what I saw from my mind?
Yes. If you’re sure you want to risk it, I can sever the neurons before the shift from short-term to long-term memory.
My mind betrayed me and flashed the image on top, removing any fear of permanent brain damage. Do it.
Aaaaand … done.
This time, I tried to will the image across my thoughts, but what I got was also horrifying.
Tim was laid out on a bed in lacy lingerie, spread-eagle, with heavy makeup on and a seductive look in his eyes.
“TIM!” I shouted in disgust and revulsion, not realizing I had jumped off the couch and was standing next to the coffee table with clenched fists.
“Who’s Tim?” Ali asked with complete calmness at the man who was clearly acting erratically.
“Oh … um …” I started, letting my posture relax as my face flushed once again.
“Greetings, Alison Frost,” the AI announced out loud as his puppy avatar popped into life above my left arm. “I am your father’s AI companion.” His voice mimicked John Cleese, and he finished his introduction with, “There are some who call me … Tim?”
“Whoa! That’s amazing!” Ali clapped in fascination. “And he does Monty Python jokes too?”
Tim sniffled once before making a show of wiping his little puppy nose. “You clearly raised this one right, Andrew. I already like her more than you!”
I let out a microexplosion at my companion. “That wasn’t funny, Tim!”
“What wasn’t?” Ali asked.
“I—” I tried to explain, but Tim, sensing his opportunity to be the center of attention, did it for me.
“Andrew here asked me to mentally scrub the, ahem, images of you from his brain.”
“You can do that?” she asked in amazement as she leaned forward on the couch.
“You didn’t scrub anything, floppy disk!” I countered, desperately willing my brain to not show me the image again.
In a sensual voice, Tim purred, “Oh, there was nothing floppy about it, was there?”
“TIM!”
“I think I see what’s going on,” Ali chuckled. “And I love it.”
“At least someone has taste in fine art.”
“You call that art?”
“Oh, relax, leg butt. It was all a joke. I simply saw an opening to mess with you and couldn’t help myself!” Tim giddily said. “I’ve already severed the neurons, just like I said I would. But that’s your loss!”
“How’s that now?” I forcefully exhaled, running a hand down my face as I did.
“You had the perfect opportunity to say something like, ‘I want to draw you like one of my French poodles.’”
“That’s not the quote,” Ali interjected. “It was actually Rose who said, ‘I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.’”
“Oh … so … so I’m the one who missed the perfect opportunity?” Tim asked with genuine disappointment.
“HA!” I cried out, pointing an index finger at the digital avatar.
“I can put the image right back where I found it, if you’d like,” Tim warned in a low tone.
“N-No, th-thank you,” I gulped, moving my index finger from pointing at the AI to tugging at the collar of my shirt.
“Besides,” Tim started playfully, “I didn’t include the ol’ red rocket. That would have simply been in bad taste!”
“Since I can’t remember, I’m just going to have to take your word for it,” I muttered.
“Well, I’m not actually a real dog, so it would only be vulgar to make myself anatomically correct. I mean, haven’t you seen my thumbs?” To showcase his point, his avatar wiggled impossible, opposable puppy thumbs.
Alison’s scientific curiosity manifested, and she asked, “So you actually can’t remember anything? The AI can do that?”
“Well, I can remember that it happened. Just not what the picture—I mean, pictures looked like.” I shot a momentary glare at Tim before returning my focus to my daughter.
“How did you do that?” she asked Tim directly.
“Well, I, um …”
“Show her,” I growled. “Show her what you’ve done to me.”
Under his breath, Tim muttered, “I can return the pictures to your memory anytime I want.”
Alison picked up on the comment meant to be a quip and said, “So you can alter his memory?”
“So anywaaaaay,” Tim started as a hologram of my body came into view. “Andrew and I are—”
“Wait … can you?” I asked, feeling a deep-seated dread rise up behind my belly button.
