by E. C. Myers
“The universe will never stabilize if there's more than one analog in any universe,” Hugh said. “I think that's why your friends merged with each other. The multiverse couldn't distinguish between identical twins and analogs.”
“How did this happen to you, Jena?” Ephraim asked. “Your plan is the most self-serving thing I've ever heard. You're going to pick and choose who lives and who dies.”
“And who do you really want to save? Worlds full of strangers you've never met, never will meet? Or do you want to preserve the people you love? Your mother. Your best friend. Your girlfriend?” she said.
“There has to be another way,” Ephraim said.
“'E pluribus unum,'” Dr. Kim said.
“Excuse me?” Ephraim asked.
“That's written on the coin. It's Latin,” she said.
“‘From out of many, one,’” Hugh translated.
“I know what it means,” Ephraim lied. “It's on all our currency. It doesn't mean anything special.”
“It's the answer to everything,” Dr. Kim said.
Ephraim squeezed the coin in his left pocket tightly.
Dr. Kim narrowed her eyes. “You're free to leave, Ephraim. But not with the coin. It was never yours. Nathaniel, reclaim our property.”
“I'm sorry, kid.” Nathaniel approached and held his palm out, like he was reaching out to take Ephraim's hand in friendship.
“Nathaniel…” Ephraim tensed.
“You might have been able to beat me in a fight back in junior high, but not anymore, Ephraim.”
“Right. I've seen what you're capable of,” Ephraim said.
“Please don't let it come to that.”
“Don't do this,” Ephraim said. “‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.’”
“You're actually quoting Star Trek to talk me out of this?” Nathaniel asked.
“It would have worked on Nathan,” Ephraim said.
“I'm not Nathan. Here's another movie quote for you: ‘There can be only one.’ And this universe has to be the one. Now stop playing around and give me the coin, Eph.”
“You know, Judas got more than a quarter for his betrayal.” Ephraim pulled the quarter from his pocket and dropped it lightly into Nathaniel's open hand.
“And he hung himself for it,” Nathaniel said sadly.
“Hanged,” Dr. Kim corrected.
“It'll work out,” Nathaniel said. He patted Ephraim's arm and returned to Dr. Kim's side. He studied the coin curiously as he passed it to her. He snapped his head around to look at Ephraim and opened his mouth.
But it was too late. Ephraim had one hand in his right pocket, grabbing the real coin while already forming the wish in his mind.
“You should have known better, old man. You've fallen for that trick before.” Ephraim flipped the coin and snatched it from above his head a moment later.
Just before the room disappeared, Nathaniel winked at him.
Ephraim appeared in his bedroom, seated at his desk. He was disoriented for a moment; he'd forgotten that using the coin without the controller swapped him with his analog in the destination universe. Since he, Jena, and Zoe had used the controller to shift, there shouldn't have been an Ephraim in his universe to swap with, but it was possible one had merged into his reality in his absence.
In fact, without the controller to confirm quantum coordinates, he couldn't even be sure this was his home universe.
After his experiences with the coin last year, Ephraim had frequent nightmares that he had slipped into a parallel life without even knowing it—or that someone else was leading the life he was supposed to have. So he'd developed the habit of checking that things were the same as he remembered whenever he came home.
He pocketed the coin and looked around his room. The photo on the bookcase of him and his mother had been taken at a dinner celebrating six months of her being alcohol-free. A photo next to it showed her with her boyfriend, Jim. That was a very good sign that Ephraim was where he belonged.
Had he left that book open on his desk? He picked it up. It was a collection of science fiction stories by Philip K. Dick. Not something you wanted to read when you were already feeling paranoid—or when people really were after you.
He noticed it was a library book, and it was a day overdue. He owed the Summerside Library twenty-five cents.
“Ha,” Ephraim said.
The bed was unmade. Ephraim always fixed it before he left. He considered it an active crusade against entropy. There were a lot of things he couldn't control in life, but he could make his own bed in the morning.
“Someone's been sleeping in my bed.” He chuckled and quickly silenced himself.
Was Dr. Kim's madness contagious? If cell phones were supposed to be bad for you, hanging around a coheron drive—or carrying part of one in your pocket—had to be much worse. That might explain Nate's megalomania and his Ephraim's psychotic tendencies.
It would be so easy to attribute their behavior to external causes, but it was far more likely that their darkness had come from within, that everyone was capable of making selfish choices, regardless of who had to suffer.
Ephraim wondered who would come for him: Dr. Kim or Nathaniel. Either one of them could use the controller to track the coin and follow him whenever they wanted, but they wouldn't be able to transport themselves directly to his apartment. That gave him an hour on the outside if they walked from Greystone Park, but as little as twenty minutes if they took a cab.
Nathaniel had winked before Ephraim shifted. He'd realized Ephraim had switched the coins, but had he let him get away with it anyway? Or was he just showing Ephraim that he was unconcerned about catching up to him? He'd seemed pretty firmly on Dr. Kim's side.
Maybe Nathaniel had gotten dust in his eye and it didn't mean anything.
An instant message dinged on Ephraim's computer. He recognized Jena's screen name, uhny-uftz. It seemed another Jena analog had merged into this universe along with another Ephraim.
uhny-uftz: u still there?
Jena would never have substituted “u” for “you” or abandoned proper capitalization, not even in a text message. Ephraim scrolled back through some of the history of the conversation she'd been having with his analog just before Ephraim had shifted in. He'd interrupted them in the middle of some hot and heavy sexting.
Ephraim checked the list of users. The screen name Jimmy01sen blinked green as he stared at it. Nathan. But was it his Nathan?
Ephraim typed.
intrst11r-pig: Nathan? I'm back. From the future.
He waited impatiently for Nathan's response.
Jimmy01sen: welcome home!!!!
Ephraim let out a breath.
intrst11r-pig: Good. You're still you. Right?
Jimmy01sen: how's my camera?
Ephraim grinned. That was Nathan, all right. He'd forgotten Nathan's camera, but considering his sudden exit, he had a perfectly good excuse.
intrst11r-pig: Thank you for your concern. Had a rough time over there.
Jimmy01sen: I was having a rough time over here.
intrst11r-pig: Of course you did. I'm sorry.
Jimmy01sen: I thought you might be back though. My webcam went nuts a few seconds ago. Some of the local news stations picked up faint quantum ghosting, and social media feeds are exploding with people talking about what they saw on their TVs and cameras.
intrst11r-pig: Is it still happening?
Jimmy01sen: No. Everything's back to normal now.
Ephraim switched on his webcam. When he looked at his room through the tiny video screen he saw something moving directly in front of him—over him. He slid his chair back and saw a ghostly image of one of his analogs typing at his computer. No, there were two phantoms, and one of them was apparently looking at porn.
Ephraim hastily tilted the camera to take in more of the room. It was full of other versions of himself, watching TV, playing video games with Nathan, jerking off, making out with analogs of
Jena, making out with analogs of Mary—or Shelley.
He could barely pick out individual versions of himself, the screen was so full of them, many more than he'd seen on Nathan's camera at prom. The multiverse was getting worse, and he worried that just having the coin in his pocket was doing more than letting him see it. Maybe its presence in this universe was making it less stable.
How did the multiverse ever sort all of this out? It was just arbitrarily mashing universes together. Maybe Dr. Kim was right—if it was that senseless, if one Ephraim was as good as another on that macrocosmic scale, then why shouldn't someone enforce some order?
The coin would protect him for a little while, but what about his mother? And Nathan? They couldn't hold hands forever to stay in contact with the coin. Eventually the coin would run out of power, and even he would be vulnerable.
Ephraim put his head down on his desk, wrestling with the idea that there was nothing he could do.
He lifted his head and stared at the computer screen. He'd left the camera facing his bedroom door. He saw another Jena standing there, looking at him as though she could see him.
He'd left her and Zoe behind in Nathaniel's universe. He would never get to see either of them again.
“I'm sorry, Jena,” he said.
“For what?”
Ephraim jumped out of his seat and spun around. The Jena standing in the doorway was real, not a phantom.
“Jena!” he said.
She smiled.
If this was Jena, and not her analog who'd been sexting with a different Ephraim a few minutes ago, she had to have come here with a controller.
“How'd you get here?” he asked.
“Zoe sent me. She slipped me her controller as soon as Nathaniel told her you'd left.”
“So he did let me get away. Why didn't they come with you?”
Jena's smile faltered. “Zoe stayed to reason with Dr. Kim.”
“How's that going?”
“Not well. Dr. Kim doesn't know I've left.”
Ephraim sat on his bed, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue and relief. “I'm glad you're here. I didn't mean to leave you. I just didn't know what to do.”
“I know,” she said. “You didn't have time to think about it. I'm glad you got away.”
Ephraim had needed to hear that.
Jena sat close to him on the bed and wrapped an arm around his waist.
“You got here fast,” he said. He'd arrived here only ten minutes ago, tops.
“I took Nathaniel's car before I used the controller to follow you,” she said. “Since a pantsless analog of yours swapped places with you, we figured we'd probably find you at home.”
He laughed.
“I don't know how anything can be funny when everything is so screwed up,” he said.
“Not everything. We're together.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arm around him, sliding her fingers into the right pocket of his jeans.
“How'd you get in my apartment?” he asked.
“Your mom let me in,” Jena murmured.
“Mom's home?” he asked.
He disentangled himself from Jena's arms.
“She's supposed to be at work now, but maybe that's different too,” he said. “She could walk in on us at any minute.”
“She reminded me that it's a little late to be coming over to see you, but that she trusts us.” Jena placed her hand on Ephraim's thigh, and he closed his eyes. “She also said that if we're quiet for too long in your bedroom, she's coming in here with a Super Soaker filled with cold water. I thought she was kidding, but I saw her put it in the freezer.”
His mom's sense of humor hadn't changed, at least.
Jena kissed Ephraim on the back of his neck. “Tell me what happened,” she whispered against his ear. He felt a shiver run down his skin.
“Mmmm,” he said. “Jena?”
“Don't mind me. Go on.”
“This is really not the time.” He pulled away and stared at her. He hadn't had a chance to tell her that he wanted to be with Zoe, but this wasn't the time for that conversation either.
He stood up and paced between his bed and desk.
“Dr. Kim's exploiting the collapsing multiverse to create a perfect universe for herself, with handpicked analogs of all of us to keep her company.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds pretty bad,” Jena said.
“It sounds bad no matter how you put it. She's going to throw all those other universes away to save herself.”
“And to save the people she loves,” Jena said. “Is that so wrong?”
He stared at her. “Are you serious?”
Jena stood up and smoothed her hands against the back of her shorts.
“I'm just saying, maybe we should hear her out,” Jena said.
“No, Jena. She's evil. How can you even consider her plan?”
“Dr. Kim's had more time than any of us to figure out what's happening. If there were a way to stop it, she would know. Maybe she's right, we should just get the people we care about into her universe. Sort it all out once everyone is safe.”
“Jena, she only wants one of each of us there. You and Zoe…she was going to get rid of you, somehow.”
“She wouldn't do that to herself.”
“She certainly doesn't want me in her ideal world,” Ephraim said.
“But I do,” Jena said. “Come back with me. She won't be angry. I promise. She just wants your help. Or if you won't help, she wants you to agree not to interfere.”
“She wants the coin,” he said. “Did Dr. Kim send you here?”
“No,” Jena said.
“You're lying,” he said.
“She didn't send me.” Jena looked Ephraim in the eyes. “I volunteered. This was my idea.”
Ephraim groaned. “Why?”
“She told us what she's planning and I know she's right, Eph,” Jena said. “I could just feel it. I just have to bring the coin back to her and everything will be okay. She has the coordinates for this universe. She can save my parents, and Mary and Shelley.”
“It's too late for Mary and Shelley, remember?” he said.
Jena's eyes teared up. “I don't want to lose anyone else,” she said. “And I don't want to die.”
“Hugh says what happened to Mary and Shelley suggests that multiple analogs can't stay in one universe for long, not while the multiverse is this unstable. You'll just merge or disappear. Dr. Kim knows this. She was there when he told me. She doesn't care about anyone but herself anymore—her, not her analogs. I've seen the way she acts around you. She's jealous of me and Zoe and you and Hugh.”
“What are you talking about?” Jena said.
“I know you like Hugh. He certainly likes you.”
Jena shook her head. “What did you mean, you and Zoe?”
Ephraim licked his lips. “I tried to talk to you before, when I came to the lab.”
“After you got back from your shopping trip. With her.” Jena pursed her lips. “Did something happen, Ephraim?”
“Not like you think. We only talked. Jena, I'm so sorry. I've always wanted to be with you, you know that. But…it turns out that I love Zoe.”
Jena stared at him blankly, which unnerved him more than if she'd reacted with anger or sadness. Then she laughed.
“I'm not joking,” he said.
“I know, but…” She wiped a tear from her eyes and tried to stop laughing. “I told you so!” she gasped out. “And I can't believe you're telling me this now!”
“Uh. This wasn't what I was expecting. Not that I want you to be devastated or anything, but are you all right?”
She held a hand up and sat on the bed, still laughing.
“Not to flatter myself, but I thought you'd be more upset. After the way you acted at prom,” Ephraim said.
“That was ages ago, wasn't it?” Jena looked up at him. “Eph, I'm not surprised. I knew you still had feelings for her. The kiss I saw only confirmed it. Of course I w
as upset, but we didn't expect this to be for forever.”
“I wanted it to be,” he said. “I thought I did.”
“Oh,” Jena said. “I just assumed, with college next year…”
“Yeah,” he said. “Now there might not even be a next year for any of us.”
“It doesn't have to be that way,” she said. “I love you, and I still want you in my life. Come back with me. Help us. You'd be helping Zoe, too.”
He looked at her sharply. “Is she onboard with Dr. Kim's plan?”
Jena hesitated.
“I wasn't lying about that. Zoe really is trying to get them to change their minds,” she said. “Looks like you chose the right girl.”
“We're just back where we started,” Ephraim said. “She's in another universe, and you and I are in this one.”
“Oh, I'm not staying,” Jena said.
“You don't have a choice. I'm not bringing the coin to Dr. Kim's universe,” he said. “And the controller can't take you back there without me.”
“I'll manage.”
Ephraim's bedroom door opened. Jena's eyes flicked behind him. “See? My ride's here.” She stood up.
Dammit. Ephraim should have realized Jena wasn't alone. She had said “We figured we'd probably find you at home.” He turned around to see her companion, with a sick sense that he already knew who it was.
Ephraim's analog sauntered into the room like he owned the place, which he had only half an hour ago, before Ephraim had bumped him out. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder.
Even after meeting multiple analogs of his friends, Ephraim had yet to talk to one of his own. It had always been a possibility, but it had seemed like a remote one; the nature of the coin's design had prevented him from ever running into himself unless he was also using the controller.
The analog looked between Jena and Ephraim. “You were right,” he said to Jena.
“I told you it was a stupid idea. I don't know how to seduce someone. Even my boyfriend.” She glanced at Ephraim. “Ex-boyfriend.”
The analog's eyes lit up. “I can teach you a few things,” he said.
“I doubt that. Feeling better?” she asked.
“You could have warned me the trip would make me throw up,” the analog said.