"James, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about your problem and about what we talked about, and I've been working with a few other colleagues on updating their ideas to capture and encompass some of the empirical feedback you have given us. We're all very excited about it. We've revised the theories and the mathematics quite a bit. Actually, thanks to one of the observations you made, which you described to me very clearly, we managed to find a mistake in the theory that no one else spotted. We corrected the mistake, and have refined our thinking. The bottom line, is that when we worked through the mathematics, we were then able to actually predict all the events that you reported happening. We started with the original date and time of when the first event occurred, and from that we were able to successfully determine the predicted times of the next ones in the sequence, give or take a few hours. It's brilliant. I've never seen anything like it. The theorem is so accurate…"
"That's fantastic news!" I almost shout down the phone, sitting up straight and reaching for a pen and paper to make some notes. "So are you able to predict when it will happen next?", pen poised, expectantly.
"Yes." He replies, his voice quivering with excitement. "And that's why I had to contact you urgently. Urgently!"
"Why? When will it happen?"
"James, the next, and incidentally the calculations also show that it will be the last viable opportunity for you to cross over,… the next time it will happen James, ….is tonight. At 8.12pm. Give or take a few hours. James, tonight is the night. You're going home!"
Chapter Forty Eight
The Jubilee Line
.
"Tonight? Are you sure?" I ask, immediately excited. "Are you certain about this?"
"As much as I can be. The model has predicted all the other occasions to within hours of them happening."
"But that's only hours from now!"
"Exactly, my boy. Exactly. That's why I needed to contact you urgently. To warn you."
Shit. I'm meeting Sarah tonight. I don’t want to miss that.
What am I talking about? I'll be going home to LIVE with Sarah. And Keira, and Nicole. My family. Back together. Happy!!!
On the other hand, last night was incredible. Better than any night I can remember spending with Sarah over the past five years. If only I could have one more night with her like that before going home. Just one…
"Tonight's not a good night," I hear myself say. Stupidly.
"What? What do you mean 'tonight's not a good night.' You don’t exactly have much choice in the matter, my boy. It's going to happen whether you like it or not."
"Professor, I've found Sarah! I met her last night, and I'm meeting her again this evening. Is there any way we can delay the event from happening?"
"No. Don't be silly. You're a physicist. Think boy, think. We can't influence the laws of nature. They are as they are."
"But what happens if I'm not on the Jubilee Line tonight? You said before that these events are centered around me, that I can't miss them, because I'm the star. Without me they can't happen..."
"Exactly. That's true. But you will be there when it happens. You can't avoid it."
"So why are you warning me?"
"To give you time to prepare, to get your things in order in this world. To make sure that when it happens you are beside the doorway, with no one holding on to you, and no one in your way between you and the exit from this world to the other!"
"I still don't understand. Don't I have any free choice in the matter? What happens if I just don't go down on the Jubilee Line tonight?"
"Ah, but you will. Think boy. Think about everything you learned about Quantum Mechanics and about Causality. About Time. Remember everything we discussed, and what I told you in my house. Like it or not, if it's meant to be, events will lead to you being there at the time it happens, so you don’t need to worry about missing it. The only thing you need to worry about is that when it happens you need to be prepared. This is your last chance! Think about lightning in a storm. The lightning and the thunder can't take place without the storm, the storm is always the first thing to happen, but the lightning and the thunder are the main event."
"But if it's predetermined, how can I be sure that I will be able to cross over? How do I know that I won't be stopped from crossing again?"
"You don't. That's the whole point. You have to make sure you can. You have to maximize the conditions for the right outcome. Think about a bolt of lightning in the storm again. The lightning is unstoppable. It will happen. As soon as the conditions are right, there is nothing that can stop it. But where the lightning bolt will strike is never pre-determined. It goes for the best conductor at the highest point on the ground. Imagine a man playing golf on the green. He swings his metal golf club into the air, and if at the point the lighting jumps the golf club is the highest point of metal in the sky, the lightning will strike the golfer. A second later, and the golf club may be on the ground, and the lightning may strike a tree or a bush instead."
"So, what are you saying?"
"James, my boy. Tonight is the night. You can't stop it. It will happen. But you have to make sure that when it does, you are beside the door with no one standing in your way. And then, when it happens,…jump. Don't think. Just go. It's your last chance."
I'm silent now.
"James, are you there?"
"Yes. I'm just thinking."
"There's nothing to think about, my boy. Nothing. This is what you have waited and prayed for, and now it will happen. Tonight, my boy. Tonight!"
I have never heard the old Professor so excited. Never heard him so enthralled. I can picture him in my mind, pacing his office, waving his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly as he speaks.
"Professor. Thank you. I appreciate it. So, I suppose that if you're right, we won’t be talking again…at least, not in this world."
"I hope not, my boy. I hope not… James, I wish you luck. I hope you find the happiness you want in your own world."
"So do I." I hear myself say. "So do I".
--------------------
When I hang up the phone I am a bag of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I am incredibly excited. The thought of seeing my children, Sarah, my friends…my own home! The prospect of starting to live my own life again…
Then I think of Sarah waiting for me in the hotel room, lying there on the bed, expecting me, ready for me to walk through the door and ravish her, to hold her, to kiss her…
The office is suddenly too claustrophobic, the walls too close. I need air. I need space. I need to think…
I grab my jacket and walk out, past Alice in reception who waves a piece of paper at me, and shouts after me saying that Richard would like to meet with me this evening after work. I ignore her, and rush out onto the street.
Looking at my watch I see that it is already 3.05 pm. I haven't much time.
After waiting almost a year, it's now only a matter of hours before I will be able to go home.
Home…
Energy courses through my body, and I walk quickly, down Monmouth Street, towards Covent Garden. My mind is awash with thoughts. Thoughts of home, of what I will do when I see my children again. Thoughts about what I will say to Sarah when I see her.
And then a strange thought hits me.
It's been almost a year. What happens if they have accepted the fact that I am dead? What happens if they have got used to me not being there any more? What happens if they haven't missed me, and don’t want me to come home after all?
What happens if Sarah has met someone else?
I walk faster, confused. Worried. Scared.
Then I think of my work, at Kitte-Kat. For the first time it dawns on me how unhappy I really was whilst working as a Product Manager in telecomms. Conversely, I realize how happy I am now, running an advertising agency. I have a natural flair for it. I love it. I feel at home doing this. And it's what I have always wanted to do.
I decide that when I get home, I am going to make
some very big changes to my life. There's no question that Kitte-Kat will have fired me by now. After all, I haven't turned up for work for ten months! I'll be free to spend some time with Sarah and the children, a few months off, then I'll start to look for work in advertising. A big career change, but it'll be worth it so that I can start to live the life I've always wanted to.
Covent Garden is full of tourists, and the atmosphere is fantastic. Everywhere people are milling around, filing past the little stalls of crafts and London tourist memorabilia. London is alive, and so am I.
But what about my mother?
She is only now just beginning to get over the death of my father. If I were to disappear now, she wouldn't be able to cope. Can I do that to her?
But then, who needs me most? My mother in my real life, or my mother here, in this life?
And then a very bizarre thought surfaces from nowhere, catching me unawares, knocking me sideways.
Where is my real life now?
What?
I stop dead in my tracks. The person behind almost bumps into me, and a few people cast me an odd glance as they walk past. But I do not see them. Instead, I find myself going over the question, again and again.
Where is my real life now?
It's been ten months since I saw my family. Ten long months. For ten months I have been existing, everyday, day in, day out in this world. Going to work, breathing, eating, going to the toilet. Living. I have a new job here, a job that I love. A career that I have always wanted to be involved in.
I think back to my old life, where every day I used to ride the train into work and stare at other people, trying to guess what it was that they did for a living. Wondering if their lives were better than mine, wondering if the life I was living was the right one. Wondering if the grass, green as it was where I lived, could actually be greener elsewhere?
And then I realize that I don't do that anymore. In ten months, I haven't once thought about whether or not I have the right job or not. I love what I do. I love it!
But I do miss Sarah. I miss the children. I miss my friends.
Then I think of Sarah and how she will be waiting for me in Richmond tonight.
I start to walk again. Faster and faster. I lose myself in the streets. Walking. Thinking. Around and around. I walk for hours, along the river, past St Paul’s, almost as far as the Tower of London. Then all the way back to Covent Garden, and then down to the Strand, across the river, along the South Bank, and into Waterloo Station.
What should I do? What?
As I stand on the main concourse of Waterloo, watching the people scurrying past me like little ants, everyone intent on making sure they get to where they are going on time, I realize for the first time since my big 'C' day, that the letter 'C' not only stands for Concussion, but that it also stands for 'Choice'. I have a choice.
Do I want to go home?
Now that I have found Sarah again, are things so terribly wrong here?
Before, perhaps, if my father had still been alive, maybe there would have been another big reason to stay here once I had found Sarah. But that was before. Now my father is dead. Gone. Just like in my other life.
My other life? Do I not mean my real life?
So which one is my other life now, and which one is my real life?
Which one?
A voice from behind me. A little girl, laughing. I turn and look at her. I see that she is about the same age as Keira, and almost as beautiful.
She is pulling on her mother's hand, and jumping up and down, excited to be in London. In her free hand she is holding a red helium balloon, which bobs around in the air above her, dancing at the end of the string every time she pulls it.
I think of Keira, and all my doubts disappear.
I know that I have to go home.
My home. My real home. The home where my family is.
My children need a father.
And I need my children.
--------------------
I look at my watch.
Shit. Where has the time gone?
It's already 6.05 pm.
I remember the Professor's words, ringing in my ears.
"…James, tonight is the night. You're going home! At 8.12 pm. Give or take a few hours."
Quick. I have to get to the Jubilee Line.
I hurry through the growing masses of people surging onto the platform now rush hour is on. A flood of humanity, all going home.
"Out of the way, mate. I'm going home too!" I hear myself shout at someone who stops in front of me to look up at the overhead screens.
I dodge around him, through the crowds and onto the escalators, and following the signs for the Jubilee Line, take the steps two at a time down into the underground. As I reach the bottom, I hear a train arriving at the platform, and as I hurry towards it, another surge of humanity streams towards me through the connecting tunnel. Like a salmon trying to swim upriver, I edge past them onto the platform beyond, and emerge just as the doors close on the train and it accelerates away, leaving me behind.
Shit…
The next one is in two minutes.
I wait, nervously, then step aboard as soon as it arrives. Stepping inside the last carriage, where the least people should be, I grab hold of the rail at the edge of the door, positioning myself so that I am almost pressing against the doors themselves, ensuring that I will be the first person off when the doors next open.
My pulse is racing now. I feel light headed. Almost euphoric.
Now that I have made up my mind, I am entirely focussed on what I am going to do: on making the 'jump' as soon as I can, and going home.
--------------------
The train shoots into darkness, and I stare out at the blackness behind the doors.
Light suddenly floods through the glass, and we pull into Charing Cross. The doors start to open, and I pull myself up straight, tensing the muscles in my body, readying myself, preparing myself to shoot forward through the doors, the moment time starts to slow, the moment the sign on the wall begins to shimmer. The moment the door opens from this world to my own.
A man, a large American, steps onto the train, and stands in front of me.
I push him gently, urging him to move to the side. He stares at me.
"Hey kid! Where's your manners?"
He doesn't budge.
The doors start to shut.
I panic, stepping around to the side of him, ignoring his demand for an apology and focusing on the sign saying "Charing Cross" on the wall.
Woosh…
The doors close completely, and the train jostles forward, catching me off-balance. I fall to the side, banging into the woman beside me.
I hear myself mutter an apology, but inside I am fighting with the wave of disappointment that surges through me.
Nothing happened!
I look at my watch.
6.23 pm.
Too early. No wonder.
It probably won't happen for another hour or two.
"8.12pm. Give or take a few hours…"
What does that mean? Anytime up till 10 pm? Does that mean I have to stay on the tube, riding back and forward between Green Park and Waterloo until 10 pm? Four hours?
No, it will happen sooner than that.
I get off the train at Green Park, and catch the next one south to Waterloo.
Again, adrenaline floods my system, and I take pole position by the doors. Anticipating. Expecting. Praying.
The doors open at Charing Cross.
The train leaves, we are in a dark tunnel, then a bright station. Waterloo.
I get off. Get the next one north.
Tunnel, Charing Cross. Green Park. Bond Street.
Get off.
Next one south.
Doors open. Doors close. Doors open. Doors close.
Next one north.
Doors open doors close doors open doors close doors open.
Get off, get on, get off, get on…Nothing.
Over and
over again.
For hours.
And still nothing.
Nothing!
At 11pm I feel faint and sick. I cannot take it anymore. I get off the tube, and practically stagger upstairs at Waterloo. I am physically and emotionally exhausted.
I wander out onto the station concourse.
Who Stole My Life? Page 40