An Echo Through Time: A Novella

by Nicholas Licalsi

  She nodded to show she understood, or that she had at least heard the words.

  “As for my looks, I don’t always look like this. However, if I’m living in a universe while another Todd is alive, then I have to use the body of a default Todd.” I gestured at myself. “A default Todd is just the Todd you were living with before I showed up last period. I can’t change a past that I’ve lived in either, so I can’t go back and make this conversation go smoother.”

  She gave me another “hmm,” and encouraged me to continue with her bottomless brown eyes.

  “Outside of my life, I can take the form of anyone. I’ve lived as every minority, as a leper, men and women, young and old, rich or poor. My presence is,” I searched for a good word, “flexible.”

  She looked at me, awestruck. “That’s phenomenal, Todd.”

  “Do you believe me?” I asked. I was doubtful that she was actually taking me seriously.

  She nodded her head slowly. “Why would you lie?” she asked me. Before I could answer, she continued, “You’re definitely different from before. Making stuff like this up isn’t your strong suit. Since last period you seem more,” she examined me, searching for the word, “grown up in a way. I don’t know. That’s not quite right.” She gave me a slanted frown.

  “That’s common. Most people don’t read into it that much, but if I take over a body during the day, people make comments that I’m different. Usually, if I’m going to visit my home universe like this, I’ll do it in the evening, or the morning before I’ve seen anyone.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” she answered, as if it was the only logical solution to my strange problem. “So why did you come here in the middle of the day?”

  “Well, to be honest, I didn’t think I’d be sticking around long.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t hide her disappointment. “Where were you going?”

  The answer to that question was somehow both more complicated and simpler than the explanation of my power. I didn’t know how I should proceed. But after all, what did I have to lose? I thought. “I came here to give up my powers for good.”

  “How were you going to do that? Is that something you’re capable of?” She gave me a perplexed frown.

  “Living like this has grown tiring. I’ve lived more lives than any human was supposed to. Looking at the human race at my timescale is pointless. Life always ends in death, and there’s nothing I haven’t done to try to change it. I’ve experienced everything, so I think it’s time for me to die. I came back to the comfort of this universe to put an end to my futile existence. And to experience death for the first and hopefully last time.”

  “Wow,” Gretchen immediately responded.

  I sat on the swing next to her in silence. I stewed in my thoughts, wondering, why did I just drop this bomb on her? She just kept asking questions, and I kept opening up. It was just a matter of time before we cut to the bone.

  I finally looked up at her, and her eyes were welling with tears. The dam broke and the first tear rolled down her cheek. I asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I hate that it doesn’t add up. How can someone with such amazing potential have so much pain inside them?” she said as she wiped the first few tears away without much effect.

  “What do you mean it doesn’t add up?” I asked in an angry tone. Then, seeing her distressed state, I tried to reel it in by adding, “You just think the Todd you knew had a psychotic break, don’t you?”

  “No!” she said to defend herself. “I don’t mean that. I just don’t know how to put what I’m thinking into words. But I believe you. I’m sure it’s just high school naivety or me wanting an adventure beyond this suburban town, but I’m sure you’re telling the truth.”

  She paused and wiped her final tears away while she composed her thoughts. “We’ve been dating since I was a sophomore, and now I’m about to graduate in two months. I’m sure that amount of time is a blink compared to the life you’ve lived, but I’ve gotten to know the default Todd. You, whoever you are, you’re different. You’re similar to him, I see that you’re both cut from the same cloth, but you’re also aged, and think differently because of it.” She shrugged, and I knew it was to indicate that her words fell short of explaining how she honestly felt.

  “I guess what I meant by it not adding up is that it shouldn’t be this way. You have this amazing power, potential, whatever we want to call it. It shouldn’t cause you so much pain. It’s not like you can stop doing it. It’s you, it’s how your life works, and it looks like you don’t have a lot of options to change it. I don’t blame you for believing that the only way out of this is by giving up. I would probably want to do the same.” Her eyes had dried up by now, and I saw that she had found some hope. “But can I ask you a favor? It would put a real damper on my senior year, and maybe my life if my boyfriend killed himself. Can I try to talk you out of it?”

  The question came off in such a sweet tone that I almost said yes. For a few moments, I didn’t feel like the whole world was crashing around me. Then I thought of where I had come from, and what I would do with the time here, and I thought better. “I can just get out of your way and go to another universe and escape there.”

  “Will there be another one of me in that universe?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

  “Yeah, probably,” I answered. Then I realized why she had asked. “I could do it outside of high school, too. Then other versions of you wouldn’t be affected.”

  She frowned at me and was visibly upset. “But you’re going to leave and the default Todd will come back, and I’ll spend the rest of my senior year and life, knowing that you left and killed yourself.”

  “Your life isn’t that long,” I said, not thinking about the outcome, merely stating facts.

  “Thanks for reminding me,” she said with a growl. “You’re right, it’s not that long. What if you just stayed here for the rest of my life and then if you still wanted to end this unique life of yours, you could after I die? But you would spend my time alive here with me.”

  “Won’t you forget about me? Like, how many people actually keep up with their high school boyfriend?”

  “I’ll keep up with you,” she said in a soft tone. “And if I call you someday in the future and I find myself talking to the default Todd…” She paused, but when she couldn’t think of a worthwhile threat, she replied with, “Well, I’ll be super sad, and it’ll be your fault. But more importantly, what do you have to lose?”

  I looked at her, confused. I didn’t have proper rebuttal, but knew she didn’t have much leverage, either. Then I asked the question that lurked in the back of my mind. “Why do you care if I live?”

  Gretchen opened her mouth to give me an immediate answer, then stopped herself as if she knew I was judging her. And I was. If she couldn’t genuinely answer this, then I didn’t care about agreeing to stick around. However, she took her time, thinking of a response, and finally answered with, “Have you ever met anyone like you before?”

  “No,” I answered quickly. I gave her an expectant look, waiting for the real answer.

  “Ok so, you’re potentially the only one like this in the universes.” She added the ‘s’ on as an afterthought. “For some reason, you decided to tell me about your powers. For fear of sounding like a childish little girl, which is what I assume I sound like to you, it’s like I stumbled upon a mortally wounded unicorn in the forest. It would be irresponsible of me to walk away and leave it like that. You’re special Todd. You don’t see that right now. All you see is the darkness in the universe. But I don’t want you to die while I’m still around. That would just be negligence on my part. So please, can you take a little bit of time out of your long life to live in this universe? I would hate to see you disappear.”

  I thought about the proposition as we swung on the swings. “So when you die, I can die?” I wasn’t sure who was less likely to think about their death. The teenage girl, or the consciousness who had lived thousands of lives in count
less universes.

  She nodded her head slowly. “I would really appreciate it if you stuck around. I’d hate to lose you as quick as I found you.”

  “You wouldn’t lose me. Default Todd would still be here,” I said, correcting her.

  She shook her head in disagreement. “No, you would be gone. That would be the painful part.”

  When she said that, I realized that my initial assumptions about her were wrong. I had met so many people that sizing them up was second nature. I took the time to really look at her. She was a thorn in my side, and that hadn’t changed. I just hadn’t realized that the thorn was attached to a rose.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had tried to really examine someone for who they were. I saw that she was young. Her brunette hair dusted the top of her shoulders, and her eyes were the brown color of almonds. Up until this point, I had discounted her like I did most people. She was just the girl I dated in high school countless lifetimes ago. Thinking back, I realized I didn’t remember what she had done with her life when I had first lived through this time period. But here on the swings of a small park, a short half mile up the street from our high school, I saw that she might be one of the few purely altruistic people in the universe.

  That was when she became a light to me. She hadn’t convinced me to continue to live. I had every intention of escaping this life after she died, regardless of how long she lived. But she took the time to listen to me and care about me. And for that I wanted to give her something in return. She was sweet and I began to care about her then in the same strange way people care about their dog that’s always excited to see them come home.

  Long ago, I had hoped that a personality like this was at the core of every person. If it was, then everything would be alright, even if human life regularly died out one way or the other. I couldn’t ever find it, so I had given up that hope long ago. I had forgotten that it existed in the first place until this moment. But seeing it in its concentrated form across from me on the swings, I felt a flicker of hope light up inside me. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll live this last life out with you.”

  “Fantastic!” she nearly screamed. She was bubbling with excitement, and jumped out of the swing she had been sitting in. She held out her hand towards me, and I put mine out to shake. It was the universal way to settle an agreement throughout almost all of time. But instead of offering me her hand she offered a single pinky finger. “Pinky promise,” she demanded. I looked at her stunned. She had been so mature just minutes ago, and now she was offering me a little kid contract. “You do remember what pinky promises are, right Time Lord?”

  I laughed at the comment. “Of course. It just took me a moment.” I stuck my pinky out and interlocked it with hers. She kissed her hand and stared at me expectantly. I kissed my thumb and forefinger and felt the blood rush to my ears at the same time. Then, when it was done, she wrapped her arms around me. I slipped off the swing and hugged her in return. “We should head back to school now,” she said as she checked her gold wristwatch.

  “Sure,” I said, expecting the rest of my life in this universe to feel equivalent to being stuck in a high school classroom.

  * * *

  As we walked back to school through various back streets, I thought I noticed a skip in Gretchen’s step. We talked for the entire walk, but it was about nothing in particular. As we got within sight of the gym door, Gretchen finally brought up something of substance.

  “You know, I want to hear more about those other universes you’ve been to,” she said.

  The statement hit me like a ton of bricks. “You want to hear what?” I said.

  “I want to hear about what other universes are like. I’m interested in what happens in the future and the past. And,” Gretchen rubbed her neck with her free hand, “if you’ve ever been to any universes where unicorns exist.”

  I laughed, and for a few seconds, my concern about sharing these stories with her subsided, but it quickly returned. I realized that while I had only told a few people about my powers in the beginning, I had never considered recalling stories about the other universes for anyone, even myself. My long life was only half the reason my memories had faded.

  I didn’t know if I could follow through on it, but I also didn’t want to upset her any more than I already had. I answered with, “I guess I could do that. But no, I haven’t been to any universes with naturally existing unicorns in it yet. But in some worlds genetic engineering gets big, and unicorns are designed.”

  “Oh my gosh. Really?” she said, practically lighting up. “I wish I could go there! They probably make billions, showing them off. After school, we should go to The Lighthouse Cafe, get a coffee and talk for a bit. Do you remember where that is?”

  I rummaged through my memory, then responded, “Yeah, it’s off of Hillman Street, right?” It was the place where most kids went to do their homework, and I remembered that they had Gretchen’s favorite coffee. “What period is it right now?” I asked as we got to the gym door we had escaped from.

  Gretchen checked the delicate gold watch that hung on her wrist. “There’s five more minutes left in sixth period.”

  “Will there be someone in there?” I asked. It was not out of fear of a write-up. I just wanted to know what to expect on the other side.

  “There shouldn’t be anyone in there,” she said, reaching for the handle. She twisted it, and it didn’t budge. “It’s locked,” she said, confused.

  “Is it always locked?” I asked, wondering if I still remembered how to pick one.

  “No,” Gretchen said. “We always use this door to get in after we get back from meets. They never lock it.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, going through alternative plans in my mind. “Let’s just go through the front office.” It would be eighth period by the time I remembered how to pick a lock. I was more confident in my ability to talk our way past the front office.

  “No, we don’t need to. There’s an easier option,” Gretchen said with a devilish smile. “There’s a construction area, it’s been going on for years now. Remember? They were supposed to finish when I was a sophomore, but now I’m nearly done here, and the construction’s still going.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t remember any construction,” I responded, “but then again, there’s a lot from high school I don’t remember.”

  “Don’t worry. We can sneak in through there. I found a gap in the fence one day when I was running late for practice.”

  I followed her, wondering which stories she would want to hear. And which ones were appropriate. Most of them ended in despair or tragedy, which is why I had left those universes.

  * * *

  We slid between a gap in the freestanding chain link fence. On the top of some scaffolding, I saw two men with hard hats putting some bricks on the building. Luckily, they didn’t seem to notice us.

  “Come on, the door is this way,” Gretchen whispered.

  “It looks like they’re almost done,” I said, pointing at the almost-completed wall. The men were a few stories in the air and had a giant pile of bricks that might have been the last set they needed to do.

  Gretchen shrugged, dubious of any completion in her lifetime. She ducked under some specialized machinery and I followed. In one life or another, I would have known what the machine was called, and probably how to operate it, too. But at the moment the terminology escaped my memory. Then I spotted the door she was headed for. The glass was dirty from the construction. I could see through the grime that it led to a neglected hallway without any teachers or students. Easy enough, I thought.

  Gretchen decided to sneak under the scaffolding, but I walked around the outside, not worried about a few construction workers who couldn’t have cared less about high schoolers playing hooky. As I walked around, I heard a yell from above. I couldn’t make out the words, but I looked up and saw a man stumbling around. Did I surprise him? I wondered.

  Then I heard the other construction worker yell, “Get out of h
ere, kid!” I had definitely been noticed.

  The stumbling worker started to catch his balance on the pile of bricks, but as he did, he sent one tumbling over the side. His grip slid as the brick fell, causing his body to land against the pile. The uncoordinated landing pushed most of the pile over the edge.

  I looked at the end of the scaffolding and saw Gretchen coming out with that devilish grin on her face from acting so sneaky. “Move!” I yelled at her, waving my arms frantically. As I did, the first brick landed on her shoulder. Her face made a brief expression of confusion before she grimaced in pain. She cried out, but before she could move nearly ten more landed on top of her. One knocked her out, and she fell quietly to the ground.

  The rest of the pile landed on her in quick succession with clanks and thuds. I heard the construction workers climbing down from the tall scaffolding. I felt the urge to escape this universe. I had no desire to explain what had happened.

  I inhaled deeply to get my nerves under control. After I had calmed as much as I could, I focused on a deep breath. I looked at the pile of red bricks and saw Gretchen’s unmoving hand sticking out from the heap of rubble. The watch on her wrist was shattered, and the second hand had quit moving.

  I closed my eyes and took a final deep breath. The sounds of a man running towards me echoed in my ears. I hooked into another universe and exhaled. I don’t remember where I landed, but I do remember being haunted by the idea that I had cheated Gretchen out of a long and happy life.

  I was technically free of our pinky promise. Gretchen had died, and I had her permission to do what I wanted. But instead of finding some quiet universe to end my consciousness, I went back to my high school to try and enjoy a similar day without a horrific ending.

  3

  Uneven Bars

  After Gretchen’s first death, I lived the same day, March 21, over and over again. Each one I visited ended with Gretchen’s death. The second time I went was the first time she had an allergic reaction to peanuts. For a few dozen days, she fell prey to various rare medical conditions like a weak heart or a silent aneurysm. These would typically strike her in gym class. Occasionally, she died before school. By the time I had experienced her first hundred deaths, I knew what the most likely threats were.