Sensing the end of his employer’s affability, Czerny stood up.
“Look, you’ve all been through an unprecedented trauma, and you’re all coping with remarkable bravery. It won’t seem like it now, but you’re very fortunate. Fortunate to be alive. Fortunate to be together. And fortunate to be here with us. No one knows more about parallel world theory than Dr. Quint. If anyone can solve this puzzle, he can. In the meantime, have patience and have faith. You’re going to be okay.”
The guests sat in anxious silence, their muddled thoughts bubbling with a thousand and one concerns. Despite all of Quint’s rosy promises, Zack knew there was no way on Earth—any Earth—these scientists would let such prize discoveries walk away. To truly leave, they’d have to run. It wasn’t a plan right now—it was an option. Zack needed one, as much as the fair and fiery redhead needed a benevolent God.
As his head throbbed and his inner self screamed with childlike hysterics, the cartoonist leaned back in his seat and forced a cheery grin.
“Well, that was a fine presentation, gentlemen. I’m sold. When’s lunch?”
—
They spent the afternoon in an aggregate daze, more like ghosts than guests. They gazed out windows without truly looking, flipped through books without really reading, and wandered the hallways with no clear purpose or direction.
As the sky turned to dusk, a pair of scientists arrived with bags of store-bought clothing—a generic assortment of T-shirts and sweatpants, plus the most basic cotton socks and undies. Soon the refugees stopped looking like day spa clients and now resembled an intramural volleyball team. Mia noticed, with silent distaste, that Hannah had seized the snuggest tank top in the collection. Yes. We get it. You’re blessed.
An hour later, their evening meal arrived by physicist. Whereas lunch had been a casual buffet set on the pool table, Czerny had opened up the dining room for supper. In its hotel days, it was known as Chancer’s, an upscale bar and bistro that hosted gospel brunches on Sundays. The scientists had briefly used it as a cafeteria before shyly settling back to desk dining.
The guests served themselves from steaming tins. Amanda and Zack were the first to sit down, each with a grilled chicken breast and a scoop of pasta salad.
“They’re sure leaving us to ourselves a lot,” Amanda observed.
“They’re probably giving us a day or two to adjust. I figure come Monday . . .”
Zack trailed off as Amanda lowered her head and closed her eyes in prayer. Hannah wasn’t sure if the blessing was real or just a showy middle finger to Zack. She didn’t know how anyone could thank God after everything that happened today.
The actress sat down with a plate full of greens, the only thing her ailing stomach could handle. “Okay, here’s a stupid question. If we’re on an alternate Earth, does that mean there are alternate versions of us walking around somewhere?”
“No,” said David, from the serving table.
“Doubtful,” Zack added.
“Why not?”
Zack lazily motioned to David. The boy sighed and turned around to Hannah. “Okay, obviously our two worlds have a shared timeline. If they didn’t, people wouldn’t be speaking English here. They might not even be humans as we know them. So clearly our histories split at some point. From what Dr. Czerny told me, they still have Abraham Lincoln on their pennies. But from what Zack discovered, they separated California in 1940. That suggests the point of divergence occurred sometime between the American Civil War and the start of World War Two.”
Mia stood behind David, eyeing him with rapt fascination as he expounded.
“Now, even if it’s the latter end of that spectrum, the butterfly effect can change a lot in seven or eight decades. Our grandparents may have still existed as children, but the odds of them meeting and breeding as adults, then the odds of their own children meeting and breeding as adults . . . it’s just astronomically small. And that’s not even factoring the biology. The same sperm, the same gestational factors, the same hereditary toss-ups. At the most, you’d have a genetic relative walking around. But as you and Amanda prove, even genetic siblings can look quite different from each other. So, long answer short, no. Don’t expect to find a twin out there.”
In the resulting silence, David surveyed his stunned audience. He raised a cautious brow at Zack. “Was that, uh . . . was my answer somewhat in line with yours?”
The cartoonist chuckled grimly. “I was just going to say it’s cliché. Jesus. I’m glad you went first.”
“How the hell did you put that all together?” Hannah asked David.
“The only thing my dad loved as much as science was science fiction. We read a lot of books together. Guess I picked up a thing or two.”
Amanda bit her lip as she thought back to her own reading nights with her father. “I bet he was so proud of you.”