“In theory,” says Shashi. “And only in theory.”
I hate to admit it, even to myself, but those last words are like a warm blanket. Who knew I’d long for the death of the multiverse over separation from August?
Maybe I’m as suicidal as both of them are.
“It’s all very neat and pretty,” my August intervenes again, “but how are we supposed to find this new universe?”
“From what I can see,” Shashi replies, “you’ve been moving in a linear fashion. You’re travelling where the universe sends you, in one straight line. But look, we have a map of our own universe right here, what we can see of it. Within our ownreality, we’re only one hundred and fifty quadrillion miles from the supermassive hole at the centre of our galaxy.”
“Only…” my August sighs out.
“But how many universes lie side by side between here and there?” As I say it, I know I’m making excuses, trying to find some science to stand in the way of what I know is right. “How do we know they’ll have the same black hole? How do we know we’ll be getting any closer?”
“We don’t,” Shashi says softly.
My own lovely August turns to me, and I want to walk away from him. When he takes up my hands, I want to wrench them back. Yet I stay and listen to his firmly spoken words. “It’s the only way. We have to put this back. Make it right. So… we’d better act fast, before this world crumbles around us.”
I agree with some breathless sound that serves for the words I can’t form and drop my head before he sees my eyes water.
This might work.
It’s good, and it’s right.
I’m losing the love of my life.
And we only just began.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BAD AUGUST
RIFT
Since we left Amber and Shashi’s place, the sky has grown darker, a deep burnt-looking colour. The world is falling apart at an alarming rate, even for me. Nightfall is settling, and when it does, I don’t really expect there to be any stars to see, not that I’ve told them that yet. Everyone’s increasingly on edge as the plan has time to settle in.
We’re all close to death, and we all know this idea is the next best thing to insane. But it’s the only option we have.
It’s ticking over in the back of my mind, and no doubt everyone else’s too, what if this doesn’t work the way Shashi projects? What if it rips new holes in new universes, spreads destruction in every direction?
But she’s right. That’s not necessarily worse than what I’ve done. It just speeds everything up. Worlds get annihilated faster. If we can’t stop the quantum wave I created, it’s just death, no matter what we do.
And beneath all that, there’s a heavy quiet between me and August. He stays by my side, trying not to touch me. He won’t look at me either. He’s silent, that fake, slanted smile plastered on his face.
He looks like he might break down any time.
I’d say I feel the same, but I know this is so much worse for him. Since the day we met, I’ve always had the understanding in the back of my mind that we would be separated. No matter how much I liked him, or how deeply I fell for him, I knew the two of us were an impossibility.
August never believed that. He still thinks me loving him could make me stay. Imagines I have agency in this. He believes in me so much it hurts.
I want to give him the world. And I’m utterly useless. Just a man who’s brought him pain and sadness.
Shashi and Amber suited up in jeans and a short skirt respectively, with boots and Non Jovi shirts. Between them and Jon, looking like he always does, then three Augusts, I feel fifty shades of ridiculous walking into the computer lab at Cambridge University.
We’ve had to come here because Shashi said she had access to Distributed Research using Advanced Computing (DiRAC), also known as a fuck-off-powerful supercomputing system. But that access was before she went ‘on sabbatical.’ If she still has it, great. If not, we continue to be fucked. The only way we can get in is through the intranet here at the university.
Jon and Amber are unloading an understandable but irritating running report of news stories about the destruction of the world. Shashi’s swearing a lot about her password and how slow the computer is, while Asshole August leans over her shoulder offering provoking suggestions.
And my August… He’s leaning against a desk, looking as glum as you’d expect, turning the particle accelerator over and over in his long fingers.
