“August,” Shashi says softly, a reminder I shouldn’t be touching him.
“No.” And I pull him even closer. He makes a slight attempt to squirm out of my grasp, so I clamp down on him until he has no choice and gives in entirely. And she doesn’t say another word.
I dream of days like this. Sunny mornings and grassy hills, just the two of us, free to hold on to each other and be in love.
That word ‘impossible’ throbs somewhere in the back of my brain. So I run my fingers through his hair and keep him tight to my chest for as long as I can.
It’s not long enough.
Once we’re done eating, it’s on to an internet cafe, which, thank goodness they exist here. We hire only one screen in an attempt to stretch the little money we have. My August’s at the keyboard with the other August and Shashi, the two of them barking commands at him with increasing fervour.
Something’s not right, and I’m bracing myself.
There’s about ten frantic minutes of this before August breathes out a frustrated, “You can see it yourself. This world doesn’t have one. They are so far behind on this shit.”
“Let me have it.” Shashi rips the keyboard away from him, typing whatever she’s typing, so August relinquishes the chair too, and wanders over to me with that aversion of his eyes that I never want to see again.
But he’s fast with the truth. “This world has no particle accelerator. Of any kind. That we can find.”
“Are you sure?” Such a stupid question. Of course he’s sure.
He spares me a nod, eyes flittering up to mine. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I… I opened this universe. I came through.”
“You didn’t expect me to follow you.”
“But I hoped you would.” I capture a slight smile.
I can’t handle thinking about what comes next. I’m not in any sort of mood for a rundown on how fucked we are, how fucked the world is, how all of existence will be wiped out because of… one small mistake. Mine this time. So easily done.
It’s another hour or so spent at the cafe. We waste more money during our time there at Assassin August’s insistence,and even on coffee, which was my August’s idea. He’s taking care of the group as best he can, trying to manage our fraying nerves.
Amber spends most of her time worrying how upset Shashi is at her, but honestly, I think Shashi’s brain is entirely in problem-solving mode. She’s a machine when she’s locked on, and she’s already got a page full of old-school maths down so we can figure out what direction our supermassive black hole is in down to the minute.
Assassin August is quiet, so when we get on the Tube, I take a seat next to him, much to Jon’s annoyance. “This must be pretty hard for you.”
He smiles at that. “Not in the way you might think. I came across to your world with one task in mind, which was to stop your boyfriend. I hadn’t thought a day beyond that, to be honest. I was going to destroy that accelerator and then destroy myself.”
I hate the way he says ‘destroy,’ like he’s just another object due for the rubbish heap.
“Now, I honestly don’t know what to do. It’s not my life I’m worried about. I’m at a loose end, where I can’t help anyone. Where my very existence is causing harm. And I don’t know that my being here is worth the risk.”
“It is.” My response is reactionary. Knee-jerk to someone saying something like that. But I believe it too. “You have a brilliant mind. And I know you and August are slightly at loggerheads about this, but I think you’re a good person. I think you did something really brave by following him.”
His face softens, which is both rare and good. “So did you. It took a lot to take yourself out of the equation like that. It was brave, but it was also really clever.” He looks across at my August, patiently listening to Jon prattle on about something or other. “Guess it runs in the blood.”
“No, I’m not like you two. I wish I were.”
“No, you don’t,” he says sadly.
“That’s so funny. That’s exactly what August said to me.”
We get off the train and follow August in our cloud of quiet dejection. Back at Imperial College, he leads us down to his basement lair, which we’re all pleasantly surprised to discover is pretty much exactly the same as it was in my world.
While we move some old boxes out into the antechamber, he explains how this is his fallback wherever he goes. How, in three hundred or more universes, this has so often been here. When it hasn’t been, he’s tried to find a room in the university’s halls of residence. And when that’s failed, he’s resorted to sleeping in the admin office, clearing out before the staff arrived every day.
“Anyone who needs the bathroom or a shower, use the halls of residence, preferably at night. We’ll break into the cafe this evening, get some cash. Food will be simple, and not particularly nourishing. It’s going to be a long few weeks.”
