“Ohhh.” David snapped his fingers. “You did things differently today, didn’t you? The experiment we talked about. That must be it.”
“That must be what?” Amie asked, still confused.
David unplugged the vacuum from the wall. “I was woken up by voices,” he explained. “People arguing. Very inconsiderate to those around them who might have been trying to nap. According to you, that doesn’t usually happen, or else you wouldn’t be used to me being asleep during this time. Therefore, you must have done something differently today that triggered the argument.”
Amie frowned. She’d done multiple things differently that day. In addition to leaving Hallie to search on her own, she’d also withheld her assistance cleaning up the coffee spill at the caféthat morning, avoided the woman trying to prop up her phone to take a photo of her outfit, and tried to let that stray cat cross the road by itself. (She’d eventually given in after the cat had a close call with a school bus, but she still counted the attempt.)
“But I didn’t make anyone get into an argument,” she said. “I wasn’t even here.”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be the direct result of your interference,” David mused, standing and crossing the apartment. “Not to talk like a stereotypical ‘Guy Who Builds Rube Goldberg Machines’—”
“I don’t think that’s a common stereotype.”
“—but one little action on your part could potentially set off a larger chain of events.” David picked up Amie’s smoothie cup, placing it on his work table at the bottom of a small ramp.
“Let’s say this cup represents your normal route to get breakfast.” He picked up a small blue marble and dropped it down the ramp. The marble bounced against the cup and dove off the side of the table. “Marble falls onto the floor. That’s it. As long as the cup is there, the marble will fall onto the floor.” He removed the cup, retrieving the marble.
“Now let’s say you take a new route to get breakfast.” David dropped the marble down the ramp. It began traveling through the machine. “You’re crossing a different street than usual, causing a car to stop for you. The woman in that car arrives eight seconds later to work, putting her in the perfect position to collide with a man carrying a box of files as she’s rushing into the building. This causes the man to miss an elevator ride with his boss. The boss gets stuck in the elevator, and his employee isn’t there with the big box of files that they could’ve used to climb up and out of the elevator.
“So the boss has to wait for the firefighters, and doesn’t get to the office until an hour later. He walks into the office just in time to see one of his employees looking out the window, having just seen a loose piece of paper fly by—one of the files that had been dropped earlier by the other employee. The boss mistakes this for distractedness, so later, when he’s giving out promotions, he doesn’t consider that employee for one.”
The marble fell into a plastic cup with a victoriousplunkas it finished its journey across the room, having left a trail of fallen dominos and other miscellaneous items in its wake.
“And all because you took a different route to get breakfast,” David finished.
“I think you just wanted a reason to show off your new machine,” Amie said. “And telling me that I might’ve made someone miss out on a promotion isn’t really making me feel better.”
David waved a hand. “Don’t worry about her. It made her decide that she deserves better, and now she’s going to quit and get a job that pays her twice as much and has dental insurance. Things always work out.”
“I guess.” Amie crossed her arms uncomfortably. “I just don’t like that my actions have so much power in this time loop.”
“Your actions always have power,” David said, resetting the dominoes. “You’re just being reminded of them over and over again. The good thing is, the consequences aren’t long-lasting. Also, I learned that the phrase ‘you dipshit’ is alive and well. I always forget about that one. Almost makes getting woken up worth it.”
“Good” wasn’t the word Amie would have normally used to describe the effects of the time loop, but in this case, it did bring her some comfort. Regardless, she still felt strange, and couldn’t shake the feeling for the rest of the evening.
Chapter FiveMac and Cheese
Day 1 A.L.
Ziya insisted on driving Amie back to her building.
“Should we call a lawyer?” she asked, speeding through an intersection just as the yellow light flashed to red. “Does he have a lawyer we can call?”
“I don’t know.” Amie gripped the inside of the door, her whole body tense. Ziya was, on paper, a good driver—she’d never caused a car accident, or gotten a ticket, or even been pulled over. But she definitely pushed the boundaries of traffic laws, especially when she had someplace to be (which, with Ziya, was almost always).
“What exactly did he say?” Ziya slowed momentarily at a stop sign, then stepped on the gas and zipped around the corner.
“He said he thought someone should know he was about to be arrested, and if he wasn’t home when I got back, I should check the police station. Then he told me not to rush, and … and he hung up.”
Amie decided at the last second to leave out David telling her not to let this get in the way of “winning Ziya back.” He’d hung up before she could reply.
“Why would he be arrested?” Ziya asked. “Did I miss them outlawing Rube Goldberg machines or something?”
“I don’t know,” Amie repeated. She thought about the police tape outside of the bookshop that morning. How David seemed undisturbed by the news of Savannah’s death.
She shook her head. That wasn’t possible. It had to be something else.
Ziya glanced over at her. “You thought of something.”
