‘Yes,’ I whisper.
He breaks into a smile. ‘Yes.’
Chapter Sixty-Two
I stare back at him. ‘So it works?’
‘Of course it works.’ He gives me a knowing look. ‘Like you ever doubted yourself.’
I don’t tell him that I’ve been doubting myself quite a lot recently. Instead I ask another question. ‘How many of you?’
‘Five. It’s kind of …’ He tries to find the right word to express the feeling of talking to another version of himself in an alternate universe.
‘Weird?’
‘Yes! Weird and almost creepy. Like looking in a mirror and not quite recognizing the person staring back at me. They’re all so … impressive.’
‘Impressive?’
‘I’m the only one who gave up being the physics wunderkind and went into teaching. They all have awards and publications. A few have even been on TV.’
He sounds in awe of his other selves, but also like they’re an entirely different species to him.
‘Do you think you made the wrong choices?’ Amina asks him.
He turns to look at her. ‘Absolutely not.’ He’s adamant. ‘They might be impressive but none of them are truly happy.Anyway –’ he directs his attention back to me – ‘are you ready to meet your other selves?’
I pause for a moment. I’m nervous, of course I am. But there’s still something niggling in the back of my mind. That this doesn’t actually solve everything. ‘If I speak to five of them, and they give their consent, then that’s great,’ I say, choosing my words carefully. ‘But we don’t know how many really get impacted. How many thousands, millions, of us there might be?’
Amina makes this strangled noise in the back of her throat. ‘Just set it up, Tyler,’ she tells him. ‘She won’t listen to us, but she might listen to herself.’
‘She might,’ he replies.
‘Excuse me, I’m sitting right here,’ I tell them both pointedly. I hate it when people talk about me as if I’m not present, like I’m a child who doesn’t get an opinion in her own life.
Tyler and Amina share a look.
‘What?’ I demand. When did these two become thick as thieves?
‘Promise you’ll keep an open mind?’ Amina asks. She sounds genuinely concerned that I might just bulldoze through their entire plan by being stubborn. I mean, she isn’t wrong that stubborn can be my default position.
‘Fine. I promise,’ I reply. I don’t even cross my fingers behind my back.
Tyler motions for my hand and places it on top of the contraption inside the shoebox. It’s little more than a breadboard – basically a white board covered in tiny holes that means you can plug and play with components without having to solder into a circuit board – with a series of wires, dials, and switches. In the centre is a small finger pad.
‘A fingerprint scanner?’ I ask him.
‘Yep. All of you will have the same set of fingerprintsbecause you develop them in the womb, long before any of the divergences. Means you’ll definitely connect with another Bethany.’
‘Cool.’
‘Umm,’ Amina says. ‘Look, I don’t want to be the one pointing out the obvious. But you’re about to speak toanother versionof yourself. And yet you’re acting like it’s nothing. I’d be beside myself.’
I pause for a moment. It isn’t that I don’t understand the enormity of the situation. But … ‘I know these Bethanys. I’ve lived their lives. I’m excited to talk to them, and nervous. But …’ I don’t think I’m able to articulate the way I’m feeling right now. And haven’t I always just taken things in my stride and got on with the problem at hand?
There’s a jolt as I touch the pad, but I tamp down the reflex to pull my finger back. Tyler fiddles with a few of the dials. ‘You ready?’ he asks.
I nod in reply and hold my breath.
