Finally, someone answers.
“Why do you think you need to save her?”
I turn to Trent and respond, “Because she’s my friend.”
“I’m not saying she isn’t. But why do you feel likeyou’rethe person who has to save her?”
“I’m the only person who knows.”
Trent considers this. A small smile tugs at his lips, almost like he’s amused by what I’ve said. “You think that knowing her future makes that future your responsibility?”
“Doesn’t it?”
Kimiko says, “I agree with Trent!” in a surprised, almost scandalized, tone. “Everyone is on their own path. This opportunity that you’ve been given is about correctingyourpath and finding joy and pleasure inyoursecond life. If you spend all your time worrying about other people, it will interfere with your personal fulfillment.”
“That’s not at all what I said,” Trent says flatly, all humor wiped from his face.
“Isn’t it, though?” Kimiko challenges.
“The problem is, maybeJoeyisn’t a selfish person,” Marie chimes in.“Maybe she finds fulfillment in helping others. Not everyone can engage with your solipsistic worldview, Kimiko.”
Kimiko is unfazed. “Oh, I wouldn’t give meallthe credit. Trent said it first.”
“I didn’t say that,” Trent exclaims. His voice is only slightly raised, but the effect is as good as yelling.
“We’re forgetting one key piece here,” Noah says.
At his words, Trent and Kimiko both roll their eyes, and Trent says, “Here we go again,” in a way that does absolutely nothing to mask his derision. So it’s not just Kimiko he can’t stand.
Noah continues as if Trent hasn’t said anything. “This entire debate rests on the assumption that Helen is a pawn in this story instead of a player. But if she died in this tragic way, and she had regrets because of it, there’s always the chance that she was given the same choice as all of us.”
“Wait a minute—are you saying she might be living her second life too?” I ask.
“I have a theory—” Noah starts.
Trent snorts. “Youalwayshave a theory.”
“Go ahead, Noah,” Kimiko encourages.
“Technically, it’s two theories. And everyone here except Joey has heard them already.” He pivots toward me so I’m his sole focus and says, “The first theory is this: Everyone who got a second chance at life in our previous reality has been moved to this new reality with us. The only problem is, were that true, this world should be vastly different from the last one, since so many people are using the knowledge they gained from that first go-around to get ahead in this timeline. And, sure, there are small differences in the world between our last lives and this one, but nothing large-scale.”
I open my mouth to ask what those small differences are, because I haven’t noticed any, but then Trent speaks, and before I know it, the window for asking has passed.
“Yeah, you said something once about the butterfly effect. How even one person reliving their life in the 1800s should completely change what things look like in the present.”
“Exactly.” Noah smiles at Trent like a proud teacher. Trent doesn’t smile back. “So think about it in the reverse. Let’s say Bill Gates was living his second life during your first life. That’s why he was able to get so filthy rich, right? But then, what’s going on with Bill during your second life? Is he on his third? Or is he just a carbon copy of himself from his second life?
“My second theory is this: There are infinite realities. Infinite versions of us. Yes, my consciousness exists on this plane, but there are other versions of me out there. And when people get their second chances, some of them go here to this plane, but others go to another. There could be infinite versions of your friend who developed her addiction. And infinite versions who recovered. Infinite versions who might have needed and taken that second chance—and infinite versions who never became addicts to begin with. We have no way of knowing which version of her exists in this timeline, so you might as well proceed as you normally would. Be a good friend. Look out for warning signs. Do your best. But don’t beat yourself up if things go haywire, because in the grand, complex scheme of the multiverse, you have very little control.”
He stops speaking, offers me a tight smile, then turns to glance at the rest of the group as if waiting for them to pick his words apart.
“I feel like that was your very smart, intellectual way of saying that you’re Team Solipsism too. So that makes three,” Kimiko says, leaning back in her chair and looking smug.
Steven clears his throat and adds, “I don’t know about solipsism. But what I will say is that I think the difference between the happiest way our lives could go and the saddest is a much finer line than we like to think. A couple decisions. A matter of seconds. Tiny moments that add up to a completely different life. You might change your friend’s future simply by nature of the ways in which you’re going to act differently. For better or worse.”
“Do you want my advice?” Marie asks.
“I want everyone’s advice,” I say diplomatically.
