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After several more moments of silence, Dr. Devereux lets out a long breath mixed with a laugh. “I can’t believe it. That isn’t to say I don’t believe you—I do,” she’s quick to add.
“But you researched this,” I say. “You had a whole class devoted to it.”
“Yes, but that was all about the theoretical.”
Miles straightens his posture, and it’s only then that I realize he’s been sitting much less stiffly than usual. Like he’s no longer fighting with his body. “What are your theories, then? What would you have taught in your class?”
Dr. Devereux presses her lips together, as though deciding what she wants to share with us. Then she gets up, muttering to herself as she wades through her museum until she pauses in front of a rolltop desk. I flash Miles a concerned look, and he gives me his most hopeful one in return.
“I have two major ones,” Dr. Devereux says, rummaging in the desk. “The second one, I nearly got laughed out of grad school for writing a paper on it.” Finally she plucks a thick sheaf of paper from the drawer, holds it up with a victorious thrust of her arm. “But we’ll start here. Have you heard of the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics?”
I shake my head, while Miles nods. Three weeks ago, I’d have teased him about it. Now it only endears him to me even more, my heart swelling with something like pride, because of course Miles knows. And if he didn’t, I have zero doubt he’d be taking notes.
“Essentially,” she continues, “it means that there are many worlds that exist in the same time and space as ours. In parallel. I’ve always been fascinated by it. It would keep me awake at night, my brain going wild with the infinite possibilities. Somewhere out there might be a version of me who wore a red blouse instead of blue thirty years ago, and it changed the trajectory of her life. A version who decided to learn piano instead of violin as a child. A version who prefers coffee to tea.”
I glance down at the liquid swirling in my mug. It’s eerily similar to what Miles was talking about all those days ago with the mozzarella sticks.
“The MWI is what sparked my interest in time travel, which is impossible to consider without parallel universes. The MWI lets you examine time travel without the intrusion of the time-travel paradox.”
“The whole Back to the Future thing,” I say.
“Without getting too into the weeds, yes. You can’t disturb a timeline, because there are an infinite number of parallel universes, and therefore any changes made as a result of time travel would simply create a new universe. Now, a loop, though,” Dr. Devereux says. “That’s exceptionally fascinating. Although, at its core, if the MWI is to be believed, you’re creating a new universe each time you wake up.
“My theory,” she continues, “was that there were connection points between parallel universes, places where information could be transmitted from universe to universe. If you imagine a universe as a sphere, those connection points are spaces where the universes, and by extension, our parallel lives, come closest to touching without actually doing it. But in rare instances, because much of the universe is unpredictable—they do touch. And that’s when transmitting information might be possible.”
“Information like… people?” I ask, struggling to visualize it. In my head, it looks like two cans tied together by a piece of string, a pair of kids using them to relay messages back and forth to each other. Somehow, I doubt that’s what Dr. Devereux pictures.
She laughs at this. “Not quite. I was trying to expand on the work of another scientist, and we focused on a single ion.” Oh. “But if we could send information, then there’s no reason—theoretically, of course—that we couldn’t eventually develop the equipment to transmit more than that.”
Miles’s brow furrows as he puzzles all of this out. “Those connection points,” he says. “Is that how we could get home?”
Home. The word sounds too deliciously distant. I wonder if he can sense me shivering with my ankle next to his.
“Again, I need to emphasize that this is all theoretical. No one has been able to test it. I can tell you that yes, it sounds the most logical that finding some way to cross over at a connection point would lead you out of this universe. But where would it take you? Would you arrive in the ‘right’ universe, the one you were meant to continue in before you got stuck? Would you meet yourselves and risk a great disruption to the space-time continuum…?” She trails off, giving us a sad smile. “That, I can’t answer. I’m also afraid I would have no reasonable idea where those points are located.”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “So it’s basically hopeless.”
“I didn’t say that.” Dr. Devereux returns to the couch, her cats snuggling up next to her. “It’s merely… complicated.”
Despite knowing that the rules of the universe are unlike what I’ve always expected them to be, all of this has made my mind spin. All the other Barretts out there who’ll never know that Miles loves period pieces. All the Mileses who’ll never hold hands with Barrett Bloom.
It’s kind of heartbreaking.
“Do you have any idea why we might be repeating a single day?” Miles asks. “Why wouldn’t we just keep moving forward through time in this parallel life?”
“My best hypothesis is that something is malfunctioning. The universe is not infallible. There’s something causing you to remain stuck in this day, repeating it, instead of moving forward. Almost like—like a cat with its paw on a keyboard, accidentally hitting zero over and over and over.”
I try to picture it, some celestial feline sitting at a space computer, 00000000000 and screwing up our lives.
“Why us, though?” I say.
“That actually segues perfectly into my next theory,” Dr. Devereux says. “We didn’t place as much emphasis on this one in class, for the simple reason that it’s a bit more… magical. And that would be that maybe you strayed onto the wrong path somehow, and time intervened to shift you onto the path you’re supposed to be on.”
I raise my eyebrows at Miles. “And you told me not to personify the universe.”
This earns me a smirk. And maybe I’m imagining it, but his shoe seems to press more firmly against mine, which shouldn’t make me nearly as dizzy at it does.
“Time is a strange, slippery thing,” Dr. Devereux continues. “Even when it’s acting normally, or whatever our concept of ‘normal’ is. How often do you do something you love and swear only a minute has passed, when it’s been several hours? Or the opposite when something is a slog? It can play with our memories, too, and possibly even more so when it’s not acting the way it should. Call it fate, call it an accident, but whatever it is, you’ve been looped in.” She cracks a smile. “Forgive my choice of words.”
