Three to one, p.26
Three To One, page 26
“I just cannot fathom why this is happening,” he said.
She nodded, blowing air over the top of her coffee.
“I agree. this is terrifying.”
Peregrine looked up at her.
“How can you, of all people, say that? With you, everything unexpected is fascinating.”
“But don't you understand the ramifications of what is unfolding here? It is as though the entire multiverse system is coming apart at the seams.”
He didn’t like how that sounded.
“There has never been even a hypothesis where people could move freely through the multiverse and interact with their alternate selves without producing catastrophic consequences.”
Ratchet up the foreboding a couple more notches.
“Loretta, that is the problem. We don’t have any data at all. We have a little basket of possibilities, no more than blind guesses, really, every one of which sounded completely insane to me a few days ago.”
“Well, here is a new one for you. The fact that your alternate realities seem to be coalescing at this one point in spacetime, indicates that there is a tear in the very fabric of the multiverse system. There is no way to predict what consequences may come from this.”
“Great. You really know how to cheer up a guy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize that was my role. I thought you wanted help trying to figure this out.”
“Well, I do. But where do we begin? Do you even have any ideas to go on?”
“Maybe. I’ve put a lot of thought into it.”
“Thank you. So?”
“Perhaps some unique phenomenon has occurred in the multiverse which we are unaware of.”
“Like what for instance?”
She stared at the table.
“I have no idea,” she said. “We don’t even know how the multiverse works. How am I to know what it would take to break it? But there could also be a natural explanation to all of this.”
“A natural explanation? Please, take a shot. Your guess is probably better than anyone else’s.”
“It takes years to develop a decent hypothesis. But let’s just play with some possible explanations.”
“Please do. I don’t see how it can hurt. I’ve already broken the universe.”
“You mean the multiverse.”
“So, I’ve somehow broken multiple universes. Great.”
“It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with you.”
“Well, it certainly feels like it.”
“I am sure it must. But what if it is something completely unrelated?”
“Can you give me an example? I’m lost.”
Her brow furrowed, and she stared at the table.
“Well,” she said, “here on Earth, our Earth, if there is a large shift in the plates that make up the planet’s crust, a huge vibration results, creating what we experience as an earthquake.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, so let’s hypothesize just for a moment, that there is some analogue to that in the multiverse, on a grand scale.”
“…O-kay…”
“When a powerful earthquake occurs, especially in a coastal area, where the water content in the soil is high, the vibration agitates the individual particles, and converts the solid soil into -”
“You’re talking about liquefaction.”
“Yes. Soils of the Earth’s surface become liquid, just for a short period of time.”
“I understand the phenomenon.”
“Well, think about what happens to existing structures when that occurs.”
“They are destroyed.”
“Well, yes, but more specifically, how are they destroyed?”
He looked at her. He wasn’t in the mood for riddles.
“They are absorbed.” She said. “A two-story house may become a one-story house, because it literally sinks into the Earth’s surface, effectively being half-swallowed.”
“And you are hypothesizing that this is what has occurred? One universe has been swallowed by another?”
“Hmmm.” She said. “The more I think about this, the more intriguing it becomes.” She sipped her coffee before speaking again.
“When liquefaction occurs, the surface can no longer support the structures, so they sink. But when the surface returns to a solid, what we see, is the second story windows now down close to the ground.”
“And you are applying this to parallel universes. Wow. Interesting thought.”
He studied her face, looking for the next thread in the tapestry.
“Yes… Peregrine, this might prove to be plausible… You see, just like the house is not completely swallowed by the Earth, maybe two universes can be only partially merged.”
“So, if we were under the surface,” said Peregrine, “if the medium were of some different type, something transparent, what we might see is the bottom floor of the house, but not the whole house?”
“Now that is a fascinating thought,” she said. “We aren’t seeing the entire other universe, just bits of it which are sticking down into our realm. Hmmm… This is interesting…”
“But why aren’t we seeing duplicates of everyone?” he asked.
“Great question. The answer – Who knows?”
“Great. Super helpful.”
She shrugged. “Don’t expect too much from me. As you said, we don’t have any data. This is unprecedented. Or maybe not. Maybe there is a natural phenomenon of localized merging of universes.”
“You mean, like this is something that sometimes happens, but nobody has ever noticed it before?”
“More like nobody ever reported it before. How about if we call the local channel, and try to get your story on the five O’clock news?”
“What? No way. They’d come lock me away.”
“Exactly. It could be this is something that happens, but nobody wants to sound like a nut. Fascinating thought, isn’t it? Maybe this has happened before. Maybe it happens all the time. If that is the case, someone is going to have to be the first to inform the scientific community.” She was beginning to act animated again. “Maybe it is the way the multiverse is supposed to function. Maybe it isn’t broken at all.”
“Maybe….” Peregrine said, “But from my perspective, it feels pretty broken. Tell me more about your hypothesis of a localized merging.”
“Well, it isn’t a formulated hypothesis. It is only the seed of an idea.”
“It’s all we’ve got. Let’s explore it, can we?”
“Okay, let’s say, just for instance, if there is an earthquake in San Francisco, it could be wide-spread, and the whole region could be impacted. Or, alternately, it could be minor, very localized, and only cause damage in a limited area, possibly only one small town. In either of those cases, somewhere else, like Texas, would be completely unaffected. And maybe somewhere closer, like Arizona, feels a slight tremor, barely measurable.”
“Interesting. You do have an intriguing thought there, Loretta.”
“Or…” Her eyes grew wide. “maybe it isn’t an earthquake at all,” she said. “What about a sink hole?”
“Huh. So, a single, isolated event in which just one tiny part of the universe collapses into ours.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, “creating a portal of sorts that allows movement, or interaction at least, between the two realities.”
“Loretta, if someone overheard this conversation, do you realize how insane it would sound to them?”
She waved it off. “Who cares what people think.”
“Okay, good point.”
“Of course, I have no idea what force it would be that would cause separate universes to collapse into each other, but something seems to have caused that to happen. And not just two universes, but at least as many as three.”
“A street person, a professor, and a professional musician.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s nuts.”
“Isn’t it though?” She was smiling now. He could tell she was getting excited, more like her usual fascinated self. He wondered how fascinated she would feel if there were three of her running around.
“Peregrine, you look troubled.”
“Do I? Can’t imagine why that might be.”
“Sorry. I’m being insensitive again.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I value your input.” He said. “It’s just that when you are one of the rats in the maze, scientific objectivity is the first thing to go. This is really kind of – freaking me out.”
“It is pretty freaky,” she said. “I’m right there with you.”
Peregrine froze. He felt his blood draining to his feet.
“Professor Faulk? What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Don’t move. Don’t turn around.”
“O-kay…”
“I’m serious,” he said. “Don’t let on at all. He’s watching us right now.”
She spun in her chair as fast as she could. Peregrine cringed. Across the street, the homeless guy, dark hair, thin, medium height, kept appearing and disappearing between the vehicles in traffic.
“He could be similar in appearance to you, Dr. Faulk, but it is hard to tell from this distance.”
She stood up.
“What are you doing? Sit down!”
“I want to talk to him.”
“Are you crazy? You have no idea what effect that might have.”
“Hey, we’re in this,” she said. “I want to understand what kind of ‘this’ this is.”
She turned and headed for the street. Across the way, the street kid looked nervous. He hesitated for a second, then dashed off, ducking down the first alley he came to.
“Hey! Wait!” Professor Wilkes rushed into the street.
Peregrine shouted, but his reactions were too slow. Loud screeching brakes, a powerful impact. Professor Wilkes Screamed.
Peregrine leapt toward the street, tangled a foot in his chair, fell to the pavement, overturning the table and chairs, the big umbrella crashing as he went down. Coffee and tea soaking him, he fought to disengage himself.
Professor Wilkes was sitting in the street, scraped knees, right next to two cars that had collided. Peregrine heaved a sigh of relief. The drivers were shouting at the crazy lady and cursing each other over the car damage. Peregrine locked eyes with Loretta.
“I tried to warn you.” He felt panic rising. This was getting worse, degenerating into chaos. He helped her up from the pavement, she checked herself over, and leaning on his arm, limped back toward the wreck that had been their table. Together, they began to set tables and chairs back upright.
“I’m sorry, Peregrine. I should have known better.”
“Yes,” he said, “you should have.”
She looked at him, a mix of guilt and fright.
“Already, from this one simple act, I’ve altered the lives of at least those two people who had the accident, two or more families, the employees of two insurance companies, plus dozens of people who will be late getting home due to the traffic jam, and who knows how far the ripples will go. I should not have responded so thoughtlessly. We’ve got to be careful with this.”
Peregrine looked at her. “You think so?”
Shreya rapped quietly and poked her pretty little head into his office.
“Everything okay, Mr. Jorgensen?”
Chris motioned for her to come in. She did and closed the door quietly behind her. She was a breath of fresh air. That stretchy material moving across her thighs when she walked was lovely. She was young, intelligent, and attractive. But that wasn’t why he liked having her around. She was efficient, and talented. And if he was honest with himself because she understood him. Nothing wrong with that, is there? You want the members of your team to understand you, so that they can support your efforts. Every executive knows that. After the other girl resigned under a cloud, he was lucky to have found Shreya.
“Remember the other day when the mystery lady called with news about Dove?” he asked.
“Sure, how could I forget that?”
“Well,” he said, “I’ve been doing some research, trying to figure out my next move.”
“That’s smart,” she said. “You always make great decisions.”
“Thanks. What do you know about Stockholm Syndrome?”
“You mean, where a hostage falls in love with her captors?”
“Yes, precisely.” He stared at the desk in front of him. “I’m afraid Dove might be suffering from it.”
“Seriously?” she asked, her eyebrows rising. They were almost perfectly symmetrical. An upturned line at the outside corners of her eyeliner, understated, whispered of exotic women along the river Nile. Very nicely done.
“I think this professor has her all mixed up in the head,” he said.
“But – she’s not being held hostage, is she?”
“No, not physically, but maybe psychologically.”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed a little now, showing that she understood the complexity of the problem.
“My research says that the syndrome can occur anytime a person in authority is using influence to coerce a subordinate to do things they would otherwise not do.”
“Oh,” she said. “Mr. Jorgensen, that sounds terrible. Do you think that is what’s happening?”
“You have to understand,” Chris said, “this is my little girl. She is only nineteen years old, and at that age, a professor wields great power.”
“Yes, Mr. Jorgensen, I completely understand.” It sounded overly formal when she said it.
“Please, call me Chris.” She nodded, and he thought he detected a slight smile, just for an instant.
She sat down with perfect posture; one toned leg crossed over the other. She was very graceful, but that wasn’t why he wanted to be more personable with her. It wasn’t her perfect hair, or the graceful lines that filled out her business attire, or any of the other physical attributes, of which there were many. It was because she cared, and he could feel it.
“Chris,” she asked, “Have you talked with Mrs. Jorgensen about this?”
He cringed. He didn’t like to hear her say that name. It seemed so – divisive. Like a wedge between them, breaking the rapport they were establishing.
“My wife doesn’t understand. I can’t talk to her about this.”
“Oh. I see.”
There was an awkward pause, which he did not like one bit. He had to fill it as quickly as he could think of something.
“As I was saying, Stockholm Syndrome can occur when the victim feels cut off from perspectives other than the perspective of the abuser. Dove is so immersed in school, barely any contact with us at home, she probably doesn’t feel she can talk to anyone about this. And this professor is coming on to her.”
“Yes, Chris. I think you might be onto something. I can see that.”
“It’s obvious, right?”
“Obvious.”
“Aren’t you going to ask why I can’t talk to my wife about it?”
“Do you want me to?”
He looked at her. Lovely. She was not being coy. She was letting him lead. He liked that. Lindy had gotten to be so – well - obstinate these last few years, never letting him lead. He was a leader everywhere, but at home, he had to ask Lindy’s approval for anything he did.
“I just mean that it’d be ok,” he said, “if you were curious, that’s all. It isn’t important to me that you ask.”
“If you don’t mind, Chris, I’d rather not get involved in your relationship with your wife. I would prefer we just focus on what is going on here and work together as effectively as possible.”
Beautiful. The perfect balance of empathy and objectivity. This girl was great. Maybe even perfect. Certainly, better than the last one, who kept putting pressure on him to tell Lindy, to come clean. Like he needed that. He had enough of that kind of pressure at home. He finally had to tell her to take a hike.
“Shreya,” he said, “what do you think I should do about this situation with Dove?”
“Chris, I want you to understand, if you ask me my opinion, I am going to give it to you. Not what you want me to think, what I really think. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Okay,” she said. She brushed a curl of soft hair back. The late afternoon light coming in from the windows accentuated the lines of her features, the delicate curves of her face, the smooth, deep complexion. “Chris, this kind of thing can scar a girl for life. I had a friend who turned to prostitution after being molested by an older man.”
“Oh, no. Please tell me she recovered from it.”
“No. She got hooked on heroine, would sleep with anyone for a fix. They found her in a dumpster with her throat cut. Her parents were devastated.”
“Good Lord.”
“I think this professor is a lowlife. He is a predator. A monster. If he is messing with a nineteen-year-old girl, putting her in a – shall we say – a compromising position? I think he should have his privates cut off.”
“Oh.” That was frank. He had not considered that this lovely young lady might be capable of such a harsh, yet insightful assessment.
“Thank you, Shreya,” he said. “I could not agree with you more.”
“If I know you, the powerful man you are, you’re not going to let him get away with hurting your little girl like that.”
“You can bet I’m not.”
“He’ll probably regret the day he first saw her.”
“Damn right he will.”
She nodded her head slightly, and sat there, beautiful, poised, pen in hand, rocking one leg over the other, looking at him with those eyes. She made him feel powerful. Their eyes locked.
“Shreya?” he asked, still staring.
“Yes, Chris?”
He held the gaze for a little longer than he should have, looked away in just the nick of time.
“I would like you to put a call in to our attorney’s office. Don’t talk to any of the junior partners. Get word to the old man that I need to meet him tomorrow for lunch.”
