Chapter 41: The Best of All Possible Universes

Sunday, October 17, 1982

We left the house at our usual time, but instead of heading for Mike’s, we headed for Jane’s office, arriving right around two. Jane was there, smiling, letting us in, then hugging us both.

“You two look good,” she said.

“I think we are good,” said Angie. “A few weirdnesses, but that’s us.”

“How weird? Do I need several Excedrin?” Jane said.

“Um ... no ... I think,” I said.

“Not reassuring.”

“Seriously, this is nothing like ... the weirder stuff,” Angie said.

“Not reassuring!” Jane said, chuckling. “Come on. Let’s go sit and talk.”

We headed into her office and got comfortable.

“So, tell me what’s new?” Jane said.

Angie looked at me. “Want to take that?”

“Sure. So ... you know ... well, you don’t, but you know about Janet Collins from what we’ve said.”

She nodded. “Very smart, talks like a Valley Girl, isn’t one, but is from California. Dating your friend Lizzie. Debates against you a lot.”

“That’s her. So, where do you think Janet’s planning to go to college?”

“I ... think that’s a no-brainer. Isn’t it? You said she and Lizzie were interested in Stanford or Berkeley. Didn’t they check out both at Nationals?”

“Got it. That’s the plan. That’s always been the plan.”

“What am I missing?”

“The same thing I was missing for a while, and I have far less excuse. Guess where Janet went first go-round?”

“Um ... well ... since you’re asking the question at all, probably not California. UT? Rice? Somewhere like that?”

“U. Penn.”

She blinked. “Really? That’s ... a lot of difference, there. Oh, not so much academically, but in a lot of other ways.”

I nodded. “I’m sure of it. She and Lizzie went there together, I’m 99% certain. Obviously I can’t go back and check.”

“Yes, of course. If you could, you’d check a lot of things. So ... theories?”

“Well ... either something soured Janet or Lizzie, or both of them, on California, or they couldn’t get in, or it was the Debate trip to U. Penn that changed things.”

“You didn’t say you were going to Penn?”

“We’re not. We did my first go-round. Of course, first go-round we didn’t go to New Orleans, nor Emory. Janet and Lizzie didn’t go to San Francisco for Nationals, and I don’t think they went to Redlands either.”

“So this is another ‘ripple’?”

“I think so. It’s probably at least partly our doing. We’ve done nothing specific to influence things, but I can’t help but think we caused it by altering the direction of the Debate program.”

“It’s better for them, in theory?”

Angie took that, nodding. “We think so. Janet loves California, and it’s more gay-friendly than Pennsylvania is, overall. They’ll be able to form a domestic partnership earlier, things like that. That’s assuming they don’t split up, of course. Maybe we broke something that we can’t see. But, if something happens, the dating pool is bigger out there, too.”

“So, another success.”

I nodded. “It’s not so much that, it’s just ... I missed it. I knew it, and it took me almost two years to realize that I knew it. What else am I missing that’s hiding in plain sight?”

“Let me give you a strange example. Angie’s father, Frank.”

Angie nodded. “You’re saying ... I think ... if he wasn’t my father, if he was just some guy, how could we possibly know he’d died at a different time?”

“Yes, that. It’s not really a straight analogy, because it’s not as much in plain sight. But maybe someone who is — Gene, for instance — is a very different person than either of your first time.”

“I ... can see that,” I said. “I’ve been attributing it to my being the seasoned veteran and him the new kid, instead of vice versa, since I’d been on the team six months first instead of him being there a year first, when we met. But he is different. Maybe more than that. Of course, he’s been exposed to Angie much of that time.”

“Nah. He’s clothed most of the time, overall,” Angie said, grinning.

Jane groaned, as she said, “I didn’t need that image.” But she was smiling, too.

I chuckled. “All this gets into another big can of worms that Angie and I opened not too long ago. One that’s real psychology, even.”

“Oh! Good! I like it when your issues aren’t ones that no one has ever heard of before!” She grinned as she said that.

“You like it when they’re unique, too,” Angie said, grinning back.

“I do. It’s special, being part of something this ... amazing. So ... real psychology. Go.”

“Impostor Syndrome.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s a good one! And I can see how it might apply to both of you, given your natures.”

I nodded. “I was plagued by it during my first go-round.”

“So was I,” Angie said. “Though I never knew it was a thing, or had a name. I just always had this feeling that maybe I was just lucky when I succeeded, and that my luck could turn. Particularly because it did, a lot.”

Jane nodded. “That’s it, to a T, pretty much. I should have seen it coming. You’re both so mature, but maturity doesn’t help so much with that. Sometimes it makes it worse, because it feels like the odds of luck running out should go up with time. How’ve you been handling it?”

“For me ... putting a name to it and knowing it’s a real thing that affects people makes a difference,” Angie said. “I can step back and say ‘No one’s this lucky, so it has to be something about me.’ Plus, I can look at other people — not just Steve, because ... well, we’re unusual — and see Sue, or Connie, or whoever is sailing right through, too. We can’t all just be super-lucky.”

“And you, Steve?”

“I’ve had a lot more time to fight it, so I’m okay. Except ... I invented the ultimate solipsist time-traveler version of Impostor Syndrome. I’m pretty sure I’ve rejected it, but it’s a brand-new bogeyman.”

“I ... worry ... based on the name alone. Do go on.”

“So ... here we are, placed into this universe. Things happen — good things, for the most part. We’re in the right place to save Candice, we seem to have improved Cammie’s life, and Andy’s, and Cal’s, and ... the list goes on and on. Megan saved from ... um ... bullying, and happy. Sue saved from her weak hormones. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“Following, so far.”

“We’re in a unique position to notice this, of course. Me especially, but Angie, too, here and there. More and more as time goes on. So ... well. I put it about this way to Angie. Here we are, seeing all these wonderful things, and we’re at the center of these ripples, going off and doing good things. Now ... just ... consider the opposite. Suppose this me were the first one. I die, and I come back, all raring to go. I sign up for Debate, eager to see my friends and watch them go off to Nationals and have a great time. And ... they don’t. It’s my first life. We’re okay, not great. Cammie drops out, or gets shipped off. We go to U. Penn, not Emory. Janet goes there instead of somewhere in California. That Steve is depressed. All the good things he was looking forward to — where are they?”

“Miserable, but ... wait. I see it, but I’ll let you say it.”

I nodded. “What if it’s not us? What if it’s the universe? What if this is a universe where good things just happen? What if we don’t have any real agency at all? It’s all just the luck of being in the right universe at the right time. And luck, as we all know, can change.”

Jane made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Ultimate Solipsist Time-Traveler Impostor Syndrome indeed! The whole universe is, perhaps, an impostor.”

“It’s utterly depressing and I reject it, but having thought of it, you can’t unthink it.”

Angie nodded. “I reject it, too. Ugh! That’s just bad. And it doesn’t seem to fit, really. Oh, maybe, but we can see a cause-and-effect linkage for most things.”

“Good. Keep rejecting it! I don’t like that idea at all.”

“It’s, of course, untestable, because once you’re down the rabbit hole, well ... suppose something bad happens. We can easily go ‘Candide’ on it and figure, well, that’s God moving in mysterious ways, and it’s the best of all possible outcomes. Candice’s situation looked awful at the time, but it’s easy in hindsight to say that maybe the best thing happened, because all the other things would’ve gone more wrong over time.”

“Life around you two is never boring, is it?”

I shrugged. “Whole days at Indiana were practically stultifying.”

She chuckled. “Got me there. There were days, particularly in graduate school...” She shook her head. “I know how that goes.”

“All work and no play makes Jack get the axe.”

“A movie you should not have seen yet, ordinarily.”

“Age is just a number. For us, doubly so,” Angie said.

“Literally!” Jane shot back with a grin. “Since you have two of them!”

“Children!” I said. They both stared at me, then Jane broke out laughing.

“Touché!” Jane said.

“And ... we probably need to go,” I said. “Light week at school, but it’s still Study Group.”

Angie nodded. “They’ll be wondering.”

Jane nodded. “Keep me informed if anything unusual happens. Otherwise, I’ll see you in ... just under two weeks.”

“We’ll see you then,” I said.

We all hugged, then headed out.

“That was good,” Angie said.

“Definitely. Nothing earth-shattering, but...”

“But who else can we share with?”

“Yup,” I said, nodding.

“And even if we could, Jane is a unique voice. It wouldn’t be the same if it was someone our ... um ... age.”

“If it was someone our age, it wouldn’t be the same, but it’d be ... interesting.”

“Yeah, I realized that as I was saying it. Our biological age, I guess. I mostly think of myself as sixteen,” she said.

“Me, too. I’m pretty sure I have to. It’s the right answer almost all of the time, and getting it wrong would be bad. Plus, I sure don’t feel over fifty.”

“And I don’t feel over thirty.”

“The only other people not our age I can see telling would be Mom and Dad. One day,” I said. “And that wouldn’t be much like Jane, either.”

She nodded. “One day. And, it wouldn’t. They’re too close. Jane is close, but still pretty much objective.”

Everyone was very happy to see us at Study Group, but we hadn’t missed much, and wouldn’t have if we’d stayed with Jane longer.

Just the company of a great group of friends and some games and swimming and telling jokes and stories and gossiping about school and...

Okay, we’d have missed plenty. Whenever things like that become ‘not much,’ most likely your priorities are wrong or you need better friends.

9:30pm

Angie snuggled up and gave me a smooch.

“Not sure why I saved this up for tonight. It’s not like Jane was any worry.”

“We can save it a little longer.”

“Nah. I sleep better here,” she said, grinning.

I must have given her a look, or she thought I did.

“I do! Really!”

“I wasn’t arguing.”

“You looked like you were going to.”

“Nah. I sleep better with you here, too. Well, or Jasmine.”

“So, both of us?”

“Either amazing, or amazingly bad. I don’t know which.”

She hesitated. “I should whap you, but you’re probably right. Fine, I’ll allow it.” She gave me a smooch. “Also. Both.”

“You two could be amazingly bad, I suppose.”

“You know it! Okay, so, week plan?”

“Not a lot? Maybe costumes, a little. I’m going as a GI, Jasmine as my alluring native girlfriend.”

“Not a heavy lift for her,” Angie grinned.

“We talked about doing it the other way, but it seems like too much casting against type.”

“Your legs would look good in one of those ... no, you’d never buy that.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“If you shaved them...”

“Not doing it, and they still wouldn’t.”

“Fine, they wouldn’t. You’re built too solidly for that.”

I nodded. “Diet and exercise, otherwise I’d be who I was at least twice before.”

“Which would be a big shame.”

“Big, and a shame, yes.”

“On that note ... goodnight, not-so-big brother.”

“Goodnight, not-so-little sister.”

She jiggled her chest. “They could be bigger.”

“They’re perfect. Like you.”

“Ugh. Cammie is right! Too much sugar! Dying!” She made a gurgling sound, then giggled. “Love you!”

“Love you, sis!”

We rubbed noses, then snuggled up.

Monday, October 18, 1982