[ It's not that he doesn't want to ask questions, exactly — he has no idea what to ask (lacking much of background that would contextualise her discovery). She fills in some blanks unasked, but the picture in his mind remains hazy. All he gathers is the main idea: they chatted across universes using the same science. ]
You might've guessed this, but I barely attended science classes. [ by way of explanation for not inquiring further. ] 'Course it sounds clever as anything.
[ He cards a hand through his hair. It's late, so disturbing it bothers him less. ]
So, you two teamed up then and figured out how to... make a bigger opening?
[ more atoms or tearing the universe or whatever. ]
[A beat, and she gestures, drawing a little rectangle in the air with her finger.]
Think of it like a doorway. Every universe is a room, self-contained and separate, but they're all packed in side by side. If you can figure out how to open a window from one to the other, though . . . it's as simple as stepping through.
We made a doorway. It took us years, but we managed it, shaky and able only to stay open for a few seconds. But that was long enough. He came through, and he never looked back.
[. . .]
Though it came with a few unforeseen repercussions. Universes don't like it when you mix them like that. And they certainly don't like it when two of the same person occupy one world. Robert suffered hemorrhages and memory problems for months before he recovered.
He kept thinking he was me. He had two sets of memories, and he couldn't reconcile them, which caused him to bleed out. Did he attend Cambridge or Girton? Did he love our parents or resent them? Both were true, and yet both facts couldn't be true . . . but the brain adapts. We learned how to cope with it.
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tailorable) wrote2017-08-29 10:15 am
no subject
You might've guessed this, but I barely attended science classes. [ by way of explanation for not inquiring further. ] 'Course it sounds clever as anything.
[ He cards a hand through his hair. It's late, so disturbing it bothers him less. ]
So, you two teamed up then and figured out how to... make a bigger opening?
[ more atoms or tearing the universe or whatever. ]
no subject
[A beat, and she gestures, drawing a little rectangle in the air with her finger.]
Think of it like a doorway. Every universe is a room, self-contained and separate, but they're all packed in side by side. If you can figure out how to open a window from one to the other, though . . . it's as simple as stepping through.
We made a doorway. It took us years, but we managed it, shaky and able only to stay open for a few seconds. But that was long enough. He came through, and he never looked back.
[. . .]
Though it came with a few unforeseen repercussions. Universes don't like it when you mix them like that. And they certainly don't like it when two of the same person occupy one world. Robert suffered hemorrhages and memory problems for months before he recovered.
He kept thinking he was me. He had two sets of memories, and he couldn't reconcile them, which caused him to bleed out. Did he attend Cambridge or Girton? Did he love our parents or resent them? Both were true, and yet both facts couldn't be true . . . but the brain adapts. We learned how to cope with it.