Page 13 of Love and Other Paradoxes

The sight of her was a shock to his heart. He had forgotten, in the chaotic whirl of revelation that had consumed the past twenty-four hours, that it had all started with her. He had met her as a stranger, but she had known who he was from the beginning.With a peculiar lurch, he saw her mocking, familiar manner in a new light. “Why did you even have it? You that much of a fan?” He saw her flinch, and he pursued it. “See that poet you had to study at school. The one you thought was overrated. That was me, wasn’t it?”

She ignored his last question. “The book was a free gift. I need it back because...” She took in a ragged breath. “I’m here in the past to change something, and if you start making other changes because you know stuff you shouldn’t, then you could undo my change, and I—”

“Wait,” he interrupted, his heart imploding. “You’re saying the past can change?”

Chapter Six

“I don’t understand,” he went on. “The leaflet says—”

“I know what the leaflet says.” She looked over his shoulder. “Just—please tell me you haven’t read the book.”

He laughed in her face. “Of course I have! You’re telling me if someone gave you a book about your future, you wouldn’t read it?”

“I didn’t give it to you. You took it.” She closed her eyes in despair. “Yeah, I’d read it,” she added quietly.

The wind spiralled, sending red leaves skittering around their feet. “Look,” he said. “Can I get you a coffee?”

She looked at him like he’d offered to get her a hamster. “What?”

“Just—my friend Rob says I’m the worst person to talk to about time travel in the best of circumstances. And this is not the best of circumstances, because I’m extremely hungover just now. So ideally, I’d want some caffeine in my system before we get into closed timelike whatevers. If that’s all right with you?”

“I guess I can’t just let you walk away with all that future stuff in your head.” She hesitated. “Fine. Let’s get a coffee.”

He dithered over where to take her, until he remembered she wasn’t his destined beloved and he could take her anywhere heliked. He decided on Indigo, a tiny café up the narrow side street of St. Edward’s Passage. “This is on me, by the way,” he said as they stood at the counter. “Least I can do for my biggest fan.”

Stone-faced, she scanned the price list. “Large mocha,” she said, “extra marshmallows,” and stamped away upstairs.

He ordered a latte for himself, and carried the drinks up the creaking steps. The tables were proportionally tiny: when he sat down opposite Esi, he was startled by her closeness. She leaned in farther, her eyes flickering down to his cheek. His heart stuttered.

“You’ve got something...” She squinted, her finger hovering near his face. “It looks likebananawritten backwards?” He flushed, rubbing at his cheek. She was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. “The Shakespeare of our time,” she murmured.

He cleared his throat, feeling as awkward as if he were on a first date. “So. See this.” He took the book out of his pocket and extracted the leaflet. “It says, ‘anything you do in the past has already happened.’”

“Sure. That’s the official line.” She leaned back in her chair. “I think it’s bullshit.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Why?”

“The terms and conditions.”

He laughed. “I was expecting something a wee bit more dramatic.”

A brief smile lit her face. “Stay with me. It gets good. So, here’s what they make us agree to.” She counted on her fingers. “Time travellers may not carry any future technology. Time travellers must stay with the tour guide at all times. Time travellers may only enter the wormhole between local hours of nine a.m. till twelve p.m., and one p.m. till five p.m. each day—”

“Wormhole?” he interrupted. “There’s a wormhole?”

She gave him a deadpan look. “What did you think, we got the bus?”

He spluttered out a laugh; she looked pleased despite herself. “Give me a break!” he protested. “I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m a tourist destination.” He took a gulp of coffee. “So where is it, this wormhole?”

Esi picked a marshmallow off the top of her mocha and popped it in her mouth, briefly closing her eyes. “King’s Lane.”

King’s Lane was a concrete alley, attached to the Gothic splendour of King’s College like a tin can to a thoroughbred’s tail. No one went down King’s Lane for any reason but to relieve themselves at the end of a night out. “I’m sorry. You’re telling me there’s a wormhole to the future, and it’s inPiss Alley?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Sure, just announce it to everyone.”

“It’s fine. This is Cambridge. They’re just going to assume we’re rehearsing a play.” She rolled her eyes, and he smiled. “Why, are you worried folk might try and walk through?”

“They can’t,” she said impatiently. “It’s hidden. There’s a password you have to say to reveal it. And no, I’m not telling you what it is. I’m not even going back through myself until I’m done making my change. Anyway, can I get back to my point?”

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