“Drew…I’m pretty sure it’s more than a tiny snag. In fact…I know this is the problem. It has to be the problem.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been sort of…sliding between worlds since that night? Like…this one and the one where you and I wound up together?”
His jaw dropped so fast I was surprised it didn’t audibly clunk. After a few hard swallows, he spoke.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s happened so far?”
For the second time that day I told everything, from the first wakeup in his arms to the moment other-him had booted me back here.
“Wow. At least I’m not a total idiot in this other universe,” he said with a bitter smirk.
“Drew, you’re a certified genius ineveryuniverse.”
“I’m not a—”
“We’re not doing that right now. I’m gonna need you to believe you’re a genius, and thenactlike the genius that can fix this beforeI, you know…” I exploded my fingers,poof. Drew pulled his chin back, startled, then nodded.
“Okay, heard. But I’m really not sure what you want me to do at this point, Laurel. Not that I’m gonna give up.” He raised both hands, shaking his head jerkily. The motion seemed to physically rattle his brain in his fragile, too-tired head, and he pinched his eyes closed for a second. “It’s just…I’ve done everything I can think of. Renamed the profile to you, manually stopped every sequence the program was running, which would have included my original input about the day I, uh…that day.” His eyes darted to the side. “Anyway. Yeah. If there’s something I could do on this end, it already should have resolved.”
“So I’m…safe? Other-Drew seemed pretty convinced he’d sorted it out on his end.”
“I mean…unless the program stops pulling so much power, they’regoingto shut it down. They confirmed it earlier today. It’s too big a threat to their core services.” The pity on his face cracked open my chest. “Thingsmightbe okay, or…” He winced, then shook his head.
“Okay, then what if I…I don’t know, come in now? Maybe the program will let me finish the calibration after everything you’ve done to clear the deck?” I could hear the hint of desperation in my voice. Judging by his pained look, Drew could, too.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but…it wouldn’t make a difference, Laurel.”
“You’re saying it’s too late? I’m just…doomed?”
“Not necessarily,” he said, his pained expression telegraphingbut almost for sure. God, he and Dana should really work on their bedside manner. “What I meant though was that you cominginwouldn’t change anything.”
“You can’t know that. You told me about Luke and JaeHo, how they just needed to make a fixed decision. And if I did that, told the computer to stop wondering about me, we could still—”
“Laurel. You’re not listening to me.” The other Laurel I’d beenhowever briefly bristled at the patronizing tone, but I forced myself not to snap at him. “Do you remember how I told you the program was reading the electrical impulses in your brain?” He had the slow, singsong tone of a children’s puppeteer.
“Yes…” I ground out. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he reallyhaddetailed that, and it certainly wasn’t a hill I wanted to die on right now, but if I made it out of this we were going to hammer out someveryironclad terms of service together.
“Good. Right. So that—learning your specific neuronal signature—is precisely so you won’t have to constantly connect via the hardware.” He looked at me expectantly. I frowned.
“Spell it out for me.”
“If your sequence is the problem right now—which I think we can both assume is the case—the program would…hearyou making any important decisions anyway.”
“Hearme?”
He shrugged, rolling his eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
“So you’re saying…there really is no way out of this?”
He licked his upper lip, eyes narrowing as he chose his words.
“I’m saying that there’s nothing you can do, from a technical perspective, that will change the outcome at this point.”
“Wow. Okay. Nice knowing you, I guess.” Tears sprung to my eyes and I barked out a manic laugh.