Page 101 of Katabasis
“I suppose Saturday’s out too.” Alice’s thoughts churned sluggishly. “Because Sunday’s out, which makes Saturday the last day it could happen, but if it hasn’t happened by Friday, then Saturday isn’t a surprise either... Oh.” Something clicked in her mind. “But then Friday is the last day it could happen...”
“You see,” Peter said gleefully. “It’s recursive.”
Alice saw now. “So then the prisoner can never be hung, because none of the days will be a surprise. And they have to let him go.”
“Precisely!” Peter beamed. “And are not the conditions perfect for this paradox? We know we will expire in five days. We know the Kripkes always come when least expected. But if we map you onto the Hangman’s Paradox, then you are invincible—they can never get you at all. So my hypothesis is if we write this into an algorithm, it releases you from the trap—that, or constructs some shroud of invulnerability, so that even if they come they can’t hurt you—”
“Fine,” Alice sighed. Stupid, ineradicable hope crept back into her chest; stupid, exhaustingfeeling. Things had been so much better when she’d only been numb. “Give that here.”
Peter slid her notebook across the sand.
She traced her finger down the lines, willing herself to focus. Slowly she made sense of his scrawls. “You’ve messed it up.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’ve written it for only one.” She tossed the pages back into his lap. “It’s no good. You have to do the whole thing over for two.”
“Oh,” said Peter. “No, I’d noticed that. That was intentional.”
It took her a moment to register what he meant by this. “Murdoch...”
“It’s not a very strong paradox,” said Peter. “It’s not like Sorites. There’s a couple of obvious solutions, and I know them far too well. I can’t suspend my disbelief long enough for it to work.”
“All paradoxes have solutions.” Alice fought a rising swell of panic. “That’s why they’re temporary.”
“Verytemporary,” said Peter. “I’m afraid this one is particularly flimsy. And against something like an Escher trap, there’s really no room for doubt.”
“Then how do you know it’ll work on me?”
He cast her a soft smile. “Because you’re not a very good logician.”
“Fuck you, Murdoch.”
“Get in.” He gestured. “Let’s send you out.”
“I am not leaving you.”
“And I’m not letting you die,” said Peter. “We can’t have come all this way for nothing. You said it yourself. This all has to be worth something.”
“Then we go in together.”
“Not sure that’ll work.”
“Well, we’ve got to try.” She smacked the notebook. “Rewrite it. Set it for two.”
“It won’t work for me,” Peter insisted. “And when it doesn’t work, you’ll be a corrupted subject as well, and then you won’t get out either—you’lldie—”
“I’d rather die.” She meant it. She’d never meant anything so much in her life. A week ago she hadn’t been able to say she’d save Peter’s life with certainty—but now, she knew. She didn’t want to live. Didn’t want the future, this stupid goal they’d been chasing. “We both live, or we both die, there’s no third option.”
“The third option is youlive. You deserve to live—”
“I don’t deserve anything.” Alice meant this, too. What had she done since they’d come to Hell? Lied, betrayed Peter, betrayed Elspeth, landed them all in this sorry mess. It was about time she closed the book on this pathetic story. She was so very tired—she only wanted now to expire quietly in the dark, but Peter wouldn’t even let her do that. “I don’t, I really don’t—oh, gods, Peter, just let me die.”
“Can’t. Won’t.”
“Why are you being so noble?” She would have beat him with her fists, if she could muster the strength. “Stop being so noble.”
“You’re the only one with an algorithm to bring him back. Mine doesn’t work. I get out, and the only person we send back up top is Grimes. You get out, and at least you get home alive.”
