Chapter 8:
Turning Point
WHAT STARTED my change of heart was a phone call I got from “me” one night. I’d rather not recount the conversation itself. That said, it was beyond belief. From the bottom of my heart, I was glad no one else heard it. Not to beat a dead horse, but… No, never mind.
At the time, I was attending Jaunt’s school. All the rooms in the dorms were singles, but Alice hung out in mine almost every night. Normally, she was full of pride and constantly bailed me out due to my poor English abilities—Alice was the only one in this school of supposed geniuses who could speak Japanese—but as soon as we were alone, she leaned on me like a little kid. She was almost thirteen, but when I took my eyes off her, she’d start sucking her thumb. It looked like she was regressing to an infantile state. It was creepy and, to be honest, super annoying. But it could also be useful, so I had to take it for what it was despite my growing stress.
Jaunt didn’t raise any particular objection to Alice and me being together. They were suspicious of me and probably cautious of Alice too—I’d confirmed this in other worlds—but for the time being, they merely watched from afar, maybe because they recognized the value of my left hand.
As stated before, I couldn’t use my cell phone in front of people. (There were exceptions, but that was the general rule.) Conversely, if I could use my cell phone, that meant no one was watching. This feature was extremely useful to me. Thus, if I could receive a call to my left hand, it meant that I wasn’t being monitored and Alice was really sleeping.
I was trying to avoid unnecessary contact, but I answered because I had a feeling it might be important. “Hello? What’s up?”
The “me” on the other end spoke with a strange lilt. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. The thing is, well, it’s not as if there’s been some progress or something; it’s just a personal thing I want to talk about.”
“P-personal? Huh?” I was befuddled.
But “I” didn’t seem to care, and announced, “Yeah. You see, I’m…I’m in love, I think.”
As soon as the words hit my ears, I felt my mind go blank. That was just for a moment, of course, as immediately “my” knowledge/experience bubbled up in my disordered brain. “Wha—hey—what are you thinking?”
“What? What’s wrong with being in love? In another world, there was another me who was already dating Kasoku, you know?”
“That’s not the point! You know what I mean! Hey, wait, wait a second. Please—no! You’re definitely confused! You’re confusing your maternal instincts or whatever with love! I mean—I mean—like, what I’m saying is—you know Alice is a girl, right?”
I hated to admit it, but our shared knowledge and experience told me. I knew who “I” had fallen in love with. I experienced those true feelings “I” felt for her.
Oh, man, what do I do? She’s—I mean, “I’m”—in love with a girl—a child at that!
“Is her being a girl a problem…?”
“Yes, it is! She’s Alice! She’s a child! She’s a young girl! I mean, even if we step back and—no, I’m not stepping back one step! You’re a sick freak! What are you thinking?! What kind of karma are you looking for? Anyway! It’s not love you’re feeling!”
“Well…I guess there are different kinds of love though?”
“Shut up! Of all the people it could be, why would you fall in love with Alice? That annoying little brat—”
“What are you saying? Alice is cute!”
Whoa. She yelled at me. I was dumbfounded.
“I” ranted on furiously, “What’s wrong with Alice? She’s so pretty, and she’s really courageous. She’s so little, but she tries so hard. And—how do I put it—she acts standoffish, but she actually relies on me and it’s just, like… Whatever. You know, I don’t care what you say. I think this is love. And now that I realize it, I can’t stay silent anymore. I have to express myself, properly—”
“Don’t. I get it, so don’t say any more. Aaah, my possibilities are so horrifying…”
Is this really another me? I guess if we’re just talking about possibilities, if there are an infinite number of parallel worlds, there could be a “me” like that…
I didn’t know what to say, and “I” murmured, “You really can’t understand me?”
“Huh? Well, I’m not saying it’s impossible, but probabilistically…”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Now that I look at it, I think I looked at Yukari and Tenjou that way too…”
“Shut up! Screw you, you freak! Don’t defile my memories like that!”
“Come on, think back. Remember when you met Yukari. Did it gross you out, kissing her all of a sudden?”
“No! That wasn’t even a kiss! We collided! And you just said it—I dated Kasoku! We even, uh…went there! And that didn’t gross me out! In fact I kind of—”
“Right. But that wasn’t you, nor was it me. You see? Sure it was ‘me,’ but it’s just a possibility in a parallel world, you know?”
True: the one who dated Kasoku was a version of “me,” but not me in the here and now. And this freak wasn’t me but was “me.”
It’s okay. Just accept it. I can adapt quickly to having found a “me” like this and go on with my life—I think. Even if I don’t really want to…
I sighed. “Still, no matter how cute she might be, and even if we ignore that she’s a girl and a child, how can you fall in love with a tool you’re trying to exploit?”
“What are you talking about? I don’t see Alice as a tool. We’ve rekindled our friendship and have decided to work hard together.”
As she said this, the memories came flooding in—from “me” into me—and I grasped what she was saying. This “me” was different. After I’d heard the truth by appealing to Alice’s conscience, I’d pretended to forgive her. Then I deliberately constructed the one-sided relationship we had now, with Alice dependent on me. Meanwhile, this “I” had told Alice how she felt, been understood, and genuinely repaired their relationship—to the point of falling in love.
As a result, the Alice in that world didn’t suck her thumb. Unlike the Alice in my world, she was proud and independent and supported me.
I had to say I was jealous. If only…
Maybe that Alice can help me reach my objective…
“No! No way! Definitely not! I can operate better because I’m calm!” I insisted suddenly.
“Do you know what it means to be calm? Maybe it’s none of my business, but you’re talking about exploiting Alice as a tool. Relationships like that will come back to haunt you.”
“Shut up! Is that all you had to say? Then—”
“Oh, right, right. There was something I wanted to ask you. Back in junior high, I—that is, you—”
The line cut out. I acted cool and looked around the room as naturally as I could. Hearing a fretful “Mm,” I looked at Alice, in the bed. It seemed I’d woken her.
“Huh? Hatou? Where am I?” she mumbled.
“My room. You can keep sleeping if you want. It’s late.”
Alice sat up and muttered incomprehensibly for a while without really opening her mouth. Then she lay back down. A while later, I heard her murmur, “Hatou, aren’t you going to sleep yet…?”
“Nah,” I said. “Sorry. Not quite yet.”
After some time, she replied, “You can make your own choices, but it is bad for your skin to stay up late. You are too old to behave in such a manner.”
“Um, I’m not old. I’m sixteen.”
“That is no excuse to stay up late, you know,” Alice said with a pout before turning around, her back facing me.
Her behavior was cute and soothing. I sighed. Yes, she was standoffish, but she was cute.
Ugh. Why did I have to be called a sicko by myself?
I looked at the palm of my hand and thought about the “me” I’d been talking to. Since junior high school, I’d always been fretting about whether the “mes” I talked to were possible versions of myself or parallel world versions of myself. I still hadn’t reached a conclusion on that. Either way, it didn’t make any difference since I never got to talk to the same “me” twice.
Apparently, there is a minimum unit of time called the Planck time. To be precise, it’s the smallest unit of time that humans can observe. Theoretically, my possibilities or parallel worlds were generated and disappeared every Planck time. That might mean that every Planck time, I became probabilistic, “collapsed,” or interfered with parallel worlds. Alice was the one who taught me this, after I made up with her and we started working together.
I approached the bed where Alice lay. She’d left me space to lie next to her, and warmth surged in my heart. I grew increasingly irritated at the “me” I’d been talking to. How could “I” treat adorable Alice like an annoying child or a tool? How could that “me” be a version of me?
Well, what could I do? In that world, I guessed “I” really hadn’t made up with Alice. In other words, I and that “I” had different pasts.
That’s when it hit me—what Alice had taught me had shown me. I’d already hung up, but I’d confirmed it from the memories I’d shared with “me.” So probably in the next world/possibility generated, another “me” would have also realized it.
I sighed, whispered to Alice, slipped under the comforter, and held her in place of a pillow. Alice squirmed. She must have still been awake. But she didn’t say anything. So I held her tighter, and I thought to myself: Thank you, Alice. For showing me. For helping me. And sorry. I love you dearly, but I still can’t turn my back on the objective I chose to pursue.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Listen.”
“Sure. I’m listening. Go on.”
“We might be able to change the past.”