The Man Who Folded Himself (9 page)

So, where was Don?

Was he waiting for me in tomorrow?

If so, then he wouldn't be my future self anymore. He'd be a different duplicate.

No. The whole thing didn't make sense. It didn't seem logical that every time I went back and talked myself out of an action that I would create a duplicate of myself—

But it seemed the only answer. Every time I changed the past, I was creating an alternate world—

My head was starting to hurt.

Now, wait a minute—I had already changed the past! I had worn different clothes and I had given Dan two hundred dollars to bet instead of one hundred. And the newspaper I had brought with me—

The newspaper, of course! It had been staring at me all the time. FIVE-HORSE PARLAY WINS $57,600!

But it wasn't a five-horse parlay—not anymore! It was only a four-horse parlay! We hadn't stayed to bet on Michelangelo. We'd doubled the first bet. It was only coincidence that we'd ended up with the same amount.

But the important thing was: I had changed the past. Just as Don had come back in time to change his past, so I had done the same thing to my past, though not on so large a scale. I remembered my past differently—I remembered different clothes, a different bet, and a five-horse parlay. I remembered it the way it had happened to me—and then I had changed it.

So where was my Don—the one I had gone to the races with? Where was he?

The situation was exactly the same: I had changed the past and destroyed the future. So where was he?

Well, that was silly. He was me. He hadn't disappeared—he was right here. I had simply done things differently this time around.

Ouch.

That meant that the Don who had come back in time with the newspaper was me too. (Of course—but would I have to go back in time to warn myself? No, because I hadn't let the bets go that far.)

Then, if he was me . . . there really was only one of me! He would go back to the future—my future, our future—with his memories, but—

But if his memories were different than mine, how could we be the same person?

So the question was still unanswered: Where was the Don I had gone to the races with? The one who had worn a sweater and slacks and bet only a hundred dollars? Where was my good sport jacket?!

Danny showed up then, he was giddy and excited—like he'd invented money. He waved the check at me.

“You want to see it?”

I took it thoughtfully and looked. I took my check out of my pocket and compared them—they were not identical. The check number on Danny's was lower and the signatures were not quite the same.

Of course, how could they be identical? We were leaving earlier in the day after a different set of bets. The situations were not the same—why should the checks be?

Then, this check I was carrying—it was no longer any good, it was from a world that no longer existed.

And it was the same situation with the disappearing Don; he was a canceled check in this world, wasn't he?

But the canceled check hadn't disappeared. I still had it.

(I remembered myself asking if we could cash them both.)

I'd been fooled once by the illusion of the duplicated check, but this time the check had been duplicated!

And if I could duplicate the check, then couldn't I have duplicated myself?

There was another side to it too.

I'd already eliminated two possible futures: the one where I'd worn slacks and a sweater and the one where I'd won a million and a half dollars.

As far as I knew, both of those Dons had ceased to exist along with their futures. Neither seemed to be still around.

And if I could eliminate them—

—what was to keep some other Dan from eliminating me?

Perhaps even now—

No. There must be something I was misunderstanding.

Danny drove. He babbled incessantly; he was like a schoolgirl. But I wasn't listening anyway. I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts.

I knew there was an answer.

There had to be.

For one thing, paradoxes were supposed to be impossible.

Oh, sure, I know—time travel makes the most horrendous of paradoxes possible, even probable; but that's just not so. A paradox would be a violation of the laws of nature. By definition, they're the laws of nature. And inviolable.

Therefore, paradoxes are impossible.

Because if paradoxes were possible, then time travel would have to be impossible—otherwise, we'd have people killing their grandfathers right and left. We'd have people seducing their mothers or kidnapping their fathers. We'd have time travelers killing the inventors of time machines. We'd have all manner of anachronisms and flukes, and the laws of nature would be violated in so many different ways, it would take the invention of a whole new science to catalog them all.

But time travel was possible. I had proved it myself.

So paradoxes were impossible.

It sounded all very neat when I explained it to myself that way. Paradoxes had to be impossible; therefore, they were. Everything could be worked out logically—

Then, damn it, why couldn't I work this one out? If this wasn't a paradox, it was still way ahead of whatever was in second place.

All right. Let's assume that paradoxes are impossible—then where do I go from here?

The checks, for instance. Obviously, Danny's check was the good one, the one we would have to cash in order to collect our winnings. But the question was how?

Should I take it forward with me into the future? But then what would Danny have to show himself when he was Don? (Of course, I hadn't made a point of comparing the checks this time around,
had I?) But if I left it here in the past, how would I get it in the future?

My check shouldn't exist. It was from a canceled world. Danny's check was the only valid one here because I had done things differently from the way they had originally occurred. If I had done things the way Don had done, I would have had the “duplicate” of Danny's check.

But I hadn't. I had tampered with the timestream and didn't have a valid check at all. And that meant—

—that I was a canceled check too.

Because whatever I did now, this Danny—when he became Don and went back in time—would not do exactly the same as me. It would be impossible for him to do so. Just as I had eliminated the Don preceding me, this Danny was going to eliminate the Don preceding him—me!

Did I still exist?

Was I about to wink out?

Was it just a matter of time?

Yes—of course, it was a matter of time. Ha. ha. The joke's on me.

No, this couldn't be right; I was thinking in paradoxes again. After all, I was here and alive—I was me. I hadn't eliminated Don at all. I had become him and done things differently, that's all.

Sure—but I still couldn't stop asking myself what had become of my Don who had done things the other way and the Don who had given me the newspaper and told me not to be so greedy. (“Forget about them—you simply won't become them, that's all,” I told myself. “How would you know?” I answered.)

Let's see . . . there must be a way to figure this out.

Danny had to go back in time and become Don to his Dan.

If he takes his check back with him, I won't have it to cash. On the other hand, if I take it forward with me, he won't have a check to show his Danny. (He'll be changing the timestream, just like me. Unless—)

What if I gave Danny the false check to take back with him? Would that undo the damage? Or would it just make it worse?

My mind began to boggle.

But it was the answer, of course. This Danny would become my Don! That's why his check would match mine when he went back to meet me. (And he'd test to see if he could change the past too! He'd try wearing different clothes than me: the slacks and sweater!)

And I'd still end up with the money!

Yes, of course. It had to be the answer.

I'd been sitting and staring at the checks for the past ten miles. Now I handed Danny the false one and he slipped it into his pocket without even looking at it.

(Ha-ha! I cackled gleefully to myself.)

I realized Danny was saying something: “—what happens now? Do you go back to your time?”

I grinned at him. “Not yet. First we go out to celebrate. Like rich people.”

This time, I won the argument over who was going to use the bathroom first. I don't mind sharing my razor, but at least I ought to get the first shave off a new blade. Danny seemed a little bothered by the pseudo-intimacy of both of us dressing out of the same closet, so I compromised and let him wear the red sport jacket. While he showered, I reset my belt and flipped back to morning, phoned The Restaurant and made reservations for two, then flashed forward again, appearing at the exact instant I had disappeared and in the same spot. The air hadn't even had time to rush in. (That was one way to minimize the jump-shock.)

It was at The Restaurant that I began to realize what Don had meant the night before and why he had said what he did. Danny looked so . . . innocent. So unprotected. He needed someone. And I could be that someone—I was that someone; I knew Danny better than anyone.

He was my “little brother”—I would have to watch out for him; and that would make him feel as secure as I felt when my “big brother” Don was around. It was a strange feeling—exciting.

“You'll never have to be alone again,” I told him. (I knew how lonely he was; I knew how much he hated it.) “You'll always have me. I'll always have you. It makes more sense this way.” (I would keep him from falling into those bitter, empty moods, those gritty moments of aching frustration. It would be good for both of us.) “I
don't like being alone either. This way I can share the things I like with somebody I know likes them too.” (No, I would never be lonely again; I would have my Danny to take care of. And my Don to take care of me. Oh, it was such a wonderful feeling to have—how could I make him see?) “I don't have to try and impress you, you don't have to try to impress me. There's perfect understanding between us. There'll never be any of those destructive little head games that people play on each other, because there can't be.” It all came spilling out, a flood of emotion. (I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted to hold him.) “I like me, Danny; that's why I like you. You'll feel the same way, you'll see.

“And I guarantee, there are no two people in this world who understand each other as well as we do.”

Life is full of little surprises.

Time travel is full of big ones.

My worrying about paradoxes and canceled checks had been needless. If I had thought to read the timebelt instructions completely before I went gallivanting off to the past and the future, I would have known.