Hey! So, after a significantly prolonged ‘sojourn’ from any serious writing I was encouraged by someone to start what has, for a long time now, been a cool little project idea sitting somewhere in the back of my brain. What I have been wanting to do is to, very basically, utilise Twitter to tell a brand new, unplanned and unedited, story one tweet at a time.

The appeal for me was that it lessened the intimidation factor of writing a full novel by reducing the work required to achievable chunks. The downside being: would it be coherent in any way? You will have to judge that second part for yourself. Al I can say is that I am thoroughly enjoying the process and I plan on seeing this thing through to the end, whatever that may be.

** DISCLAIMER**

This version of the story does differ ever so slightly from the Twitter version in that some hasty editing has been applied. Hopefully it doesn’t ruin the experience.

Chapter 1

‘This is where it begins’ he told himself as he took his first tentative steps out the front door and into the disappointingly chilly late-November air. Not that it was the first time that he had spoken those exact words to himself. Nor would it be the last. However, despite the semi-ritual nature of the event, it was on this particular occasion that those words would prove to be far more appropriate than ever before. Because when Victor Forrest left his home that Spring morning, the last thing he expected to come face-to-face with was himself.

Which was patently impossible, of course, and yet there he was. Standing a touch under 6 feet tall with that unmistakable shaggy mop of auburn hair and sporting a rather serious look on his face. ‘A decidedly focused look’, Victor thought. Which was an oddly small detail on which to focus, given the absurdity of the encounter.

For his part, the second Victor Forrest seemed to better appreciate the enormity of their situation as it was he who spoke first,

“Victor, you must listen to me very carefully,” he said.

At which point he, the second Victor, went into great detail as to who, what and why he was, as well as how he happened to be where he was, standing directly opposite his counterpart self from the not too distant future. Which was all well and good, and would no doubt prove to be most practical information to have only, whilst present day Victor was indeed hearing time-travel Victor talk, he wasn’t actually listening to what he had to say.

In fact, the only thing happening in present day Victor’s head that could pass for cognitive thought at that moment was the completely tangential query of ‘if this really is me from the future, or the past, or whentheheckever, why is he wearing the same clothes as I am right now?’ And just as he reached the end of that particular thought Victor felt like the world was collapsing in on itself.

Present day Victor Forrest passing out whilst attempting to comprehend the events of the still brand-new day was actually a blessing in disguise for time travel Victor Forrest. It allowed him the time to plan his next move and, being that they were one and the same, he had no issue ‘pretending’ to be present day Victor for the purpose of calling in sick to work. Admittedly things were getting a bit complicated, more so than they needed to be, but time travel Victor was going to use this time as the only conscious Victor to set things straight.

Victor woke up in a panic. He’d had the strangest dream where everything seemed normal, but as he went to leave the house, he was ambushed by another, evil version of himself. ‘Calm down, it was only a dream,’ he told himself, which worked for a second before he looked over at his alarm clock and realised that he was late for work. Alarmingly late in fact. Choosing to bypass both a shower and breakfast (for some bizarre reason he already felt clean and fed) he grabbed his wallet, phone and keys and rushed out the door. The sense of deju vu that washed over him dulled by the concern he was harbouring over his tardiness. And those 2 things combined also served to distract him from the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to get dressed, because he was already in his work attire. The only thing Victor wondered about as he made his way down the garden path towards the quiet suburban street in which the reliable old Honda Jazz he affectionately referred to as Billie was parked, was ‘why on earth has my boss not left me a dozen voice-mails asking me where I am?’

Which was a rather prescient question because it was at that precise moment that his phone did ring and lo and behold Len Marshall, owner and operator of Marshall’s Mulch and More, was the name the flashed up on the screen. Victor answered, tentatively, and was taken aback when the voice he heard at the other end didn’t sound much like Len at all. In fact, Victor could sense a note of concern in this voice, a quality he didn’t generally associate with his authoritative employer.

“Victor this is Len,” came the voice through the speaker, “I just want you to know that the entire team are behind you.”

‘Well, that’s nice,’ Victor thought, but Len continued,

“I cannot imagine what it must be like for you right now. You take all the time you need.”

Of course, Victor had no idea how much time he would need because he himself could not imagine what it must be like. So in response he simply offered a meek “thank you Len” followed by 30 seconds of awkward silence before Len, sounding a bit more like the man Victor was used to, wrapped things up with a handful more well wishes and a promise that he would check in again soon. And with that Victor was even more confused than he was pre-phone call. In fact, the entire morning up to that point had been a little surreal for a number of reasons, so Victor decided to do what he usually does when his life takes a turn for the strange, jumping into his car and headed West.

Elsewhere, the other Victor Forrest, he of the apparent time-travel capabilities, had been waiting patiently in a trendy, albeit slightly pretentious café not much more than a stone’s throw from the previously parked ‘Billie’. He had decided against another attempt at approaching his present-day doppelganger for fear of another unhelpful incident and had instead decided to funnel his plan, such as it was, through his friends.

But first he needed to find a mode of transport and that meant one of two things: (1) he would need to spend a modest portion of his travel money on hiring a suitable vehicle or (2) he would need to put to use one of several new abilities he reluctantly harnessed before embarking on this mission, namely car theft. It was never really a choice. 20 minutes later, having located an appropriately full but unattended parking lot, Victor put his new skills to the test with great success. He couldn’t tell you what kind of car it was, just that it appeared and proved to be a quick and easy transaction. So to speak. And so, he found himself behind the wheel of a motor vehicle for the first time since he could recall, heading in the general direction of someone he knew he could rely. Someone he could trust. Someone who would believe everything he had to say.

Also heading in that general direction, and for reasons more similar than you might imagine, was the original Victor Forrest of this particular timeline. He of the confusing morning. This Victor was in search of comfort and catharsis, the one person with whom he could always speak openly and honestly. The only person with whom he had ever entertained the idea of true, romantic love and the only person who could keep him tethered to reality whenever it felt like his connection to everyday life was about to snap. He had known her since he was 20. She had been a part of his life in one way or another for 10 years. Her name was Alyssa, though he called her Al and her current place of residence was West Fairbanks Public Cemetery.

The drive took him a little over 3 hours, stopping once to make sure Billie had enough fuel for the return trip. He went straight to the cemetery because, rather ironically, it was the only place in town that didn’t make him feel incredibly sad. It was colder than he thought it should be for late-November and he found himself wondering why he hadn’t put on a warmer jacket before leaving the house. The cemetery wasn’t completely unattended, he did spot an elderly couple huddled together in grief and the observation gave him a sense of comfort. He hadn’t had the opportunity to purchase the customary daffodil he would usually lay on her headstone and so he quickly sketched a picture of her favourite flower in place of the real thing, slipping it under the pile of slowly decaying real flowers and on top of a pile of similar sketches, most of which had taken on considerable rain damage. Victor was never great with words and so he stood there silently for a few moments before offering an awkwardly generic

“Hey babe.”

He knew it was ridiculous but a small part of him still expected to hear the ‘hey there stupid’ response that he was so used to. He took a seat on the cold but dry grass and took deep breath,

“Things are a little weird for me right now Al,” he began to explain, “I don’t suppose you ever get to feel deja vu where you are?”

Some 2-3 kms away, the cause of Victor’s deja vu, his alternate timeline self, was arriving at his destination. It was a beat-up little cottage on the edge of town, hardly much bigger than a caravan, only rooted to the earth. A lonesome abode that was nevertheless responsible for some fond memories. Parking in the driveway, Victor hesitated a moment before exiting the vehicle. He couldn’t think what, but something seemed a little off. Looking at the house more closely he was surprised at just how dilapidated it was compared to the picture he had formed in his head; memory was such a peculiar thing, he knew that as well as anyone.

As he approached the front door, he tried to prepare himself emotionally for the myriad of receptions he might possibly receive. And as he knocked on the door he saw through that myriad of potential outcomes because deep down he knew what kind of reception he would receive. He knocked on that work down door until his fist was numb and as he did, he felt himself start to cry. Of course she wasn’t there. Why would she be there if he, the Victor Forrest of this timeline was living nearly 250 kms away on the other side of the city? If there was but one eternal truth both this Victor and the Victor Forrest of this timeline knew, it was that there could only ever be one reason that Alyssa Lansdale and he would not be together.

Foregoing his newly acquired mode of transport completely, he set off in the direction of his revised destination. His slow walk quickly increasing to a fast jog and before he knew it he was running as fast as he could, running at a speed you only ever reach if you’re running towards or away from someone you love. It took him under 20 minutes to get where he needed to, the sick feeling in his stomach concealing any fatigue he might have felt.

Standing at the entrance he thought of how much pain this place held for him, and how he had spent far too much time in cemeteries. This particular cemetery more than any other. Given everything he had encountered so far in this timeline, he expected the layout to be pretty much what he was used to, and he wasn’t far off. He felt a chill as he made his way towards the spot that he assumed she would be buried, despite the fact that he had just completed a near 3km run, but chalked it up to the cold November air.

Drawing nearer he could see a lone figure sitting on the grass next to her headstone and he had to ask himself if he was ready to try this again. The only other people in the area were an elderly couple and he couldn’t put his finger on it but something about them seemed strange. Again, he attributed this feeling to the complex emotions he was dealing with and approached the seated figure.

“It’s funny,” he started, “they never refer to it as unrequited love in this situation. But it’s pretty much the same thing, really.”

The seated Victor, he of this timeline, didn’t faint this time but he didn’t turn around or get up either. Instead his shoulders sank slightly, and he slowly shook his head.

“No, it isn’t,” he replied.

A handful of uncomfortable moments passed before he spoke again, still not ready to turn around and face himself.

“I’m relieved I’m not 100% crazy,” he said to his time and/or dimension travelling other self.

“Yeah, I’m pretty happy about that too actually,” came the response.

“Did you… were you… Al? Did you have…? Is that why you’re here?”

None of this was easy for Victor. Easy for either of them. But it was a start, and although only one of them knew how important of a start it was, both could sense that something had started to change.

Before any more words could be exchanged, present-day Victor felt a soft vibration in his pocket. And before he could reach into his pocket to receive his phone, other Victor smiled at him.

“You should probably answer that.” “How did you?”

But his dimension wandering double simply raised his eyebrows and Victor quickly reached for his phone. Before he swiped to answer he saw who the call was coming from and he tried to rack his brain as to why this call could be so important.

“Victor speaking,” he said, fully aware that the caller already knew who he was calling.

“Victor this is Len,” came the voice through the speaker for the 2nd time that day.

Only this time there was no note of concern in the voice.

“You need to get your lying arse down to Mulch and More right now and you better have a damn good reason why you would make up such a horrible story.”

And before Victor could interject, his enraged employer had already hung up. Turning to the other Victor with a combined look of confusion and anger on his face Victor asked himself,

“What on earth did you say to my boss?”

Looking a tad sheepish, the seemingly worldlier Victor said, “Well I had to tell him something didn’t I? And we’ve never really been very good at lying now have we? So, I thought I’d just go for it and tell him something that would keep him out of my, sorry, our hair for as long as possible.”

Present day Victor just continued to stare at him.

“I mean, I didn’t think he’d figure it out this quickly. Old Len never really showed an interest in anyone’s personal life. At least, my old Len never did.”

Both Victors knew that he was stalling and neither of them felt good about it. Eventually, after several seconds that felt like hours, the Victor who was untethered from his place in time and feeling every bit of it at that moment came clean,

“I told him that my… your… our long-term girlfriend had passed away suddenly. That her heart had simply stopped beating.”

Victor felt as if the world had fallen away beneath his feet. His eyes drifted down and then towards the tombstone at which he had been sitting not more than 5 minutes ago. The decaying daffodils and the pile of sketches. He was filled with anger but felt completely empty at the same time. This other him, they may look alike and have something of a shared history, but they were not the same person. Victor would never be able to lie in that way. He would never, ever use her memory to those ends. He felt so worked up at that moment but had no idea how to let go of the energy. Then the resignation kicked in, as it usually did. He composed himself and turned back towards his duplicitous double,

“You’re a piece of shit,” he said with almost no emotion, “I’ll drive.”

As they made their way towards the parking lot and towards Billie, they passed the section of the cemetery where the grieving old couple had been standing. Only the couple were no longer there, and the 2 Victors noticed something a little odd, there were no tombstones, no graves at all in the area in which they were standing. It was simply a bench, set amongst a bed of flowers. Of course, a simple little peculiarity like that wasn’t anything either of them had the inquisitiveness to dwell on for longer than a beat, so they continued on their way, in mutual silence and mutual antipathy until they were just about to get in the car, at which point the Victor who probably wasn’t even meant to be there spoke up,

“Wait, how would Len know we… I was lying about Al?”

The Victor who was most certainly in his correct time and/or place did not want to say anything at that point in time but the more he thought about it, the more unusual it seemed.

“Because the Len from my timeline,” non-Victor continued as they pulled their seatbelts across and Victor started the car, “I doubt he even knew one little thing about my personal life.”

Victor remained silent, but he knew this to be just as true for his own Len. In fact, he couldn’t for the life of him recall a single conversation with his boss that didn’t revolve around mulch and/or mulch related products and services. And yet he still couldn’t bring himself to engage with, to empathise with his other. Their similarities may have been abundant, but their differences were next level deep. The journey back east continued in near total silence. Non-Victor attempted conversation a handful of times in the first hour before accepting his short-term fate and, as an alternative to the deafening silence, switched on the radio. Victor though about protesting but realised that would mean engaging with non-Victor and besides, a song he very much enjoyed had just started. As one Victor began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, other-Victor sat there a little bit uncomprehending.

“What is this?” he asked, forgetting for a second that the two of them weren’t speaking.

And Victor himself, incredulous, temporarily forgot his anger, “What, the music? You don’t know this one?”

“I’ve never heard anything like this, what is it?” other-Victor asked, feeling, for the first time since he landed, completely foreign. Which, again, for the first time in their brief shared history, put the Victor of this timeline on the front foot.

“How can you not know this song? It is… was one of her favourites!”

The ensuing silence told Victor that his previously assertive, out-of-time counterpart was having a realisation that Victor himself had had only a couple of hours ago; there were some important differences between the two of them. And what’s more, this didn’t exactly fill him with confidence.

“You said we needed to talk?” Victor cautioned to break the silence.

“Perhaps it’s time you let me know what the fuck is going on. If, by chance, you do happen to know what the fuck is going on.”

Other-Victor waited a beat before he responded,

“Okay, well… it’s probably a good thing you’re already sitting down. Although it’s not such a good thing you’re operating heavy machinery right now. But here goes, despite how it may appear to the naked eye, I am not you,” Victor attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to suppress an eyeroll at this, “and, at the risk at confusing you even more, you are not you…,” he added, well aware that he wasn’t exactly helping his cause, “well, you are, only, you’re so much more than that.”

Victor wasn’t sure whether to stop the car in the middle of the road or to plant his right foot to the accelerator with all the force he could muster. Instead he remained silent and waited for other-Victor to continue.

“Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you’re some kind of ‘chosen one’, you’re not the second coming or anything like that. In fact, the most remarkable thing about you Victor, and I can say this because it is just as true of me, is how completely unremarkable you are.”

Victor took a moment to absorb this, it really wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, before he responded.

“I think what’s remarkable is that you have said so much without really saying anything at all,” with an aggressiveness that other-Victor wasn’t expecting.

“Okay, how about this then”, other-Victor tried to change tact,

“What do you think happens when you die, Victor?”

They had been on the road home for just over 2 hours and, having made good time by the way of Victor driving a tad more aggressively than he regularly would, would be arriving at Marshall’s Mulch and More within the next 30 minutes. They hadn’t even stopped to replenish Billie, but Victor knew what she could handle.

“Dust,” was Victor’s response.

Which made other-Victor sit up in his seat a little.

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong their Victor,” he said, regaining a little of his confidence, “in fact that’s pretty much exactly what happens to our bodies, our skin, our organs, our bones. We wither away to nothing. Revert to our primordial dust, for lack of a better word.”

Victor waited for him to get to the interesting part.

“Our souls on the other hand…” Victor waited, incredulity locked and loaded.

“Do you believe in the soul Victor?” he asked, already aware of the likely reply.

And Victor delivered as expected, “I don’t. But I don’t believe in time travel either. And look how that has worked out!”

This made other-Victor smile. Perhaps the two of them had a chance to make things right in a way the others couldn’t?

“It’s not exactly time travel Victor,” he said, “though there are some similarities. And whether you want to refer to it as your soul, your spirit, your je ne sais quois for all it matters, you’re going to want to start believing in that too.”

Both of them knew that, as far as explanations go, this wasn’t exactly comprehensive, but they were getting close to their destination and the more pressing issue at present was how they were going to deal with an angry Len Marshall. How was Victor going to explain that Alyssa hadn’t died recently, that she had been gone for almost two years. And that it felt like a thousand lifetimes. Both Victors spent the next 15 minutes turning over these, and countless other, thoughts in their respective heads and all of a sudden they found themselves pulling up across the road from Marshall’s Mulch and More. They sat there wordlessly negotiating which one of them would make the first move until other-Victor suddenly removed his seat belt, pushed open Billie’s passenger side door and hurriedly exited the car.

“I got you, us, into this mess, so I suppose I’ll just have to get us, you, out of it.”

Victor knew that this rationale was anything but rational, but he was paralysed in the moment. Not to mention the fact that he himself had no idea how he would explain himself to Len. So, he stayed sitting where he was, in the parked Honda Jazz, that had served him so well and that was a part of so many great memories. Nearly all of them with Al. Of course he wanted to go and see what was happening with other-Victor and his curmudgeon of an employer but, weighing up the pros and cons of leaving the car right at that particularly point in time, he made the sensible choice and remained put. His anxiety only increased as he sat and waited for other-Victor to return, but he also started to feel tired. It had been a momentous day, mentally and emotionally, and despite his best efforts he could feel his eyelids growing heavy to the point where he simply had to close them… for just… a few… seconds.

Until all of a sudden he was startled back to consciousness by a knock on the passenger side window. It was dark, not quite evening dark but well on its way, and so with the car’s inside light on Victor found it very difficult to make out who, or what, was at the passenger side window. Of course it had to be other-Victor but, as the remnants of sleep drifted from his eyes and he focussed on the previously indeterminate shape, he noticed two things: yes, the figure at the window, it was reasonable to assume, could be accurately identified as an adult human however, said adult human was wearing what appeared to be a heavy, hooded coat, somewhat out of season for late-Spring, almost completely obscuring their face. Again, the figure knocked on the window, this time with just a little more urgency. They already had Victor’s attention, he would probably be making eye contact with them right now had he been able to see their eyes, but he was glad that they hadn’t yet realised the door was unlocked. And then it happened the mystery person reached down, squeezed the handle and opened the car door. They didn’t say anything as they sidled into the passenger seat, but Victor was able to get a better look at his latest companion and he observed that the well-covered figure appeared decidedly feminine. He couldn’t quite figure out what emotion or emotions he should be feeling. If he felt anything at all. Was he paralysed with fear or was his curiosity was overriding every other instinct he had?

“It’s good to see you, Victor,” the person in the passenger side seat spoke in a soft, familiar voice. She hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction since getting in the car but it didn’t matter. He could feel her presence now. It felt 100% real even though he knew it couldn’t possibly be so. From the first syllable of the first word she spoke, and probably from the moment she approached the car, he knew it was her and because of all these things and more he knew he must be dreaming. Or worse.

“Is this a dream Al?” he asked as she drew back the hood from her jacket and his heart simultaneously filled and broke into a million tiny pieces.

“Would you want to wake up if it were?” she replied.

And for a brief moment, that he would have lived in forever if he could, he did his best to take in every inch of her beauty. All of the features and tiny imperfections that made her, for lack of a better word, perfect

“You’re not really you, are you?” he asked, staring into her eyes as if somewhere in there were all of the answers to all of the questions he had ever had. Not just about what was happening right now, but about everything that had led him, and now her, to this moment: sitting in his beloved Honda Jazz with his previously deceased girlfriend, waiting on an alternate timeline version of himself to return from telling his boss (a) the real reason he wasn’t at work today and (b) why it appeared that he had lied about his aforementioned girlfriend’s continued existence.

His gaze didn’t shift from hers as he tried to reconcile what he knew to be true, through experiences both joyous and painful, with what was happening in front of him. Her gaze remained with his and he noticed the familiar darting about of her eye-lenses as she tried to take in everything in front of her.

“Of course I’m me, stupid,” she finally said as his heart began to pump faster, “I’m just not the me that you knew because, well, I’m so much more than that now.”

He didn’t understand what she was saying to him but it made him think of other-Victor. He had hundreds of questions right there on the tip of his tongue but felt paralysed not knowing which to ask: ‘Does Al know about other-Victor?’, ‘Is she a time-traveller? ‘Is she from another reality?’ Everything that was happening to him was confusing enough, and Alyssa Lansdale had a habit of clouding his mind. Or the Alyssa that he had known and loved did. This Alyssa, despite the obvious and even not so obvious similarities, and despite what he wanted, was not the girl he loved and who had loved him.

“We really don’t have much time Victor,” she said with practised urgency, “and I’m sorry that it’s come to this but… well, it was always going to come to this. You cannot trust the other you. You cannot trust any of them.”

She was looking directly into his eyes as she said these things to him and he could see those same eyes, reflected in hers. But as soon as the last ominous word escaped her lips her gaze shifted and with it her entire being. “I have to go. Now,” she announced, the car door bursting open before Victor had a chance to process, let alone respond. (1^st 100 tweets)

He turned in his seat, she had seen something through the driver’s side window, but there was nothing there. Until there was. He had no idea how she had been able to see it earlier but a solitary figure, another one, was making its way towards the car. Only this time Victor knew exactly who it was and, as he waited for other-Victor to return, he tried to think of what his next move should be: should he attempt to get more information from this strange other-him? Was Alyssa (could he call her that?) right, should he be distrustful of this other version of him? Could he trust this version of Al? There were far too many things happening for him to make any sense of any of them. And so he did what he usually did when the choices that life present become all too overwhelming, he did nothing.

“Okay… so, that went better than expected,” exclaimed other-Victor as he dived back into the Honda Jazz, “took a little longer than expected but… well, your Len Marshall is a more attentive listener than we gave him credit for. Hope things weren’t too boring for you here.”

Victor, becoming quite adept at the action, managed to suppress a combination scoff/eye-roll. Not that other-Victor would have noticed, high on adrenalin as he was.

“There’s just one more thing we have to do tonight,” he continued, demonstrating a level of excitement with which Victor was not at all comfortable. “Start driving, I’ll direct you as we go.”

Only Victor didn’t start the car. He still wasn’t sure which of his two new, impossible acquaintances he should listen to, if in fact he should listen to either of them, but right now he was fed up and simply wanted to go home. Other-Victor watched him impatiently, but Victor wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t want to do at this stage.

“This is where you start the car Victor,” he stated with just a hint of edginess.

But still Victor refused to cooperate.

“Victor if you don’t star…” he tried to continue but Victor was having none of it.

“Listen ‘Victor’, if that’s what I should call you, it’s been a tremendously fucked up day and you’re yet to say anything to me that isn’t vague bullshit, so either you open up and tell me exactly what you know or I’m taking Billie home, I’m pouring myself a big glass of wine and I’m going to fall asleep not too long after I see the bottom of that glass.”

As was becoming the standard pattern between the two of them, a brief period of silence followed. When other-Victor did finally break that silence it was in a far more relaxed tone than Victor expected.

“Victor is my middle name,” he began in earnest, “I don’t know why, in fact I’m the only one of us I’ve met thus far whose first name isn’t Victor but, for some reason, my dad wanted me to have the same name as him.”

He let revelation hang in the air for a few seconds, unsure of its relevancy but figuring it was a pretty good place to start.

“So does that mean your name is…”, actual Victor attempted to interject.

“Yes, same as your dad. But I was always just called JJ” Victor absorbed this new information. Maybe it was important. Maybe it was irrelevant. At least he had other-Victor, or should he say JJ, talking. “I’m going to start driving now,” Victor said, “only we’re not going where you want us to go. Not just yet anyway. We’re going to find a quite bar, order a a couple of quiet drinks and you’re going to quietly explain to me everything you understand about what is happening. Does that sound fair to you, James?” A defeated nod was the only response he received but it was all that was required. He glanced at the clock on the dash as he put Billie into gear and they set off.

Exhaustion – physical, mental, emotional – was becoming a real issue for him as the long day’s journey continued, and it was starting to play tricks on his mind. Not far out from the little bar he had decided upon he could have sworn that he saw an elderly woman, standing alone on the footpath, who bore a striking resemblance to how he’d imagined a more mature Alyssa would look. Fatigue was definitely a factor, but he could help his mind turning over multiple other possibilities, given the day to this point.

He quickly pulled over to the side of the rode and, as he exited Billie, drawing a look of confusion from JJ, he again glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Only this time he held his glance a little longer because somehow, despite being hardly a 10-minute drive from where they had set off, the clock now read quarter past 11, a good 2 hours later than the last time he had looked at the clock. He opened his mouth to ask JJ what was going on and where the time had gone – could they really have been driving for 2 hours? But then remembered why he had pulled over in the 1st place: the woman.

He started walking back towards the place he had seen her standing and, as he did, he could hear JJ calling out to him, but only faintly. Blocking out the indistinct protestations of the other-worldly other him, he raced towards the spot she had been occupying when he drove past only to discover that she was no longer there. He was disappointed but not completely surprised. A big part of him had believed it was simply his fatigued mind playing tricks on him. The machinations of the human brain being such that they are. ‘My mind,” he thought to himself, ‘seems to have a mind of its own.’

He tried to take the moment for what it was, but something kept him lingering at that spot, something was telling him he needed to be there.

“What are you doing out here Victor?” he heard JJ ask.

He didn’t respond.

“What. The fuck. Are you doing?”

And that’s when he saw it, a tiny shred of evidence that she was there. Not just that someone was there, that ‘she’ specifically was there. Of course, he still wasn’t entirely sure who ‘she’ was, but she was familiar and for some reason he knew that she was important and that it was important that he had seen her. He bent down to pick up the piece of paper and as he did a shadow appeared in the glow of the nearby street lamp.

“Did you find something interesting,” JJ asked, “or do you often get the urge to pull over to the side of the road, at half-past nine at night, to do some good Samaritan, Clean Up Australia type shit?”

Victor casually stood, scrunching up the piece of paper. “Thought I saw something. Turns out I didn’t,” he replied.

“Okay, but why are you on the ground and why are you touching things whilst you’re down there?”

Victor thought for a moment ‘do I tell the truth, or do I keep this to myself?’ He went with the latter.

“Well, I saw that my shoelace was undone and… wait, what time did you say it is?”

He was unconsciously messing with the crumpled piece of paper in his hand and it was distracting JJ.

“It’s 9:30, we’re on our way to… are you going to put that trash in the bin or not?”

Victor froze. ‘Shit’ was the first word that came to his head, but JJ had already moved on.

“…to a bar and we were going to discuss what we have to do next to prevent the whole world… scratch that, the whole universe from disappearing into nothingness.”

Victor heard him but, distracted as he was, didn’t register the supposed gravity of the scenario JJ was forecasting. Still, he did want to get some straight answers from this warped mirror universe version of him. He took in their surroundings and made a call,

“there’s a place just around the corner from here,” he said, “we may as well walk.”

JJ had no issue with this and before they knew it they were sitting in a quiet booth in a dark corner of a mostly empty bar. They each had a glass of whisky in front of them; JJ’s with a single piece of ice, Victor’s neat.

“So, what do you think is going on here, Victor?” JJ asked his immediately unimpressed other.

“Nope. That’s not how we are we are going to do this,” stated Victor as he held his gaze on JJ who, for his part, did not look away. They each took a small sip of their respective libation, Victor to maintain the courage he had built up over the last half a day, JJ to buy himself just a little bit more time before attempting, for the 2nd time that day, to put into words how and why he was currently sitting directly opposite an alternate timeline version of himself.

“Okay,” he began, “it’s a good thing this place stays open late, this could take some time.”

What he proceeded to explain to Victor was that the universe that were presently occupying was just one of a huge multitude of universes.

“A multi-verse if you will.”

The multi-verse could expand or contract, universes could be ‘born’ or they could ‘die’ if specific events were to take place within said universe.

“Though I can’t stress enough how extremely rare those specific events actually are. Or at least they were.”

Victor remained calm whilst processing this information. Mainly because there really wasn’t anything else he could do.

“And here is where it gets particularly interesting,” JJ continued, “remember earlier in the day when I said that you are so much more than just you?”

Victor did remember. He also vividly remembered meeting someone who, with the picture becoming clearer now, just might have been his adored Alyssa saying something very similar to him about herself. He didn’t tell JJ this part. JJ, rather than wait for verbal confirmation, pressed on,

“And do you remember when I asked you what you thought happens to you when you die?”

This time Victor did offer a response.

“Dust,” he said quietly.

“Correct. Your body becomes dust, so to speak.”

Victor was getting frustrated because he felt like they were getting nowhere.

“Your soul, for lack of a better word, however, and stay with me here, your soul is immediately transferred into the body of one of the countless other versions of you throughout the multi-verse.”

Victor wanted to stop him; he had questions, so many questions, but he also needed JJ to keep talking. He had a funny feeling that he wouldn’t get another opportunity like this.

“So, for example, if the Victor Forrest from universe 008080 were to, let’s say, be mauled to death by an oversized protalgamite…”

Victor straightened up in his seat, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, of course, it’s essentially a bigger, angrier guinea pig. But that’s beside the point. If or when Victor 008080 is killed, the moment his consciousness, his spirit, his soul, as many people have taken to calling it, the very moment it leaves his body in this universe, it is absorbed by or joins with, the ‘soul’ of the Victor Forrest from the nearest adjacent universe, provided that that Victor is also still alive and kicking.”

He paused for breath and to allow Victor to at least try and process what he could.

“Are you still with me, Victor?”

But understanding what JJ was telling him wasn’t the issue. Nor was believing him. Victor had no problem processing what probably should have been world-changing information – and in many ways it was – because, after all he had been through that day, after the emotional roller coaster that he’d ridden with an alternate timeline version of himself, not to mention an equally unexpected encounter with an ‘is but isn’t’ (was but wasn’t?) Alyssa, he felt comfortable with just about every new bit of information thrown at him. He was ready to learn all the secrets of the universe, so to speak.

And so he took another sip of his whisky and gave JJ an approving nod.

“That all makes sense,” he said, surprising JJ just a tad, “Although I do have quite a few questions.”

“We’ll get to them,” JJ replied. “but there is on more crucial piece of information I need to tell you…”

At which point a loud ringing echoed throughout the previously noiseless bar.

“Last call!” an unseen voice called out, triggering Victor to pull his phone from his pocket to check the time.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said, “and I have work tomorrow. Do I? Have work tomorrow?”

JJ was busy scanning the room, confused as to the source of the ‘last call.’ There was no one manning the bar and he couldn’t even see a bell to be rung. Victor noticed that his companion was a little uneasy, but he thought nothing of it, he found it difficult to get a read on this multi-verse traversing version of him, regardless of his behaviour.

“JJ, I really need to know if I’m expected…” he trailed off as he noticed what JJ was noticing: the previously dimly lit, sparsely populated, peacefully quiet bar was now eerily dark, completely empty and uncomfortably silent.

“We need to get out of here,” spoke JJ, to which Victor nodded and slowly slid from his seat. JJ led the way, making a bee line for the exit, with Victor just behind him, unable to resist pausing to take a look around the deserted bar. It was still light enough to easily make their way across the room but, almost as if someone was fiddling with a dimmer switch, it seemed to be getting darker with ever step.

“Let’s go Victor,” JJ said in a not quite whisper before pushing his way through the door to the outside. But something had caught Victor’s attention. Reflected in the mirror behind the bar was Victor himself, looking more than a little dishevelled, and some 2-3 metres behind him, it was hard to judge given that it was dark and be was looking at a reflection, was a young man. A boy, really. He couldn’t have been more than 16, though it really was hard to tell in the present circumstances. The boy didn’t make a move, he just stood there, his reflection staring at Victor’s reflection in the glass. Victor had an urge to say something, but he didn’t know what. There wasn’t enough light to make out the boy’s features, but he could sense that, if there was, he would see a look of sadness in the boy’s eyes. Neither he nor the boy made any movement until, as was becoming quite common of recent, JJ found a way to intrude on the situation, stepping back into the pub he had, only moments ago, been so desperate to vacate,

“Victor, we don’t need to be here right now,” he said with urgency.

Victor shifted his gaze to his multi-verse hopping companion, whilst at the same time raising his arm towards the mirror in an attempt to draw JJ’s attention to the third person in the room. Only, when his own attention returned to the mirror, there was no second reflection to be seen. JJ didn’t say anything as Victor lowered his arm and turned around. It was almost as if there was a silent agreement and understanding between the two of them. He took in one final survey of the bar as he neared the exit but there was nothing to see.

Stepping out into night time air Victor again regretted his decision to forgo the use of a jacket that morning. Or should that be the previous morning, now that it was past midnight? JJ hadn’t stop to wait for him and was quickly making his way back to the spot where they had parked. Victor did his best to keep up which, despite the short distance between the bar and Billie, proved quite tiring. When they had both made it back to the car Victor unlocked the doors and motioned for JJ to get in.

“This is where I leave you, for now,” he replied to Victor’s unspoken suggestion,

“There is something else I need to do whilst I’m here.”

Victor, though he should have been relieved to have the chance at a temporary reprieve from this character who had turned his entire life upside down, found himself more anxious than anything. What was he supposed to do now, given everything he had experienced and learned in the past 16 or so hours? The simple answer, of course, was that he should go home and sleep. He was physically, mentally and emotionally drained from the day’s events, even if it was well hidden by a combination of anxiety and adrenaline at the present moment. JJ hadn’t disappeared just yet to Victor decided to voice his concerns,

“What am I supposed to do now?” JJ faced him with a peculiar look of fear and excitement with the slightest hint of a smile at the edges of his mouth,

“You should probably go home and sleep, Victor. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”

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