Page 30 of Love and Other Paradoxes

He looked her up and down, the rumpled muslin of her empire-line dress, the ringlets coming loose from her chignon. “What

are you doing here?”

“This is my workplace, remember? I’m allowed to be here. Unlike you.” She marched towards him, nodding in passing at Esi.

“Ms. Campbell. My October fugitive. You’re going to have quite the NDA to sign.” She took Joe by the shoulders and turned

him round. “But first things first. Time to send Mr. Greene back where he belongs.”

“Wait!”

Vera turned back. She took in Esi’s outstretched hand, the look of anguish on her face. “No way.” She laughed aloud, looking

between her and Joe. “You’re together?”

He broke out of her grasp and ran to Esi, taking her hand. “Yes.”

Vera whistled in admiration. “Now that is something. Congratulations. You’re the first Joseph Greene to actually surprise

me.” Joe, who was still adjusting to the idea of there being two of him, reeled anew at the thought of there being more. “But

I’m sorry. I still have to send you back. If anyone sees you on this side, it’s going to play havoc with the official narrative.

And maintaining the official narrative is a nonnegotiable part of my job.”

“So find another job!” he said in desperation. “One that doesn’t involve lying to people!”

She shook her head. “I told you. I need to keep this one.”

“Why?”

Esi had been fixing Vera with quiet attention. Finally, she spoke. “Because she’s with someone in the past.” Confusion briefly

crossed her face. She corrected herself. “One of the pasts. Why do you think she’s here at midnight, doing the Jane Austen

walk of shame?”

He turned back to Vera. He wasn’t an expert on period fashion, but he knew enough to roughly place what she was wearing. Early

1800s. Cogs turned in his mind. “No.” Esi looked at him questioningly. With strange vertigo, he explained, “She used to run the Byron trip.”

Esi looked askance at Vera. “Seriously?”

“Oh, you’re judging me?” Vera put her hands on her hips. “Clearly I’m not the only one with a thing for dead poets.”

Esi looked uncomfortable. “Mine’s not dead.”

“Neither’s mine. He’s on the other side of a wormhole that’s been sealed off from public access. And since I have no desire

to move to the early nineteenth century, I need to keep this job so I can visit him.” She took hold of Joe’s shoulders again,

jerking him forward. “So. On you go.”

He struggled against her grip, racking his brain for how to reason with her. “Can’t you just persuade your bosses to tell

the truth?”

She sighed impatiently. “The truth isn’t marketable. People want to see Joseph Greene because he’s special. One of a kind.

If there are a million Joseph Greenes, if we can call another one into existence by opening a glorified door, then—he’s not

special anymore.”

He dug in his heels. “But you know better than that. Your Byron, he’s not replaceable. He means more to you than the original, because of what you’ve been through together. Because of the experiences he’d never have had if it wasn’t for you.” He turned in her grip, straining away from the wormhole. “We’re real, all of us. Everyone you bring into existence by opening these glorified doors.” He looked over her shoulder, meeting Esi’s eyes. “Your trip broke my future. But it gave me a new one when it brought the two of us together. All I’m asking is for you to let me live it.”

Vera’s grip slackened, but she didn’t let go. She glanced at the spinning hologram of the other Joe and Diana. “I’m not going

to lie. I do love the idea of messing with that.”

He seized on her hesitation. “Exactly! You never thought me and Diana were right for each other.”

“You know what it’s like,” Esi added. “To meet someone you never expected. Someone who makes you feel lucky that you’re alive

at the same time.” She looked at Vera, pleading. “We deserve a chance. Like you and Byron deserve a chance.”

Vera’s expression softened. “George,” she said. “I call him George.” She closed her eyes. “Fine,” she said to Esi. “I can

get you an access chip, let you come and go even after this trip’s over. As long as you keep it discreet. But you...” She

looked back at Joe, pitiless. “This is the last time you step foot on this side of the wormhole. I mean it, Mr. Greene. No

loopholes.”

He saw his own anguish reflected on Esi’s face. It was better than permanent separation, but it wasn’t the future he had been

hoping for. He had wanted to be with her, not just as a brief, conditional holiday from her real life. He had wanted more,

all the foolish things lovers promise each other: a lifetime, an eternity.

She came to him, took his hands. “I need to talk to my family. Sort some things out. But I’ll be back.” He nodded, wondering helplessly how this had happened, that they had run out of time again.

Her hands slipped from his as Vera turned him round. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m changing the password as soon as you step through.”

She shoved him, and he stumbled back through mind-melting infinity, out into the dark alley of King’s Lane. When he turned,

there was nothing but a brick wall behind him.

The world he had come back to was different from the world he had left. May Week was over. Everyone was waiting, for exam

results and graduation and the beginning of the rest of their lives. Joe was waiting too, but for something else: the opening

of a hole in the universe, familiar footsteps echoing down a narrow lane.

Rob asked him where Esi was. He told him she was on holiday, in a tone that warned him not to push it. He tried to do what

everyone else was doing, which was drinking a lot and making extravagant plans for the future, but it was no use. He ended

up in King’s Lane, sitting across from the invisible wormhole, throwing words at the wall in the hope that one of them might

be the new password.

“Deev,” he tried. “Ving. Nozz.” He searched his memory for one of the complicated physics words Rob used when he talked about

time travel. “Quantum.” The wall remained stubbornly a wall.

A drunk-looking man walked past, giving Joe a funny look. “Fucking students.”

This was hopeless. He levered himself to his feet and went back to college to keep waiting.

Two more days passed. Exam results came out. He got a 2:1 after all. He stared up at his name on the noticeboard outside the

Senate House, feeling a strange lack of surprise.

Rob stood beside him. “You always said you were going to get a 2:1.”

“Aye. I did.” Was his destiny reasserting itself? Or was a 2:1 just the natural combination of doing next to nothing for half

the year and spending the other half scrambling to catch up?

“Don’t overthink it, Greeney.” Rob patted him on the back. “The Assassins are having a last-chance social in Grantchester

Meadows. Go and find us a good spot. I’ll get some drinks and meet you there.”

Joe walked out of town along the river. Time travellers tailed him as far as Lammas Land, then lingered at the boundary, dwindling

into the distance behind him. In three days’ time, he would graduate, and they would vanish, the last relic of a future that

was no longer his. To be honest, he was looking forward to it.

He walked on through the quiet streets of Newnham, out onto the rolling green fields that led down to the water. The grass

was studded with groups of third-years, exulting and despairing, futures temporarily on hold. The cloak-and-dagger flag of

the Assassins fluttered in the early evening breeze. He spotted Efua among the crowd, but she was the only one he recognised,

and being introduced as Backwards Boy would only invite awkward questions. Instead, he went to sit alone by the riverbank,

feeling strangely suspended, as if life was happening somewhere else and he was on a train waiting to get there.

His phone vibrated. Rob always got lost on the way to Grantchester. He was preparing to type LITERALLY JUST FOLLOW THE RIVER when he saw the message was from Esi.

His heart seized. Could a Nokia 3210 breach the barrier between universes? It didn’t seem likely. Hands trembling, he opened

the message.

:-G

He frowned, tilting his phone.

What is that?

my disappointed face

because you’re not here to meet me

Emotions warred inside him: excitement that she was here, dread that she would soon be gone again. He tried to keep his reply

casual.

I wish I’d never taught you about emoticons.

?:-/

that’s you

Why does my hair look like that?

you tell me

where are you?

Grantchester Meadows. Follow the river south. If you see cows, you’re on the right track.

ok

there soon

He turned to face the path. It would take her at least half an hour to walk here, but he didn’t want to miss a single second.

He felt her coming before he saw her. She was wearing a bright red summer dress that lit her up like a conflagration. Her

hair was loose and full, framing her face in spiralling curls. He gazed at her like she was the sun and he had spent three

days in a darkened room.

She stopped, then turned: she was looking for him. He got to his feet and waved her over. The smile that lit her face when

she saw him was a wonder and a heartbreak all at once. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and kiss her. But he couldn’t

see past the knowledge that this was only temporary: soon, she would be leaving, going back where he couldn’t follow. “So

you talked to your family?”

She nodded. “I thought everything would’ve fallen apart without me. But honestly, they were fine.” Her smile returned, deepened.

“It was so good to see them. I talked to my dad. Like, really talked. I think he finally gets why I had to come here. And

my sisters—I told them about Mum. What she’s really like. Not just the idea they grew up with.”

He couldn’t help smiling back. “That’s brilliant. I’m happy for you.”

“Sorry it took me so long. I figured I should give them some time to adjust to the news.”

He didn’t understand. “What news?”

She lifted the bag he hadn’t noticed hanging off her shoulder. “That I’m moving here.”

His heart cracked with joy. But his brain wouldn’t let him believe it. “I thought you were going to do what Vera does. Live

in your universe and just—come and visit me sometimes.”

Her eyes were soft. “I don’t want to be a visitor in your life, Joe. I want to be part of it. And I can still see my family.

Every week, if I want to. They’re only a wormhole and a train ride away.” She held up her arm, showing him a tiny scar on

the inside of her wrist. “Vera gave me an access chip, so I can always get back.”

He shook his head, the last tendrils of doubt dissolving. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I’m not just doing it for you. It’s like I said to my dad.” She looked back over her shoulder, as if she could see all the

way to the wormhole and beyond. “That’s where I’m from. But here... here’s where I became myself.”

Finally, urgently, he crossed the space between them. They kissed, not the frantic maybe-goodbye of the last time or the dreamlike

unreality of the first, but a warm, deep kiss, full of hope and desire and trembling possibility. He stroked her cheek. “Welcome

home.”

They sank down on the grass, hands joined, heads tilted together. He just gazed at her, his impossible love, who had appeared

one day in a coffee shop and led him into a whole new universe.

She raised an eyebrow. “I know that look. You’re overthinking something.”

“I was trying to remember what I thought of you when I first saw you. But I can’t. It’s like everything I feel for you now

has travelled back in time to that moment. I can’t see the past for the present.”

“It’s not like that for me,” she said dryly. “I remember exactly what I thought when I first saw you.”

“Really?” he said, trying not to sound too interested.

“Yes.” She repressed a smile. “I thought, Here’s that fucking nozz Joseph Greene .” He lunged for her, tickling her mercilessly. She giggled, mock-pushing him away. “Then I thought, Uh-oh. He’s cuter than I expected .”

“That statue clearly didn’t do me justice.”

“It’s not funny!” she protested. “You really weren’t supposed to be this much of a problem for me. Just—walking in, with your

big blue eyes and your stupid jumpers and your surprisingly-not-being-a-nozz.” She murmured in his ear. “Ruining all my plans.”

Her low, warm voice made him shiver. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not funny.”

She sat back. “You know what the hardest part was? Convincing my dad I’m not making a huge mistake. To him, you’re just some

old white guy I used to complain about having to study. I was trying to explain how it is between you and me, but he wasn’t

getting it. Until I showed him your poem.” Her lashes lowered. “He said, Here is someone who really sees you and loves you .”

It still terrified him, that he had laid his feelings bare before he was ready to say them out loud. But if it could communicate

his love for her across universes, it had been worth it. “I’m sorry I won’t get to meet him.” He turned over her wrist, kissing

the tiny scar. No loopholes. Whenever she travelled into that other future, she had to go there alone.

A hundred worries crowded into his mind. What if Vera lost her job? What if the company shut down, the access chip stopped working, and Esi was trapped on the other side? With an effort, he pushed those thoughts away. He had spent enough of his time fixating on what might or might not happen in the future. He focused on her here, now, in the golden light: her soft breathing, her pensive expression. He followed her gaze to its target. Efua, relaxing in the grass, tipping her head back with laughter.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

Her brow furrowed. “We think we saved her, but—how can we know for sure? The wormhole only takes me to the future of the universe

I came from. I wish there was a way to go to the future of this universe.“

He felt himself smile. “There is.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “How?”

He kissed her softly. “We travel there,” he said. “One day at a time.”

She rested her forehead against his. “It’s funny. For the longest time, I thought I didn’t need to plan for my future. I’d

become the me I should always have been, and she’d have all the answers. Now, I guess it’s on me to figure it out.”

He put his arms around her. “You could apply to uni.”

She made a face. “Here?”

“Only if you want. I know this place thinks it’s the centre of the universe, but it didn’t invent the concept of higher education.”

He smiled. “I mean, anywhere that’d give me a 2:1 is clearly not a reputable institution.”

Her eyes lit up. “Seriously? That’s amazing! Knew there was a reason I brought this.” She reached into her bag and took out

a bottle of sparkling wine and two mugs. It wasn’t until she’d opened the bottle and started pouring that he noticed one of

the mugs had his face on.

She grinned and mimicked the pose, propping her chin on her fist. “‘If I knew what I meant, I wouldn’t need to write poetry,’” she declaimed, in a surprisingly good imitation of his accent.

He couldn’t repress a grin. “Where did you find that? I chucked it out.”

“And I rescued it.” She sipped from her own mug, raising an eyebrow. “Might be worth something someday.”

He snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Why? Did you stop writing?”

“No. But—I don’t know. What I’m writing now, it’s so different from the poems I was writing about Diana. I’ve got no idea

if it’s any good.”

“Does it make you happy?” He nodded. She smiled, the wide, generous smile he’d fallen in love with. “Then it’s good.”

“Greeney! Campbell!” Rob swooped down, clanking with bottles. “See you got started without me.”

Esi took out another mug and poured him a drink. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” They clinked their mugs together. Before Joe could drink from his, Rob grabbed it, squinting at the image on the

side. “Why are you drinking out of a cup with your own face on?”

Joe looked down at the mug, then up at Rob. A reasonable explanation completely failed to come to him.

Rob took the mug from his unwilling hand. He inspected it, then turned to Esi, eyes wild with speculation. “Campbell. Is this

your doing?”

She blinked at him, the picture of innocence. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been gathering evidence for a while.” Rob started counting off on his fingers. “You treat technology like a personal insult. You don’t understand contemporary slang. You wear normal clothes like they’re a costume. And now you’ve somehow come into possession of a picture of Greeney where he is visibly decades older?” He shook his head. “There’s only one possible conclusion. You’re a—”

“Master Assassin!” someone was yelling across the grass. “All Master Assassins, come and assemble for your photo!”

Rob hovered, torn between the present moment and posterity. “We are resuming this conversation the instant I return.”

Esi watched him go, shading her eyes. “So we’re telling him?”

“Guess so. Hope you weren’t enjoying talking to Rob about anything other than quantum mechanics.” Joe frowned, watching his

friend take his place in the lineup. Rob, who had got a First in physics apparently without even trying. Rob, who was the

most likely person he knew to do a PhD. “Who invented time travel?”

Catching his meaning, she shook her head. “Not Rob.”

“Maybe not in your universe.”

She sent a wicked smile in Rob’s direction. “You think knowing a time traveller might give him a head start?”

Their eyes met. She laughed, and he slid across to her, embracing her from the side, inhaling the scent of her. How absurd,

that he had thought he needed to be in love to write great poetry. Now he was in it, he knew he could never capture the fundamental

wordlessness of this feeling, that any time spent not touching her was a tragic waste of seconds. He buried his face in her

neck and made a soft, frustrated sound. “I’m so in love with you.”

He felt her smile. In a teasing voice, she said, “You going to write a poem about it?”

“Maybe later. Right now I have better things to do,” he said, and fell back with her onto the grass, giving in to the glory

of the present.