‘So,
wait a minute,’ said Carl Pickover after having heard David
Lutman’s story, ‘what you’re saying then, is, that we actually
have here, in existence, in this time, a baseball cap, which is the
very same baseball cap, taken from two different time-periods, one
year apart, and now co-existing within the same time and space? You
realize that’s impossible? And if that’s the case, if those
things end up touching each other, theoretically they could create an
explosion that makes Hiroshima seem like a tea light? How do you know
they’re one and the same baseball cap?’
‘We’ve
examined them both at my labs,’ answered Deanne, ‘closely, with a
state-of-the art molecular microscope. They’re the same.’
‘And
they won’t go bang,’ added Lutman, ‘I held them together not
realizing at the time they could be possibly dangerous. So I’ve
already blown away that theory, so to speak!’
Pickover
sunk back in his chair. ‘This thing is not only a concept beyond
anyone’s imagination, but it throws the physics rulebook right out
the window once and for all!’
‘So
the impossible is now looking possible,’ said Lutman confidently.
‘Was
there anything else, David?’ asked Deanne hopefully. ‘You sure
there’s nothing else – some other information that can help us?’
‘That’s
it, I’m afraid,’ he said apologetically. ‘I don’t remember
anything else.’
‘Well,’
said Pickover with a deep intake a breath. ‘Let’s just think
about this for a moment. Clearly we have the theories but not all the
know-how or access to the kinds of minds and kit needed. We can’t
do this on our own. We need some other guys. Who else could be
possibly involved in this – sorry, let me rephrase that – will
want
to be involved in this project? Do we have to find these guys or do
they come to us? Or is it literally just going to be the three of
us?’
‘Obviously
someone or something did happen as regards getting this thing off the
ground,’ mused Lutman, ‘but it looks like we’ll have to wait a
bit longer for any obvious clues. It took me nearly seven weeks to
get the next clue by meeting Deanne, but I got there. I’m certain
we’ll know soon. This thing's going to happen. Think about it. I
made the journey successfully. I ended up where I was supposed to end
up, and therefore the machine is going to be built and it’s going
to work. Something, or someone, out there,’ he continued as he
looked up, ‘is going to ensure it’ll happen. So we'll know soon
enough. I’ve started something, unintentionally or not, and the
Almighty – whatever he, she or it is – is going to ensure that we
– or I – will complete a journey where I will go back in time and
meet myself –’
‘Who
in turn will receive your message and start the whole loop all over
again,’ Deanne cut in.
‘A
pre-destination paradox,’ Pickover added. ‘You’re caught in a
loop of events that pre-destines you to travel back in time. You’re
actually fulfilling a role in
creating
history, and not actually changing it. But if you think about the
whole thing logically, surely, somewhere in this time or maybe even
in another time, there had to be a start to the whole thing.
Otherwise it’ll all go in one continuous loop and start all over
again. Or maybe it’s the bootstrap paradox.’
‘I
read that,’ said Lutman, ‘not that I’m any the wiser. Can you
just explain in simple terms what you’ve just said?’
‘What
do you mean?’ asked Lutman, puzzled.
‘Well,
you made a trip from the future to tell yourself to do this, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do
you honestly believe that the fates had always destined you to become
involved in some kind of time-loop – that you were always fated to
do this, even though you never realized it at the time?’
Lutman
thought for a moment to absorb this question before answering, ‘Yes.
But after the event happened.’
‘Well,
just think about this for a moment. Surely that future incarnation of
you also must have had to have met himself in his bedroom in his
past, to carry out the same procedure…’
‘Well…’
‘And
that particular version of the future You,’
Pickover continued slowly, knowing that what he was going to say next
would sound totally inexplicable, ‘that’s visiting the future
You,
that is, you
here – the version that is talking to me right now, would also had
to have met himself in the past.’
Lutman
looked at him thoroughly confused.
Pickover
was exasperated, fully aware that he was not making himself at all
clear. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘No,
I don’t get it! It all sounds so unnecessarily complicated!’
Pickover
looked to Deanne for some support, but she simply shrugged her
shoulders. He took a deep breath and prepared himself, once again, to
explain his overly complicated explanation. But endeavoring to
express himself clearly about this particular paradox, and to make
himself understood, was proving increasingly difficult.
But
he would give it one more shot. ‘There has to be a point in the
past, present, or near future,’ he said slowly and measuredly,
‘that the time machine gets built for the very first time, to send
the future you
into the past for the very first time. To start what’s going to be,
in fact, a never-ending loop.’
‘I
see,’ said Lutman. ‘I think I understand you now. So is it then
possible for me to try and change events? Stop myself from inventing
the thing in the first place? I go and say something else instead of…
DCCR, or something?’
‘You
could try, if it is possible to change that part of history, but it’s
also possible that you just simply inspire your past self to do what
you’re doing now in another way,’ said Deanne.
‘An
onthological paradox?’ said Pickover, ‘No, I don’t buy that.’
Lutman
shot Pickover an exasperated glare. ‘Oh God. What the hell’s the
difference between a predestination and, erm, that ona-something
paradox?’
But
Pickover was not listening, and his tone was becoming over-excited.
‘Look, let’s look at it another way,’ he said excitedly, ‘why
haven’t we had any more visitors from the future since this
wonderful discovery? Surely we –’
‘Carl!’
shouted Deanne, sensing that both the men were losing their patience,
‘you and I know all the theories about temporal mechanics. I’ve
studied them too, but nothing’s been proven yet. I’ve often
thought about all those things you’ve said, but even I still get
bemused by it all.’
But
Lutman was now well and truly lost by all this. But by the reasoning
that he had accumulated from what he did understand from the
conversation, all the David Lutmans that Pickover was referring to
were in fact one and the same person, and that the paradox that had
emerged was simply a quirk of fate. There was no start. This whole
thing was some kind of destination paradox, and that was good enough
for him.
‘Okay
then,’ he said firmly, ‘let’s just say what’s happened has
happened, and I have the opportunity to do it. I’m simply going to
continue this loop, and the first pieces of the jigsaw have been
placed. I’m doing it. It’s fate. It’s going to happen. It’s
got to happen.’
‘Then
that’s a predestination paradox,’ said Deanne, smiling.
‘Deanne,
give me a break, okay?’ said Lutman wearily.
‘Okay,’
said Deanne matter-of-factly, ‘we’ll drop it for now, enjoy
breakfast and go out for a walk. I’m sure Carl can give us a guided
tour of the city, can’t you Carl?’
‘Huh?
What, Oh yeah, but there’s a couple of things I need to do after
breakfast. Will take me at least an hour.’
‘Let
me go to the bathroom first,’ said Deanne, ‘I’ll be ready in
five minutes.’
*
‘Do
you like computer games?’ asked Pickover in a low voice, once
Deanne had left the kitchen.
Lutman
was suddenly taken aback by the question. ‘What? Sometimes. Why’re
you asking me?’
‘There’s
an old Nintendo connected to the TV. Sim
City 2000.
I find it great for mental stimulation and relaxation. There’s
nothing else in here that you’ll find interesting to keep you
entertained. It’ll give you something to do if you’re waiting for
me.’
‘Another
time, maybe.’
‘Give
it a go,’ said Pickover firmly. ‘Just do it, okay?’ He stood
closer to Lutman, staring at him face-to-face, noses almost touching.
‘Look. Imagine it’s Sim City this year. I’ll probably still be
playing it in the future. In my mind it’s the most important
computer mind stimulating exercise. Always will be with me. Sim City
2010, 2011, 2019, whatever… good for the mind and the memory. If
not, OK, but -’ he said with a smile, ‘- remember it. Remember it
well. Please. It could be important. And,’ – his voice was almost
a whisper – ‘keep
it to yourself. Okay?’
‘Er,
sure,’ said Lutman, looking perplexed. ‘We’ll, er… just go
for a walk.’
He
knew that Pickover was trying to give him some kind of message that
was meant for him only. He had passed it on in a way that had
appeared confrontational, but in fact he was ensuring that he would
remember what he was told. It was also crazy enough to avoid
discussion with someone else. But why?
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