I stepped into the lobby and caught sight of him crossing the glass bridge to the other building. What was he doing? He had to see what he had made possible. He had to be there when Beth woke so he could experience the joy of the life he’d saved.
“Ben,” I called out.
He glanced back, his face expressionless, as though he’d been hailed by a stranger. The aperture on this side of the bridge closed, obscuring him.
I ran across the lobby and the lens opened as I approached. There was no sign of Ben, so I hurried across the bridge, through the aperture at the other end, and into the corridor beyond. I jogged on, and finally when I reached the isolation room where we’d arrived, I saw him through a window in the air-sealed door. He had his back to me.
I ran over and touched a small panel on the wall beside the door. I pressed the open button, but a red light flashed, informing me it was locked. I banged on the window.
“Ben?” I said. “Open the door.”
There was no response.
“Ben? What are you doing?”
I wasn’t even sure he could hear me through the thick door, so I hit the glass again, and this time he turned around. His eyes shimmered like the endless sea. They were full of rich, heavy tears. I saw the last of the three spheres in his hands. He was studying it intently.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Ben?”
“You have to stay here,” he said. His voice came through a speaker built into the ceiling.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have to stay here,” he replied emphatically, and he raised his head and looked me in the eye. “It’s the only way.”
“What are you talking about?” I banged on the glass again. “Open the door.”
“It has to be this way.”
“No! What about Elliot?” My voice was shredded by anguish. Why was he doing this? “Please, Ben. Don’t.”
“I have to,” Ben replied, his tears falling fast now. “Remember what you said? You said you’d do anything to bring her back. Sacrifice anything.” He choked on the words and took a deep breath. “This is the price.”
“Not my son!” I yelled, hammering frantically. “No. Not Elliot. Let me in. Take us back. Please.”
Ben shook his head. “I can’t. That loss. The loss of both of you. He carries it forever. It inspires him to do something truly amazing.”
“You don’t have to do this!” I kicked the door. “You can’t.”
“I have to. If you go back, none of this can happen. Time isn’t what you think it is. This is the way it was. This is the way it has to be.”
I wept freely, thinking about my son, alone and abandoned. I pictured him lost, trapped an age away from us, and as I imagined him frightened and alone, grieving for us, my angry blows grew weak and pathetic.
I wanted Beth.
I wanted her so much, but not like this.
“Please,” I begged Ben. “I never even got to say goodbye.”
“You do,” Ben replied quietly. “One day you do.”
He reached beneath his top and produced something small and shiny. I looked closer and realized it was the necklace I’d given Elliot, the one that had belonged to his mother.
The stars and moon and the word Beth gleamed at me, shining as brightly as the truth.
“You were right. She is always with me. You both are.” Ben pressed his fist to his heart.
My legs went weak and my head spun as the dazzling glare of realization hit me. Everything came together in a single, earth-shattering moment.
“Elliot?” I asked, barely able to form the word.
My son.
A grown man I had known for years as my friend.
My son.
I saw it all. The resemblance. The rumors Elliot was his child. Our connection. The love I felt for him. I looked at Ben and I saw myself. I saw Beth. This was our boy.
This was our boy grown.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.” He choked the words out. “I’m sorry. Look after her. I have to go.”
“Please,” I said, finding my strength. I battered the door with my fists. “Please. Take us with you. Please.”
He stared at me for a moment, and I saw raw pain. My words had affected him deeply, but they weren’t enough. He shook his head.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
He crushed the sphere, and as the stars coursed over his skin and along his arms, I gave a cry of anguish and collapsed against the door. I looked up and saw my boy being consumed by time.
“Goodbye, little man,” I cried. “Goodbye, son.”
And then he was gone.
I don’t know how long I stood there crying.
“Sir?” a voice said. “Excuse me, sir?”
I turned to see the nurse in the aperture. He looked at me sympathetically as I wiped my tears.
“Your wife is coming round,” he said.
I followed him, staggering back over the glass bridge. The city didn’t look so beautiful. It seemed complicated, alien, and frightening. My legs felt as though they might give out as we crossed the lobby and went into the medical bay where the forest simulation was still running.
The color had returned to Beth’s face, but I could feel mine had been drained by grief. I took her hand and squeezed gently. Her eyes flickered and fluttered open.
My Beth. My beautiful Beth. As overjoyed as I was to have her back, I was grieving for my son and struggling with the sacrifice he’d made. I wouldn’t learn the full extent of it for many, many years, but it was already beyond comprehension. He had given everything to save his mother.
Beth focused on the strange world she’d woken to, and took in the trees and the sunlight falling between the leaves.
“David?” she said weakly. “Where am I?”
I had no idea. I couldn’t even tell her what year it was.
She looked at me and must have mistaken my tears of grief for ones of joy. I suppose some of them were.
“It’s okay,” she said. She squeezed my hand, and it was a boon to feel her strength returning. She soon realized something was wrong. “What’s the matter?”
How was I supposed to answer?