Timekeepers Residency, London
August 30, 1933 CE
Nathan followed Clementine and Nell along the narrow tube tunnel. Florescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead, casting a ghostly glow in on the curved walls. He sped up to walk beside them while trying to solve equations in his head. He needed to write things down, to clarify his idea. He glanced at them and said, "I really need a tablet."
Clementine narrowed her eyes and frowned. "What? Do you have a headache?"
"I just want to check out some formulas. I've got an idea about closed, time-like loops, but I can't do it in my head."
"Really, Mr. Hilbert. You'll be able to do that when we get to the conference room, but what does needing a tablet have to do with calculating?"
"I need something to write on. You know. Pencil. Paper."
Nell guffawed. "He means a notepad, Clementine. Not a pill."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh. He was speaking Yank. My bad. The conference room has ample notepads and pencils, Mr. Hilbert. A blackboard, too, if you fancy that." She stopped where a nook extruded from the tunnel. An overhead light bulb lit to expose an ornately engraved oaken door. She tugged it open and declaimed, "Here we are."
Nathan followed her inside, where more florescent lights flickered on. The place reeked of leather, probably from the dozen or so stiff-looking, straight-back chairs pushed up against the conference table that dominated the room.
Clementine pulled a yellow legal pad and a pencil from the credenza against one wall and arranged them on the inlayed maple-and-walnut surface of the table. "A tablet, just for you, Mr. Hilbert." Her lips simpered in a slight grin, as though making fun of herself for speaking "Yank."
"Thank you." He sat and began to scribble on the pad. The chairs were as uncomfortable as they looked. Clementine and Nell chattered about something or other, but he tuned them out and concentrated on his notes. After a couple of minutes, he leaned back in satisfaction and scanned what he'd written. Everything fit in exactly the way he'd expected. Math could surprise you like that sometimes, with simple conclusions hidden away waiting for inspiration to uncover them. "I was right."
Clementine stopped mid-sentence and glared him. Her mouth formed a little circle, as if she were about to spit out a bad grape.
Nell looked at Clementine and held up an index finger. "What did you say, Nathan?"
"I was right. You're not seeing Deviations at all. That whole idea had to be nonsense, anyway."
"Really, Mr. Hilbert?" Clementine sniffed. "I daresay the scientists at Control would beg to differ."
Nathan tapped his notes. "The whole idea of Deviations is predicated on the notion of a wave-form collapse—that there is only one reality. That's possible, but if it's right you wouldn't see multiple instances of alternate realities. You'd see nothing until the collapse, and then you'd see one thing. If you see multiple instances, that rules out Deviations. There's only one explanation that makes sense."
Clementine rolled her eyes, but Nell asked, "What is that, Nathan? Tell us."
He heaved a sigh. "Okay, look at the data. We have at least one and probably two instances of Haversham, right?"
Clementine said, "You mean the one who will dine with Ribbentrop tonight and the one who dined with Stalin last week. Yes, surely those are two incompatible events. It just proves what the engineers tell us about Deviations. It's the Deviation protruding into reality, like a fog."
Engineers again. What did they know? Nathan shook his head. "No! That's not possible. Listen to me. There are two Haveshams. Just like there are two residents." He pointed to Clementine. "You, and Claude, and who knows? Maybe that Russian dude. That points to at least two instances of Timekeepers. There are two missile crises. The one I know, in Portugal, and the other one you know, whatever that was. Nicaragua or some such place. Bog knows, there are even Russian Timekeepers here, so we've got at least three instances of Timekeepers. Maybe more, now that I think about it."
Clementine's voice turned cold. "Your point, Mr. Hilbert?"
"Look, we're agreed there are all these different instances, right?"
Nell nodded. "Yes, that's right. According to Gunnar, even the engineers back at Control in Chicago thinks that's at least possible."
"All right." Even Nell seemed to think engineers would understand string theory. Whatever. "Then let's suppose we pick an historical turning point. Say, the Eisenhower assassination, for example."
Clementine leaned back in her chair and rolled her head. "The what? Whatever are you raving about?"
Nathan blinked. "Okay, how about Lincoln's assassination? Is that a turning point we all know about?"
Nell raised an index finger again, before Clementine could speak. "Yes, I think we can agree that's a historical turning point. Like Stamford Bridge in 1066."
Right. Nathan had never heard of it, but he remembered how Haakon and Corbett had conniptions over it. Even that asshole Claude thought it was important. "Okay, good. We'll use that, then." He stopped to gather his thoughts. "So, before the battle happens, there are two possible futures, right? We agree on that, too?"
Nell nodded. "Of course. Haakon's bravery assured the right outcome, historically, took place."
"Here's the point. Those two futures aren't just possible. They are both real. The timeline bifurcates at that battle. In one branch, the battle turns out one way, and in another it turns out the other. There are two timelines, both equally real."
Clementine snorted, but Nell just frowned. "How can that be, Nathan? Are you saying reality isn't real?"
"I'm saying all realities are real. Look, this accounts for all the different instances, and it's simpler than the quantum foam gibberish. If the timelines branch, then there would be multiple instances of Timekeepers, right? But they'd share a common past. They can't jump over to an alternate thread, but the threads are joined at the point of bifurcation. So, when Timekeepers travel to the other side, to the shared past, they bump into each other. You could even have Haversham from one thread meet Haversham from another thread, but only in the past they both share."
Nell leaned back, shock draining the color from her face. "Clementine, you said something like this. Remember? When you were talking about that meeting at Ayer's Rock a million years ago. When they talked about the other Haversham?"
Clementine just looked stubborn. "If this were true, it would mean the whole mission of Timekeepers is a fraud. I can't believe that." She paused, and then triumph flared in her eyes. "I've read Haakon's report. When and where did he first meet you, Mr. Hilbert?"
Nathan frowned. She had a point. "In 2018, in Iowa. In my 2018."
Clementine leaned forward, relentless now. "But the two of you are from different—what did you call them? Threads? Futures. You admit that."
"It seems likely." There had to be an explanation. If she'd just shut up for a second, he knew he'd figure the rest of it out.
"You said the threads only intersected in the past. So that's a counter-example. Riddle me that."
"It has to have something to do with his Timepiece. I don't know how they're engineered, but the least energy solution would be to follow their original timeline. I think."
"You think." Clementine snapped. "This is a waste of time. Real scientists with real degrees tell us Deviations are real. Too much is at stake to believe this fantasy."
Nathan's face heated. So that was why she kept calling him Mr. Hilbert. Worse, she thought engineers were scientists. Sure, they were smart, and made everything work. But they weren't theoreticians.
Before he could speak, Nell interrupted. "According to his report, Haakon's Timepiece was damaged during the sack of Scarborough. He only used it a couple of times after that. Once to jump from 1066 to Iowa, and a second time to jump from 1962—the false 1962—back to 1066."
"He used it a third time, in 2018, to jump us ahead a few months," Nathan corrected. "But you're right, after that we used transports in the Rune Cave and the refuge back in the Pleistocene."
Nell nodded. "So, that first jump with the damaged Timepiece, the one from 1066 Scarborough to Iowa in 2018. Could that one have somehow slipped into another timeline?"
Nathan glanced at his equations and thought. "Yeah, it's possible. The energy budget is pretty high to do that, though. In fact, the energy budget for the Timepieces in general looks prohibitive to me. I don't know how the damned things work. I just know what the equations and data are telling me."
Nell turned to Clementine. "You've read the report. Haakon's Timepiece overheated, and the circuits melted the last time he used it. Have you ever heard of anything like that happening before?"
Clementine shook her head, but still looked unconvinced. "No. I've heard of damaged Timepieces failing to work, but not ones malfunctioning like that. But it doesn't prove anything. This still looks like a wild-eyed theory to me from a mere boy scientist."
That was the last straw. Boy scientist indeed. "I've built an actual time machine. Have you? I'm telling you this is the explanation."
Clementine shrugged. "So what if it is? What should we do differently? Shouldn't we still take the steps necessary to preserve our timeline? In fact, if you're right, we can do so without any moral compunctions. We don't destroy the other timelines, we just do what our destiny requires."
That stopped Nathan cold. If all futures were not only possible but real, what did that do to free will? He glanced at his equations, but he knew he wouldn't find the answer there. Was he trapped by destiny to follow his future? Or did many futures mean he could choose the one he wanted?
The choice wouldn't mean much if none of his futures included Haakon.
Nell clasped his hand, her fingers warm and firm in his. "If you can look into the seeds of time and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak, then, to me."
Nathan gave her a wan grin. "You quote Banquo, talking to witches. Here's one back at you: tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and so forth. It turns out what's done will be undone, at least in some thread."
A tight smile bent Nell's lips. "You caught me. I love the Bard." Concern clouded her eyes. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."