Fair Coin

by E. C. Myers

  “I had to move out of my mom's house eventually,” Nathaniel said. “And working here has its privileges. Hopefully they haven't replaced me yet, since I've been gone so long.” He smiled proudly at the machine Ephraim was staring at. “That's our Coheron Drive. Isn't she beautiful? I helped build her.”

  Ephraim glanced at the coin in his hand. Zoe patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Don't worry. Size doesn't matter in quantum mechanics,” she said. “It's how you use it.”

  Nathaniel tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath. Ephraim looked up and saw a square patch of sky above the atrium, which was covered by a skylight.

  “Thank you, both of you. Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope we never meet again.” Nathaniel extended a hand to Ephraim.

  “Oh, I'm sure I'll see you around—one of you, anyway,” Ephraim said. They shook hands warmly.

  Zoe hugged Nathaniel.

  He winced.

  “Sorry. Good luck,” she said.

  “Keep an eye on him, okay? Remember what I told you,” Nathaniel said.

  “Sure thing,” Zoe said.

  Nathaniel stepped inside the open doorway, waved at them, and pressed another button that shut the door behind him. Ephraim itched to check out the inside of this impressive building and explore a universe twenty-five years into his future, but he had other things to take care of right now.

  “So where next, boss?” Zoe asked.

  Ephraim took one last look at the supersized version of his coin, wondering how it worked. “Can you set the controller for the reality I was in before yours?” He handed her the coin, and she worked the controller silently, the tip of her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth.

  “That's the one where I died, isn't it?” she whispered.

  “Not you,” he said firmly.

  She held out the controller to him, the coin hovering over it and dimly reflecting the glow of the lamp above them.

  “When I arrived in your universe, there was no analog of me to swap with. So right now there shouldn't be an Ephraim in the universe I left.” No Ephraim, and no Jena. It might put a drain on the coin, but he didn't have to worry about that with the controller in easy reach. He took Zoe's hand, waited for her nod, and took the coin.

  They shifted.

  Ephraim heard the fountain burbling behind him again, but he didn't turn to look at it. He was sure the water had been thoroughly cleaned by now, but he wasn't anxious to revive his memories of Jena's death.

  Zoe slipped her hand from his and drew her arms around her stomach. “I'm getting used to the shifts. But just the same, I'm glad I didn't eat anything before we left.”

  The plaza was brighter than it should be just after sundown; at this time in the evening, the fountain lights and water were usually turned off.

  Zoe turned and gasped. “You have to see this,” she said. She pulled at his elbow.

  Reluctantly, he looked at the fountain. It was surrounded by vases of flowers and piles of books. As they approached it to get a better look, they found notes and memories of Jena scrawled in chalk on the concrete around the fountain. Pictures of Jena and her friends were propped up against its base, and dozens of burning candles floated in the water.

  “Wow,” Zoe said. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Yeah,” Ephraim said.

  “I feel like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn visiting their own funeral,” Zoe said. She sat down on the edge of the fountain and stared at the lights on the water. They reflected off the silver coins beneath them, shimmering like stars. The fountain was full of more coins than he'd ever seen—all wishes for Jena, he imagined. He dipped a cupped hand into the water and poured it out. It was cold. The motion set some of the candles gently floating away from him.

  Ephraim looked around nervously, peering into the deepening shadows around the fountain. “We should probably get going,” he said. “We don't want anyone to see you here.”

  “‘The report of my death was an exaggeration,’” Zoe said. She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “You're right. What now?”

  “Hopefully, the controller has coordinates for all the universes I've visited since I found this damn coin.” Except the coordinates he really cared about, which he'd seen Nate delete. “I didn't know what I was doing before, but every time I made a wish, I bumped an analog of mine out of his life and into someone else's. I want to return all of them to where they belong. If we work backwards, that ought to put everything straight.”

  Zoe's mouth opened, but she didn't say anything, just braced the controller between her hands in her lap.

  “I must have gone to nearly a dozen universes. All I need is for you to set the coordinates, then I'll grab the coin and shift ahead on my own, so I swap with my analog,” he said. “Are you sure you're up to this?”

  Zoe nodded. The coin spun in the air and then froze in position.

  “Okay then. You know how to follow with the controller,” he went on. Nathaniel had given her a tutorial on the controller's advanced features, and she was a quick study. She knew as much about it as he did now. “It's late, so the other Ephraims should all be home. But give me a minute to get somewhere private.” He looked around. “You may want to hide too, unless you want to deal with the confused analog who takes my place.”

  “I'll be all right,” Zoe said.

  “When you catch up to me, we'll just set the next coordinates. Wash, rinse, repeat. We'll go through all of them, starting from this universe and working our way to back to my first wish.”

  “Got it,” Zoe said. She took a deep breath. “Do you really have to do this? I'm sure those people don't even realize what's happened to them. It might disrupt their lives even more if we shift them again.”

  “They belong in their own universes,” he said.

  “But didn't you say that Nathan came with you a couple of times? And…Jena?”

  “I know I can't set everything right for everyone.” He couldn't bring all those dead people back to life, for instance. “But I'd like to fix as much as possible.”

  “Fair enough.” She stood. “It's going to be a long night. Are you ready?”

  Ephraim reached for the coin.

  The first trip went well. Ephraim found himself in his own bed. It was extremely comforting after everything he had been through. He sat up and looked around the dark room, for once not wanting to catalog the differences. If he pretended, this could be home. Maybe this was a foolish mission. Hadn't he said it himself? The universe didn't matter, the people did. He could just stay here.

  “No,” he said. That would be selfish. He wasn't doing this for himself, he was doing it for all the other Ephraims…the ones he had pushed out of their lives.

  He waited for an hour, but Zoe didn't appear. He paced around the living room wondering what had gone wrong, or if she'd changed her mind. He kept flipping the coin in the dark, wondering whether he should go looking for her. Finally someone buzzed the apartment.

  “Zoe?” he whispered into the intercom.

  “Who do you think?” She sounded annoyed. He buzzed her in.

  She pounded on the door when she got upstairs, and he let her in.

  “Easy,” he said. “Don't wake my mother.”

  “I hate you,” she said. She was panting heavily. “I managed to track your coin. But when I got to this universe, I was still in the fucking park and you weren't there. I ran the whole way here, in the dark.” She stared at him. He smoothed his messy hair self-consciously. “Gee, I hope I didn't wake you,” she said.

  “Crap. Sorry!” Ephraim said. “I completely forgot the controller wouldn't move you to my location. I thought it was strange when you didn't show up.”

  “Know what else was weird? Seeing another Ephraim take your place. Your analog was very disoriented. And naked. He also thought I was part of his screwy dream—until I kicked him to prove he was awake and that I wasn't interested.” She grinned.

  Ephraim winced. “Was that necessary?”

  “I'm not
completely evil. I gave him Nate's hoodie so he could get home without getting arrested for indecent exposure.”

  “Such a Samaritan.” He looked at her sidelong. “So…did you, uh, see anything?”

  She smirked. “Nothing I haven't seen before, lover.”

  He led Zoe to his bathroom. “It should be safe for you to wait in here. If you pop into a universe and you don't know where I am, just wait here for me. I'll come to you next time.”

  “Hopefully this will be easier from here on out,” Zoe said.

  Ephraim slotted the coin in the controller, and she set the next coordinate. “Next stop: more of the same,” she said.

  The coin flashed as it spun, then stopped, torqued at a weird angle. He sighed and reached for it.

  A few universes later Ephraim was sitting on his couch. The television was on, some movie he didn't recognize, but it was old, the black-and-white images flickering in the dark room. Jim snored beside him, his head lolling forward on his chest, his left hand still in a half-full popcorn bowl.

  Ephraim got up quietly and snuck a handful of popcorn. Jim's breathing sputtered in his sleep. Ephraim edged out of the living room and into the bathroom next to his room, where he waited for Zoe to appear.

  Zoe popped in and promptly banged a knee against the toilet tank.

  “Ow,” she said.

  “Shhhh!” Ephraim whispered. “We have to be very very quiet.”

  “Are we hunting wabbits?” Zoe said with an arched eyebrow as he slotted the coin into the controller.

  “It's duck season,” he said.

  “Rabbit season.” She laughed.

  “Duck season.”

  “Rabbit season.” Zoe set the next coordinate.

  “Rabbit season!” Ephraim said, and grabbed the coin.

  Ephraim was in bed again, but the sound of soft breathing in the dark room told him he wasn't alone this time. He held his own breath as he slowly rolled his head to the left.

  Mary was sleeping there, curled onto her side, her brown hair falling over her cheek. Ephraim froze.

  He waited for what seemed like a long time, then slowly eased himself out of the bed. He was clothed, of course, but he saw a pair of boxer shorts he recognized on the floor, near a pile of his and Mary's clothing. He shook his head and tiptoed into the bathroom. Just as he closed the door, Zoe popped in behind him.

  “Duck season!” she said, her voice reverberating in the tiny room. “Fire!”

  “Ahh!” Ephraim whirled around. “You scared me.”

  Zoe blinked at him in the fluorescent light from the mirror over the sink.

  Mary's voice came from the bedroom. “Ephraim?”

  Zoe's mouth fell open. “What was that? Do you have a girl over? Who is it? Is it me?”

  Zoe leaned over and started to turn the doorknob.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  “I'm just going to take a peek.”

  “Ephraim? Are you all right?” Mary called.

  “That sounds like Mary,” Zoe said. “Or is it Shelley in this world? Or both? It's both of them, isn't it? You dog.”

  “We don't have time for this.” Ephraim dropped the coin into the controller, and Zoe straightened.

  “You're no fun. You must come from Boring World.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Sure you don't want me to give you two a few minutes here?”

  Ephraim waved his hand. “Let's just get on with it, all right?”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  As Ephraim took the coin, he thought that the analog he had replaced likely wouldn't thank him for snatching him away from this borrowed reality.

  Ephraim found himself in another bathroom, but it definitely wasn't at his house and he didn't recognize it. He was crouched over the toilet; judging from the smell of the mess in the bowl, his other self couldn't hold his liquor. He gagged and backed away.

  “Nice going, party animal,” he said.

  The pounding bass in the walls told him a party was going on outside. But who was he with?

  He exited the bathroom and scanned the crowd. He spotted Mary and Shelley dancing together in a corner of the club. He slipped out quietly and discovered he was at least still in Summerside. He thought it might have been Mary and Shelley's house.

  He jogged back to his apartment, appreciating what Zoe had gone through to get there from the park. He snuck in, worried he'd find his mother waiting for him, and slipped into his bedroom. Zoe was sitting in front of the television playing video games. She glanced up when he came in, dripping with sweat.

  “Well, this sure isn't Boring World,” Zoe said. “Where were you?”

  “My other self was at a party somewhere.”

  “I figured when I saw how drunk he was when he swapped with you. He's sleeping it off on the bathroom floor in the last universe.” Zoe walked up behind him and put an arm around Ephraim's waist. Her hand held the controller. Ephraim dropped the coin into it, and she tucked herself in closer, turning her head to yawn into his shoulder. He wondered why she was suddenly being so friendly, but he wasn't about to complain. He put an arm around her, wanting to stay that way with her for a while.

  “He'll have a hard time explaining that, along with a nasty hangover,” Ephraim said. “Hey. We're almost done, Zoe. I should get going.”

  She nodded and disentangled herself from him. When she was clear, he grabbed the coin.

  In the next universe he was sitting at a computer with porn on the screen. He quickly turned off the monitor, just as he felt a tingling sensation along the tops of his bare arms. Zoe popped in, the air crackling and rushing around her as she displaced it. Her eyes swept the room with a smile on her face.

  She brushed her hair casually away from her eyes, like she hadn't just stepped through from another universe.

  “Oops. I forgot to go into the bathroom first,” she said. “I hope I didn't interrupt anything.” She giggled.

  Ephraim glanced at the dark screen. “You caught him in the act, didn't you?”

  “Awkward. I mean, it's one thing if your mother walks in on you, and another when you're pulled into a parallel universe and appear right in front of a girl who looks like your crush.”

  Ephraim sighed.

  “He screamed and bolted for the bathroom,” Zoe said. “Which is why I couldn't go in there. You sure you're helping these guys? That one is probably going to need therapy after this.”

  “How many are left?” Ephraim asked. He yawned. The first gray light of dawn was creeping through the window. It was morning already. He felt like he had been shifting through universes for his whole life. He tried to ignore the dull ache in his stomach.

  “We're nearly there. Just a couple more coordinates,” Zoe said. She lowered the controller. “Something smells good.”

  Then he smelled it too: cooking bacon.

  He pictured his mother in the next room, cooking breakfast for him. He wanted to stay here more than anything, but she was someone else's mom. He had stolen that other Ephraim's happiness, and if he was going to get his old life back, he had to take it all back.

  He thought about his first few wishes. “Three more trips to go,” he said.

  “We only have two more coordinates.”

  He grimaced. “I know.”

  They shifted twice more without incident. Ephraim had simply appeared in bed each time. These analogs sure knew how to have fun.

  “That's it,” Zoe said.

  “I'm sure there's a pattern to these coordinates,” he said. “The first few numbers look the same.” Those must indicate a particular subset of the multiverse, with the rest of the digits zeroing in on the specific variations.

  “Okay,” Zoe said. She punched in the first few digits. “Are we close enough to your home that you can just make it there on your own?”

  “I think it's just one shift over, but I made a pretty big wish that first time.” He wondered what he would find when he got back there. Nate had said his mother was drinking again. He hoped it wasn't tr
ue, but if it was…he would have to find some way to help his mother. There were no magic solutions to that problem, no matter how much he might want one.

  Ephraim closed his eyes. “I'm going to try.”

  Zoe set the coin spinning, and he put his hand over hers, on the controller. Though the coin slowed, it didn't stop moving. Eventually it settled in a sluggish, wobbly sort of state, turning over and over. Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails.

  Ephraim remembered that on his first wish the coin had come up heads. Of course now he knew that the coin's orientation only affected the spatial direction of his shift; if he'd been directing the coin with his thoughts, maybe he'd chosen “bad” universes because subconsciously he thought tails was a worse outcome than heads. It was all in his mind. Heads and tails were a matter of perspective.

  He tried to keep as much of his home universe in his thoughts as he could, most especially his mother, Nathan, and Jena as he remembered them. He readied himself to snatch the coin. When it was horizontal with tails facing up, it abruptly stopped. Zoe looked at him doubtfully.

  Tails. That had to be right, if he was truly traveling back the way he came. It didn't mean anything more than that.

  He closed his eyes, and, because it couldn't hurt, he muttered, “There's no place like home.” Then he took his hand away from around Zoe's and the controller, gently slid it under the coin, and closed his fingers over it.

  The shift felt different from all the other times. He felt the usual twinge and lurch in his stomach, like it was compressing then expanding, but then he felt an additional little tug to one side as he came through into another universe that looked just like the last. He fell to his knees, dropping the coin on the soft carpet.

  He gulped in air. He smelled stale cigarette smoke.

  He wanted to check before Zoe arrived. He bolted up from the floor and ran to the kitchen. He opened the cabinet above the refrigerator and saw his mother's liquor stash, tall clear bottles lined up like enemy soldiers. He never thought he'd be happy to see those little bastards again.

  He crept into the living room and was faced with another familiar sight. His mother was passed out on the sofa, an empty bottle turned on its side and an ash snake of a forgotten cigarette perched precariously on the clay ashtray he'd made her in the third grade. He'd meant it to be a candy bowl.