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Fifty-Five

It was a list of instructions.

 

IMPORTANT—DO NOT read until 12:30 EXACTLY.
 

You have to make as many choices as you can in five minutes. Act on those choices. Choose to untie your shoes, empty your pockets, stand up. Anything you can think of. The only rule is you have to STAY IN THE STALL until 12:35.
 

Do this and the world will unravel but DON'T be afraid. It's the only way to make the world settle down. If you make the world unravel enough in a short space of time it will STOP unravelling FOREVER.
 

This is the TRUTH. 

GOOD LUCK
Annalise  

 

He clutched the note to his chest. He'd done it! And then he was running. She was outside. Annalise Fifteen. He'd found her. He'd told her he would.

He raced down the stairs, bounding onto the landings. Two people pressed themselves flat against the wall as he clattered past.

"What's the matter with him?" one said to the other.

Couldn't they see? Didn't they recognize true happiness when it nearly knocked them over on the stairs? He started laughing, laughing and running. He felt like he could do anything. He felt like he could run and run forever.

He reached the ground floor, a grinning, giggling idiot running along the back corridor, past the Post Room, not caring who saw him or what they thought. He dodged past the lunchtime stragglers in the entrance lobby, fixed his eyes on the pavement and exploded into the light.

Where was she? He was on the pavement outside the DTI, spinning, his hand shielding his eyes. She had to be here, she had to!

Had he flipped again?

"Graham! Over here!"

He turned. She was leaning out of a car window, the car double-parked, Annalise waving, her hair shining in the sun. He started to run, the car door opened. They met by the curb. Graham kept going, sweeping her up and swinging her around so fast they toppled against the boot of a car.

"It's really you, isn't it?" she said as they untangled themselves.

"It's really me. I told you I'd find you."

"Come on!" shouted a woman from the car. "We're late as it is."

* * *

Annalise and Graham piled into the back of the car. Graham pulled the door shut behind him and was immediately thrown against the rear seat as the car accelerated away.

"Time to get changed, Graham," said Annalise, handing him a police helmet and uniform. "Disguise," she said. "There are twenty Graham and Annalise look-alikes heading for Ladbroke Road. We're going to be the ones who don't look like us."

Annalise pulled what looked like a long black dress over her head. "I've converted to Islam," she said as her head reappeared. "It was either this or become a nun."

"You could have dyed your hair," said the woman driver.

"That's Jenny," said Annalise, "She's our fairy godmother."

Graham stared at Annalise. She was amazing. Ninety minutes ago, she hadn't known he was coming. Now she had twenty look-alikes and two fancy dress costumes.

"How did you find time to get these costumes?" he asked.

"They're not costumes," said Annalise. "They're the real thing. Thanks to Jenny and her horde of contacts."

The car stop-started through the London midday traffic, switching lanes and accelerating whenever it could. Graham slid in the back seat, trying to get changed and wishing his arms were articulated differently.

He noticed Jenny watching him in the mirror. He wondered how much she knew. And how much she'd guessed.

"Doesn't seem to be anyone following us," said Jenny. "The look-alike convoy at the flat must have worked."

"Trouble is they don't need to follow us," said Annalise. "They know where we're going."

Jenny pulled the car over two blocks from the police station. Graham grabbed his helmet and followed Annalise onto the pavement. Jenny leaned out the driver's window, gave last-minute directions and wished them luck. "See you in five minutes, she said, pulling back into traffic.

Annalise clipped her veil over her face. He wouldn't have recognized her, covered head to toe in black.

"Graham," she said. "I'm a married woman, you shouldn't be staring."

They split up as arranged—Graham walking on ahead, Annalise following slowly behind, letting the gap between them grow to forty, fifty yards.

As soon as they separated, he kicked himself for not asking her how the other Grahams were doing. He checked his watch. It had been nearly twenty minutes since he'd left the room. How was everyone coping? Were the girls keeping it going? Were the Grahams running out of choices? Were they . . .

More guilt. He'd been so busy worrying about himself and how to stop the resonance wave he hadn't stopped to consider the other Grahams. What was this doing to them? Some would see a room unravel before their eyes. One second they'd be an anonymous guest at a party, next they'd be the center of attention, people asking them for help, people in tears.

What had he done? Had he made things worse? Was he going to prosper at the expense of others? They might be scarred for life—even more scarred than they already were. Freaks to be pointed at—"That's Graham, the one with the visions. Where's my message, freak, why'd you leave me out?"

An orange-haired Annalise look-alike appeared ahead of him, briefly pulling him out of his despondency. He'd have to make amends. Whatever it took. He had to make sure the Grahams were okay.

Other look-alikes appeared, on both sides of the road, each with a look-alike Graham in tow. He wondered if that was an omen. Fate parading anonymous Grahams in front of him, every one of them a target whose sole purpose was to allow him—the one Graham—to arrive unmolested at his destination. The one Graham, the selfish Graham, the unexpendable Graham.

He suppressed the desire to rip off his uniform and shout his name to the rooftops. He'd make amends. But not now.

He increased his pace, moving up to a brisk march, took a deep breath, two. He had to concentrate. He saw the entrance on his right, a flight of steps. Two look-alikes were already there. They jogged up the steps. Graham followed. He was inside. Jenny was waiting, she was waving him over. He slipped off his helmet, ran to her and, suddenly, everything slipped into dream time. Three, four men appeared alongside, their hands supporting him, guiding him through labyrinthine twists and turns. A door opened, he was led inside, a large window, six men lined up against a wall, he recognized one, picked him out.

"Are you sure?" someone said.

"Yes," he heard himself say. "That's him."

A scene repeated four times.

* * *

A gaggle of lawyers and detectives huddled in the corner. Graham used the opportunity to drag Annalise away from Jenny. "What's happening with the Grahams?" he whispered, praying that he would have the strength to cope with the answer.

"It's working," she said. "Some of the Grahams are freaking out but we're getting through to them. Even if they can't talk, they're making choices. And the girls are prompting like crazy. Passing on details of everyone you helped."

"It's still going on?" He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. He'd hoped it would be over in an hour.

"Do you think I should . . ."

She grabbed his arm. "You're not going anywhere," she said. "You've done your bit."

"But . . ."

"No buts. The girls have it under control." She tilted her head to one side. "I'm listening to them now."

"You can hear them all? At the same time?"

She smiled. "If I wanted to go insane I could. I tune them in and out, though they're not at their most lucid at the moment. It's one crazy circus out there."

He wondered how long they could keep it going. And how many Grahams they'd reached. Was it just the same Grahams cycling back and forth or had they reached out to the billions as he'd hoped? And did it matter? Was it the strength and number of flips or the breadth across the worlds? If he'd been a scientist, maybe he'd have stopped and run more simulations beforehand.

He looked at his watch. 1:31. The party would be finishing soon. Maybe it already had? Maybe most Grahams had only stopped by for the first ten minutes?

Jenny came over.

"They've charged the four men and grounded Sylvestrus's plane."

Graham forced a smile. Annalise and Jenny embraced.

"They'll need to take your statement next, Graham," Jenny said. "Jerry'll be with you. if you have any questions . . . Graham?"

Something strange was happening. Jenny's voice had receded.

"Graham!"

Annalise's face ballooned into view, strangely elongated as though a giant hand had stretched it apart.

"No, Graham. You can't!"

 

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