“What?”
“Okay, I don’t have much time, so I’m going to explain it to you the way it was first explained to me. The Radiants serve as a kind of universal reset mechanism—a way to release a little steam, so to speak. They exist to help maintain the integrity and health of the individual streams of the multiverse.”
“The multiverse? That’s where quantum physics comes in?”
“Yes. We live in a multiverse, K.”
“So there are endless Emilys and Ks out there, having thousands of variations of this conversation right now?”
“As far as I know, it doesn’t work like that. A new universe isn’t created based on every minor decision point in a person’s life. It requires a significant output of energy to create an inflection point.”
“Are we talking planetary events?”
“That would qualify, sure, but even a single human being can create enough of this type of energy—more than enough to create an inflection point, given the right set of circumstances. And it turns out there are…other ways to manipulate the Radiants as well.”
“What kind of ways?”
“It’s something our parents were into.”
“You’re talking about the Gatewick Institute.”
“Yes,” Emily said, “but we’re not there yet.”
“Sorry.”
“First, Worricker needed to work out a way to fix what he believed was a decaying universal repair mechanism. This would take time, and countless failed attempts, but he would eventually figure it out.”
“Rabbits.”
Emily nodded. “At first it was simply an evolving artificial intelligence engine—a way to perform certain adjustments at certain times. It would take Worricker a decade to figure out that the framework of a game was the most effective method of manipulating the Radiants worldwide.”
“This was in 1959, the beginning of the modern version of Rabbits?”
“Exactly.”
“So, okay, Worricker created Rabbits to, essentially, patch a multidimensional repair mechanism. What happens if, one day, Rabbits fails to do its job?”
“Then that day will be the first day of the end of the world.”
“Am I really in a different dimension than the one I woke up in this morning?”
“Right now? Technically, yes.”
“So is there another version of me sitting in my apartment right now?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Full disclosure, I don’t know exactly how everything works, but from what I’ve been able to figure out, people’s…let’s call them souls, for lack of a better word, exist in a kind of cosmic pool. Each person in every dimension is a unique individual, but they all draw from that particular soul’s multidimensional pool.”
“Okay…”
“Only one iteration of a person can exist in each dimension at any given time, and—in the extremely rare case that a person switches dimensional streams—the version of the person that now exists in a new stream merges with or replaces that stream’s original instance. The resultant memory retained from the prior incarnation depends on something we call dimensional drift. It’s the same if an iteration of that person remains behind after the drift or slip.”
“If a person remains behind? If a version merges or replaces?”
“Like I said, we’re not sure exactly how it all works.” Emily checked the time on her phone again. “I’m sorry, K, but I really have to get going.”
“What about the Gatewick Institute?”
“Hawk Worricker created the institute to study Meechum’s Radiants further. His intention was to find out if the Radiants might be manipulated for good, to help bring economic and social prosperity to all. Gatewick was all about trying to discover new ways to safely manipulate the Radiants.”
“So the Gatewick Institute was never about playing Rabbits?”
“No. The game was completely separate. Worricker created the Gatewick Institute as a kind of augmentation, as a way to understand the Radiants and to do good in the world without interfering with Rabbits. Worricker understood that the game was the key to keeping the multiverse healthy, so he would never have intentionally allowed anything they did at Gatewick to adversely affect Rabbits.”
“Gatewick was working to do good?”
“Yes. The altruistic nature of that research was what eventually brought our parents to Gatewick, along with a bunch of others—including a man named Edward Crawford. Everybody just called him Crow.”