“Still ready to do this?” she asked.
“One hundred percent,” said Lyle. “I checked with my paraself this morning, and he’s still on board. He should be at his version of SelfTalk right now.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
They went inside, and Morrow was at the counter. “Can I help you?” he asked.
Lyle took a deep breath. “I’d like to sell this prism.”
Morrow did the usual, checking the keyboard, the video camera, the microphone. This was the biggest variable in their plan: they couldn’t be sure who was working the counter on the other side of the prism, who was going to make parallel Lyle an offer. It was very likely parallel Morrow or parallel Nat, in which case things would be fine; even though they had no idea what the plan was, they would follow this Morrow’s lead. But there was always the chance that someone else was working the counter at SelfTalk in the other branch, which might make things complicated.
Nat saw that Morrow kept typing longer than the hardware check would require, which was a good sign. Morrow was telling the person on the other end to trust him, to pay parallel Lyle more than market price for the prism and act as if it were perfectly normal, that he would explain later. Fortunately Lyle had no idea of how long a prism inspection usually took.
Morrow made his offer, and then Lyle briefly conferred with his paraself. Since they had already agreed to sell their prisms, they weren’t talking about the price; just a final farewell. Nat made sure not to exchange looks with Morrow while they waited, but she wasn’t sure where she ought to look. It didn’t make sense to stare at Lyle, so she just looked out the front window.
Finally Lyle handed the prism over and took his payment. Once it was done, Nat asked him, “How do you feel?”
“Kind of sad, kind of relieved.”
“Let’s go get some coffee.”
They chatted for a while at the coffee shop. Afterward they hugged goodbye, and she told him she’d see him at the next meeting. Her plan was to attend one more meeting and then announce that she felt like she didn’t need to go to the meetings anymore.
When she got back to SelfTalk, it was a half hour before closing time, and there were only a couple of customers left in the store. She found Morrow in his office, typing on Lyle’s prism. “You’re just in time,” he said. “I’m on with my paraself.” He gestured for her to look at the screen as he typed.
Hey bro.
You want to tell me why I just paid so much for this prism?
Car crash, six months ago, Scott Otsuka and Roderick Ferris. Who survived in your branch?
Roderick Ferris.
Here it was Scott Otsuka.
Got it! Great find, bro!
Yeah, it’s your lucky day. Here’s what you have to do next.
Morrow had already found a printed copy of a six-month-old newspaper whose headline said Roderick Ferris died in the car crash while Scott Otsuka lived. Parallel Morrow’s job now was to find a printed newspaper in his branch that covered the same crash, the one in which Otsuka died while Ferris lived. They scheduled a time a few days from now when they would converse again.
Morrow folded up the keyboard and put the prism on a shelf at the rear of the storeroom. He grinned at Nat when he came back into the office. “You didn’t think we’d pull it off, did you?”
She’d had her doubts, and even now she could hardly believe it. “We haven’t pulled it off yet,” she said.
“The hard part’s done. The rest is going to be easy.” He laughed. “Cheer up, you’re going to be rich.”
“I suppose I am.” Which was worrying in itself; for an addict, a giant windfall could trigger a relapse just as easily as a traumatic event.
As if he were reading her mind, Morrow said, “You worried about falling back into old habits? I could hold your money for you, keep it safe so you don’t spend it on the wrong things.”
Nat gave a little laugh. “Thanks, Morrow, but I think I’ll just take my share.”
“Just trying to be helpful.”
Nat wondered about the version of herself on the opposite side of the prism. She and that parallel self had been the same person up until just under a year ago, when the prism had been activated. Now Nat was going to be rich, while her parallel self wasn’t. Parallel Morrow was going to be rich, but he wasn’t the type to share the money with parallel Nat. Not that she particularly deserved any of it; parallel Nat hadn’t gone to the support-group meetings, hadn’t done any of the work. Parallel Morrow hadn’t done any work, either; he was just lucky enough to have been working the counter when they made contact. If parallel Nat had been working the counter at that moment, she would probably have to split things with parallel Morrow—he was the boss—but she’d still be making a lot of money for being in the right place at the right time. So much came down to luck.
Someone had come in the front door, a man in his forties wearing a windbreaker, so Nat went to the front counter. “Can I help you?”
“Is there a guy named Morrow here?”
Morrow came out of the office. “I’m Morrow.”
The man stared at him. “I’m Glenn Oehlsen. You stole twenty thousand dollars from my mother.”
Morrow looked mystified. “There’s been a mistake. I was helping your mother stay in touch with her paraself—”
“Yeah, and you convinced her to give away her money. That money belonged to me!”
“It belonged to your mother,” said Morrow. “She could do whatever she wanted with it.”
“Well, I’m here now, and I want it back.”
“I don’t have the money, it’s been transferred into the other branch.”
Oehlsen’s face twisted with contempt. “Don’t give me that, I know you can’t send money into another timeline. I’m not an idiot!”
“If you give me a few days, I can see if your mother’s paraself would be willing to return—”
“Fuck that noise.” Oehlsen pulled a pistol out of his jacket and aimed it at Morrow. “Give me the money!”
Morrow and Nat raised their hands. “Okay, let’s relax,” said Morrow.
“I’ll relax once you give me the money.”
“I don’t have what you’re looking for.”
“Bullshit!”
From her vantage point Nat could tell that a customer in one of the carrels had seen what was happening and was calling the police. “There’s some cash in the register,” she said. “You can have that.”
“I’m not a goddamned robber, I just want what’s mine. What this guy cheated out of my mother.” With his free hand, Oehlsen pulled his phone out and put it on the counter. “Now you take yours out,” he said to Morrow.
Slowly, Morrow took out his phone and laid it next to Oehlsen’s.
Oehlsen tapped open the digital wallet on his phone. “Now you’re going to make a transfer. Twenty thousand dollars.”
Morrow shook his head. “No.”
“You think I’m joking?”
“I’m not paying you,” he said.
Nat looked at him incredulously. “Just—”
“Shut up,” said Morrow with a glare. He returned his attention to Oehlsen. “I’m not going to pay you.”
Oehlsen was clearly flustered. “You think I won’t do it?”
“I think you don’t want to go to jail.”
“You work with prisms. You know there’s some timeline where I shoot you right now.”