So, some exceptionally intelligent, middle-aged mad scientist, and trust me they live on the other end of the spectrum, and we tortured artists don’t normally converse with them. Hell, I’ve broken the fourth wall already, but does such a thing really exist? Anyhow, I digress, so this man spent hours trying to find a way to time travel. But he fell short each time, and ultimately frustrated and disillusioned, he did a little LSD and had an out-of-body experience of sorts, and when he recovered, he jumped out of his hospital bed, pulled off the tubes they’d attached him to, and ran around the hospital, slightly bloodied, in his gown screaming, “Eureka!” They planned on putting him in the nuthouse, but ultimately refrained.
He eventually came up with a hypothesis, which became a theory and ultimately reality. He’d discovered the multiverse. Now, for each possibility or dream that a person had, it manifested itself as another self in another parallel universe. And he also discovered a simple method of traveling from parallel universe to parallel universe which involved the on or off pitch singing of a few Gregorian chants into some complicated device, which vaguely resembled a microphone, and which I don’t know much about, since I’m not the omniscient narrator.
People were excited to meet their other selves, and find other universes: some primitive, some advanced. The multiverse, however, turned out to be a cosmos and not chaos. How? You ask. Do possibilities have a mind of their own? Is chance something? Well, sod off. Like I said, I don’t know. Anyhow, I digress again. Cracks knuckles. Soon, the multiverse started eliminating all other selves, and kept just one it thought was ideal. It did keep the civilizations though. Why? Leave me alone, already! So our dear professor faced terrible criticism, death threats, and lawsuits, and he decided to give up on people and save his own life. His paranoia and uncertainty did help make his decision. So he moved from parallel universe to parallel universe murdering all his other selves. Finally, exhausted, he found an old cabin in the mountainside, and an old man opened. He asked for a glass of water. After he drank it, he found himself slipping in and out of consciousness. And just before he died, he remembered his adolescent dream of settling down someplace idyllic, and watched as the old man howled in laughter.
But the age difference doesn’t make sense, you say. Bah! Go get a life, already!
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)