In Any Lifetime

by Marc Guggenheim

In a universe of infinite possibilities, the only constant is love. —Henri Thibault, PhD

“Tonight, it is my privilege to introduce this year’s recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physics for his mathematical theorem confirming the existence of parallel universes—otherwise known as the ‘Many Worlds Proof’—Dr. Jonas Cullen.”

They shared a knowing look. An instant of private rapture. The happiest moment of their lives. Neither had any idea this would be her last night on earth.

“there’s what we plan for, and there’s what actually happens.”

“By favoring certain outcomes. Which limits the total number of realities in the multiverse from the impossibly infinite to manageably so.”

“I’ll always find you,” he said. “In any multitude. In any lifetime.” The promise felt like a vow.

It must have been that something lovers call fate . . . It felt like fate. When they were together, there was no time. No past. No future. There was only now.

Every night, she tells him the same thing, as regular as the tide: I know you’ll find me. You won’t let anything stand in your way. Not even the universe. I know what people tell you, what you sometimes tell yourself, that it’s impossible. But I know—I know—it’s not impossible. Her entire body vibrates with the force of her convictions. It’s not impossible because you’re doing it. You believe in the existence of a multiverse, but I believe in you.

“Freedom,” she said, “is hard for some people. I suppose it’s hard for most people. Life is easier when there’s someone above you telling you what to do.”

The truest freedom, she realized, is not to be aware of how free one is.