Division exists outside sequential linear time, so for him, all the future is foreseeable. “It’s a sweet thought,” I say, “but on balance, I’d rather not.” The word balance does unpleasant things to my metaphorical inner ear, and I wobble alarmingly. He grabs my virtual arm. “It’s all right,” he says, smiling pleasantly. “Even if you did topple and plunge headlong, flights of demons would rush up and break your fall. It’s all part of the service.” “That’s good to know,” I say. “But I wouldn’t want to be a nuisance to anyone.”
