Noxon read.
“So the thing to decide,” said Noxon, “is whether to go out there at all, and trust that we’ll do better, or just go back to watching the camp.”
“I say we go,” said Deborah, “and I just won’t be an idiot.”
“He lays it out—you lay it out pretty clearly, Noxon,” said Ram. “Slice time from the start, place cameras to record everything, then watch from invisibility the way we always do.”
“Makes sense to me,” said Noxon. “But what about his other suggestion?”
“His?”
“Future me wrote this note,” said Noxon. “I didn’t. So it’s his suggestion, not mine.”
“I don’t remember my parents,” said Deborah to Professor Wheaton. “Not enough to want to trade them for you.”
“It’s not a trade,” said Noxon. “What he’s suggesting will copy us. You—the you of right now, eyeless and brilliant and semi-annoying—”
“Thanks for that ‘semi,’” said Deborah.
“You will still exist,” said Noxon. “But that other you, the baby with parents and eyes, that version of you will continue. And live a completely different life. She’ll never know you existed.”
“She’ll probably get hit by a bus at age twelve,” said Ram. “There are no guarantees.”
“Or her parents might get divorced. Or all kinds of bad things. But she’ll have that life, and whatever happens, she’ll see it happening with her own eyes,” said Noxon. “And meanwhile, the four of us will still exist because we’re the agents of change. And we’ll jump forward in time and go calling on the other version of Professor Wheaton, and he’ll take us in because he’s a generous guy.”
“I’ll be living in a garret somewhere,” said Wheaton. “Or a homeless shelter. Or I’ll be dead.”
“And if you are, then the four of us will find some other way to survive,” said Noxon. “It isn’t hard for me to make a killing on the stock market. We don’t need some version of Professor Wheaton’s pension. That’s just the simpler way.”
“Why are we even thinking of going back to save my parents?” asked Deborah. “That was never part of the plan.”
“It’s what future Noxon said,” Wheaton answered her. “We saw you dead. And we couldn’t help but think, as long as we’re saving her life, why not save her original life?”
“We don’t have to do that,” said Deborah. “We can prevent my death out on the savannah today—or a million and a half years ago, or whatever. And then we just go home and wait for the human race to monstrify ourselves.”
“That’s one choice,” said Ram Odin.
“But it’s the one I’m going to make,” said Noxon. “Because my friend Umbo—”
“The legendary Umbo,” said Ram quietly.
“Never forgot about his brother who died when we first started messing with time. And if I know Umbo, he’s probably already found some stupid elaborate way to save Kyokay’s life. Because he couldn’t go on unless he did.”
“But that hardly applies to you, Noxon,” said Wheaton.
“And it certainly doesn’t apply to me,” said Deborah, “because I think I turned out just fine.”
“Oh, you did,” said Ram. “You are superb. If Noxon proposes anything that might get rid of you, I’ll strangle him first.”
“We’ve already proven you aren’t quick enough to kill me,” said Noxon. “And any change I make, I’ll be sure to keep you around, eyeless and mean as ever.”
“I’m not mean,” said Deborah, sounding a little hurt.
“I meant it in the nicest possible way,” said Noxon.
“None of the possible ways to mean that are nice at all,” said Deborah.
“He means that he’s halfway to being in love with you,” said Ram. “And I agree, that isn’t a very nice thing to contemplate, what with that incredibly ugly face of his.”