The human brain and the infinitely layered consciousness of the mind within that gray matter, in conjunction with a body composed of trillions of cells, each with thousands of proteins, formed the most complex structure in creation. Ed and Michelle each contained more gigabytes of data than the physical universe itself. Now those two rich data streams were transmitted from the porch of one bungalow to the porch of another bungalow, with the moon low in each world, the night quiet here as it was not elsewhere. The front door was closed; if he opened it, no corpse would be sprawled on the foyer floor.

Michelle stumbled to the porch railing and grabbed it to steady herself. She stood hunched over, making small sounds of distress and gasping for breath.

Ed sat in one of the rocking chairs and pocketed the key to everything. He drew the .45 Champion and ejected the half-depleted magazine and replaced it with one that was fully loaded.

When Michelle turned to face him, he said, “Well, that was hardly the big romantic moment I anticipated.”

Loss and seven years of widowhood had toughened this woman, but she wasn’t accustomed to being present at gunfights. “Who was that man back there?”

“The nefarious John Falkirk. I told you about him earlier when I explained all this.”

“He’s some kind of federal agent. You shot a federal agent.”

“He’s a corrupt swine who’s out for nobody but himself. He’d have killed me to get the key to everything, and then he would have killed you. He’s after me in that world to get my key, but this one would suit him just as well.”

“Where were Jeffy and Amity? That was their house in that world, right?” As the worst explanation occurred to Michelle, anxiety sharpened her voice. “Damn it, where were Jeffy and Amity?”

“That’s a question we must ponder carefully.”

She stood over him, visibly shaking. “Ponder carefully? How can you be so blasé?”

Holstering the pistol, he said, “Well, I’m a scientist, dear. As best we can, we have to put emotion aside and rely on reason. We scientists tend to ponder carefully. A few of us, anyway.”

“Were they prisoners in their own house? Were they . . . were they dead in there?”

He shook his head. “I believe that’s unlikely.”

“Unlikely? But maybe they were? Maybe they were dead in there?”

Indicating the other rocking chair, Ed said, “Have a seat, dear. Try to calm down.”

“I saw a man shot to death. Maybe Jeffy and Amity are dead. Dead again! I’m not going to calm down for the rest of my life.”

“Not if you don’t make the effort,” Ed said.

She paced to the head of the porch steps. She turned and stared at him. “There’s a whole side to you I didn’t know. Shooting people, indifferent to Jeffy and Amity . . .”

“I’m not indifferent, Michelle. I just think in multiverse terms, and you aren’t quite there yet. Even if Jeffy and Amity are dead in that house, all hope is not lost, because they’re alive in other worlds.”

In silence, she stared out at Shadow Canyon Lane. Finally she said, “Are you dead in that world?”

“Obviously not.”

“Why obviously?”

“If Falkirk had already killed me, he wouldn’t have reacted as he did when he opened the door. He thought he was looking at the Ed Harkenbach of that world.”

“And where is that Ed?”

“In hiding somewhere, no longer in the tent beyond the end of the lane, possibly far away from Suavidad Beach. I suspect the John Falkirk of that world isn’t looking for that Ed anymore. I think he and his men must have been in the bungalow waiting for Jeffrey and Amity to come home.”

“Why waiting for them and not the other you?”

“I have a theory.”

Finally she came to the second rocking chair and settled into it. “Tell me.”

68

Of all the houses that Amity had been inside, she liked Duke Pellafino’s place better than any other except the bungalow in which she and her father lived. The furniture wasn’t dirty or tattered or anything, but it was all comfortable and looked lived-in, so you didn’t have to be afraid of putting your feet up.

The hotelman had shelves and shelves of books and a collection of bronze dogs, and there were lots of photographs of the real dogs that had been his companions. In every room was what appeared to be a brand-new dog bed, as if he must be getting ready to bring a puppy into his life after his heart healed from his most recent loss.

Instead of a table and chairs and sideboard, the dining room contained nothing but a black-lacquered Steinway and a bench and a dog bed. Since Duke never married and lived alone, Amity supposed he must be the one who played the piano just for himself and his pooch. That was a little sad, but also nice, and it was funny to imagine those big hands finding any kind of music in a piano.

Because Duke had said they should make themselves at home, and because they were supposed to powwow over breakfast when he arrived from work, she and Daddy were in the kitchen. She set the table, and her father cracked eggs into a bowl for omelets, and she grated cheese, and he chopped up a green pepper, and during everything they did, they kept glancing at each other to be sure that they were both still here. He asked her if she was all right, and she said she was, and then she asked him if he was all right, and he said, “Yeah, sure.” But she was thinking—and he probably was, too—that maybe nothing would ever be all right again.

Repeatedly, she looked at the windows, expecting to see another Good Boy capering on the patio or a bug-form robot clambering over the ivy-covered wall between properties. If there were a trillion times a gajillion worlds, all somehow existing side by side or even in the same place but invisible to one another, you had to wonder if sometimes things leaked from one universe to others.

The key to everything lay on the counter near the sink. After Earth 1.77, Amity doubted that her father would ever agree to use the thing again. Somewhere a version of Michelle was alone and in need of them, just as they were in need of her, but between them and her were monsters, really and truly.

69

The once pale moon shaded to yellow as it lowered toward the horizon, and a few morning birds began to twitter in the trees, in anticipation of a dawn not yet hatched.

A queer disorientation troubled Michelle, as if she’d had too much to drink, which she hadn’t, as if the porch were yawing like the deck of a ship, which it wasn’t, as if she were dreaming of being awake, though she was so wide-eyed she might not ever sleep again.

Opining from his rocking chair, Ed Harkenbach said, “Here’s what I think. The me in that world is even more terrified of porting than I am, a great deal more terrified. He’s unable to use the key even to escape Falkirk. But the me in that world still can’t bring himself to destroy the remaining key.”

“Why not?” Michelle asked. “Why not, if he won’t use it?”

“Pride. Ego. Considering that he’s me, I know him pretty well.”

“You don’t seem prideful to me.”

“I hide it under eccentricity and charm. However, considering the success of the Everett Highways project, I regard myself the equal of Einstein, but without the big white mustache.”

“Well, it’s not a bad sort of pride if maybe you are.”

“No maybe about it. Anyway, I’ll never destroy the key I’ve got in this world, even if the day comes when I’m too afraid to use it again. I think that day did come for that other me. I think he had a relationship with Jeffrey akin to the friendship I have with you. I think he gave the key to Jeffrey for safekeeping, then fled Suavidad Beach. Though I know me well in whatever version I exist, I don’t know your husband. Would he be tempted to use the key?”

She thought of Jeffy’s love of fantasy, of worlds that could never be. Furthermore, he was an armchair adventurer who dreamed of real adventure but was too much of a homebody actually to go to the jungles of Borneo or the slopes of Mount Everest.

“He’d be tempted,” she said. “But he’d never put Amity at risk. He’s a dreamer, but he has a strong sense of responsibility.”

“Then perhaps he didn’t choose to use it. Maybe for some reason he was forced to use it. Whatever the case, I think Falkirk learned Jeffrey had it, and he was looking for him when we showed up.”

Pink glow in the east, quickly intensifying to coral.

The first morning color in the sky was a symbol of hope, a reminder that in spite of the evil that worked relentlessly from pole to pole, the world spent the night turning inexorably toward light.