Futura: Parallel Universes. Book 1 Page 2

  Maybe she won’t make you look like a fool. She doesn’t seem the type. In fact, when she spoke to her friend, she even seemed shy.

  “... But while the theory of relativity does not predict the number of dimensions that the universe might have, leaving it to the physicist to advance hypotheses, string theory opens up a new and interesting perspective...”

  Yes, imagine. How can a space kitten like that be shy?

  “... But the paradox is that instead of simplifying our lives, this complicates it a bit. If we solve the equation, we find that the number of dimensions of the universe is not four, as we have always been accustomed to thinking; that is, the three spatial in addition to time, but twenty-six ...”

  Cool and shy. That would be a paradox.

  “... So we have to get out of the narrow mental hypothesis of being stuck in a single three-way space plus the size of the entire universe, but accept the hypothesis that in reality, right now, we are simply living in one universe, conditioned by precise hypotheses and causes, but totally different from this one, and this one still, and in short from the infinite universe of possible universes ...”

  You have to take the leap. Yes, but what do I tell her? Hi, I’m Ricardo, and I’d like to go out with you? If you also want to make love, we can try it.

  “... The fact that we can’t empirically verify the theory resides in the fact that energy concentrations would be beyond the reach of any instrument imaginable today, since to observe strings we would have to go to the size of about ten to minus thirty-five meters...”

  And why not? Maybe at least break the ice, for starters.

  “... So, we know that today is 2028, but what happened this morning could affect what will happen in this universe, or even in parallel universes?”

  She’s probably still a virgin.

  “... Then, the concept of history needs to be reviewed, and we need to talk about histories. How many times has each of us wondered: what would have happened if I had not done this that day, but had done this other thing?”

  “Can things that have already taken place happen again? And can they happen differently?”

  The boy will peek out of the corner of his eye at his seatmate, absorbed in her thoughts.

  Unrecorded interactive lessons are allowed for people who are truly resident at a distance not exceeding one time zone. She may live on the East Coast of the United States or Canada.

  “Because, if such a theory were proven, then an action in one of the possible universes could influence not only other actions in one’s own universe, but in the multiverse. This leads us to conclude that even the meaning of history would no longer make sense because we should be talking about histories. Humanity itself would not have a single history, but different histories, depending on different actions, even random or marginal, compared to the scope of the event itself in the multiverse.”

  If she’s on the East Coast, it’s a few hours’ drive. With the airbus, I can leave in the afternoon and return by midnight, the latest one o’clock. I can say I went out into town for rehearsal with the band.

  The professor will pull an ordinary coin out of his pocket and show it to the class. He will roll his shirt sleeves up all the way to below his elbows. He will toss the coin, which will rotate in the air and fall back into his hand. Monitor three will frame the teacher’s hand, and show tails.

  “We are close to demonstrating, that for every possible event, there is an alternative quantum reality; that is, a parallel world. In this universe, in this world, this coin appears to you in this classroom and then at your home, with the tails side up. But is there a parallel reality in which the coin shows its head?”

  I’m crazy. Who am I kidding? You’re never going to ask her. She didn’t even say hello.

  The professor will walk on the green projection room carpet, all fifteen meters available, to show the coin to the students in the class.

  “Now, let’s try to go one step further. Let’s ask ourselves if we can influence the dynamics of the event.”

  “Seemingly random choices, trivial even, can completely change our lives, in some cases definitively. Certain choices, apparently unrelated to the dynamics of great historical events, can change not only our existence, but also the course of human events, the course of history...”

  Yes, and why don’t you?

  “... Take, for example, two of the last century’s best-known events, two cases of events that really took place, or didn’t take place. The first is the murder of Hitler, which didn’t happen. The second is Kennedy’s murder, which happened. Hitler also suffered dozens of attacks, and in some cases was almost killed. Almost, but it didn’t happen. On the other hand, Kennedy was assassinated. True? But how many billions of combinations come into play? Are there universes in which Hitler is assassinated, and others in which Kennedy lives on and continues his work? And what’s the world like in these two parallel universes? We don’t know, because we can’t prove the validity of these two scenarios, because we can’t measure them...”

  Fuck it, you have to take the leap.

  “... So, in this perspective, the meaning of history is changed, so we must talk about histories. Beyond quantum physics, humans have had this idea in mind, intuitively, at least since they began writing and reading novels. What is a novel, if not a parallel world? Does that world exist? All writers conventionally use past tense to describe their stories, due to a tacit agreement between the writer and the reader. They both know that that story doesn’t exist in their own world, but they accept the idea that it exists in another, a parallel world...”

  Before class ends.

  “... and then if the multiverse is the book, and the individual pages are the universes that make it up, each story is parallel to another. Similar, perhaps, and they may even have points of apparent connection, but certainly, unless you hypothesize passages through dimensional doors, the two stories will run in parallel, and will never meet, even at the end of the novel...”

  I’m scared.

  “Let’s ask ourselves, for example, whether we can decide that this coin, thrown in the air, can, in some universe, not only fall on its edge, but also whether we can determine that result.”

  The boy will no longer listen. The images will scroll on the screens, the teacher’s voice will continue to enter the headphones, but he will look nervously at the clock as the minutes flow. It’s almost the end of class.

  I’ll never have the courage.

  He will have to disconnect to, then follow the second lesson, before lunch. He will know he must make a decision.

  I’ll never manage it.

  “If so, then all possible outcomes of all possible events can potentially occur in an infinite number of multiple universes.”

  Don’t look like a jerk.

  “Then, the different actions can affect the universes differently. The single action can change things. The greater the scope of the changes that the single action has entailed, the greater the difference between universes, realities, and different histories of the multiverse.”

  The professor will write another formula on the board and project the image into the center of the class, divided into three sections, one per staircase.

  “And so the result would be zero to zero. Which is not...”

  He will look up, interrupt himself, take three theatrical steps, and declaim aloud, “The zero-to-zero soccer match result that your classmate in the last row at the top right is reading.”

  The class will explode in spontaneous laughter. The red-haired guy will look left and right, as if to try to confirm being caught, then hastily close his screen connected to sports results. Ricardo will look at the girl to his right.

  When she laughs, she’s even prettier. I give up.

  In the last twenty minutes, the boy will not have been able to follow the lesson and will remain wondering in which part of his soul to find the courage he is lacking.

  I know, it sucks, but you have to do it.

&nb
sp; “... In our example from before, we take the history that we know, the one you study at school. Try to hypothesize that that’s not the history, but it’s just one history. Let’s take one of the above two examples, the Kennedy assassination, and now let’s assume we choose in the multiverse, that is, in this immense book, just two pages, just two parallel stories. We can assume that in one of the two stories, Kennedy is actually killed, while in the other, he may not have been yet, and maybe he might be in the future, or not. But what does that depend on?”

  The lesson’s coming to an end. I can’t do it, maybe I’ll try tomorrow.

  “... and so the pages, the plans, are not determined by something mysterious, but by us, by our choices. From what we do, at every moment of our lives, creating the different possibilities. So thinking this way, the case does not exist. Everything has a cause and an effect, perhaps disruptive, perhaps in a remote future among the infinite futures possible ...”

  No, now, now or never.

  “... There are times, in your life, in the lives of each of you, when you have the opportunity to change your universe, our universe, the universe itself. And those moments are endless, those moments are at all times. The future, as we are used to thinking about it, is only a scenario determined by choices. And some choices, which we sometimes make, change the scenario of our lives permanently, and create, as a result of this change, a universe in which things are completely different, not only for us, but for the whole world. For all purposes, a new universe is born...”

  The boy will look at his hand in the bedroom.

  “... At every moment of your life, we can therefore say that you can make decisions that can change your future, and if we think about it, at the same time, change that of the rest of the world, and this happens at every moment, in an infinite series of combinations...”

  Ricardo will move his hand in the virtual glove, although he will know that there will still be no technology that simulates tactile sensation. Nonetheless, he will extend his hand over the seat, until he touches her hand.

  “... and therefore, in an alternative reality, a single action could change a different reality. And if one action could change the position of a single atom, another action could change the fate of the entire galaxy. It could even change the history of mankind.”

  Don’t risk making a fool of yourself.

  “... could change the future.”

  The professor will have finished the lesson. The flashing buzzer will indicate the disconnect signal. The students will get up in a general buzz of conversation, laughter. The blonde girl will wave to the Japanese girl by her side and disappear, like other classmates. The professor will close his file and turn off the monitors in the clamor of the classroom. Ricardo will know that he has to disconnect the link, and that at that point the classroom will disappear. For a few very long seconds, he will remain thinking that this world, to which he desperately wants to cling, will no longer be real when he disconnects the link and has to return to another reality. He will know that that empty seat by his side will disappear, and he will return to a dimension that does not belong to him. He will watch the classroom empty, the voices disappear into the distance, remaining to observe for an indefinite time, illuminated by the white light of the skylights, the empty seat in the deserted classroom.

  In the end, he will disconnect the link, still in the armchair, without taking off his helmet.

  It will be dark.

  “Hi, my name is Ricardo,” he will whisper. “I’m from Cuba, and you?”

  He won’t be able to explain in which remote part of his soul he found courage, nor why things sometimes happen, and exactly how they occur. But by now it will have happened, and the ball will be rolling on the inclined plane. The girl will not turn, and she will not even move her head, but Ricardo will observe that she will have moved her hair behind her ear, the one towards him.

  She’s shy.

  “Are you from the east coast, by any chance?”

  He will not understand what makes people sometimes find the courage to do things, and sometimes don’t, or why they sometimes take one way instead of the other. He will only know that now he will not be able to stop, he will not want to stop, he will only know that his heart will beat in his throat like a drum, that his reality will no longer exist, that his bedroom will not exist, that there will no longer even be a virtual classroom, that the whole world, all the infinite space, the whole universe will be concentrated in a very small point, the corner of that mouth lifted just slightly.

  “Because if that’s the case, maybe we could meet for ice cream one of these evenings, what do you say?”

  The girl will not look; she will continue to stare at the seat without a breath, almost seeming to lack the breath to answer. But that wonderful dimple on the cheek will barely move.

  She’s really, really shy.

  Ricardo’s voice will be a whisper, almost a prayer.

  “Well?”

  The girl will smile, without looking.

  Between a prologue and an epilogue

  One story

  Wednesday, 8:44 a.m.

  The man and woman will walk side by side, their necks sunken into their coats, sheltered from the sharp cold of early winter.

  The pale uncertain sun behind Chicago’s buildings, a persistent haze mixed with city smog. The two will walk through the underground station parking lot and climb the escalators, lined with the hundreds of other commuters heading to work.

  “You should come sometime, Sue,” the young black man will say, rubbing his hands to stimulate circulation. “You would have had fun last night.”

  “I doubt it very much.” The pretty young Chinese woman, whose head will barely reach the black man’s shoulders, will walk with quick steps by his side, clutching her white scarf in the morning breeze. “A party composed predominantly of men, with a splash of fourth-year dummies with miniskirts and IQs lower than that of a raccoon that laughs at all your tasteless jokes is not exactly my idea of fun.”

  The two will cross the public gardens, an oasis of greenery in the city confusion, heading towards the university area.

  The black man will laugh, amused by studying his companion’s mock-serious expression.

  “Raccoon! Only you could find such a comparison. Honestly, Sue, an evening without your old 1920s Indian or Russian movies would really do you good. And what do you have against my friends?” The black man will push his thick curly hair back from his forehead, showing white teeth in a cordial smile.

  The Chinese woman will return the smile, shaking her head. They will pass alongside the university department, where both will be researchers. The pedestrian zone will be closed to all kinds of transport, and the aircraft will pass in the distance, tens of meters high, in the cobalt sky, while the traffic noise will be attenuated.

  “What do you have against classic movies? There were still real actors then, you know?” Sue will answer.

  261 days earlier

  The early spring day will be beautiful, the sky clear, a slight breeze from the sea.

  The Pope’s new private residence on the outskirts of Rome will be surrounded by greenery. The long tree-lined avenues will be full of passers-by, flying cars traveling dozens of meters above their heads, flooding the virtual streets built on the computer. Different-colored laser beams will circle traffic; sensors placed on the aircrafts will prevent the drivers from exiting the driving parameters, unless automatic control is disengaged. That decision would constitute a serious infraction, involving immediate license suspension for six months. Public transport and aircraft will pass quickly, many vehicles with a single driver; no other means of transport will be allowed in the city.

  “How much longer?” the elegantly dressed man will ask, speaking to the microphone embedded in the video screen in front of his face.

  “Just about coming out, be ready,” the woman in blue will answer.

  The elegant man will signal the security guards, and eight men will mov
e in time to his gesture, directed at the three blue flying cars. The drivers will turn on the engines, and the aircrafts will rise thirty centimeters from the ground, due to the antigravity engine, remaining suspended at the mezzanine.

  “It’s always like this; you can never predict how long it takes,” a tall man in a gray suit with thick, dark raven hair will scratch his beard, beckoning Italian policemen to get on their hoverbikes. Four cops will jump into the saddles, turning on the blue flashing lights. A solitary pigeon will land in the courtyard tiled with ancient bricks, disinterested in the frenzy of the surrounding world.

  “It’s our job, Commissioner,” the elegant blond man with a determined jaw will say, his light eyes boring into those of the Italian, as if rebuking him. Then he will address his men in German.

  Very quickly, the Italian commissioner will adjust the translator of his integrated retina monitor, selecting German. The Inspector by his side will observe the Italian policemen as they arrange themselves, two at the head of the column and two at the end, with the hoverbikes flashing.

  The Chinese woman will feel relief upon entering the cozy cafe, shuddering slightly at the pleasant contrast from the frigid outside temperature in the crowded street leading to the austere period palace, gray with shutters and red roofs, a style that will contrast with the modernity of the next building, in which the research laboratories will be located. The cafe will be crowded with people, mostly students, professionals, and commuters in the work area. The two will stop at the counter and order coffee and pastries.

  “And by the way, if you really care so much about it,” the woman will lift her woolly hat, releasing her thick hair, pulling her lips back from the overly hot coffee. “I have nothing against your friends. I just find it distressing that people far beyond their thirties are still getting drunk, pretending to be happy-go-lucky genius students, laughing at the same pitiful jokes as ten years ago, still talking about baseball and skirts that are too short. You always say the same things, for God’s sake, don’t you realize it? You look like geezers drooling after your fresh-faced first-year students.”