2.1

(Let's Change it up a Little)

"I gotta say, Dad, something about that accident was just unlucky," Ari said, holding a hand to her forehead in exasperation after both she and Socrates woke up in the Intelligible Realm and had gotten a little more settled. "I mean, you had deer, elk, moose, ox, cow, and horse repellent, and we end up hitting a bear. I didn't even know there were bears in New York!"

Socrates was half-convinced that there weren't, and that was what had Socrates so ticked off this time around. Every time he woke up back at the beginning of the weird Groundhog Day-esque loop, he rushed out to try and buy repellents for all the animals he'd encountered before. Every time, without fail, something new showed up that he wasn't ready for. The horse had been bad enough, because it showed that reality was starting to move away from horned critters, but the bear was a little much.

Maybe he'd just call it quits. He didn't even know where to start looking for bear repellent.

...

Soon enough, it came time for the Arbiter to go searching for a philosopher for the "inexperienced" Socrates Jones to debate. For the last few dozen iterations, Socrates had been heeding John Stuart Mill's advice and trying to see if Ari was happier when she didn't know time was resetting. To that end, he'd been just going through the motions in the Intelligible Realm, debating all the philosophers more or less the way he originally debated them. It wasn't all that bad, but having to fall into Hobbes's trap every time was starting to really wear on him.

"Hey, Arbiter?" Socrates suddenly spoke up, not even realizing it himself until the words were out of his mouth.

"Yes, Socrates?" the Arbiter said, turning around to address him. "I was just about to seek out someone for you to debate. What is the matter?"

"Mind if I make a request?" Socrates asked. "I've heard about some guy named Nietzsche. I'd like to know if he's all that he's cracked up to be."

"You wish to look into nihilism?" The Arbiter stroked his beard thoughtfully. "A sensible place to start. It's important to determine if there's an answer in the first place before trying to ascertain the nature of morality. Very well, Socrates, I will summon Nietzsche for you."

This would be interesting. Up until now, Socrates had been more or less content with doing things as he remembered, but now he couldn't help but feel curious about what sort of impact these kinds of changes could bring about. In an attempt to try to keep up appearances of being a clueless accountant stuck in a world of philosophers, he turned to Ari.

"Ari, what do you know about Nietzsche? I'm not making some kind of mistake, am I?" Socrates asked.

"I don't think you're making a mistake, Dad," Ari said, thoughtful. "But the debate might get a little weird. Here's what you need to know..."

2.2

(A New Challenger Approaches!)

With yet another day came yet another reminder that there was a wrinkle in the fabric of time. While Socrates still felt the old annoyance return every now and again, he was starting to grow more or less accustomed to his life being limited to the exact same handful of years again and again. He'd found way to occupy himself. Some repeats he'd spend more time than usual traveling to exotic locations and see the world, in others he'd dedicate himself to gaining a better understanding of philosophy, and yet in others he'd do what he did best and tackle some unproven mathematical proofs. What, he was an accountant by trade! Even if he was a "Pro Philosopher" now, that much would never change.

Lately, he'd decided to return to his "pet project" of sorts: determine whether or not knowing about the way time was repeating itself had a negative impact on Ari's happiness for the rest of her life. It was a complicated experiment, and the number of other variables present (weather, whatever Socrates himself said, different meals, different animals sending them to the Intelligible Realm, etcetera) meant that he couldn't be satisfied with the results of a few runs. While he'd spent at least a couple dozen repeats on just this one project, it wasn't anywhere close to being enough data to extrapolate any kind of conclusion. Furthermore, whatever the difference in happiness was, it was subtle. Ari never turned into a sullen, brooding version of herself, but sometimes Socrates thought he could detect some hint of sadness which he feared originated from what he told her about time repeating. On the other hand, he felt like he detected similar unhappiness even when he didn't tell her. Ari was a teenager; there was a lot going on in her life every repeat that would make her happy or sad or anything in between.

(Maybe I've bitten off more than I can chew with this one.) Socrates couldn't help but wonder idly. (I mean, I won't ever really know for sure until I can read her mind. And it's getting hard trying to memorize all this data. I'm worried I'm forgetting something.)

Socrates sighed. He'd see his project through to the end of this stretch of his limited time, and then maybe he'd reconsider doing his project at all. It was a bit unsatisfying, but sometimes things were just impossible. (Like finding the precise answer to the question of what morality is.) he thought with an internal snicker.

Speaking of this particular repeat, though... Socrates came out of his reverie and returned to thinking about the present moment. He was in the Intelligible Realm yet again, and he'd given up on evading fate and trying not to hit the deer for the time being. He just didn't have the time every morning to run out and buy every possible repellent he needed to keep the constant tide of critters at bay! So, for the last few repeats, they'd been hitting the deer as usual. Additionally, he'd been trying to let events in the Intelligible Realm play out like they usually did, more or less, just to try and get a feel for how Ari acted when he didn't do anything different. It was a little bothersome, but not much since he had a goal in mind, so all was well. Or it was before he decided to give up on that project, but that was something to think about when this particular repeat ended.

Although... Socrates couldn't help but find something about this particular repeat... strange. He had done as little different as possible, to the best of his memory, but despite all that, Ari was acting different in a way that made Socrates very curious. She was a lot quieter for some reason when they both got up the morning the repeat always started, as though she was preoccupied with something else on her mind. When Billy showed up with his deer repellent, she was at first a lot less insistent that he learn how to debate by talking to Billy, only to suddenly change her mind and demand that he get some practice by talking to him. She'd even tried to get him to buy some of Billy's deer repellent! And now that they were in the Intelligible Realm, Ari was spending a lot more of her time sitting by herself and thinking and a lot less of it chatting it up with philosophers she'd never dreamed of meeting.

For now, Socrates was just carefully watching what was happening. As soon as they were both alive again, he'd talk to her about this and see what was wrong. Maybe time had repeated itself so much that something just had to change? Socrates couldn't be sure. For now, though, the Arbiter was coming back to talk to them, and Socrates could see that this time it was with John Stuart Mill in tow.

...

For all of Socrates's utter confusion whenever he saw Ari more or less "squee" (was that what the kids called it?) at the sight of John Stuart Mill, he was honestly hoping that meeting her idol would improve her mood a little. When he saw Ari make eye contact with him and then just sort of shrug it off... now he was really getting worried.

"Dad, can I talk to you for a second?" Ari grabbed him by the arm and tugged him away from Mill, just as he was preparing to debate the man. This was odd... it certainly had never happened before.

"Sure, Ari," he said, trying to keep his befuddlement from showing. "Arbiter, Mill, can we have a second?"

"Certainly, my good chap," Mill answered, as cordial as ever. "Take all the time you need."

"Thanks," Socrates said. Once they were both out of earshot, Ari began to speak.

"Dad, you need to be careful with Mill," Ari said, her quiet look still not gone from her face. "His philosophy sounds really good, but... you can never know for sure. Just don't take his stuff at face value, okay?"

"What?!" Okay, this was WEIRD. "But - Ari, I thought Utilitarianism was the philosophy that you believed in!"

"I, uh..." Ari stammered, looking somewhat caught off guard, but only for a moment; in an instant, she was the one who clearly had questions and was looking at him quizzically. "Hold on, how do you know about Mill's Utilitarianism? I thought you didn't know anything about philosophy!"

"Oh, well... uh... urk." Socrates clammed up. How was he supposed to get out of this one? "Well, uh... I overheard you talking about it before?"

"You usually tune me out when I talk about philosophy, though," Ari observed. "It wasn't until after Mill that you admitted to taking an interest - eep!" Ari clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. It was too late to try and cover now, though; Socrates could tell what was going on, and he wasn't sure if he should be elated or terrified.

"Ari..." Socrates said. "Do you remember this happening before, too?" Ari nodded slowly, only to suddenly snap to attention, intrigued.

"Wait... 'too?'" she asked, breathless.

"I'll explain once we're out of here," Socrates said. "For now, we're going to skip a few things on the agenda." Socrates began to march towards the Arbiter, feeling determined. "Arbiter! I need to talk to you about the answer to morality!"

2.3

(Unalone)

It was a lot longer than Socrates would've liked before he could sit down with Ari properly and talk about the time travel that kept happening to him and had now happened to her. Waking up in the hospital surrounded by concerned nurses and doctors sort of necessitated that they postpone the discussion a little. Fortunately, neither of them ended up too banged up after waking up from the Intelligible Realm, and after the necessary time had passed, they were released from the hospital (but why did everything have to hurt so much?!), giving them the opportunity to talk about what had happened.

All things considered, Ari was taking it rather well. She listened closely, only rarely interrupting to clarify certain statements, and she was doing a fairly good job of not freaking out. Finally, he came to the end of his tale, concluding that while he had no idea what was going on, it was likely that the two of them would probably continue repeating time this way. Ari nodded, thoughtful. And then -

"Wait, is everyone else having their memories wiped, or are they being annihilated and replaced with identical copies of themselves?"

Socrates managed not to twitch. Barely.

...

"...So no, I can't say anything for certain, but it seems ridiculous to dwell on whether or not you're a perfect copy of some original Ari, because a perfect copy is really just another original. Does that clear things up for you?" Socrates concluded his philosophical discourse for the umpteenth time. He was very glad he wasn't going to have to have this conversation with Ari again. That was at least one good thing coming out of this.

"It does clear things up," Ari conceded. "But I can't help but wonder about the possibility that everyone else is being killed over and over again."

"The universe is presumably broken, Ari," Socrates said flatly. "It's not as though anyone or anything is doing this on purpose." Socrates then frowned and sighed deeply. Now that Ari was joining him in this time travel, he was very troubled. "I just wish you didn't have to be pulled into all of this, Ari."

"What? What do you mean, Dad?" Ari asked. "Do you want me to constantly be annihilated only to be replaced with identical copies?"

"No, of course not, Ari, that's not what I meant!" Socrates said, alarmed that that was the first conclusion Ari drew. "It's not that. I wish you didn't have to join me on this because..." How to put it? "I... I didn't want you to have to worry about it all, I guess. I mean, living with the knowledge that the universe is broken is just..." Socrates shook his head. "Sometimes it hits me, and I can't sleep for weeks. I'm handling this alright, but I still don't know how it might affect you in the long term. I've told you before, but because you would forget at the end of the cycle, I couldn't tell whether it would be a hardship for you in the long run. I honestly wasn't certain if it was ruining your life in the short run either. I guess... I was scared. I am scared, Ari. This whole thing... I have no idea what it is, and I'd rather that as few people as possible have to deal with it. I can handle it, I think... but I'd hate for anyone else to have to go through it."

"...Dad..." Ari said, and Socrates could see something bittersweet in her expression. "You'd go through this all alone just so no one else had to do it?"

"...Yeah," Socrates said, not a doubt in his voice. Maybe he was just an Ace Accountant and Pro Philosopher, but... he wasn't someone who could just sit around while another person was in danger. If he could do something, he would. And now, all he thought he could do was face it alone... but apparently he didn't even have a choice in that much.

Ari gave Socrates a long, hard look, and suddenly Socrates realized that he couldn't quite tell what Ari was thinking this time.

"Dad..." she started to say, all tenderness. "You don't have to face this stuff alone. Maybe you're my father, but I'm your daughter!" Ari said in a voice that made it clear she wouldn't stand being disagreed with. "I know you're there for me, so I'm here for you. We're a family, Dad. You don't have to go it alone."

"..." Socrates couldn't quite find words to say for longer than he was comfortable with. Going through this sliver of his life again and again and debating philosophers endlessly had taught him a thing or two about words, language, and speaking. Somehow, though, he was still stunned speechless.

Finally, he found the words. "Ari... I still wish this didn't have to happen to you... but it means a lot that you'll be keeping me company in this."

"We're family, Dad," Ari said. "What else would I do?"

2.4

(Debating about Debating)

"Mr. Socrates Jones, do you have something to say in response to Mr. Edgeworth's allegations or not?"

"I'm sorry, whaaaaAAAAA...?" Socrates Jones, Ace Accountant, Pro Philosopher, and unwilling time traveler had accomplished and seen much in the relative span of time ever since he noticed that the same few years of his life were repeating. He'd debated and discussed with philosophers both living and dead from all walks of life, he'd traveled the world, he'd worked his way through seemingly impossible mathematical proofs, and he'd recently been joined by his daughter Ariadne Jones.

Never before, however, had he woken up in an unrecognizable courtroom wearing a blue suit he didn't own next to a young woman dressed for an anime convention across from a man with a steel gaze and a fashion sense straight out of the 19th century.

No, this was new.

"Psst!" the young woman next to him - Maya, his memories said. Whose memories were these?! He didn't know this girl! - nudged him a little and whispered. "Are you Awake?"

"Why wouldn't I be awake?" Socrates whispered back, a little harshly. "Where am I? Who are you?!" Quite unexpectedly, the girl grinned at his answer.

"New to the Loops, huh?" she said.

"Huh?"

"A-hem! Mr. Jones, does the defense have any response to the prosecution or not?" Socrates's head whipped to the right, and high above the courtroom he could see a bearded man in judge's robes - apparently the judge of the trial. The jury was nowhere to be seen - and yet some part of Socrates's "memories" was telling him that juries hadn't been around for years. What was going on here?

Socrates tried to think as quickly as he could. He was... a defense attorney. His boss, Mia Fey, was recently murdered, and the girl next to him, Maya Fey, was her sister as well as the one accused of the crime. The guy across from him, Miles Edgeworth, was a "demon prosecutor," but apparently wasn't so bad in elementary school, and the justice system was...

Oh heck no. This was straight out of his original conversation with John Stuart Mill! Had the universe gone insane?

Well, no matter. Socrates would deal with this the way he always did.

"If the defense has no further objections, this court finds the defendant, Maya Fey..." the judge raised his gavel high, brow furrowed, mouth turned downward in a frown, and...

"NONSENSE!" Socrates bellowed, interrupting the judge's verdict. "Your Honor! You cannot end the trial like this, nor can you allow it to proceed in its present fashion!"

"W-what, Mr. Jones?!" the judge said, startled. "How can I both end the trial and not end it?"

"Not exactly what I mean, Your Honor," Socrates said. "What I mean is that you can't declare my client guilty unless we change the way how these trials work."

"And why on earth not, Mr. Jones?" the judge asked with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Socrates, what are you doing?" Maya whispered. "There's a contradiction in the witness's testimony! You should be going after that!" Contradictions? Socrates didn't get it, but he didn't need to. There was something else to go after here.

"Your Honor, Prosecutor Edgeworth, the Initial Trial System was put into place in an effort to combat the staggering crime rate, yes?" Socrates asked, stroking his goatee.

"That is correct, Mr. Jones," Edgeworth answered, looking impatient. "Now does this impromptu history lesson happen to have anything to do with the verdict in question?"

"As a matter of fact, it does!" Socrates replied. "My objection is not to your case, but to the Initial Trial System itself! Your Honor, if you do not declare a mistrial, you will perpetuate the legitimization of marginalizing the American populace!"

"I - what?!" the judge said, looking more confused than anything. Edgeworth, meanwhile, looked irate.

"Mr. Jones, have you gone mad?!" he declared, hunched over the bench and clenching his teeth. "How can you possibly object to justice itself?" Socrates shook his head and smirked.

"Not to justice, Prosecutor Edgeworth, but to the system we use," he said. "The Initial Trial System is a means to an end. Its goal is to reduce the crime rate, nothing more. However, this means that all those who participate in it, defendants in particular, are also reduced to means to an end! I refuse to stand for such dehumanization of American citizens, Your Honor, and neither should you!"

"I... I never thought of it like that!" the judge said, sounding stunned. "I... I'd have to hand in my gavel, but... you're right! How can I stand for the dehumanization of the people I swore to protect?"

Got it! Socrates thought, triumphant. Maya's jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out.

"How... how did you do that?!" Maya asked. "I'm not even sure it makes sense! What is it?"

"It's philosophy, Ms. Fey," Socrates said, feeling proud. "It trumps anything. Except math, of course."

"In consideration of this brand new perspective that Mr. Jones has provided," the judge said, raising his gavel high. "This court now declares..."

"OBJECTION!" Before the judge could declare his verdict, Miles Edgeworth sprang up, slamming a hand on the bench before tapping the side of his head. "Not so fast, Your Honor. I'll admit to being taken somewhat off guard by Mr. Jones's... strategy, shall we call it. But rest assured that I can rebut his argument as easily as any other attorney I've dueled." He smirked. "Let it never be thought that Miles Edgeworth was not well-versed in philosophy."

Socrates swallowed a little; apparently they weren't out of the woods just yet.

"Now then, Mr. Jones," Edgeworth said as he settled into a more relaxed, but still formal, posture. "I see that you've been reading Immanuel Kant recently, given the way your argument operates. Nonetheless, I propose a different perspective on the problem. While you may claim that our treatment of the defendants and crimes under the Initial Trial System is dehumanizing, can you really disregard the positive impacts it has had on cutting our crime rate down? Would you truly ask for us to change this system when we could risk higher crime rates, greater chaos, and, ultimately, a lower standard of living throughout the country?"

Dangit! Socrates gritted his teeth and frowned. Miles Edgeworth was throwing a Utilitarian curve ball at him. This would require some careful thinking to rebut...

...

"Even though you didn't get the judge to declare me Not Guilty, it's still pretty impressive that you managed to get us an extra day just with philosophy," Maya Fey said, now on the opposite side of bullet proof glass.

"Yeah, I guess so," Socrates said, still feeling miffed. "That guy sure knows his philosophy, though... gave me the first run for my money that I've had in awhile, if only because the premise of my argument was a little wacky. " Something about what he says seems to catch Maya's attention, and she perks up, clapping her hands together. "Oh! This reminds me! You've been repeating your life, haven't you?"

"Wait, what?!" Of all the things Socrates expected to hear, this wasn't one of them. "How do you... are some sort of psychic?"

"Hahah!" Maya laughed. "Yes, but that doesn't have to do with it. You should sit down. This is... kind of a long explanation."

...

It was. It was a long explanation dealing with a damaged multiverse, some desperate "Admins," and both "fusion" and "variants." Socrates wasn't sure what to make of it all, but it seemed to line up with his own experiences. The different animals he crashed his car into could be considered variants, and the Arbiter did occasionally bring him a different philosopher than usual unbidden. The idea of other universes being out there, though, was crazy, if true as evidenced by the unfamiliar circumstances he'd awoken - sorry, Awoken in this time around.

"Oh!" Another thought came to mind, and Socrates started to feel anxious. "My daughter, Ari, she's also, uh... Looping? She's Looping, but we usually wake up together in our apartment... where do you think she could be?"

"Daughter, huh..." Maya considered this for a moment before continuing. "If she's not in this Loop, she might be somewhere else. You'll run into her again, though, don't worry. Of course, not being the Anchor means she could be Unawake, but... anyway. So she's either in another Loop somewhere, or you'll run into her in about three years and end up adopting her."

Socrates's expression probably betrayed his confusion, because Maya laughed again before continuing. "Yeah, the future's weird. I'd tell you more, but I bet you want it to be a surprise -"

"No surprises, please," Socrates said firmly. He didn't really like surprises.

"Fine," Maya said, looking pouty. "Partypooper."

2.5

(Copy, Paste)

Ariadne Jones yawned as she walked into her dad's kitchen for some breakfast, not even bothering to feel surprised that she had woken up here when she'd gone to bed in her own apartment on the other side of town the night before. By now she knew that this only meant the cycle of time was repeating itself again, and she was back at the start. It was times like these that she was glad her dad always kept stocked up on tasty breakfast foods like waffle mix, fruit, and sugary cereals.

As Ari looked at her options, the extraordinarily sugary chocolate frosted cereal she saw reminded her of the certain perverse glee she found in the idea that she could be gluttonous and suffer consequences only temporarily, but she'd put off trying it out for the time being. Something about it didn't quite sit well with her, and she had a bad feeling that it might develop into an unhealthy habit. Perhaps not physically so, but maybe mentally or emotionally. Regardless, she grabbed a box of waffle mix - true, she decided not to be gluttonous, but waffle mix was something everyone indulged in once in a while. It'd be fine.

As she set the waffle iron sizzling, she could also hear the tell tale sound of her father getting up around the corner and down the hall. She chuckled a bit - he'd never been a morning person, and the grouchy, scuzzy man who wandered in confirmed her suspicions that he was, as he tended to, having trouble getting up.

"I'm winning the bet, Dad," Ari said playfully. "That's twenty-three cycles in a row that you didn't get up before me. I thought you said you were working on waking up earlier?"

"Mhhfgdntwkgslammhkll..." her dad groaned out as he grabbed an orange and mindlessly began gnawing at it. She knew that he could get up earlier than her - he had done so on select occasions - so it was odd that he was having so much trouble in recent cycles. Either way, a half-comatose father wouldn't do her any good this time around either, so tried another dig to get him moving.

"What's that, Dad? I couldn't understand you over the sound of your imminent defeat," she said, allowing more sass than usual to seep into her tone. "At this rate we'll hit fifty cycles in a row in no time!"

"I said I didn't sleep in last Loop," her dad muttered grumpily after accidentally striking himself in the face with the orange (around his glasses and eyes), finally waking himself properly. He started peeling nonchalantly and took a slow bite, savoring it quietly.

Ari, meanwhile, was still thinking. Last time... no, she'd gotten up early again last cycle. She'd been training herself to wake up early specifically to try and win this bet! Unless... was she already losing her grip? After only... only... she couldn't remember how long it'd been anymore.

"Ari?" Some of the fear must've shown on her face because her dad was looking just at her with an expression that spoke of as much concern as she felt. "Something the matter?"

"Dad..." Ari said, only a slight hitch in her voice - she had to keep it together, they were in this together! "I don't think I'm remembering the last cycle properly. I remember waking up earlier than you. I... I'm not sure I like what that might mean. About my memory. I mean." Ari swallowed, a little uncertain, and she found she couldn't quite read her dad's expression. He was usually so obvious... but this time he was so stoic, and yet she could tell something big was going through his mind. It was in his eyes.

Finally, he replied. "Ari, we should sit down. It's not what you think, but... it's a pretty big deal."

"Dad?"

"I'll tell Billy to go away when he shows up and we'll use the time to talk instead. Don't worry, we'll still be on schedule," her dad said. Ari paused, but only for a moment, and she nodded carefully.

"Okay, Dad."

...

Their discussion was, putting it bluntly, a little hard for Ari to follow. And that was coming from someone who'd seen what happened after death and was stuck in a Groundhog Day style time loop. There were other universes? The whole capital "U" Universe was broken? And Dad had gone to this other "Loop?!" Luckily, her dad had experienced the other end of the conversation - of not getting what's going on - so he took it nice and slowly, and, given enough time, she managed to understand what was going on.

Her first instinct was to scream that it couldn't be true, but she clamped down on the rationally irrational part of her mind; after all that she'd seen, what couldn't be true? Furthermore, she trusted her father to not lie to her - and she'd probably be able to tell if he did, anyway.

"So, uh, that's how I 'didn't sleep in' last cycle. I mean Loop, Or cycle. I don't know," her dad finished, somewhat lamely, as it was a bit of an anticlimax. He avoided sleeping in by "Awakening..." awake. "And... yeah."

"Okay..." Ari nodded slowly. She'd noticed something a little odd about his story earlier, but had held off on asking about it. Now that he was finished, though... "Dad? Can you explain something else?"

"Yeah?" her dad answered, and by the shift in his visage Ari could tell he was anticipating her question.

"Well... I don't remember this iteration you went through," Ari said, cautious. "And if I don't remember it, I have no way of knowing I experienced it, and... I mean, it seems to me like I... vanished," Ari finished uncomfortably. "Where did I go, Dad?" Once again, her father paused, apparently considering the best way to answer.

"The thing is, Ari," he finally said, though clearly more slowly than he usually spoke. Ari guessed it was to give him the necessary time to think of his next words. "You were there. The Phoenix guy I was replacing... he has this daughter that he adopts, Trucy Gramarye. And, well, instead of Trucy, the universe had Ariadne Gramarye. So you were there. Except... you weren't Awake."

Ari nodded, turning this over in her mind. "So I was there, but I didn't remember anything about me?" Ari asked, managing to stay composed. Existential questions, fears, and doubts roiled inside her, but for the time being she managed to keep them in check. Panicking would do no good at a time like this. "I didn't remember 'Looping' or growing up with you as my dad or Mom as my mom or -" she stopped short. "None of that?"

"...No," her dad confirmed. "All you remembered was being two magicians' daughter and learning all of their skills."

"But I remember none of that now," Ari noted.

"Yeah, you don't," her dad concurred. After another silence, he continued. "There's something else I've been keeping from you, Ari." Ari nodded and bit at the inside of her cheek.

"I think I know where this is going," Ari said quietly. "This isn't the first time that's happened?"

"Yes and no," her dad answered quickly. Then, taking a moment to compose himself, he continued. "No, my last cycle - Loop - urgh. My last whatever was my first time Waking up in another world," he said.

"But?"

"...But it wasn't my first time Waking up while you didn't," he finally said. Ari swallowed, not for the first time, and her mind slowly drew some concerning conclusions.

"So I vanished into nothingness between cycles," Ari said with a slight waver in her voice. "And there are copies of me running around in the multiverse."

"Vanished?" Her dad unexpectedly got a fair bit more serious, and he seemed to straighten up. "What do you mean vanish? And copies? Who said anything about that?" Ari blinked a little, surprised that her self-proclaimed "Pro Philosopher" dad didn't seem to see the existential implications of his experience, but she went ahead and explained.

"Well, let's start with the 'Ariadne Gramarye' example you provided, Dad, as I think that'll address the problem of 'copies' I mentioned" Ari said, setting up her argument, her tone energizing a little as she geared up for debate. Even if the subject was existentially depressing, a good debate always brought her spirits up. "Ariadne Gramarye has no memory of being me, and I have no memory of being her. Given that, it seems apparent enough that we are two separate and distinct sapient beings. She is a sort of 'copy' of me, or at least a doppelganger, one who I will assume convincingly acted like me given that you apparently don't think of her as a copy. Furthermore, there are the 'Unawake' versions of me who have also appeared in your past and aren't me either, as they didn't remember being me, and I don't remember being them. Memories are what make an individual, Dad, and having different memories pretty strongly indicates a different person. Based on that, I'd say there are copies of me running around."

"And the problem with that is...?" her dad asked, quirking an eyebrow. Ari sighed, exasperated that her dad didn't yet see the trouble.

"Don't you realize that it's a little existentially troubling for there to be such accurate doppelgangers of yourself running around in the multiverse?" Ari paused, and her eyes suddenly widened. "No... what's worse is that they're gone at the end of each Loop... accurate copies of me are dying -"

"NONSENSE!" Before Ari could finish the train of thought, though, her dad spoke up and thundered the word that had become his favorite ever since he first started debating philosophy all those Loops and cycles ago. "Ari, there's something very important you're overlooking!"

"Overlooking?" Ari considered this but shook her head. "I can't think of anything I might be overlooking, Dad. What are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you, Ari," her dad said, perhaps a little too smugly (she couldn't fault him; she got like that in debates too). "You're forgetting about the borderline fantastical nature of our situation."

"Borderline?" Ari parroted, deadpan.

"Okay, full-on fantastical," her dad conceded. "But that only strengthens my point. While normally I'd agree that beings that don't share memories are probably distinct individuals, you're forgetting that our circumstances allow for what might otherwise be impossible. You see, Ari, I posit that you were you all those times - the only thing that changed were your memories!"

"My - my memories?" Ari asked incredulously. "But if you change my memories, then don't you change my very self?!"

"Not quite," her dad countered. "Our numerous trips to the Intelligible Realm have confirmed the possibility of afterlife, yes?"

"Well... yeah," Ari said.

"Of course, if there's an afterlife to exist in, there must be something to exist in the afterlife in the first place, right?"

"Right..." Ari said. Her dad only grinned.

"Well, I can't believe we didn't realize it sooner, but we just proved the existence of a soul."

"A soul?" Ari exclaimed. "Well - yeah, but -" Her dad had a point, but she wasn't sure what the, well, point was. "How does that affect the debate?"

"Greatly," her dad said. "If souls are real, then that means it is possible for you and all the other Ariadnes out there to have something in common after all, even if your memories differ!"

"No way..."

"You all have the same soul!" her dad declared. "Deep down, all of you really are the same person, because you have the same soul deep inside!" Her dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he continued. "The nature of Yggdrasil's time repeats must not only cause time to repeat, it also influences memory. Those who are Awake are immune to the memory erasure. And when we have Fused Loops we see memory manipulation on Yggdrasil's part. Ultimately, you aren't being copied because it's all you!

"I think this even addresses your concern of 'vanishing,' Ari," her dad added. "Because you're never gone. You just exist with different memories in different 'places,' so to speak. I mean, if we're concerned about 'vanishing,' what about between Loops? Where do we go then, Ari?"

"Uh..." She hadn't quite thought of that.

"Yggdrasil is managing all our souls, Ari," her dad concluded. "There's no need to worry about 'vanishing' or about 'copies.' It's all just a result of the Loops."

Ari considered this for what felt like a long, long while. It was a lot to take in.

"Alright, I'll concede this one, Dad, because your position makes a lot of sense," she said. "But I'm not sure if a broken world tree doing mind wipes is very reassuring."

"Point," her dad said glumly. "But it's what we live with."

They both sat in the living room for a few moments longer, each pondering the ramifications of their philosophical discussion and trying to take it all in. Eventually, though, her dad stood. "Anyway, we'd better get you to school, Ari,"

"School?" Ari asked, bewildered. "Don't you mean the Intelligible Realm? There's no way we're not hitting that deer or whatever else shows up," Ari said. "You've already told me about how hard you've tried."

"True," her dad said, but now a sly gleam entered his eyes, and Ari wasn't quite sure how to react to it. "But while I was with Maya Fey, I learned about this technique called the 'Subspace Pocket.' Basically, it's hammerspace that I can make using Looper energy or... something. I don't get it, but it works, and you don't look a gift horse in the mouth." Her dad reached into nowhere and somehow pulled out spray can after spray can of unusually labeled pest repellents. "And I made sure to grab all the repellents I could while I was over there."

"I don't think I wanted to know there were people who sold cow repellent."

...

Ari kept a safe distance between herself and her dad in the Intelligible Realm in order to allow him to stew on his own. By this point the other philosophers of the Realm had figured out that her now extremely crabby dad was not the Great Thinker Socrates who had vanished years ago. As they sat silently, Ari tapped the ground with her foot, trying to remain patient.

"Where," her dad finally spoke up. "Does a lion come from in New York?!" Ari continued tapping her foot, only to sigh.

"The zoo...?"

"A LION!"

2.1 - And Socrates now tries experimenting with his actions in the timeline. While he's messed with time already, before this it was only to the extent of giving away the fact that he was a time traveler so he could get himself and Ari out of the Intelligible Realm more quickly.

2.2 - Other characters in the Branch can also start Looping. The general rule of thumb is that those who are emotionally significant to the first Looper - the Anchor - are more likely to start Looping.

2.3 - Looper's guilt?

2.4 - Socrates really is a partypooper. He's not much for Loop shenanigans.

2.5 - Have you noticed that I really like exploring the philosophical and existential implications of the Infinite Loops?