October 20, 1988

10 days remaining

"Well, each vessel travels along a vector though space-time, along its centre of gravity," Kenneth explained. His hand hovered, unsure of how to communicate it visually. Let it go.

"Like a spear?" Donnie asked.

Kenneth blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Donnie grabbed the rainbow Slinky Kenneth had been using to demonstrate wormholes with. He placed it against his chest, stretched it away from him. "Like a spear that comes out of your chest."

"Um... sure." The kid sure had a vicious imagination. His questions seemed more than curiosity today. They had an aura of urgency around them that Kenneth could not identify. "And in order for the vessel to travel through time, it's got to find a portal- Or in this case, a wormhole."

"Could these portals just appear anywhere, anytime?"

"I think that's highly unlikely. No, I think what you're talking about is... An act of God."

Kenneth was surprised by his own choice of words, but Donnie steamrolled over it like he knew it was coming. "So if God controls time, then all time is pre-decided!"

"I'm not following you."

Donnie made an exasperated noise. He reminded Kenneth of an old professor he'd once had, whose ideas and thoughts came so fast and furiously that conversing with him was like trying to outrun a bullet train. People whose heads were too full for mere mortals to keep up with. "Every living thing follows along a set path. And if you could see your path or channel, then you could see into the future, right? That's a form of time travel. Right?"

Kenneth leaned back in his chair. "Well, you're contradicting yourself, Donnie. If we were able to see out destines manifest themselves visually, then we would be given a choice to betray our chosen destinies. And the mere fact that this choice exists would make all pre-formed destiny come to an end-"

"-But not if you travel within God's channel," Donnie interrupted triumphantly. Kenneth hesitated. "What's wrong?"

"...I'm not going to be able to continue this conversation."

Donnie was taken aback. "Why?"

Kenneth smiled weakly. "I could lose my job."

The two stood in the empty classroom. Donnie took the Slinky from around his neck and carefully placed it on top of Hawking's book, which lay undisturbed on the desk top. Nodded. "Okay."

Kenneth watched the boy leave, suddenly fearful.

"...And they grow out of our chest... Our solar plexus..."

It's everyone's turn on the couch eventually. Even the therapist herself. Fingers run over the diagrams, the meticulous anatomical descriptions. Chapter headings.

The Tangent Universe.

Water and Metal.

The Artifact and the Living.

The Living Receiver.

The Manipulated Living.

The Manipulated Dead.

Dreams.

Urgent, erratic movements. On the edge of his seat. "Just like she described in the book; the way they moved, the way they smelled. It's like they're workers. Assigned to each one of us. They're like liquid."

Pause. Then, confidential. "I followed it into my parents' bedroom."

"What did you find?"

Pause. "...Nothing."