Inescapable

“Fate is an accident, like a bad car wreck on a freeway. One minute you’re in control, the next you’re careening off the rails, crashing head first into destiny. The only way through is through, no going back to who you were or where you came from. Things are different now. You’re different. No choice in the matter, just the way things are. But what if I told you there was a way to level the playing field? There is. We’ve discovered it here at The Institute.”

“My name is Rich Huxley, founder of said company. You see, the Law of the Multiverse (it is no longer theory ladies and gentlemen) holds that there are an infinite number of universes to encompass all outcomes. While this is a simplistic notion since logic still applies (offspring cannot be born before parents, etc.) the general understanding is true. Therefore, if there are a finite number of “infinite” versions of yourself, there must be a “best” version of you. Wouldn’t you like to know that you’re the best version of yourself? We’ve cracked the code,” Rich says, smiling for the advertisement.

“Using some of the best leading minds in quantum mechanics, scientific theory, computer engineering teams working side by side with advanced AI-programs, and good old fashioned entrepreneurship we’ve developed what we’ve dubbed “The Algorithm”. The Algorithm is able to parse the data from the multiverse and gives us an exact calculation, right down to each sequence of DNA and individual molecule, what the optimal version of you would be like. Using that information, we generate and synthesize a supplement matrix and produce a thirty day supply of pills (think of them like a daily multi-vitamin). Taken as directed, the thirty day supply will allow the user to transform into that calculated ideal.”

“You might be thinking, ‘This can’t possibly be real.’ It is real. And it costs. A lot of time, money, and energy is dedicated to making this process a reality, not to mention all the work that brought this to fruition, and as such, it’s not cheap. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars however, is nothing compared to living your best life. Aren’t you worth it? And to the people that grumble and say that this is only for the rich, or that the elite get more powerful… Well, they simply don’t understand the generous contributions that The Institute has made for the betterment of mankind. I hope they’ll understand that our charitable donations are made in good faith, not to quell the nasty rumors of illicit activity here. To those looking to book a reservation with us, our operators are standing by!”

Bzzzzzzzzzt.

Smash. Cut to black.

“What do you mean they’re coming?”

“Alice, we have to go. Now.”

“But who? Who’s coming?”

“I don’t have time to explain... I… I’m sorry. I had no idea…”

“I’m scared, Richard. Please—”

Gunshots. Alice screaming. More shots. Alice’s screaming is cut off midway.

Seriously, where did it all go wrong? This can’t be fate. This is something else, something beyond that, because fate isn’t real, Rich keeps telling himself. Rich Huxley had formed The Institute and started playing God. No fate, only what man created, what Rich created. So what if he distilled the essence of not only the best version of himself, but also silver and bronze place, too? He took the DNA of the top three Richard’s. That made him better than the best. He was something else now.

But they’re coming for him, just like he had done to them. The Algorithm isn’t as innocent and straightforward as Rich explained in his advertisements for his business. Most of it is the truth, like most great deceptions. Yes, they scan the multiverse and parse the data for ideal versions of yourself out there. Yes, an original thirty day formula is created and distilled down to pill form for the clients taking. Yes, you inherit the best qualities and best attributes from your “best version”. Yes, you won’t experience any pain physically or mentally, and it's perfectly harmless to the client.

But.

Taketh, giveth.

The thirty day supply of pills is to help the transition of all the… desirables from the server to the client. Think of it like downloading a firmware update, except once the update is complete, the host dies and is discarded in a crematorium underneath The Institute. Oh well. That’s a different Universe’s problem. Is it really kidnapping across dimensions if you’re doing it to yourself? The Law of the Multiverse states that there is a universe created for all outcomes. That means there’s a universe where all their so called “victims” escape. It doesn’t bother Rich, like Schrödinger's cat doesn’t bother him. 

It bothered Alice though. That’s why Rich hid it from her, for as long as he could, but it doesn’t matter, because the cat is out of the bag. Fate. The word sickens him at this point, more than the copper smell on the air from the bullets that killed Alice, his wife.

All Rich can do now is run. Run from the footfalls behind him, the bullets catching the walls around him as he tries to avoid being caught or killed. Maybe he’ll get to the failsafe in time, a device he designed in case catastrophe struck. Maybe. Rich had the foresight and wherewithal to not believe himself infallible. As such, Rich created a machine that will allow him to travel to a time moments before The Institute began its first trial on multidimensional science. Alice will be alive again.

Pocks of concrete explode near his head as bullets hit the wall around him. I can improve, fix the problems, Rich tells himself, as he shields his face and continues running. Almost there, just a little further.

Rich should be thinking of the irony that he’s right about fate, it is like a car wreck, only he’s comparing it to the wrong part. Fate is the wheel that breaks, causing the wreck, and in turn, the wheel breaks us. He’s the serpent eating its tail.

This time will be different.

Rich arrives at the failsafe—there’s still time. He climbs into the pill shaped chamber, a tall standing metal tube with a closable door. Inside, door closed, he takes a breath of relief. I can change things, Rich thinks, looking out the chambers window. He gasps at the sight of another version of himself holding a gun.

“Almost got you this time,” the other version of Rich says.

“This time?”

“I’ve done this a few times now.”

Rich is stunned, he never fathomed confronting himself. “Just let me fix this! Don’t do anything!"

The other Rich laughs. “You think you’re the first? I don’t even think I am. I think at a certain point it gets so convoluted that no one can tell. That’s why I’ve been shooting.”

The machine whirs to life, the reset sequence initiated.

Alternate Rich grins and salutes. “See you on the other side.”

The machine plummets into darkness and Rich feels cold, like a spectral energy has entered him. He falls into an abyss, becoming one with everything, connected and disconnected to a spatial timeline even he doesn’t understand. He floats back to the time before his company started the trials, the true reset point. He’ll shut his company down. His wife’s life isn’t worth any amount of money.

The world resolves around Rich Huxley like an old school Polaroid, cold turning to warmth, life flooding him. He’s back, he can—

A bullet smacks Rich in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his sails, dropping him to his knees. 

Another version of Rich walks up to him. “I knew one of you would show up sooner or later, whichever one you are.” Rich sees his own confusion. “Each Rich is different,” Rich explains to his dying self. “We’re incredibly similar and may even have identical stories, but we’re different all the same. That’s why you’re the one dying now and not me.” Rich shrugs. “Fate's inescapable.”

He pulls the trigger.

Lights out.