‘Please, get down here,’ he said, inching cautiously closer, as if I was some jittery suicidal.
‘You’re not understanding what I’m trying to tell you,’ I sighed.
It felt strangely nice, resisting the persistent tug of the streets below. At this height, the wind wasn’t threatening to push me over, so much as holding me and earnestly asking me to trust its intentions. Much as I was asking him to do, I suppose.
‘Explain it to me again then,’ he said. Even now, here, his was the most beautiful face I had ever seen. Ever tried to kiss.
‘It’s all in the math. Reality is a simulation. We’ve know that for a while.’
‘Like a videogame?’
He was still too far to reach me without having to run. He knew better than to try. Which is why he was asking for the explanation. I didn’t mind.
‘Right. Like a videogame. And we know there’s also a multiverse, in theory. Schrödinger first explained it as far back as ‘52. Infinite universes, all with tiny differences. Until now we couldn’t square the two. But I just did.’
‘How?’ Closer still. Almost too close.
‘What happens when you lose a videogame? You start over. Same game, different decisions and choices. Again and again, until you win.’
‘Please don’t do this,’ he whispered. Close enough now that I could see the lipstick bruise on the edge of his mouth. That I had made, before he pushed.
‘So if I keep restarting the game, eventually I’ll make the right decisions to win. Win you,’ I said.
He ran then, covering the last few feet so fast. Just not fast enough.
As I fell, the city blurred, like pixels.