Why does love feel like being from another Universe?

by Kanwar P. S. Plaha

(About 7000 words)

Quantum Interference

One random Tuesday. Time: unknown

It’s not easy to snub an alien. It’s harder when you meet them in a mundane setting and in an uneventful manner. Although, ‘uneventful’ may not be accurate. Still, the alien sitting across from me on a plain, square table in a dull food court, seems as Earthly as any human, and appears to be female: at least to the naked eye.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, as I often do. So, let me share the journey that has led me here. I also need to recover from a bout of fiery chilli in my lunch; not funny when the alien punctuates my plight with a sardonic laughter.

The tryst itself is uncanny yet hilarious. The scientist in me is both excited and sceptical. Yet, the most puzzling aspect is neither the apparition that I’m sharing with the alien nor the absurdity of this routine workday lunch. It is ‘her’ laughter that is oddly familiar.

Coherence

One random Tuesday. Time: 6:15 a.m.

The bright, sunlit playground disappears, and so does the crowd. My bedroom ceiling replaces the nightmare while my arm swings to silence the alarm.

A few more minutes.

I snap awake, with nobody chasing me anymore, and wondering how long I overslept. When I say wonder, I mean guess. I am obsessed with guessing stuff and betting on everyday outcomes. I was afraid that I was abnormal until Quantum physics happened to me. It turned out that our world is fuzzy at its fundamental level. As sages, and philosophers, have proclaimed down the ages, reality manifests through probability, or chance. That gave me hope.

Isn't hope a fifty-fifty chance itself?

"Six Twenty-two." I mutter and glance at the phone.

6:27. The blinking colon is mocking me.

#FAIL

Once I’m dressed for work, I lock the door behind me, and the game's afoot. I guess whether my bus is on time, the driver's gender, and if I'd get a seat on the bus. These are all epic fails, but I am undeterred.

Some chances are predictable although very low: the chance of meeting the ideal partner. The odds of finding that one perfect person are close to zero. But, what is a lot of fun is my guessing game on the daily commute to work. It’s a game that keeps me busy–and amused.

My phone buzzes. One short buzz. Must be a text from Becky.

Bingo! First win of the day.

‘Hey Babe, you up for lunch today?’

Becky always addresses me as ‘Babe’, just like every other guy in the team.

‘Not sure yet, Becks’ I reply.

‘K lemme kno. Byeee xoxoxo’

Becky's chats are gushing with enthusiasm but short on substance. She's just so full of life–and herself. However, those X's and O's are stuck in my head. Becky always adds a long string of those to her texts. Sometimes, I try to convert them to binary. The answer for the last one is 101010, or 42: ’the answer to everything’.

Using the phone on the bus makes me sick, but I ignore the discomfort until my stomach turns. Then I stare out the window. A cold autumn day says hello. People rushing in warm overalls even as I freeze inside the bus—literally. Someone has cracked open a window, and I feel like an aeroplane on a test in a wind tunnel.

"Five people will get on from the next stop." I distract myself. Four.

Shit!

"Next set of lights will be green when we get there."

Yay!

“No, no, don't stop at this bus stop.” I meditate. The bus stops.

I look around in disappointment and stare at the 'No stopping' sign near the bus stop. I know the sign is meant for private vehicles, but I smile at the mild irony.

Hold on! Isn’t that sign just an X inside an O?

When I’m not guessing stuff, I’m looking for patterns. Quite the conflicting obsessions, I know, and I find it odd that I’m dwelling on that stupid sign. The bus lurches, picks up speed and everything is a blur. I lose myself in the patterns that form in the rushing scenery: colours, shapes, and streaks. I count as many as fifteen No Stopping signs for the rest of the journey. Yes, I had tried to guess how many there would be.

Same random Tuesday. Time: 8:33 a.m.

My browser's home page opens to a science news site. However, I can't seem to focus on the words because caffeine hasn't taken the fog off my cornea yet.

"Pete, you functional sans coffee this morning?" Prabhu's deep baritone invades my reverie.

Who uses sans at 8:30 in the morning?

I rise from the chair and manage to greet him with a smile. Minutes later, we are falling to ground level in a metal cage.

"What's up?" Prabhu asks as the elevator doors ping on the 9th floor.

"Nothing much. Busy weekend."

"Yeah, me too." I can hear the lament in his voice, "Two kids don't leave you any room to relax."

"I know." I smile back. I have no idea as I live alone but I try to feel Prabhu’s predicament.

“Hey Pete,” Prabhu starts after a while, “You’re a Science guy, right?”

I glance at him quizzically. He laughs before adding, “I mean, you know all that weird Physics stuff, right? I came across something about Parallel Universes-”

“Where? In a sci-fi novel?”

“Nah, just an article that popped in my smartphone newsfeed.”

“Oh, Okay.” I retort, “Sure. Do you mind if we get coffee first?”

“Of course!”

We make our way to the usual cafe that knows our preferences. I have guessed the number of people waiting in the queue.

Caffeine wakes me somewhat on the way back, and I address Prabhu’s pending query.

"There are many theories about Universes other than ours." I wave my arm for effect. “For example, there's a theory that says each decision splits the Universe into two or more timelines.”

Prabhu seems intrigued but is silent.

“The other one I find interesting is the one proposed a few years ago. In this 'Many Interacting Worlds' theory, particles from many worlds can seep into ours. This makes them appear in more than one place!” I pause for effect.

Prabhu asks. "Which of these has been proven so far?"

“Neither… ” I reply, “But, the Quantum world of tiny particles never ceases to amaze!”

“By the way,” Prabhu asks after a long sip from his cup, “Do you think CERN will create a black hole someday?”

I laugh, and so does he. As we pass another No Stopping sign, Prabhu says: “You know, Pete, this sign reminds me of CERN.”

“Why so?” I ask, a bit startled.

“Well, don’t you think the outer circle is like the cross-section of the tunnel where particles are accelerated, and the X is particles radiating out after a collision!”

“Wow, and I just imagined it to be a naughts and crosses.” I exclaim with a laugh.

Back at the desk, I search for the article on many worlds theory and re-read it before diving into my daily work. The article concludes: each particle is just the overlap of many worlds. This makes a blurred thing we call a wave. Overlapping worlds that differ ever so minutely.

Same random Tuesday. Time: 11:55 a.m.

The calendar pops up: "Tuesday Tournament in 5 minutes. Today's lunchtime game: The retro classic, Noughts and Crosses."

Whoa! Isn't that game just X's and O's again?

My phone buzzes. Not a short, regular buzz. A longer desperate one. It’s the maps app and takes a second too long to open. A bright blue circle marks my current location. What I find odd is a pulsating X marking a spot some 300 metres away. I'm guessing, in a north-west-westerly direction.

Huh, live ads on the map?

I push the power button and get back to work. I try to guess my chances of winning the lunch hour tournament. A pattern seems to be emerging with the Xs and Os.

The phone buzzes again, almost rumbling off the desk. The red X on the map is pulsating urgently. I tap on the X, and a balloon pops up: 'Food Court. Check out today's lunch favourites. Direction? Reviews?'

I take a wager if I will end up playing noughts and crosses or if my curiosity will lead me to the food court.

Three and a half minutes later, curiosity has won the bet.

Classical Noise

Same random Tuesday. Time: 12:20 p.m.

I love food that lights a bonfire on the tongue, so I look for the takeaway with the hottest flame.

The X is still blinking, but given that the GPS on my phone is a couple of years old, the entire food court could be the area indicated; quite an anticlimax. The treasure hunt feels like a bad joke. I give up on the series of coincidences, stuff the phone in my pocket, and decide to concentrate on food.

I line up at a Mexican takeaway, where they hand me a menu so I can tick off ingredients that will make up my burrito. The menu has a series of circles on the left, and instructions are to mark them with a cross against the items I'd like. I know everyone else has the same menu. But, like a famous TV series motto, I want to believe; believe that the pattern of X’s and O’s is not a coincidence.

My lunch arrives, bursting with fiery goodness of jalapeno and habanero. I had tried to guess that my order number would be prime, but it wasn't.

I dive into the sea of patrons with the burrito and my guessing game. Four minutes and unknown seconds later, I spot a vacant seat on a table across the floor. But it takes forever before I can navigate the churning sea of humanity that lies between.

"Is this seat taken?" I ask the girl at the table who has materialised and just had a mouthful of her butter chicken and rice. Perfect timing, you idiot!

She mumbles something, and nods. I sit down, assuming her agreement.

"I'm Sorry," she grins, “I was trying to say that if this seat were taken, it wouldn't be here."

I smirk and start peeling the wrapper off the burrito because I don't know what else to do.

Same random Tuesday. Time: unknown

After a few minutes of eating in silence, I feel the urge to converse with a stranger.

"Is it just me, or has the food court suddenly become quiet?" It is probably the worst conversation starter after ‘Is this seat taken?’

She smiles a mysterious smile, which doesn't tell me if she agrees or finds me weird. The latter, I bet.

The girl herself seems odd. Not in terms of physical appearance, but her accessories are pretty weird. The eyebrows are at an angle most of us can't manage without training. Her hair is tied in an equally strange manner. Not that I’m an expert at women’s hairdos. Her clothes… almost everything feels unfamiliar.

"Yes, it does feel quieter in these parts."

In these parts? Is she the Queen?

I'm guessing she will leave at any moment, having finished her meal. She doesn't.

My next bite launches an attack of pure Capsaicin on my taste buds. My flushed face is red, and tears are welling up inside my lower eyelids.

"Excuse me-" I cough, and cough again, "I went all out with the chillies, didn't I?"

"Seems you can't handle spice, can you?" She laughs and points at my sorry face.

"I can... it's just..." Then, I am laughing, too, between coughs and tears.

I notice the food court around me once my embarrassment dries up on my cheeks.

Why is everything blurred?

I rub my eyes with my knuckles, avoid the chilli on my fingers, blink vigorously, and look up again. Still blurred, the girl--a stranger--is in sharp focus, but the rest of the place blurs out as if looking through a fishbowl: fuzzier at the edges. I see a similar effect when I scan the food court.

Am I dying? Is this an early stage of extreme food poisoning?

I am staring into the half-eaten burrito when the girl laughs her enigmatic laughter.

"It's OK," she reaches out to pat my hand. “It's the same here: just you in focus."

Despite the spectacle, I am more concerned with my hands being grubby from the Mexican sauce where she has touched them. "You... you know this is happening? How? I mean..." I am mildly annoyed at her, especially with myself, for following that stupid X here.

The X!

I fumble around my blurred pocket for the phone. The red notification light is gone, and there's a green notification instead. Throwing the burrito down on the plate, I unlock the phone. Somehow. I can feel her eyes following my actions. The maps app is open. I loved geography back in high school but now hate everything that has to do with cartography. A big blue circle with a red X mocks me. A popup balloon also says: ‘No Stopping now.’

On an impulse, I try to stand up, but the focus circle–or sphere–of my vision is shrinking, and I teeter.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Same random Tuesday. Time: still unknown

"Hi! I'm Sally."

I pause long enough at the absurdity of this rendezvous.

"Peter," I reply and start to offer her my hand, but then I pull it back. She laughs. "It's just these..."

"I know. It's all over your fingers,"

I begin to clean my hands with the paper napkin, which takes me a few moments to locate.

"So... uh Sally, how do you know about this thing?" I ask, waving my hand around to indicate the weird fuzzy cocoon around us, "Butter chicken is mild as far as I'm aware."

She laughs again. "Peter, are you a sceptic or a believer?"

"What? Why?"

"What if I told you that you and I are at the intersection of two worlds-"

Indeed, it’s not like ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ by INXS, but it sure is music to the science-lover in me. Yet, I stay cautious.

"I'd say it's an impressive illusion, and you're nuts!"

Some more of the other-worldly laughter. "Okay, there's this multi-world theory–"

"Yes, I know." I interrupt her and immediately regret it. She hasn't heard me.

"–that every particle is an intersection of countless universes."

"Yeah, I’ve read it, too." I try to correct her: " Subatomic particles, yes. Macro world objects like you or me, nope!"

"Ah! so that's what you know so far–"

"Excuse me?" I'm beginning to wonder why I'm still here. The vision is still fuzzy, and she's attractive.

Fair enough.

"You're saying we", I jab my finger at myself and then at her, "are also here because of the overlapping worlds?"

"In a way, yes, but let me explain."

I lean forward, pushing the food aside. The blurriness is a halo around her beautiful face.

Did I say Beautiful? Jeez.

"This table and the chairs you and I share are in an intersection."

"Wait!" I am alarmed, "You're saying you're from a–"

"Yup!" she smiles and nods.

"Look, Ms. Sally, I don't know what you're trying to do–"

"A sceptic then, huh?" She interrupts me, "Why don't you rise and back away, a few steps, from your chair?"

"I sure will, and not just a few!" I exclaim and get up. I'm still disoriented but getting used to the limiting vision. I back away from the table and gasp. The table's empty. A step forward, I can see her faint image again. Back a step: no girl. Just the table and the chairs.

Reluctant but intrigued, I am back in the chair, and the… intersection.

"Hold on a sec!" I object with a click of my fingers, "I saw you across the food court earlier."

"You sure? Or did you see the empty chair?"

She's right. I had been preoccupied with scoring a seat. But I'm not finished yet. "But when I got here, I saw you before I sat down. I asked you if the seat was taken, remember?"

"Sure," she replies, "The intersection can shrink or grow. Also, it doesn’t always stay stable long enough for people to meet like we are now.” She moves her index finger rapidly between us.

“So, when will this one close?”

“Can’t say.”

"Oh!” I exclaim in a mild panic, thinking of what would happen if the intersection collapsed without notice. I wait momentarily and then ask, “You speak like you've done this before?"

"Maybe not done, but we are aware of them."

"We? There are more of you?"

"As many as there are in your world, at least!" She laughs.

"So," I ask after a long-ish pause, "Is there a me on your side too?"

"Sure, why not?"

That's it?

"Have you met him? I mean me, I mean–" I stop abruptly.

"Don't know. It doesn't work like that."

"You seem to be an authority on these... intersections!"

"It's high school science, so... kinda!" She spreads her arms in a shrug. Then, she spots me staring at her, wide-eyed and laughs again.

I can't resist saying. "Excuse me, but your laughter is strangely familiar, yet… other-worldly!"

"Hah! In a good way or bad?"

"I'm not sure... it's just familiar." I look around. The ‘intersection’ hasn't grown or shrunk.

"Tell me, Sally." I startle her, "Did you have an X and an O messing with your brain too?"

"Since yesterday, yes. That’s how I got here."

Whoa!

"What did you see?" I probe further.

"My phone wouldn't let me ignore it. There was this circle that kept beckoning me."

"The X you mean–"

"No! The X followed my location."

Odd.

I want to clear my buzzing mind. Feynman said nobody understands Quantum physics, but this is madness, so I must ask.

"Are you implying opposites? Male Female? Yin Yang?"

"You can say it aloud," she laughs, "Entanglement."

"Spooky action at a distance..." I murmur.

Spooky alright.

Decoherence

Same random Tuesday. Time: still unknown

"Tell me," Sally asks after a pause, "Why are you still here, Peter?"

Why, indeed, am I still here?

"Because I like you, Sally!" I tease her.

"I like you too, Peter."

Oh, oh. She seems serious. That was unexpected!

"Really?"

"Hard to believe, huh?" Her question blindsides me.

"Yeah, you can't like anyone that easily, can you?" I challenge her, "You don't know anything about me, nor do I about you."

"Hmm... but why is it so hard to take a chance? Isn’t that the best way to get to know someone?"

She's got me. Chance. Probability. Bet. Wager. Fuzziness. All the things I'm obsessed with.

"You know what?" I am not giving up, "Reality is not that fuzzy. Quantum fuzziness is deterministic, no matter how ironic that sounds."

"Yeah, but it's still a chance. The Universe and universes exist on pure chance. It makes people invent supreme deities to understand something that appears from nothing for no reason. Effect without cause."

I stare at her.

"Do you ever take chances, Peter?"

All the time, I want to say. My ego reins me somewhat.

"Yes, I do. Quite a bit, actually."

"How about love?"

"Huh?"

"Have you ever taken a chance on love?"

"No..."

"Why?"

Why actually!

"I don't know. I guess I don't feel the need. I have lived by myself so far, and I don't see the need to change that..." I smile at her, "one bit!"

"Coward."

"Nah, just practical." I ignore the jibe.

"Coward, alright." She emphasises the latter: " It seems you can take chances on most things but not love or... commitment, right?"

Who's she now? Kahlil Gibran? I pause to think nevertheless.

"It's not that simple, Sally," I prepare to enlighten her. “I have everything going, just peachy, so why would I involve another person and ruin that? Right now, I can Netflix and chill by myself–and I get all the popcorn and ice cream, too!"

She is quiet, so I take that as a cue to continue. "Living by myself gives me all the freedom I need without the hassle of remembering stuff about a partner, keeping track of their likes and dislikes, or if I perform as well as they expect me to..." I grin foolishly for a moment and then add, "and so forth."

She is quiet, but I feel like I'm on a roll. "In contrast to what you said, I feel people who fall in love too easily are not strong enough. If you fall so easily, your backbone must be weak, right?" I laugh at my joke. She doesn't.

Is she upset?

"Look", I throw up my hands, "the uncertainty of not knowing the future of a relationship makes me play safe. Don't rock the boat. Don't fix it if it's not broken. That kind of thing."

"The Uncertainty principle, eh?" she winks at me.

"No, not really.” I am sick of Quantum Physics analogies, “For me, love's just too uncertain to take a chance on!"

Shut up, you idiot!

"I understand if that's how you feel." She smiles at me with the i-hear-you-but-i-don't-agree-with-you smile. I sense disappointment, so I feel the need to ask her her point of view.

"How about you? Do you fall in love easily?"

"I never said I did..."

So why am I being grilled? I had always imagined this sci-fi stuff to be fun.

"... but I'll say this." She is serious. “I wonder why we ended up at this intersection.

Don’t you?"

"Because I was foolish enough to follow that magical X here?"

It made her smile, at least.

"Have you thought it could've been..." she is searching for words. I jump in:

"Predestined?"

"Umm, yeah, but not in the sense of fate. It's more like overlapping probabilities. In fact, it's a bit like entanglement. Separated particles with opposite spins. You see the X, I see the circle ..."

"The O..." I interject.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing, but I was wondering if you came here expecting to meet me?"

"No, I just followed the circle–or the O, as you said."

So, she had heard me. It's a magical thing about women.

"What if I were not a guy?"

"Well, entanglement can be, how shall I say, just platonic."

"Great. So why can't we be…" No, don't say it, "... just friends? I mean I’m not sure if we’ll ever meet again given these… intersections… can be unstable and all!"

She appears to ponder my question even though I’ve regretted asking it.

"We could, of course! Just friends, right?”

I think she can read my mind.

"I'm not sure." I avoid lying, yet I don't tell her the truth.

“As for this intersection? I just wondered why it’s been so stable–” She looks straight at me, and it’s my turn to shrug: “You tell me.” I smile at her.

"But you're right too, although" she smiles, "Predestiny can be a thing, y'know!"

I avoid her gaze and look around the food court, and the tiny circle of focus moves with me. I need a few moments to think this over.

Moments! I've forgotten how long I've been here. More important: why hasn't any of my mates, or my boss, called me yet?

"To be honest, Sally, predestiny seems far-fetched to me.” I continue, “If I considered meeting every girl as a predestined event, I could be in real trouble." I tap the table with my open palm.

"Exactly my point!" she clicks her fingers, "Not every meeting is predestined."

"But what makes you think this one is?" My exasperation shows.

"Just a hunch, a guess, a chance?" She winks.

I draw circles around my right temple to tease her. People from her Universe–whatever its shape or anomalies–are bizarre, if she is a typical sample. Here I am, talking to an alien on a routine lunch break and arguing about love and commitment!

Meanwhile, Sally is smiling at my mockery, and I’m wishing I could commit suicide with the fiery burrito. An awkward silence has inundated the tiny intersection.

"Okay then!" Sally leaps to her feet and offers her hand, "It's been nice meeting you, Earthling!"

I’m sure she can read my mind.

I stare at her outstretched arm. I know she will soon be gone, and there's a rising heartbeat that I can't decelerate. I am losing a chance, perhaps the only chance, to make a connection across Universes! My ego races ahead, though.

"Of course!" I stand up, as cheerfully as possible, "It's been a pleasure, Sally!"

I shake her hand–which feels way warmer than usual–with an enthusiasm I don't feel. I can tell she has sensed my dilemma because she has a wry smile across her face.

Damn It! I scream in my head.

Then, Sally backs away from the table and walks into the fuzziness. My sphere of vision grows in clarity but leaves my mind in confusion. I can still see a faint impression of her through the vanishing haze. I want to lean forward to see what the other Universe looks like, but for some reason, I don’t.

With the intersection gone, the food court engulfs me once again, and the chatter drowns my thoughts and feelings. My burrito is left half-eaten, and I scoop it up to bin it. Then, I walk into the harsh sun as if in a daze. My phone buzzes. Gosh, I bet at least two hours have passed as I unlock the phone: 12:30 p.m.

You have got to be kidding me!

There are other messages. One more from Becky. She didn't have company for lunch after all. Maybe I should've introduced her to Sally. The thought of Sally accelerates my heartbeat. I hurry with my retreat to work–and to reality in my present Universe.

Same Random Tuesday. Time 2:00 p.m.

All afternoon, I replay the weirdest lunch hour again and again. Did it really happen? If yes, it’s the most incredible find nobody will believe—an alien from another Universe who looks shockingly like a woman from our Universe–from Earth. Moreover, the probability of meeting her, or anyone else from that Universe, is almost zero. Yet, it happened.

I have checked the phone several times, but the X and the O are no longer there. I scroll around the maps app, almost tracing the entire city outskirts and beyond. Nothing. A bit disappointed, I decide to switch off the flights of fancy for good, and concentrate on the urgent tasks of the day.

Prabhu ambles over to chat. “What happened, dude? Didn’t see you at the lunch tournament. Quite unlike you to miss the noughts-and-crosses contest!”

I look at him with an amused look. If only he knew the game I played instead–and lost. Somehow, relating the fantastic tale wouldn’t help either. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I had heard it!

“Nah, I just wanted to step out alone and enjoy a quiet lunch,” I reply, not taking my eyes off the computer screen.

“Good for you: the R&R.” He jokes, and I laugh at the irony.

“Anyway,” he concludes as he walks away, “so you know, there was no clear winner today!”

Prabhu is halfway to his desk when I call out to him: “Hey Prabhu, about that multiverse theory we discussed earlier-”

“No, that's cool, dude! It’s just that: a theory!”

I laugh. “Sure, but do you think we’ll ever be able to locate… er… an overlap of our Universe with another?”

“Realistically speaking, never. Also, I suggest you return to our Universe and check your Slack messages. Vlad has been looking for you all afternoon.”

“Shit!” I retort, “I’ll go see him.”

Vlad is my boss and doesn’t look too pleased to see me when I approach his desk.

Entropy

The day after. Time: presumably, 6:00 a.m.

The captain throws the ball at me and shouts: “Pete, you bowl the next over!”

I catch it, not too clean, and some players on the field laugh.

“You sure, captain?” I can’t believe he’d trust me with six balls ripe for a smacking by the batter.

“Yeah, what’s the worst that can happen? We’ve already lost!”

I ignore the laughter and mark my run-up to the bowling crease. With a deep breath, I start my first over with a quick hop and skip.

The small crowd on the periphery of the school grounds seems to explode in mockery. The batsman hits almost every ball out of the boundary. On the fifth ball, it's all over.

The laughter turns evil and grows in volume and pitch to become a cackle. The players on the field crowd me.

“You! You made us lose!” Someone scolds. “Useless as a broken bat!” Condemns another. “Can you never, ever do anything right?” Yet another accusation. “Get out of the playground and never come back, you hear?” Several voices scream in unison.

Just then the school bell rings and I couldn’t be happier. I run away, but my legs give way, and I fall face first. I try to turn over even as the bell rings louder and louder. I awake only when I can no longer bear the ringing and try to cover my ears. The alarm keeps going until I fumble to turn it off. I don’t try to guess the time today.

The nightmare never ceases. I have given up Cricket for a long time, but the humiliation of being a failure in a critical match of the season haunts me ever so often. It was that fatal day when I decided to quit I quit, not least because one of the faces in the mocking crowd was Jennie, whom I liked. She never spoke to me after that game.

Since then, staying cautious has been my A game. I’d rather not venture into the unknown than ruin it with my incompetence. I am happy being a spectator and guessing each team's chances. If I never participate, I can never lose. So, why tempt fate?

The same day after. Time: 7:30 a.m.

I am on the bus to work. My subconscious bets on things around me: the number of men vs. women who get on at the next stop, the time we are likely to reach our destination, and so on. However, I stare ahead as if in a trance.

What happened to me yesterday?

I unlock my phone again and again, hoping the X will appear. There’s a notification of a news item on wormholes, but my only thought is to dive through one of them, go back to the Cricket game in school, and do better. Sally had been right: I fail to take chances on real things. Guessing outcomes to amuse me is superficial, even banal.

All the ‘No Stopping’ signs seem like a giant X mocking my failures. My guessing game could well be indecision—a reluctance to commit. I wish I hadn’t followed the X at all. I would’ve had a better chance at the XO game, and the ancient demons would still be asleep.

The bus lurches with a squeal of hydraulic brakes, and I snap out of my reverie. On a whim, I type out a text to Becky: ‘Hey Becks, how about lunch today?’ Then, I run through the scenarios that may play out during lunch before tapping the send icon.

The three dots start bouncing almost instantly. ‘Yeah, sure. What time?’

‘Say around 12:30-ish?’

‘Done. I’ll meet you at your desk. Bye xoxo’

For the remainder of the journey, my mood lifts somewhat as I recommence the guessing game and have several wins.

The same day after. Time: 12:30 p.m.

At 12:30 p.m. sharp, I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Let’s go!” Becky squeals.

Her enthusiasm is hard to refute. I lock my computer, and we make our way to the elevators. Becky starts talking almost as soon as I reach for the ‘Down’ button. She describes her day in meticulous detail and chronological accuracy. I try and but my mind is spinning in a different orbit. Feelings of regret and self-loathing still claw at me even as I use smiles, nods, and Uh-huhs to punctuate her monologue.

At the food court, there's a strong sense of deja vu. I order a burrito, several degrees milder than yesterday, and Becky goes for butter chicken and rice. What is different is the absence of awkward conversation starters.

“So,” Becky surprises me for the first time, “tell me more about yourself, Pete. We’ve worked together for a while, but I don’t know much.”

For a few moments, I stare at her blankly. Then, I follow up with a question: “What would you like to know?”

“Anything. How did you end up at this company?”

That’s another weird story, so I pick my words carefully. “When I finished my Masters in Sciences from the Uni-”

“Wow, Masters?”

“Er, yeah. I had an option to do scientific research-”

“How exciting! So, what happened there?”

I smile at her eagerness to talk. “Well, research wasn’t the safest option, in my opinion. Also, the money can be slow to come.”

“But you like Science-y things, don’t you? After all, you got a Masters degree!”

Another lunch, another person full of insights for me.

“True, true. I opted for Data Analysis to have some predictability in my life. Good growth. No nasty surprises.” I smile weakly and dig into my food to escape further scrutiny. Becky appears thoughtful, and there’s a period of unusual silence. So I decide to break it by a change of topic. “Hey Becks, can I ask you something?”

“Um-hmm” she intones while she chews.

“How likely are you…” I don’t want to sound weird, “…to fall for someone when you’ve just met them?”

Becky’s eyes shine with interest: “Well, it depends. Some guys can be real creeps when they come on too strong and needy, y’know!”

“Yes, I do, perhaps. What about someone who vibes right, seems genuine, and not creepy?”

She puts her spoon down and stares at me.

“You mean someone like you?”

I laugh. “I meant in general, Becks-”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” She picks up her spoon and uses it to point out, “I’ve had a couple of dates that led to a relationship. I do miss at least one of them terribly.”

“Y’know,” I confess, “I am nervous, uncertain rather, with relationships. What if it doesn’t work out? Is it still worth it?”

“Sure is to me, Peter.” her sudden proclamation surprises me, “And anyway, how would you know if it will work unless you try, right?”

I nod emphatically, although it is hard for me to accept. As if on cue, I check my phone for new notifications. I know the chances of the X and the O popping up are too small to measure, yet I can't take my mind off them. Not to mention all the No Stopping signs that won’t let me forget. I see Becky across the table and wonder why no X, or O, appears anymore. Do they only work across Universes? Surely, that can’t be true.

“By the way, thanks for the company today,” Becky interrupts my thoughts. “I ate lunch alone yesterday.”

“No, thank you!” I reply as I look around the food court, expecting the fuzzy view I had yesterday.

Get a hold of yourself, mate!

“Hey Pete, is everything OK?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“You seem distracted-”

“Nah, nothing really. Just that I had the weirdest time at lunch yesterday.”

“Oh! Anything you can share with me?”

I look at the empty food plate before me, pondering if I should tell her about the rendezvous in the intersection, and how implausible it may sound.

“Nothing important,” I say instead. "I almost choked on the chilli in the burrito. So, I ordered it way milder today!” I finish with a laugh.

I find it hard to make conversation. It’s as if my mind has gone all blurry, like the fuzziness around the edges of the… intersection. I can see that Becky has sensed this, and my sullen mood has infected her too.

“Hey, I'm so sorry … I need to rush!” she exclaims. “Is it okay if we head back?”

“Of course, of course!” I stand up, scooping up both our plates.

Our walk back to the office is punctuated with short, quick steps and long silences.

Entanglement

Monday, a week later. Time: 4:30 p.m.

I have been sleepwalking through my tasks all week. Backlogs are clawing at me ferociously. Deadlines are overdue, and I haven’t glanced at the Physics website. Not once. It’s almost time to go home, and I’m exhausted. Come Friday, I want to hit the pillow at 5 pm and wake up Monday morning, only because that’s inevitable. I start packing my backpack, taking my time to slide everything leisurely. It may well be meditation but I don’t feel calm. Then, the phone emits a long buzz.

Seriously?

Still in the meditative state, I take a few moments to lift the phone and unlock it, and grin wide with relief when I see the blinking X.

Sally!

This time, the X is much farther away but the ‘intersections’ don’t have predetermined coordinates. At least that’s what Sally had said.

I grab my backpack, race to the lifts, and punch the button until the doors ping open. My fellow travellers in the elevator can feel me fidgeting. Some smile while others frown. Out on the street, I bump into more people. Some curse me aloud and others just swerve. Unabashed, and with the phone held up so I can follow the X, I break into a run.

Several blocks away, breathless and panting, I reach the spot where the blinking X is pulsating. The X and O are not overlapping yet, although they’re close enough to send my heartbeat racing.

I am at a pedestrian crossing and desperately wishing for the lights to turn green. The lights change, and I glance at the phone one last time.

No!

The blinking X is gone. The O is still pulsating but fading away. I am frozen on the spot even as other pedestrians rush past me. Some brush against my arm and others bump my shoulders, followed by apologies as they rush across the road.

I feel a pall of gloom engulf me, and after what seems like years, I turn around and make my way to the bus stop, where I am condemned to board a bus back home. It is barely two blocks away, but I’m dragging my feet with my senses glued to the phone. At the bus stop, I am glad to join the end of a serpentine queue. Despite guessing if the X will reappear, I eventually board the bus, and soon it pulls away.

As I stare out the bus window in despair, my phone buzzes to warn the battery is in its final throes. I switch to battery saver mode, just in case. Despite my best efforts, I surrender to the rhythmic rocking of the vehicle.

Same Monday, a week later. Time: 4:51 p.m.

We’ve lost the cricket match, and the crowd at the playground is chasing me again. I stumble and fall. Among the people crowded over me, this time, there’s also Sally. Instead of joining the crowd in condemnation, she urges me to escape, trying her best to be heard over the din.

“Get up,” she screams, “and run; run as fast as you can. Don’t let me down now!”

I want to stand up and bolt. I am scampering yet struggling to move. Something is rumbling nearby, and I realise it’s in my pocket. As the rumbling grows, there’s a jolt, and I feel Sally yanking me as I fall forward-

The bus has stopped, and there’s a small queue of passengers alighting. The buzzing is my phone, which I manage to unlock. As I notice the blinking X, I jump from my seat and race to the exit, which is about to close. The driver mutters something, but I’m already on the footpath.

The X is pulsating outside a shopping mall close to my location and, once again, I am racing to match the X and the O.

At the mall, I am looking around for Sally. I’m looking around only for Sally. There are seven-billion-plus people in our world–several million in this city–but I'm looking for that one face in the Universe--another Universe. My fingers are crossed hard, and I'm wishing it’s her.

It must be her.

My phone is like a bumblebee, and I have trouble keeping it clutched. Given its critical battery levels, it may shut down any moment. I'm panting as I scan the crowds milling about. Time appears to have slowed down, as if in an emergency.

It is an emergency!

"Pete?"

How I’ve missed that voice!

I turn around, and there she is. Under another ‘No Stopping’ sign: an X inside an O. The most beautiful icon ever.

She's all but invisible in the hazy intersection. I don't know when I break into a run again and, suddenly, I'm standing before her. Now, my breath is struggling to keep up with my heartbeat. As if on cue, my phone shuts down. Everything is fuzzy again, except her, yet blurry things were never clearer.

I'm clueless about what will happen next, and I'm not taking any bets this time. It's unnerving and yet exciting. But all I'm doing is staring at her. She is smiling back at me. She knew I would come.

"Entanglement?" she asks with her enigmatic laughter, then locks her fingers in mine.

Before I can react, she tugs me to the other side of that dreamy intersection.

We know not what the next moments do

And past ones are an illusion too

All that’s left is the here and now

It’s the one we must live through.

Countless shadows loom around

Unseen embrace of hidden arms surround

This moment is the only one lit

While everything else is darkness profound.

We can use this light to brighten our day

And realise every dream and wish, per se.

For all that’s left is the here and now

It’s the one we must live through.

This moment, the present, is the celebration

It’s the passion, the look, and the flirtation

Here and now encompasses our whole world

One moment can undo ages of oppression.

So use it to change the world for the better.

Say your apologies and mean every letter.

For all that’s left is the here and now

It’s the one we must live through.

We know not what the next moments do

And past ones are an illusion too

All that’s left is the here and now

It’s the one we must live through.

Are you real or just a dream?

Tell me who you are.

Come closer so I can redeem

this illusion of being far.

We brush past often, subtle or cavalier,

at every path and turn.

Yet, you walk away and disappear

Leaving me all astern.

So come back again, or just call me

Impatient as I am for you

I hope you step out of my reverie

and become a reality overdue.

Are you real or just a dream?

Tell me who you are.

Come closer so I can redeem

my illusion from afar.

My mandatory investigating partner is an AI-bot, and I haven’t solved a case in months before the machine does. One notorious thief, who leaves a cryptic signature behind, has eluded us both though.

At this crime-scene, random objects hang from the ceiling.

“Based on the MO, here's a list of suspects.” My partner crackles and rattles off names.

"Ha!” I scoff and walk to the entrance.

“I sense disagreement.”

“Don’t you see the burglar’s signature?”

“No.”

I take a picture of the room and the bandit's smirking face, a juxtaposition of random objects, mocks me with all of its notoriety.

“Never go back to a place where you have been happy. Until you do it remains alive for you. If you go back it will be destroyed.” - Agatha Christie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the general consensus against flying, he looked forward to the “me time”; watching movies, eating, and sleeping while being attended to. Not today.

He had not eaten a single meal, and was looking forward to meeting his mates, after almost four decades. He asked for an orange juice, adjusted the headphones, and pulled the blanket up to his neck.

Spinning the clock back in his mind, he smiled. It had been a daily ritual of sorts at the local chai-wallah, the owner known simply as 'Uncle'. His mob of teenagers would leave the place either when ‘Uncle’ closed for the day, or when their banter was exhausted. Usually, it was the former.

At the time, it seemed like they would grow old together, in the same time and place. Even when their career paths diverged, they continued the soirée unabated. Jabber of playing Cricket turned to discussing the game, there being no time left to play from the pursuit of happiness, a la Economics.

Daily catch-ups turned to weeklies until the span stretched to months and geographies. Videoconferencing provided a fun alternative but the novelty wore off. Promises to sync again diluted and broke. After reviving connections on socials, he had suggested a meetup and was almost in tears when the mob agreed en masse.

After landing, and navigating the usual drills at the airport, he hailed a cab, and settled back to enjoy the nostalgia rushing past as the driver made his way to the destination, replete with honking, cursing, and breaking traffic rules. He would catch up with his buddies before heading home to see his family.

When he alighted at the rendezvous spot, he had to stretch for a bit. The ride had taken its toll on his lower back and it was something he didn't miss from the old days when a rough ride was part of everyday life.

His friends, now balding and graying, not unlike himself, were as welcoming as he could remember. They hugged him and complimented him on his physique; quite the contrast from their sagging chests and growing bellies.

“Foreign countries keep you fit, yaar. Everyone is into exercise and fitness!” One of his mates teased him.

“Arrey, I ask you what is the need to struggle with exercise at this age? Who's going to a Mr. India contest, huh? Enjoy life!” Another shared his philosophy.

He just laughed along because he was happy to be back in their company, and at Uncle's.

“Hey buggers,” he finally asked, “Where's the chai?”

“You still remember, no? Bugger’s not changed a bit that way!”

“Of course I remember.” He laughed. “Now, let's order a round or five.”

“No more Uncle's chai, man. He was bought over by that big American cafe chain!”

“What? No.”

“Ya! Hey, but they make a good latte, okay?”

With countless names, how do I address thee?

You respond to all aliases, whatever they may be.

All I ask, after thanking you for the day:

Let rationality and brotherhood prevail, I pray.

There are the strong and the mighty who can

Decimate others in a shocking, short span

To these, I ask, that you bless with being aware

That aggression leaves nothing to spare.

To those who are weak, and feel repressed at lot

Please provide strength to endure the onslaught

But also to be wise against retaliation of fear

So a semblance of the elusive peace can appear.

For on this tiny speck of a planet in the void

There's much to preserve; though lot has been destroyed

And from your vantage point in the heavens above

All that matters is, understanding and love.

You aren't for the Heavens yet

But no longer for the Earth either.

The goal of your existence unmet;

Your experiences, no more wiser.

But don't look back on the barren

Discarded, decaying garden of hope.

The branches of love now fallen

And romances on a slippery slope.

For when it's the day of Death

We move on to worlds apart.

So, don't waste another breath

And no longer take things to heart.