The Mandela Effect

Chapter 58

 The wheels were spinning behind Jon's eyes. He was working over everything, the story, that he had just been told. Several times he had started to speak, only to stop and continue thinking.

Finally, he leaned forward, toward Wolfe, and tried to ask the first question he could fathom.

"Can you prove any of this?" Jon asks.

"No," Wolfe offered, "I can't explain how or why it works."

"But, the machine," Jon interrupts.

"The machine is the whole reason we even exist," Wolfe shrugs, "so I can only assume. I've seen it work, at least as far as video screens and flashing lights in the control room."

"Right," Jon says, "right."

A silence settles over them again.

"So," Jon says, "everything that I know; all the facts, and figures, and dates; they are all the result of the action of people at these meetings."

"Not these meetings, specifically," Wolfe says, "but the big meeting later this year? Yes. Well, in a way. If you think of everything like a waterfall or the butterfly effect, then sure. But, mostly not."

"But," Jon continues, "you're saying that every year of my life, things could have shifted greatly, and may again later this year. But, instantaneously, as soon as things change, my memory changes too into the things that I remember right now."

Wolfe considers the statement for a moment before answering, "Yes."

"This seems like one, huge paradox," Jon argues, "doesn't it?"

Wolfe sits back, slightly more relaxed, "Well, a paradox is something that time travelers worry about. But, just the same, it might seem that way if you're thinking of the world as 4 dimensions: the three dimensions of space plus time.

"But," Wolfe continues, "this technology is based on string theory, which says that there are more than 4 dimensions. There are something more like 11 dimensions. Now, I'm not talking about all 11, but rather just moving into the space that is the 5th and 6th dimensions.

"In that way," Wolfe explains, "it's not like time travel. Think of time as a river, theoretically of course, always flowing in one direction. For the machine, its more like a river delta with similar versions of the same river starting at the same point but running side by side. With the machine, we're not fighting the flow of time in the 4th dimension, which is probably impossible by the way. Instead, you're stepping out the stream and moving over land to a neighboring river, but at the same place on its bank and stepping back in.

"Another example," Wolfe outlines, "might be to visualize two relatively identical shelves in a library across from one another, running alphabetically just like in a real library. This kind of travel is like pulling a page or a book from one of the shelves and inserting it in the same place in the other."

"The end result," Wolfe wraps up the exposition, "is that those in the machine see the differences that no one else will ever know. And anything that travels with him will be the same – separate and apart from the changes. But, it's not a paradox for us to, right now, remember the history that was changed before we actually go and change it. Technically, it didn't happen in this universe."

"Wait," Jon interrupts, "but what happens if we don't travel? Or fail when we try?"

Wolfe thinks about it for a moment, "I suppose that things would just continue as they were then. But, the waterfall from that inaction might have untold impacts and limitations that develop between that moment and any time in the future. Again though, only the travelers would know that something was different.

"And if we do go," Jon says, "we'll instantaneously change the world and they'll have no memory of any of it."

Jon shakes his head, "So, it's possible that there are things from my alternate past that I don't remember?"

"Possible," Wolfe answers, "yes. Probable even. The jumps go to similar universes, but not identical. And again, there are waterfall impacts."

Jon interrupts, "Waterfall impacts?"

Wolfe continues, "Maybe letting 9/11 happen – or helping it even – stops something worse or leads to something better. More specifically, and fictionally, maybe a jump means the Waynes aren't murdered, so we never get Batman. But, everything you remember now is a result of those changes."

"Even the photo?" Jon asks, "and my grandma's memory?"

"No," Wolfe explained, "that's what we call an aberration. It's collateral damage. One of the considerations before a jump is the similarity of the universe and the chance of aberration."

"You have been able to rate the chance of aberration?" Jon asks.

"As best we can," Wolfe shrugged, "we have eighty years of examples to utilize. But, it's really just guessing I think."

Jon thinks about the entire conversation, and suddenly a question hit him, "why are you telling me all this?"