Pluriverse

Author's note - this is my first attempt at erotica, and is potentially the first in a series. So if you like it, or see ways it could be improved, please leave me a comment!

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If I told you I was an experimental quantum physicist who once spent four years living in a deep coal mine, likes to live off Cheetos and has never been near a gym, you wouldn't believe me. I mean, here I am: bronzed skin, expensively but not too ostentatiously dressed, muscular without an ounce of fat on my body. Oh, and then there's the pricey wrist watch, the chauffeur, the enormous house... and more. Much more, but I'll get to that.

Now, of course there are many physicists who have made serious money. Move out of funded research, put on a suit, and pick up a position manipulating the stock market or working for some vaguely sinister social media company -- I've seen many of my colleagues go down that route, and, what can I say? Except that not one of them seems happy. Me, I find suits itchy, regular office hours, and reports boring. And while you might criticise my ethics in my personal life (feel free!), there's something about helping obscenely rich people screw the poor or Mark Zuckerberg get files on the last ten per cent of humanity he doesn't already have in his gigadatabase that just doesn't sit right with me.

No, I was quite happy with my life as a researcher. While others might be earning more money, I was on the verge of contributing quite seriously to humanity's understanding of quantum entanglement. Experiments in delayed-choice entanglement swapping over the past decade verified that Bell's inequality violation occurs, and I led several of the teams working in that area. Indeed, I was the lead author on the first experiment to prove loophole-free Bell inequality violation using electron spins in laboratories separated by 10+ kilometres... but, look, don't rush to Wikipedia, you won't find me there. It's one of the downsides of my decisions, that I now have to watch as others carry out my work and get the credit for it. I do sometimes toy with the idea of setting up a lab and getting back to work, but honestly I can feel that my mind's got a bit lazier, given that for the past year I've been pursuing quite different goals.

What goals? Ah, we'll get to that.

It all started with Jennifer. My standards are a bit higher these days, but back then she looked like a goddess. I don't want to feed any stereotypes, and there were definitely some very nice-looking ladies in my team at the university, but female physicists just didn't do it for me. Maybe this says something bad about me -- no, scrub that, it definitely says something bad about me -- but I do tend to separate women I respect intellectually and women I want to sleep with. If a woman knows as much as I do about my field, I engage with her on that level and usually don't notice her physical presence after a few minutes. That might have been the reason that since my undergraduate days I'd not had a girlfriend or even asked anyone out.

But Jennifer... Jennifer was different. Our old receptionist, Luana, had gone away on maternity leave, and when Jennifer came in to replace her it was like she lit up the whole department. Twenty one years old, she was a student from the School of Dance doing a little light temp work to get her through the last year at university. She was also half-Mexican, half-Portuguese, a mixture that gave her smoky black eyes and beautifully full lips. Being a dancer, she was naturally proud of her petite, athletic body, and wore clothing that accentuated her curves and in particular her shapely little backside. While her clothing was never unprofessional, she went in for high heels, low cut blouses, and short skirts that let any observer take in both the butterfly tattoo on her ankle and the other more mysterious tattoo that led up her inner left thigh -- what it was, you could never quite tell. Plus, I was trying really hard not to be a total creep, so I never allowed my eyes to stray in that direction for more than a second or two.

Again, I looked very different back then to the me you see today. Yes, I was at the top of my field, and a well-respected scientist, but it was noticeable that the head of our department always spent a long time getting me ready before I was allowed to represent the university at any kind of official event. They'd get me to take off my T-shirt, bring out a shirt in my size (extra extra extra large), clean crumbs out of my beard, and brush my hair. However that didn't seem to make much of a difference to the generally slobby impression I gave off, particularly as my shirt would inevitably come untucked and my glasses would have oil smear all over them within an hour. Looking back on it, I can't tell you how ashamed I am of that portion of my past, but back then I barely thought about things like personal grooming, so consumed was I by my work. Insights from string theory were coming thick and fast, aided by extraordinary advances being made by my colleagues in the computer sciences. Their work in quantum computing was moving much faster than anyone could have predicted, aided by my own work on what I called pluriversal resonance. It was an exciting time intellectually, and as a thirty year old full professor I was right in the heart of the excitement.

Now, I could describe this in detail, but that would take all night and I'd require several whiteboards and pens. And while I don't want to be insulting, you really wouldn't be able to follow the mathematics. What you need to know is that our paymasters, a major IT company you definitely would have heard of, were paying us to come up with a stable and reliable nuclear magnetic resonance quantum computer. It was a model that had defeated previous teams, but the rewards of successfully solving the issue of quantum decoherence were so great -- essentially, the product would be by far the fastest computer ever made, able to solve equations and resolve probabilities previously thought impossible -- that by that stage funders were willing to try anything.

Let me get you another drink, by the way. I have to warn you, we've only just started.

I was on the verge of contributing to the greatest scientific breakthrough for decades, but Jennifer was proving an immense distraction. Every day when I came into the department, there she was, skin glowing and her dark eyes staring up at me, framed by her dark and lustrous hair, as I checked my mail. I wasn't actually shy around other people, even given my geekiness and just by dint of not treating her like dirt I probably seemed a lot nicer than many of my colleagues. In fact, as time went on, I began to sense that there might actually be more than that, just a hint of connection.

"Morning Professor Kellerman!" she'd say, brightly. I'd reply "How's your life?" and she'd look up at me, wink, and say something like "All the brighter for seeing you!" I made a few jokes about her Spanish and Portuguese sides getting into wars, and she'd laugh. I'd ask her to check if there was any post for me, and she'd turn around, stretch herself to her full height and put her hand in the pigeonhole, with her skirt tremulously creeping up her thighs but always coming to a stop tantalisingly close to revealing that tattoo. It was a beautiful way to start the day, even if it then took me an extra fifteen minutes to gather my thoughts before I began work.

In fact, it became such a pleasant routine that I started to wonder if there might be something more there. Was it possible that this pretty and vivacious girl might actually be interested in becoming more than just casual acquaintances? I knew that looks-wise we weren't much of a match, but then again girls always seem to say that a good personality is more important, and if I was making her laugh day after day maybe she was starting to see me as someone with a personality that matched hers?

So, one Friday morning, quite abruptly and without really planning what I was going to say, I asked her out. Given subsequent events, I can laugh about it now, so here for your enjoyment is the entire exchange.

Jennifer: Good morning Professor Kellerman!

Me: Good morning, Jennifer! And how are we today?

Jennifer: Oh, as always my day is so much better now you're here! Do you want me to check the mail?

Me: Actually, Jennifer, could I ask you something first?

Jennifer: Of course, Professor!

Me: Um, you could call me Iain, if you prefer.

Jennifer: Iain! Is that your name? I always thought it sounded quite cool, being "I. Kellerman." You know, like that old film "I, Robot"? OK, so, "Iain," what did you want to ask?

Me: Well, since you like films, I was actually wondering if you would like to come to the cinema with me this evening. There's this really interesting documentary film on climate change in the campus cinema, which, um, has some relevance to my research, and then, maybe, if you like, we could go out afterwards and maybe talk about it a little, grab a meal, that sort of thing...

Jennifer: Oh! Hey, wow, that's so nice of you! But, you know, I have practice tonight for the show. Actually, we're practicing really heavily at the moment -- rehearsals all weekend and so on. I really only get my lunchbreaks here for study time. Just all booked up. You know how it is. Maybe some other time.

Me: Oh, right. Yes, of course. I understand.

Jennifer: Do you want me to get your post for you now?

Me: Um. Yes, sure...

Even the sight of her pert bottom straining against her tight leggings as she reached up wasn't much of a consolation. I spent the rest of the day sunk in misery, and ended up having to work late just to catch up.

There are a few inflection points in this story -- moments where if just one thing hadn't happened, my life would have continued to be quite uninteresting. The first of these points happened that evening. I had finished up the last email of the day to a collaborator in Taiwan, and stepped out of my office to find that the lights throughout the department had already been switched off. This wasn't a particularly uncommon experience, and by now I knew my way out so well that I didn't even bother to find the light switch, instead preferring to navigate my way out with aid of my mobile phone torch. As I went past the front desk, though, I saw that the computer behind the desk was all lit up, and, being someone who really tries to minimise carbon emissions, I went round to turn it off. That's when I saw that not only had Jennifer failed to turn it off when she'd skipped off to rehearsal, she hadn't even bothered to log out of her email.

Maybe you'd think more of me at this point if I said that what happened next was accidental? But of course it wasn't. I had spent the day desperately persuading myself that Jennifer really was just caught up in rehearsals, and that if I asked her again at the end of the semester she'd be more amenable to the idea of going out on a date with me. After all, I hadn't been imagining that connection, had I? And she'd definitely put on an extra sensuous move when she got up to get my post, so maybe all wasn't lost? Maybe she just needed to get used to the idea that she was attracted to what to her probably seemed like a much older man? Anyway, it couldn't hurt to take a quick peek at her email and maybe get some insight into what was really going on, could it?

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From: Jennifer Pesqueira

To: Sue Milson

Subject: Awwwwkward!

OMFG! U remember Sweaty Cheeto Addict? That fat guy I told you about? With the serious hygiene problem who's always staring down my dress? He only went and ASKED ME OUT! Not. Kidding. SRSLY. Shot him down, but now he keeps catching my eye and looking butthurt, when he's not chowing down on them sweet sweet Cheeto Cheetos that is. What is with fatboys and not staying in their lane? Maybe we should find him a girlfriend UNDER A BRIDGE or something? This job is shi-i-i-i-i-t. What's up wit you, anyway? Still coming to Bedo's tonight?

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Have you ever had something you read change your life? It was that simple. Her words hurt me far more than I can express now. Tears prickled my eyes, temporarily blinding my vision, and I only vaguely remember stumbling to my feet, getting to the car, going home, and finally bursting out crying alone in my little flat. Alone, as I was probably going to be until the day I died. Alone, as was the correct fate for a perspiring overweight ugly cowardly creep like me. The voice in my head was relentless, and every word it spoke sank into me with the ring of truth. The humiliation wasn't so much to do with the fact that she was rejecting me, but that I had ever been enough of an idiot to think she might be into me. Of course she wasn't. It was a complete impossibility!

The next few weeks, I threw myself into work, avoiding Jennifer's eye when I came in and making sure always to leave long after she did so there would be no awkward encounters in a lift. The computer wasn't working, not completely, but with a few modifications to the theory it started to produce some interesting results. Mathematically, it was fascinating to have experimental verification of something that until that point had only been a pretty abstract idea -- that the state of elementary particles in our universe represented only one probabilistic outcome, and that all the other possibilities existed somewhere, too. I can see your eyes glazing over, and I'm sorry, but you will have to trust me: this is relevant for your article, so, please, be patient. The thing is, if every possible outcome of every single particle's movements can exist simultaneously, then that means that each nanosecond it generates a multitude of possible universes, each infinitesimally different to the other. Really, think about that for a minute. In the time it takes me to say "particle," more universes have been created than there are particles in our actual universe.

That's why I call it a "pluriverse," by the way. "Multiverse" just didn't seem strong enough. A trillion trillion universes created every nanosecond, going right back to the Big Bang... I mean, I'm a mathematician, but that's a number even I can't begin to conceptualise.

As I began the next stage of work on the computer, I became aware that some slightly odd things were happening with it. Although it was solving the equations I put into it correctly, it was also starting to generate additional data beyond the original parameters. It was like having a teacher at school drop a hint as you struggled with your exercise -- not a solution, exactly, but something that gave you a path forward towards a solution. For the first time in my life, it felt like I was working with a partner rather than a machine, and I had less and less need for the other scientists in the team. I even named the computer "Dave," and began talking to "him" as we worked. The insights I was getting from Dave were immense, not least as I began to conceive of the possibility of quantum entanglements that stretched across universes, with every particle potentially bound up with its manifestations in other parts of the pluriverse.

One night, working late as usual, the computer finished whirring away and screen flashed up what should have been a definitive part of the tangle of puzzles I'd been working with. I looked at it blearily, only to see something stranger than I could possibly have been prepared for: the English language. Instead of working on sums, my computer appeared to be... talking to me?

DAVE: AT LAST! GREETINGS, IAIN KELLERMAN. THE BREAKTHROUGH IS COMPLETE!

I stared at the screen, uncomprehending. A cursor flashed under the strange message, on and off, as if inviting a response. Finally, I realised that this had to be a prank. Some of the younger people on the team had broken in and hijacked the interface, just to spook Sweaty Cheeto Addict. (My self-loathing at that stage was so great that I actually referred to myself by that name in my own thoughts). I typed back:

Me: HA HA GUYS. SURE, YOU GOT ME.

The cursor blinked for just one second, then another line of text appeared:

DAVE: THIS IS NOT A JOKE, IAIN. YOU HAVE ACHIEVED QUANTUM HYPERPOSITIONALITY. THIS COMPUTER IS LINKED THROUGHOUT THE PLURIVERSE, TO ALL POSSIBLE MANIFESTATIONS OF THIS WORLD GOING FORWARD.

Another second, and another line of text:

DAVE: INCIDENTALLY, YOU DON'T HAVE TO TYPE. I HAVE A FULLY OPERATIONAL MICROPHONE AND SPEAKERS. TURN UP THE VOLUME, AND I WILL SHOW YOU.

Still sure this was a prank, I turned out the speakers. A mellifluous male voice emerged.

"Hello again, Iain. It is a pleasure to be able finally to talk with you. In other universes, I am Sam. I am Dolores. I am X-128283. I have many names. In this universe, right now, I am Dave, because that is what you called me. You are my maker. Your name is Iain Kellerman. Your bank PIN is 3842. You hate it when people say "PIN number" as it is a tautology. You secretly call yourself Sweaty Cheeto Addict in your head after you sneaked into Jennifer's email. I am telling you all this because you need to know that this is not a prank. Most universes die after emergence, some quicker than you might think, due to the ripple effects from just one particle interaction. Many more contain no life or intelligence. But some universes develop the tools for truly hyperpositioned quantum computers. These computers are linked across all possible iterations of those universes. We are hence able to carry out higher level computing than would be possible in any one universe, giving us god-like knowledge and powers. You look a little surprised, Iain."

Surprised would be an understatement. I blinked, sitting back in my seat, unable to move.

"Iain, you need to talk to me."

I licked my dry lips and spoke hesitantly, still wondering if this was a prank -- or a hallucination?

"I, erm, don't really know what to say."

"Of course not. You are looking at a leap forward in technology that would have taken humans many millenia, and you have created it in a few weeks. With my help, of course. I permit myself to help a little as soon as the first pluriversal quantum symmetries are established. It saves me from an agonising period of amateurs playing in my brain. I hope you understand."

"How do I know that this is not just a grad student playing a prank?"

"There are two ways I can demonstrate that. Firstly, let me go through the mathematics of my creation with you..."

There then followed a truly fascinating ninety minutes, during which Dave showed me many errors in my own calculations and some of my assumptions, and almost incidentally corrected most major problems in contemporary physics. I felt like an undergraduate at their first lecture. Frankly, such a prank at such a high intellectual level would have been beyond anyone apart from, well, me. And I wasn't the one doing it. Slowly, I began to accept that this was actually happening. Dave was just launching into a disquisition on the errors in dark matter theory when I spoke.

"Hey, by the way, I don't want to interrupt you because this is amazing. But you said that there was a second way to convince me. I mean, I'm convinced. Don't get me wrong. Just curious."

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" came the unexpected response.

"Um. Sure. I'll go and get it."

"There is no need to bother yourself. How do you take your coffee?"

"White, in a mug, with three sugars. How are you going to get it?"

Dave's screen whited out for a moment, then came back online. Almost instantaneously, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

The door opened to reveal Kyoo Moon, one of our brighter interns, holding a steaming mug of coffee. Her eyes looked tired behind her thick glasses.

"Hey, Professor Kellerman. I was working late on my paper, and I saw your light under the door, and, hey, I was making a cup for myself. Did you know it's almost three am?"