Redshirts

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I want to warn you that this sounds like a crazy idea,” Jenkins said.

“I’m amazed you feel the need to say that anymore,” Hester said.

Jenkins nodded, as if to say, Point. Then he said, “Time travel.”

“Time travel?” Dahl said.

Jenkins nodded and fired up his holographic display, showing the timeline of the Intrepid and the tentacles branching down, signifying the collection of episodes. “Here,” he said, pointing to a branching node of tendrils. “In the middle of what I think was this show’s fourth season, Abernathy, Q’eeng and Hartnell took a shuttle and aimed it toward a black hole, using its gravity-warping powers to go backward in time.”

“That makes no sense at all,” Dahl said.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Jenkins said. “It’s yet another violation of physics caused by the Narrative. The point is not that they violated physics in a nonsensical way. The point is they went back in time. And they went back in time to a specific time. A specific year. They went back to 2010.”

“So?” Hester said.

“So, I think the reason they went back to that year was because that was the current year of this show’s production,” Jenkins said.

“Science fiction shows had their people going back in time all the time,” Hanson said. “They were always having them meet famous historical people or take part in important events.”

Jenkins pointed his finger excitedly at Hanson. “But that’s just it,” he said. “If a show goes back to a specific time in its actual past, they’ll usually key it to a specific important historical person or event, because they have to give the audience something it knows about history, or else it won’t care. But if the show goes back to the present, then it doesn’t do that. It just shows that time and the characters reacting to it. It’s a dramatic irony thing.”

“So if the show just has them wandering around a past time, if they meet someone famous, it’s the past, but if they don’t, it’s the present,” Duvall said. “Their present.”

“More or less,” Jenkins said.

“That’s some great show trivia,” Duvall said, “but what does it have to do with us?”

“If we go back to the present, we can find a way to stop it,” Dahl said suddenly.

Jenkins smiled and touched his nose.

Duvall looked at the two of them, not quite getting it. “Explain this to me, Andy,” she said, “because right now it just looks like you and Jenkins are sharing a crazy moment.”

“No, this makes sense,” Dahl said. “We know when the present is for the show. We know how to time travel to get back to the show’s present. We go back to the present, we can stop the people who are making the show.”

“If we stop the show, then everything stops,” Hester said.

“No,” Dahl said. “When the Narrative doesn’t need us, we still exist. And this timeline existed before the Narrative started intruding on it.” He paused, and turned to Jenkins. “Right?”

“Maybe,” Jenkins said.

“Maybe?” Hester said, suddenly very concerned.

“There’s actually an interesting philosophical argument about whether this timeline exists independently, and the Narrative accesses it, or whether the creation of the Narrative also created this timeline, causing its history to appear instantly even if to us on the inside it appears that the passage of time has actually occurred,” Jenkins said. “It’s very much a corollary to the Strong Anthropic Principle—”

“Jenkins,” Dahl said.

“—but we can talk about that some other time,” Jenkins said, getting the hint. “The point is, yes, whether it existed before the Narrative or was created by it, this timeline now exists and is persistent even when the Narrative does not impose itself.”

“Okay,” Hester said.

“Probably,” Jenkins said.

“I really want to throw things at him,” Hester said to Dahl.

“I’m going to vote for the idea we exist and will continue to exist even when this show stops,” Dahl said. “Because otherwise we’re all doomed anyway. All right?”

No one offered a disagreement.

“In which case, to get back to what I was saying, if we go back in time and stop the show, then the Intrepid stops being a focus of the Narrative,” Dahl said. “It goes back to just being a ship. We stop being glorified extras in our own lives.”

“So we won’t die,” Duvall said.

“Everybody dies,” Jenkins said.

“Thank you for that news flash,” Duvall said, irritated. “I mean we won’t die just to give an audience a thrill.”

“Probably not,” Jenkins said.

“If we really are in a television series, then it’s going to be hard to stop,” Hanson said, and looked to Dahl. “Andy, a really successful television series could be worth a lot of money, just like a good drama series today can be. It’s not just the show, it’s everything around it, including things like merchandising.”

“Your boyfriend has an action figure,” Hester said to Duvall.

“Yeah, and you don’t,” Duvall shot back. “In this universe that’s a problem.”

“I’m saying that even if we do travel back in time and find the people making this show, we might not be able to stop it,” Hanson said. “There might be too much money involved.”

“What other option do we have?” Dahl said. “If we stay here, the only thing to do is wait for the Narrative to kill us off. We might have a slim chance of stopping the show, but a slim chance there is better than a certainty of a dramatic death here.”

“Why even bother trying to stop the show?” Hester said. “Look, if we really are extras, then we’re not actually needed here. I say we go back in time and just stay there.”

“Do you really want to live in the early twenty-first century?” Duvall asked. “It wasn’t exactly the most cheerful time to be alive. It’s not like they had a cure for cancer then.”

“Whatever,” Hester said.

“Or baldness,” Duvall said.

“This is my original hair,” Hester said.

“You can’t stay in the past,” Jenkins said. “If you do, you’ll dissolve.”

“What?” Hester said.

“It has to do with conservation of mass and energy,” Jenkins said. “All the atoms you’re using now are being used in the past. If you stay in the past, then the atoms have to be in two places at the same time. This creates an imbalance and the atoms have to decide where to be. And eventually they’ll choose their then-present configuration because technically speaking, you’re from the future, so you don’t actually exist yet.”

“What’s ‘eventually’ here?” Dahl asked.

“About six days,” Jenkins said.

“That’s completely idiotic!” Hester said.

“I don’t make up the rules,” Jenkins said. “It’s just how it worked last time. It makes sense in the Narrative, though—it gave Abernathy, Q’eeng and Hartnell a reason to get their mission done in a certain, dramatic amount of time.”

“This timeline sucks,” Hester said.

“If you brought atoms forward, they would have the same problem,” Jenkins said. “And in that case they’d choose the present, which means the thing from the past would dissolve. It’s a pretty problem, actually. Mind you, that’s just one of your problems.”