They talk of one day seeing into a parallel universe by creating a wormhole, or worm-gate in space. They, however, speculate that it would need more power than is currently available to create such a doorway between dimensions, but Marcus Kinnear’s beliefs were contrary to their small world view.
He had found a way by merely closing himself off from the people around him, taking ten heavy breaths in and then out, before allowing his mind to drift along the different coloured timelines of his own souls.
The lines weren’t coloured by any other design than his. Each new timeline found was followed carefully as it twisted and spiralled along its haphazard route, until it came to its own frayed, broken conclusion.
Once, and only once, did he try to speak to one of his other selves. That one time had been enough to persuade him that it wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.
It was during his third journey when the giddy idea struck his inexperienced mind.
‘Wouldn’t it be grand to say hello to myself!’ The monkey of his mind had chattered into his relaxed inner ear.
And, before he could stop himself, he’d trotted up to his mirror image just as he was trying on jeans in a swanky clothes shop’s claustrophobic changing room.
His twin hadn’t taken too kindly to being caught with his pants, literally, down by a man too similar to himself and so had screamed like a girl in a seventy’s horror, before bashing his own stunned nose in.
It was then that he realised that life can get quite complicated in one’s own company and had never attempted the paradoxical experiment again.