Somewhither: A Tale of the Unwithering Realm Read Free

Interpretation was to cleave to classical cause-and-effect while saving the appearance of quantum-mechanical events, which are random. It has nothing particular to do with choices mortals make, moral or no.”
    So the topic of many worlds theory was warm, and so was the cuneiform, but any theory Professor Dreadful had about those topics was cold. So maybe Dad believed other worlds were real, but thought the Professor was fake.
    I had to keep feeling around and get a final answer to my question before fatigue carried Dad away to bed, leaving me with no way to know what to do.
    And time was running out. My phone was in my pocket like a bomb.
    Groping, I said, “The Professor says that the inanimate universe, and the behavior of plants, animals, and most of the things humans do, are all rigidly determined like clockwork.”
    “Well, he’s about a century behind the times. Not even Einstein could save classical causation. It seems God does roll dice after all.” This was all muttered absentmindedly. Dad sounded bored. Very cold now.
    I pressed on. “He says most human actions are determined, most, but not
all
. Things that seem like random choices, like deciding whether or not to have a bean burrito for lunch, are just the brain mechanisms acting out their pre-programmed conditioning. Only when we are making a choice that involves a moral question — such as whether or not to break a promise — do we actually interact with something outside of normal causation and above normal psychological mechanisms, an eternal principle only the conscience can perceive; and that is what splits the universe in two.”
    Dad just sighed. After a pause, he said, “Do you know how long it took me to make up my mind to ask your dear, sainted mother to marry me, Ilya? If this idea were true, that was all time wasted. I both asked her and also never found the nerve, both raised my sons to be fine young men and also never held them in my arms or heart.
    “That choice and every other moral decision would be pointless, because no matter how carefully you use your judgment, in the other branch of time, you always act stupidly. Even to the weakest temptation, in the other branch, you always give in.
    “No, the Professor’s Many Worlds idea is just one of those many ideas that are as pretty as the patterns on a poisonous snake, and you stare fascinated by the sinuous Celtic knotwork of its bright coils and gazing in its unwinking cold eyes, you never notice that all it is really telling you is that life is a lie. Don’t believe it. Only liars say life is a lie.”
    Dad took down his arm and sat up. He had not undressed, so that his Kevlar jacket still covered him mostly; but he had unzipped it, so a flap hung open, and the white collar of the deacon’s uniform he wore beneath was visible above his ammo bandolier. Around his neck, on a chain of rosary beads the Archbishop himself had blessed, he wore an ivory crucifix that contained, in a tiny glass vacuole, the finger bone of Saint Demetrius of Sermium, patron saint of Crusaders, coated in the oil it spontaneously exuded. Next to it, in a sheath, was his black-bladed stiletto with the wide hilts, a dark cross next to a pale one.
    “No, my son, if you must believe that there are many worlds, believe me, I pray you, that if you do evil in this world, you have not the power to create some new world where that choice was made aright. Only the Creator can create new worlds. Only miracles change history; nothing inside nature has the power to undo the natural consequences of what evil men do.”
    Then he looked at me sharply and said, “What order are you thinking of disobeying? What promise were you planning to break?”
    He had been playing Huckle Buckle Beanstalk too, it seemed, and somehow figured out exactly where to put his hand to find what I was hiding from him, my own personal little sizzling thimble.
    The fire was hot, and I was bent over it, so that I did not notice the warmth of the