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Sigma wakes up from a strange dream. Talking rabbits and a game show that he was destined to lose. He hit the buzzer even when he knew the answer, but the host, an old woman, never gave him any points.
Sigma stares up at his water damaged ceiling. He has got to stop drinking.
He stays with the useless frustration of the dream logic. Who did that old lady think she was, Alex Trebek? Not every grandma can host trivia. Pick a lane, lady.
As if to chide him for this line of thought, the familiar pulsing of a week old headache begins to shoot through his temples. It was probably due to stress from finals and not having finished his stupid paper yet, he knew, but sometimes his vision faded out in a way that made him think he might need to see a doctor soon.
He surveys the room. Constellations of empty beer cans litter the floor, all centered on his orbit.
After his ex had dumped him and he couldn’t go to the party they both planned to attend, he made up for lost time on his own. She had dumped him over email, of all things. Who even does that? Maybe she wasn’t right for him if she had blocked him before remembering to let him know he was now single.
Still, he finds it in him to peel himself off of his couch. He had picked it up off some guy from Craigslist a month ago, and despite the warning of bed bugs it had been a godsend for him on days like today when he clearly hadn’t made it to his bed.
Squinting at the brightness of his phone screen, Sigma checks the time. Shit. He has that stupid paper due at midnight. Didn’t his professor know that he was grieving a relationship? Didn’t he know it was Christmas? No, this was the Buddhist professor. Ugh. He doesn’t remember. It doesn’t matter. Maybe he should just drop out before the deadline.
He pulls on his trusty blue jumpsuit. It was comfortable, and he thinks it makes him look cool. Maybe it’ll be some sort of lucky charm for him today, so he can get out of the research building before the sun rises.
His stomach turns— whether it’s due to the hangover or the thought of all the work he has yet to do, he isn’t sure. But he isn’t going to do anything without the greasiest breakfast sandwich he can get his hands on, that’s for sure.
Halfway through shoving his egg sandwich into his mouth in an empty parking lot, his mom decides to facetime.
Fumbling for the napkins, he chucks his empty coffee cup into the passenger side, watching as it splashes onto the seat. Oops. Not as empty as he thought.
“Hey Mom,” he manages, pretending he doesn’t still have a mouthful of food as he adjusts the camera.
“Hi Sigma!” His mom beams at him. She likes to facetime— it's the only form of technology she can figure out how to use. It must have taken her and his father twenty minutes to remember how to unlock her phone in the first place. When Sigma finally convinced her to upgrade from a flip phone, he was over their house for an entire afternoon explaining how a touch screen worked.
“Do you remember the password to my email?” His mom speaks into the phone, already forgetting the video and giving him a perfect view of the inside of her nose.
“No, Mom,” he sighs. “You changed it after it locked you out last time, remember?”
“I just don’t know why I can’t just make another email address,” she says.
“Because there’s only one catluvr209 at g-meow dot com,” he says, ignoring his cat tic as he plugs in the directions to the research building instead.
“Right,” his mom says, “Can’t you just ask them to let me in?”
“Ask…” he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Ask who, Mom? Google?”
“Yeah! I don’t know. You’re the tech genius.”
“I’m not a tech genius,” he says, “anyway, I have work to do. I’ll just keep you guys signed in when I visit for New Years, okay?”
“I can’t believe you have work on Christmas. You need to budget your time better, dear.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“We’re even seeing the cousins later, and you’re not going to be there! You know they’re all going to be asking about you.”
“I know,” he says, scrolling through his phone, “Just tell them I’m busy.”
“Okay,” she doesn’t sound convinced. “How come I can’t see you on the video?”
So she remembered that video exists. He switches back. “Here I am.”
She brightens like a child on the other side of peek-a-boo. “There you are! Okay Honey, I’ll let you get back to work. Merry Christmas! I love you!”
“I love you too, Mom,” he says, “Merry Christmas.”
But the call won’t actually end until he reminds her how to hang up. She doesn’t like how abrupt it is when he hangs up first.
“It’s the—” he tries as her finger jabs at the camera. “It’s the little red button— In the corner— Just tap it— Don’t just press down harder, okay? Mom—”
His screen goes dark. There, she got it. He loves her, but it could be a little exhausting.
He sighs. Great, and now his breakfast is cold.
The research building was on campus, and if there was any small mercy left in the universe it was left in the fact that he was able to find a parking spot right outside. That, or it might be because the majority of students were already home to celebrate the holidays. Truly, he was the last idiot left on earth to still have work to do this late in the semester.
Still, it could be worse. He flicks the pine air-freshener on the rearview mirror for good luck. It certainly wasn’t doing its job anymore, but it was the first thing he had bought for this car back when he first got his license. Despite its uselessness, it still made him sentimental. It’ll probably be in this car until the poor thing stops running.
Which might be soon, if the engine noises were any indication.
But that was a problem for future Sigma, he decides with a shrug. He has a whole semester’s worth of research to do before midnight, with only the power of energy drinks and any good karma he’s amassed to get him through.
Still, it was a little strange being on campus all by himself. Usually there was at least one other straggler still around to commiserate with. He wasn’t that far behind, was he? On his way here, he had peeked into buildings that were usually bustling with students, but there weren’t even any workers.
He logs into the computer, watching as the database loads. The paper itself wasn’t anything he particularly dreaded, either. It was a good blend of hard data and a more philosophical interpretation of it, which he knew his professor would appreciate.
He still had some time left to wrestle with his dissertation, but then he would be done with school forever. After this, he never wants to see a textbook or have to use his brain again.
With the thought of his future freedom just out of reach, Sigma finally decides to get to work.
As if the Gods had heard him and decided to spite him, his headache only increased with every hour that passed. It was almost as if his steady stream of energy drinks and chips did very little to sustain him after all.
Well, at least the paper was done. Even if his eyes were burning from staring at crusty pdfs and barely legible datasets, he had managed to get the assignment submitted just a minute before the deadline.
Now, stumbling into the parking lot at midnight, all he can think about is how good it’s going to feel to crash into his bed for the next day and a half, at least . He’s earned it. And then maybe he’ll find a late Christmas present for his parents when he sees them later.
But his mom would appreciate that, he thinks. So maybe it wasn’t all so bad. Sure, his ex had dumped him out of nowhere, but maybe that was just a chance for a new start. Maybe this next year would have something exciting in store for him.
Feeling strangely optimistic despite his exhaustion and the strange pounding in his ears, Sigma unlocks his car. He looks up at the moon, squinting at the brightness. It made him feel like there was a spotlight shining down upon him.
Not the weirdest thing he’s seen, Sigma decides, and steps into his car.
Dr. Sigma Klim opens his eyes to darkness.
Slowly, the world returns to focus. The research building in front of him. The parking lot. That’s right. There used to be so many buildings on earth. How strange it was to see them all now.
He can feel his new consciousness filling in the gaps, feelings his limbs move under new command. His fingers flex. No more metal clicking and artificial blood. Flesh and bone, just as it always was.
For a moment, he looks out into the night and marvels at how, for just a few perfect moments, no one had known how the entirety of the universe had just shifted and crammed itself inside this tiny car. Those on the Rhizome truly were building a structure so perfect and elegant, and finally everything had spun and snapped into place to bring him here.
“Hey,” Akane says, tugging off the gas mask. She’s curled up in the passenger seat, sitting slightly at an angle with her feet tucked underneath her. “Welcome back. Did everything go okay?”
She asks as if he could have gotten lost somewhere and put someone else in his body instead. For a moment he thinks, Oh no, I’m sorry, I’m actually due for another time travel death game? This is so embarrassing, I promise this usually never happens…
But that was something the other Sigma would say.
“It was fine,” he says, as if he had the words for how he can’t tell if his body feels heavier because of the authentic gravity on Earth or due to some deeper, metaphysical cost of it all. His voice even comes out different than he expected it, deeper and smoother than he was used to.
He looks at her. She’s so young. So small. He knew she would be but for a moment it still catches him by surprise, like maybe he really thought that the Akane he had known, the one that had spent so long preparing him for this, could still be there to guide him.
But of course not. Dr. Klim was on his own now. And unless things on the Rhizome go exactly perfect, his version of Akane would already be dead.
Realizing that he’s staring, Dr. Klim tears his gaze away. Still, there are glimpses of familiarity even in change. The curve of her nose. Her face in the darkness, unblemished by wrinkles. Her eyes were still so calculating, but nowhere near what he knew them to be. Akane Kurashiki. The most interesting person he’s ever met.
Dr. Klim rubs his eyes. Coughs a little. Well, no use in prolonging it any further.
His hand hovers over the ignition. He stares at the key. “I don’t remember how to drive.”
He didn’t mean it to be funny, but Akane laughs anyway, so it must be. They switch sides, and as Akane adjusts the seat he thinks that he must find some element of humor in all of this if he doesn’t want the sheer absurdity to overtake him.
As he climbs into the passenger seat, he realizes that Akane had been perched so specifically in the seat because it was still damp from some spilled drink, and there simply wasn’t room to extend her legs. The floor of his car was a grimy sea of mostly empty take-out containers and stained coffee cups. The back seats were no better, and Dr. Klim groans at the carelessness of his younger self.
As Akane starts the car and they begin to leave the parking lot, Dr. Klim flips down the sun visor, sliding open the cheap mirror on the inside. He angles it to look at himself, wondering if who he was now really was as apparent as it felt on the inside. But try as he might, he can’t see any outward signs of change. He just sees himself. Wild, unruly hair. Grease stains on the collar of this cheap jumpsuit he insisted on wearing. He sees an impulsive, thoughtless child.
He was being too hard on himself, he knew that, yet there was so much depending on his decisions now that he found it hard not to deride the easy, spoiled life his other self had, lest he feel even the faintest hint of longing. Things would be different now for both of them, and they would each have to adapt to these new circumstances without looking behind them for even a moment.
A faded, pink pine tree air freshener is dangling off of the rearview mirror, a brave yet foolish attempt to mask a scent that might have been part of this car before his younger self had even bought it.
Feeling a sudden wave of disgust, Dr. Klim reaches up and tears it off. Akane glances at him, but doesn’t say anything. Even he can’t say where the feeling came from. Only that the air freshener was useless now, so it had to go. There was no point in pretending it could do anything anymore. Anything that didn’t serve a purpose would have to be removed. It was the only way.
But that outburst would be the last one he would allow himself. This car was just a car. An ode to the way the person before him preferred things.
He was here, and from now on it was his life to change.
The moon follows him through the window. It peers down at him, silent and pale and cold. Dr. Klim stares back, undeterred.
For the most part, they drive in silence. There was so much to say that it was almost too much, and any words he thought of dissolved back into silence before they left his mouth. At one point, Akane had turned on the radio, only for them to both grimace at the cacophony of noises that spilled out.
As they drive deeper into the night, the roads begin to quiet and the cars become sparse. They pull over to an abandoned section, and get out of the car.
Akane points to his pockets. “Phone and wallet,” she says, “leave them in the car.”
Nodding, he moves to do that, noticing just as he retrieves his phone that he had received a text message a few hours ago. And despite himself, despite any self control he has that tells him otherwise, he reads it.
Why? Perhaps it was some morbid longing to know more about the person he had just replaced. Or maybe it was because he was still himself, in a way, and the message was sent to him.
It reads: Text me that you got home okay. Send Text. Hey Gary did you see the news last night there was this story about some lunar eclipse or something coming up around the new years Oh No my Phone Stop text End. Stop. Gary why is it doing that I am pressing the blue arrow I am
Dr. Klim tosses the phone into the sea of garbage and slams the door.
From now on, Sigma Klim is a missing person. Try as he might, the thought follows him. It follows him after an unmarked car picks them up and brings them to Crash Keys headquarters. It follows him after Akane shows him to some room that he’s expected to stay in. And it is still circling around him as the sun just barely begins to rise over the horizon.
Why is he feeling guilty? He shouldn’t have read the text, but did it matter? This was all yet another moment of weakness that he couldn’t afford to have. His Akane would have gently scolded him for letting his feelings get in the way of their mission, and she would have been right to do so.
It wasn’t like him to falter now, after he had already sacrificed so much. And nothing about this life would stay the same as it was in this very moment, so he could not fool himself into believing that it could.
And yet, he still thinks about it. The text his mother is expecting. How long will she wait for it? He, of course, knows exactly where his younger self is. But for his parents, this will be real for them. It was almost easier when the earth was destroyed and he knew that they were dead.
He was being too drastic. He has a tendency to get stuck in the worst case scenario, and he knows it. What would most likely happen is the police would tell his parents that he had probably run from the pressure of graduate school and would resurface when he was ready. He was known as a reckless man-child. There was no need for them to think that he was in any real danger. There was hardly even a sign of a struggle.
With that finality in mind and doing his best to convince himself of it, he finds Akane in front of a computer, not surprised to see that she is still working at this hour.
She smiles when she sees him, but they still carry the air of strangers between them. He doesn’t know how to fix it yet, or if it even can be fixed, but deeper than that he knows that it doesn’t matter. Underneath it all, he can still see the same Akane that he met when he first began the AB Project all those years ago. The faint familiarity was in itself a form of kindness from the universe, and he knows not to ask the universe for more.
In his room, he had changed into different clothing, but even that hadn’t been enough to shake this weight off his shoulders. He had stared into his own reflection for much too long, thinking about the Sigma that had chosen these clothes, this hairstyle, this life.
Hundreds of signs of the life that that boy had made and chose and wanted for himself. He had stared into those eyes that stared back into him, and the thought of reality that that Sigma would now go through had left him with a strange feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and one he didn’t particularly appreciate.
So he says to Akane: “Can you cut my hair?”
And she does.
As he watches the clumps of hair flutter down to the floor, as the sun rises over the horizon and floods the room with golden light, he tries to remind himself that Sigma being gone now was not a tragedy, it was a second chance. To be able to hold the fate of the world in his palm was a mercy, and considering all the nameless dead, who was he to revoke it?
All of the doomed Sigmas would play a part in their machine, as short as the time was. In the face of infinity, what did it matter?
Dr. Klim was going to save this world, fix it into somewhere his younger self could live in. It wasn’t a robbery, it was a gift. A blessing. For himself and the world around him. He would survive the ordeal that came next, and contain Radical Six in a way that it would never be able to hurt anyone ever again. He would give it all back.
And when his younger self got to shift back into this body someday—after it had been brutalized and changed by what would come next— he would open his eyes to a world with a splendor that neither of them could predict. It would make sense to him then, all the strange and wonderful ways that the universe had embraced him in order to bring him to that moment.
Then when he looked in the mirror next, he would find out who he truly was in the man looking back. He would see honor and heart, and something deeper: he might even know that Dr. Klim was sorry, and that this life was the only apology he had left to give.