I consider taking the screenshots of my conversations with “Jay” straight to campus police, but in the end, I decide not to. Mostly because I don’t want anyone to know that I fell for it. If Mia or Lance is behind this, they’re probably laughing their asses off at me right now. And if I report them, they’d claim it was just a harmless joke. A group of white kids could probably convince people that they’re harmless better than I—a weird Brown girl with no friends—could.
Best thing to do is put it out of my mind. Thankfully, when I wake up, ResConnect shows me as the only occupant of room 225. Jay’s name isn’t there. So clearly the person who hacked in has removed themselves.
I have a busy day, which distracts me from this whole mess. After my last class, I head home to do some online research on my media project. If Sarah wants to see a draft next week, I need to hustle to get it done. But my mind keeps wandering. Weirdly, researching this hundred-year-old mystery keeps reminding me of Jay. How did I not notice the similarities between the two cases? Both wereknown players with several girlfriends. Both disappeared with no trace. In the old case, money seemed to be the main motive. I don’t know the motive in Jay’s case, but it wouldn’t surprise me if money were involved too. Love and money—the two motives for almost all crimes. Yesterday Jay said he wanted to bet on sports. Maybe he had a gambling problem?
But wait.Jaydidn’t say that yesterday. I was scammed. It wasn’t actually him texting me. I exhale and pick up my phone. I still have ResConnect notifications silenced, so ifwhoeveris messaging me again, I won’t see it unless I open the app. Against my better judgment, I open it.
There are four messages from Jay. All sent in the last hour.
Jay:I can see you on ResConnect again, so I’ll tell you what I said last night. The Celtics got a three pointer with thirty seconds left of the game. The Raptors lost 137 to 136. So you were wrong about the score.
Jay:But if it weren’t for the last thirty seconds of the game, you’d be exactly right. That can’t be random.
Jay:I did some calculations on the rest of the scores you sent me, and they are 85 percent right. It’s not 100 percent accuracy, but those odds arehigher than random. Like way, way higher.
Jay:The probability of you randomly giving me eleven sports scores and being 85 percent correct is pretty much zero. I promise ... I swear on my mother’s life, I am not pranking you. This is real, Roomie.
Shit. I don’t even know what to say. Or think. I stare at the messages. I’m no math major, but even I know that it would be virtually impossible for me to tell him sports scores from the future that are 85 percent correct unlesssomethingis going on. But if this is real, then why aren’t the scores 100 percent correct?
Aleeza:Why aren’t the scores completely right, then?
Jay:Ever hear of the Butterfly effect?
Aleeza:Isn’t that an Ashton Kutcher movie?
Jay:Yeah, about time travel. Basically, every little thing that he did could change the outcome in the future. Time isn’t linear. There are an infinite number of parallel universes branching off each other.
Aleeza:Like Everything Everywhere all at Once.
Jay:Yeah, and Multiverse of Madness.
Aleeza:Are we only going to use movies to understand what’s going on?
Jay:Everything I know about temporal physics is from Hollywood.
Aleeza:I don’t know if I should believe you.
Jay:We’re roommates. If you can’t trust your roommate, who can you trust?
I exhale. The irony is I left Mia’s room because Icouldn’ttrust her. But maybe Jay’s right. Maybe I should trust this ... because clearly something is happening. All the evidence I’ve seen is pointing that way.
Aleeza:Okay, why wasn’t your name on ResConnect when I woke up this morning?
Jay:I left the room at six for water polo practice. I think it has something to do with us being physically in the room.
That could be it. Yesterday after I left the room for dinner, all our conversations disappeared.
Aleeza:Let’s try something. I’ll walk out, you stay there. Let’s see if we can still chat.
I take screenshots of our conversations in case they disappear again. Then we do a series of little experiments, each coming in and out of the room. It seems our link only works while we’rebothin 225. If either of us steps out, even just to the hallway, the link is gone, and the chat logs disappear. There is no way to leave messages for each other.
Jay:This is wild. I have a million questions for you. So, the Indian food place finally does open in Central dining hall?
Aleeza:Yes, a month ago. It’s delicious.
Jay:I can’t wait to try it. I’m going to push them to open a shawarma stand next. Hey, you need to find future me and get him to tell me what’s on my civil engineering exam.
I can’t do that becausethatJay is gone. He didn’t even take his exams in December. I don’t know what to say. I do believe what’s happening—that we’re in different times, despite how implausible it sounds. We are living the impossible. Or at least I am right now living the impossible. Jaywasliving the impossible five months ago. But I have no idea if present-day Jay is even living at all.
