Page 70 of The Paradox Club

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t seem logical, you mean?”

“Right.”

“A lot of science doesn’t seem logical. It’s only when we understand it on a deeper level that the logic becomes apparent. Life is that way, too.”

“I think I like the doors better than the tiny particles.”

“As you should. You’re not likely to be faced with many tiny particles in life, but you’ll be faced with lots of doors.”

“Like the door to the house, the door to my room, the door to the kitchen.”

“Those, yes, but I was thinking of metaphorical doors.”

“You’re using big words again.”

“All I mean is that in life, you will have choices and decisions to make. And it’s important to remember that when you choose one path, it makes another path impossible.”

“I can never go back and walk through door A?”

“That’s right. So choose carefully.”

“I will.”

ANOTHER VIVIAN STORY

“Do you remember the first thing Harry ever told you about stories?” asked Vivian.

“They save lives,” said Tess.

“That’s right,” said Vivian. “Remember that. Now this is a story about when I was a blind boxer. It starts when I was sixteen. I had a traumatic experience.”

“What was it?”

“Just something traumatic that happened in front of a crowd of people.”

“Oh, come on, Vivian, if there’s one thing that’s consistent about your stories, it’s the detail. You can’t just say you had a traumatic experience.”

“Fine. I was a cheerleader, and we were practicing our pyramid before a football game. I was on the top and a boy I had gone out with the week before—a boy I refused to sleep with despite his pressuring me—charged the pyramid and knocked it down. My uniform tore open and everyone could see me, and they were all laughing, but I couldn’t move to cover myself up because of this shooting pain in my leg. It turns out I had broken my tibia. He pretended like the whole thing was an accident and before anyone came to help me, he leaned over and said…well, he said something awful. Something that even now I can’t repeat. Is that specific enough for you?”

“You’re making this up, aren’t you?”

“It’s a story.”

“Yes, but you always believe your stories. You shouldn’t, but you do. But this one is total fabrication, I can tell.”

“Let her tell the damn story,” said Montag 5. “I’m enjoying it. The part where her dress tears open is hilarious.”

“Pervert!” said Tess.

“Mind your mouth,” said Montag 5, raising the gun toward Tess.

“You won’t shoot her, and you know it,” said Vivian.

“No,” said Montag 5, turning the gun toward Vivian, “but I’ll shoot you in a heartbeat, and I don’t think she’d like that very much. Now finish the story.”

“I had this traumatic experience, and it made me angry. It made me want to fight back against people who were bigger and stronger than me.” Vivian shot her eyes toward Montag 5 for a split second before continuing. “It took me a long time to figure out what to do with that anger, but when I was a senior in high school, I took up boxing. I trained with a coach and worked out in a gym and after a few months I entered a tournament.”