Page 155 of Under Story

“Ask you what you want for dinner.”

“Whether you need anything from Walgreens.”

There were four or five inches between them.

“But you look good,” said Laurel. “You seem”—she searched for the right word—“looser.”

He didn’t deny it, and this was how she knew they would continue as they were. Laurel girded herself. They had their answer now.

“I’m sorry about Angela,” said Eli. “At the party. Nothing’s happened between us, I swear.”

Laurel picked at a loose thread on her jacket. “But you like her.”

Eli shrugged helplessly. “She’s a good person. There’s a reason I used to be engaged to her, even if I’m glad we didn’t go through with it. Of course, she isn’t…it could never be like…”

“It’s okay,” said Laurel. “You don’t have to compare us.” And then, because she couldn’t help herself: “Christopher Nilsson wouldn’t leave me alone until I yelled at him in the Rathskeller.”

“I knew that would happen,” Eli said. “Does he still carry around that stupid tin of mustache wax?”

Laurel laughed, which turned into a whimper when she thought of going back to her hotel alone.

“It won’t be forever,” Eli said.

“No,” said Laurel.

The horizon was a smudged gray line, like pencil partially erased. She thought of the end date they’d chosen.

“I want you to pick me up at a commune,” she told him.

Eli laughed. “A commune?”

She nodded. “It’s called the Center.”

Laurel had made her decision the night before. She couldn’t remain in Madison, waiting for him.

“Okay,” said Eli, slowly.

She also had a second, petty reason. Let his mind run wild about what happened at a commune.

—

When Eli left, she stayed.

She stayed to let the wind wash over her, shucking the sadness of seeing him. And she stayed to think of what had happened the night before.

Laurel had planned to tell Eli about the footage, but as she sat with him, she changed her mind. It felt important to keep something for herself.

Trail cameras could run for years, so they were ideal for an experiment like the other Laurel’s. She had used the time-lapse setting to film a year of progress. It was valuable data: Laurel could cross-check her assumptions about what had happened in the cave before she arrived.

So why did she feel a pang of disappointment? As months of growth scrolled past in quick succession, Laurel almost closed the file. She could watch the footage later, with Tess and Gloria.

She dragged the scrubber to the right. Just before she reached the end, the view shook, as though someone were moving the tripod. The camera swung downward. Time-lapse mode stopped; the tape returned to real-time speed. In the video, Laurel heard the sound of footsteps.

And then she saw her double.

Moving. Flesh and blood. 3-D on her 2-D screen. It was like watching herself from the outside, like glimpsing herself in a dream.

Laurel Two moved through the cave as she had: touching, checking, adjusting. Her hair was tied back in two braids. Laurel could not see her face, only her body from behind. She had pins in her hands, and tape, and a pen. She must have been making the handwritten tags that Laurel found on her first trip. Because it was dim, the video had been taken with infrared light. The footage looked spectral, as though it came from the afterlife.