Page 184 of Under Story

This is Number One, she thinks. Where are you, Number Two?

As before, there is no warning. She lets a hook down into water, and it drifts until it catches something. The other Laurel is holding an object. Laurel can’t see it, but she feels it: smooth metal, the size of a makeup compact. Her legs move of their own accord. They stop before the decorative tin in the closet.

“What’s in here?” she asks.

“Oh, odds and ends. Go ahead,” says Gloria. “Open it.”

Laurel sets the tin on the bedroom floor. The others bring their candles close, for her to see by. Kneeling on the rug, she pries open the lid. Inside is a sewing kit, a pincushion, and a stack of leftover fabric. At the very bottom, she finds a circular gold case.

“Now, here’s a story,” Gloria says. “Seymour and Julian gave that to me.”

“Seymour and Julian? When?”

“At the Other Worlds party, after you left. You know how they collect antiques? After I told Seymour about our experiment, he said he wanted my opinion on something.”

Eli examines the case. “What is it?”

“It’s a pocket watch,” says Gloria. “But I think it also functions as an electrical device of some kind—or that it could.”

A filigree design has been laid over the gold base in copper. On each side, it converges at a small metal plate.

“See how these lines are parallel? They look like the circuits you see on a microchip,” Gloria explains. “Seymour found the watch somewhere in North Beach, but it’s broken; the hands don’t budge. Even the woman who fixed his chromaphone couldn’t figure it out. When I mentioned our electricity experiment, he insisted that I take it home. I meant to play around with it, but then I started my professorship.”

Four tiny gold knobs cluster at the hinge: two on the top of the case, and two on the bottom. Laurel pries them apart. The device springs open to reveal two identical clocks. They point in opposite directions; Laurel must turn the contraption upside down to read the second. Leaning closer, she sees that what she took to be two faces are four. A smaller circle nestles in each of the larger ones.

“Gloria,” she says, “how closely did you look at this?”

Each of the larger faces has 365 notches. The smaller faces contain two hundred. The first reads 1900, the last 2100.

“Well, I assumed that the smaller face refers to the year. The larger one must correspond to the date, don’t you think?”

Eli squeezes Laurel’s wrist. “One for each universe.”

All four faces possess a single hand. None reflect the current time. The dials are exposed, not protected behind crystal, and Laurel tries to nudge one of the hands with her finger. It quivers from the pressure but doesn’t yield. Afraid to push too hard, she stops; there is a blend of dignity and delicacy to the pocket watch.

With Gloria, Laurel examines the filigree. Paul and Eli attempt to turn the knobs, but these are as stiff as the hands. After an hour, Paul stifles a yawn.

“Should I make more coffee?” he asks.

Gloria yawns, too. “I think we should all go to sleep. But you’ll get there, Laurel. I know it. A walk always helps me.”

Paul leaves his candle on Eli’s bedside table.

“Make yourself at home,” says Gloria. She hugs Laurel tightly.

—

Laurel and Eli climb into bed. As the wind whistles outside, Laurel sets the watch on her side table.

“Maybe we should ignore it,” she says.

“We’ll pretend it isn’t even here,” says Eli. “God, that wind is loud.”

Laurel puts her arms around him. To lie in bed together at night is bliss.

“Do you remember the first time we talked,” he says, “when you took me to the orchard? I said that I’d memorized Ed White’s EVA, and you told me to prove it.”

“Of course.” What she would have given to peer into Eli’s mind that day! “I was dying to know what you were thinking.”