Resonance

  Galen’s fascination dims into something darker.

  “But they’re thoughts, not voices,” Neve clarifies.

  “That must be maddening.”

  “It is. In the beginning. But then eventually all the scrambled thoughts… blend. They combine into one, unified thought,” Neve exhales the tension in her gut. “And then I can breathe again.”

  Without breaking eye-contact, Galen leans back in his chair. He rests his elbow on the armrest and rubs his lower lip with the knuckle of his index finger.

  His stare is intense. He looks like someone who is gauging the risk of an impossible leap.

  Has she done it?

  Has she passed his test?

  Will he now give her the answers she seeks?

  “What I’m about to tell you,” he intertwines his fingers, “is difficult to understand, and even harder to accept. It is a ground-breaking revelation akin to discovering that the world isn’t flat.”

  His intensity is subtle, but quite powerful. And his analogy is far too bold to take lightly.

  “Can I trust that you will keep this information to yourself?” he raises his brows.

  She’s already come so far. How can she turn back now? “Yes. Yes, of course,” she reassures him with an eager nod. If what Galen has to say can shed even the faintest light onto what’s ailing her, then this will all have been worth it.

  “Are you familiar with ‘Modal Realism’?”

  Chapter 16

  The Fray Theory

  “Modal Realism…” Neve samples each word like a fine wine, trying to trace back to its origin, but instead she finds herself standing amidst a barren vineyard. The words sound so ambiguous and bland, she can’t even venture a guess.

  “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of the concept.”

  “Modal Realism is a theory proposed by American philosopher, David Kellogg Lewis. It claims that all possible worlds exist, and are just as real as the actual world.”

  “What do you mean by ‘possible worlds’?”

  “Exactly that: if something is possible, it exists.”

  “Like in a parallel universe?”

  “Yes, but not quite. A parallel dimension would mean that there is only one alternative to our reality. But Lewis was convinced that there are infinite other dimensions out there. He believed that a possibility in our dimension is the reality of another dimension. And vice versa.”

  Staring, Neve licks her lips. What does any of this have to do with her dreams?

  “That’s a very interesting proposition,” she says.

  “Indeed,” Galen nods. “But here’s the catch: Lewis thought these alternate worlds are isolated from one another. That each dimension is self-contained and cannot influence the others.”

  “And I’m guessing… that’s not the case?”

  Galen’s smirk broadens into a full-fledged smile. “Can you imagine?” he nearly whispers. “Can you just imagine the possibilities if Lewis was wrong? If there actually was a way to access alternate dimensions?”

  “But how would that even be possible?”

  “Through us, or course,” Galen fans out his hands. “Through our minds.”

  Neve drops her gaze to keep herself from staring. What Galen is claiming sounds far more like fiction than science. Or even philosophy for that matter.

  And considering just how many possibilities there are in the world—how many combinations of people, things, and events—‘infinite’ is just way too big for her to even conceive of. And to claim that all of these possibilities actually exist?

  “Have you ever wondered why you often dream in third-person?” Galen asks. “And why you always look slightly different in your dreams than you do in real life?”

  A tight sensation grips her core.

  She has. Countless times. But she always assumed that’s how dreams work. That dreaming is just a way for the brain to take a break from reality, and play.

  Was she wrong? Is there more to it?

  Neve’s gaze crawls back up and meets Galen’s.

  “We look different in dreams, because dreams are windows to our alternate realities. When you dream in third person, you are observing another ‘you’, who does in fact exist.”

  Neve’s throat is closing up. The air in her lungs is trapped. Her stomach feels heavy. Why is her body so quick to react to such an absurd claim?

  “A dream, Miss Knightly, is simply a glimpse into the life of your Proxy.”

  Neve rummages through her mind, remembering some of her most vivid dreams. She recalls one of her alternate selves who was running for her life, but was caught, nonetheless. And another ‘Proxy’ who somehow understood Japanese. She even remembers a dream where she had a younger brother she raised by herself after her parents—their parents—died in a plane crash…

  Those other Neves were all so different, but while dreaming, their lives and their realities made perfect sense. So much sense, in fact, that Neve never found herself questioning anything in her dreams.

  They felt… real.

  Suddenly the idea doesn’t feel as absurd anymore.

  Neve had no reason to be dreaming those dreams. And it was always a mystery why her mind would fabricate scenarios that have nothing to do with her reality.

  She looks up at Galen who happens to be smiling, patiently waiting as Neve wraps her mind around his bold claims.

  Every possibility in our dimension, is reality in an alternate dimension…

  Come to think of it, given how many possibilities there are in the world, it is a bit odd that only one of them becomes reality, and all the others are wasted.

  It’s a shame to think that so many beautiful things that could happen never do. But if Galen is right, that means no possibility is ever wasted.

  It means that the universe is far richer than Neve could’ve ever imagined.

  “Is that why a dream doesn’t have a beginning or an end?” she asks.

  The crow’s feet around Galen’s gray eyes crinkle as he smiles. He nods with a slow blink.

  “Dreams appear fragmented because they’re not entirely the constructs of our minds. They’re a blend of our alternate realities and our subconscious. And this phenomenon—establishing a connection to your Proxy—is called Resonance.”

  Resonance…

  Is that why Galen seemed intrigued when she said neuroscience didn’t ‘resonate’ with her?

  The outline of Galen’s face is starting to blur, and Neve simply can’t understand why she’s having such a visceral reaction to Galen’s claims.

  Philosophy isn’t science, it’s speculation, she tries to rationalize, but it isn’t suppressing her panic.

  “So… what you’re basically saying is that dreams feel real, because they are real?”

  “This isn’t an easy pill to swallow. Surprise and doubt are both perfectly warranted reactions.”

  “What happens when you die in a dream?” Neve asks and watches Galen’s expression harden.

  Was that a dumb question? Or is Galen reluctant to discuss the subject because of Dylan?

  “If what you’re saying is true,” she says, “then if I dream about dying—”

  “You are in fact witnessing the death of another you,” he completes her sentence, and looks away.

  Does Dylan know all this? He must. The theories must have come up at some point. Even if not in a conversation between a doctor and his patient, then surely in one between a godfather and his godson.

  Is that why Dylan believes he’s doomed? Does he think the death of his Proxies is somehow related to his own?

  Neve immediately banishes the thought. Because accepting Galen’s claims would in a way be the same as acknowledging Dylan’s nightmares as a kind of reality—as brutal tragedies that actually happened to him. And that is not something Neve is willing to accept. Not without putting up a fight.

  “Is there any proof to back these theories?”

  “The proof is all around you,” Galen indicates his surrounding
s. “Whenever you experience something out of the ordinary, you are Resonating with one or more of your Proxies.”

  “What exactly would be ‘out of the ordinary’?”

  “The near-magical nuances of life which lie just outside the realm of science: premonitions, déjà vu, dreams. Pretty much any topic which falls under the category of ‘peculiar’ or ‘paranormal’.”

  “Paranormal? As in ghosts?” Neve squints.

  “Yes. Even apparitions are accounted for.”

  “How?” she slides to the edge of her seat.

  “Would you like to venture a guess? Keeping the existence of multiple dimensions in mind?”

  She mulls it over for a moment. “Well, if there are infinite alternate worlds out there, then there must be infinite alternate versions of the same person.”

  “Proxies,” Galen allows. “And you are absolutely right. Some of these Proxies are highly similar to one another, and others are vastly different.”

  “So how do ghosts play into this?”

  “Take yourself for example: at this very moment, you have countless Proxies who are sitting exactly where you are right now,” Galen points to her seat, “but each is contained within her own dimension.”

  “But, how is that even possible?”

  “This is where Lewis fell short. He believed Proxy dimensions are contained in isolated bubbles, when in fact, they are spatially overlapped. They all coexist in the exact same space.”

  “So, right now there is another me sitting here?” Neve asks, half-expecting to be able to feel her.

  “Correct. And it’s quite possible that she is yet to have this exact conversation with my Proxy. And as a result, she has absolutely no idea that you exist. She is unaware of you, just as you were unaware of her a few moments ago.”

  Neve sinks into thought.

  If she has a Proxy that’s sitting exactly where she is, then she must also have a Proxy who decided to skip today’s session. And another who never even met Galen in the first place. And so on and so forth, until every single possibility is played out.

  And suddenly all she can think of is the dandelion stemming from Elliot’s grave.

  The one she blew into the wind.

  She envisions the white umbrella seeds, luminous in the sunlight, floating backwards through the air and reuniting with the bulbous stem. She imagines the white globe folding in onto itself, converging and un-growing in time, until the flower has reverted to its marigold self.

  Young, and full of promise.

  And then she finds herself back up on that diving board in the Aquatic Center, tightly clutching a metal anchor. And she realizes how having done just one thing differently, she would now be living a whole other reality—one that one of her Proxies is living because she did things differently.

  Because every single decision, regardless of how seemingly insignificant, has the power to derail.

  Because it’s in the nature of paths to diverge.

  Neve’s heart breaks, realizing that she has in fact lost Elliot more than once. Far more than once.

  But if so, wouldn’t the reverse also be true?

  “When someone dies, there are still infinite living versions of them in Proxy dimensions, aren’t there?”

  Galen nods. “And Resonance allows you to catch a glimpse of them through your Proxy’s eyes.”

  A ghost is just a Proxy in an alternate dimension? Is that why there are people who swear they’ve seen ghosts move objects? Oh Jesus Christ.

  Despite her efforts to contain her emotions, she is welling up. “Is that why when someone we love dies, we can still feel them? Like they’re still with us?”

  Galen confirms with a single nod.

  Neve still can’t bring herself to believe him, but a part of her desperately wants to. Because then, if she ever was to see Elliot again, it wouldn’t be as a faded memory, or a daydream of what could’ve been.

  She’d be seeing him as he is.

  “What else?” Neve asks softly.

  Galen leans over and grabs his mug.

  “There are multiple ways in which someone can Resonate. And far more often than you’d think. For the majority of the population, it happens almost daily,” he takes a sip from his drink.

  “Daily!?” Neve’s brows shoot up.

  Galen chuckles with his lips tightly-pursed, then swallows the gulp of coffee in his mouth. He leans to his side and puts the mug back down on his table.

  “Daily,” he nods. “And not just through dreaming. Any time you think an unprovoked thought, or are suddenly overcome by a groundless emotion, struck by an epiphany, or conceive of a unique idea, you are in Sync with one or more of your Proxies.”

  Neve’s mind wanders to the first time she caught a glimpse of Dylan’s blood-red hair. Her gut tightens as she recalls the explosion of nervous pleasure in her chest the first time their eyes met.

  “Love at first sight?” she asks, hoping Galen won’t find it a juvenile question.

  “It is the experience of meeting someone you have loved intimately in a Proxy dimension. And that is precisely why your first-ever meeting feels more like a reconciliation of two split halves.”

  This is big, Neve thinks. This is way bigger than discovering that the world is round.

  “But if what you’re saying is true, then that means each of us—through our Proxies—gets to see and do everything there is…”

  “You are absolutely correct,” he smiles. “It is what I like to call cross-dimensional self-actualization: no place left unvisited. No action untaken. Absolutely nothing of what life has to offer missed out on.”

  Neve can’t help but smile at the thought.

  “The instant you and your Proxies are born, your paths begin to diverge outwards like a fraying rope. Each Proxy’s path in life is like an individual strand. And step by step, from moment to moment, you are creating a unique life for yourself. A life very similar to some of your Proxies, and highly different from others.”

  “And whenever you establish a connection to one of your Proxies..?”

  “Resonance,” Galen concludes.

  “That’s… incredible.”

  “It is. And in keeping with the analogy of a fraying rope, we’ve dubbed this premise: the Fray Theory.”

  “How exactly do premonitions tie into all of this?”

  “A premonition occurs when you—through your Proxy—experience something in an almost identical dimension; something which winds up happening in your own realm soon thereafter. Give or take a few negligible differences.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?”

  “Then you’re unlikely to even notice anything out of the ordinary,” he says. “Déjà vu operates in much the same way, but with shorter lags in time.”

  “I thought déjà vu was a mistake in information processing; just a physiological error of the fatigued brain,” Neve recalls Holt’s lecture.

  Galen laughs, almost as if at an inside joke.

  “The Fray Theory is not the sole authority on the subject matter, I’m afraid. Though I honestly believe it should be.”

  “So any time there is a glitch in reality, it’s due to Resonance?”

  “Is that so hard to believe? The mind is the most fascinating, and by far the least understood enigma there is. It can move back in time simply by recalling a memory. And by imagining, it can bring things into being, even if only as a thought. And I believe in due time, those of us who indulge our minds will be able to transcend our physical limits.”

  “Transcend, how?”

  “I believe that with introspection, discipline, and training, one day we’ll evolve to be capable of much more than just ‘experiencing’ Resonance in a passive way. We’ll be able to actively initiate it.”

  Neve marvels at the idea, completely spellbound by Galen’s genius.

  Speculation or science, it’s so refreshing to watch him dismiss the most universally-accepted principle: the singularity of the universe itself!

  “Tr
anscending our physical limits…” she repeats, “but wouldn’t that basically mean breaking the laws of physics?”

  Galen’s smile lights up his face.

  “There will come a day, Miss Knightly, when we no longer need to reach for objects. We can summon them with our minds.”

  Neve’s gaze darts to Galen’s porcelain mug.

  White. Just like the tombstones at the cemetery.

  Is that what Romer was doing? Telekinesis!?

  Neve goes to speak, but Galen is pulling his phone from his vest’s pocket. So she bites down on her lip as he puts on his glasses.

  Upon reading what appears to be a text message, Galen’s brows furrow. “I’m sorry my dear. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this short.”

  Chapter 17

  The Request

  Galen takes off his glasses as he rises from his chair. Though he’s standing perfectly still, the concern in his eyes makes it clear his mind is racing a mile a minute. He glances towards the front door, and then begins to slowly fold his glasses and tuck them back into his vest’s pocket.

  Whatever the interruption, it seems important. So without asking questions, Neve rises from the couch and pulls her purse over her shoulder.

  Galen looks at her, his eyes wider than an owl’s.

  “Hang on a moment—” he indicates for her to stay put, and scurries down the hallway next to the loft’s front entry.

  Feeling awkward just standing there, Neve slowly makes her way towards the front door.

  Moments later, Galen reemerges from the room at the far end of the hallway, tightly gripping a leather-bound book.

  “Take this,” he pulls on the mouth of Neve’s purse and slides the book inside.

  His invasiveness alarms her.

  “Read it,” he says, “thoroughly, and as many times as it takes for things to sink in.”

  “What is it?” Neve looks down at the book.

  “It’s my life’s work.”

  “Wh—” she looks up. “Professor, why would you trust me with something so valuable?”