Turns out, we were in Oxford, England. Just not our Oxford. The three security guards with their tube gun things led us past the Envisioner in the beige and orange airport gate area and left us in a wide, book-crammed room that Yusuf said looked like his office in his Oxford. But at the same time, very much not his office.

He squinted at a framed picture on the wall of him in a graduation cap and gown standing with his parents. The three of them smiled, with his teeth poking through his too-tight lips because I’m sure he’d been thinking I’m supposed to smile in pictures.

“I’ve got that hanging in my office, too,” he said slowly. “But the buildings behind us are all wrong.” He circled the ornate wooden desk that looked like a church altar. “I just can’t believe we’re really in another universe.”

“It feels so… real, right?” I asked. “I mean. I know it is. But you know what I mean.”

The door opened behind us and I turned towards it, bumping into Yusuf who knocked a framed picture over on the desk.

Speaking of real, seeing two Yusufs at the same time felt very much not.

Yusuf—my Yusuf—froze by the edge of the desk, eyeing the stiff-backed man who walked in and shut the office door behind him. Their faces were riffs on the same idea. The other man was thinner, with deep lines carved into his broad forehead, hard eyes, and close-cropped hair. The face of a principal who wanted both of us to know how disappointed he was, and how he wanted us to think hard about our futures. He clasped his hands in front of his wide-lapelled, white-collared shirt and fat brown tie.

I stood so close to this familiar stranger that his frown gave me frostbite. Beside me, Yusuf swore under his breath.

“You tested negative for the virus,” the other Yusuf said. “Which is wonderful news, seeing as how you barged in here. We’ll get to that, by the way. But first—when are you from, exactly?”

“I’m sorry,” Yusuf said. Even their voices sounded different, Yusuf’s a softer, gold-toned tune from a brass instrument instead of a tired sandpaper scrape of his other self. “Are you saying you think we’re time travelers?”

The other Yusuf pressed his lips together. He did not like being corrected.

“What else would you be? I assumed it was only a matter of time before a future version of myself was able to prove my theories.”

“Time travel exists here?” I asked. “Screw this, Yusuf. Let’s see some dinosaurs.”