As I looked at Layton lying there, his body broken, I had to wonder if this was a tragedy or karma. Does a man who would hit a woman deserve to lose the use of those hands, like some sort of biblical judgment—and to suffer months in intensive care for something that took place in an entirely different reality? Layton was clearly capable of that kind of abuse here—but did capable make him culpable? I honestly don’t know.

I had one more brush with the vast beyond. It was during the night while I was still at the hospital. The medication kept me fuzzy at night, in and out of dreams, skimming the surface of consciousness. Which is why I can’t be certain that it wasn’t a dream, but I think it was real.

I opened my eyes to see a figure standing over my bed. At first, I thought it was the nurse coming to check my telemetry. I was always twisting and turning and pulling off the leads in the middle of the night. Although he was dressed in scrubs, it wasn’t one of the nurses. It was an Edward.

“Here to smother me with a pillow?” I asked. If he was, he wouldn’t have gotten much resistance. I was too weak to fight it.

“You know I can’t,” he said. “But even if I could, it’s not necessary anymore.”

“Which one are you?”

“There was only ever one of us,” he said. “Just different facets.”

“Are you back on Earth to torment another sub-loc?”

He shook his head. “No—the current sub-loc is a sentient virus on the outer rim of Andromeda.” He groaned. “Ugh—don’t get me started.”

“So why are you back here? What do you want?”

“To apologize,” he said. “I . . . underestimated you. And because of that your world was almost lost. I want to make it up to you. By offering a gift.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“It’s not a ‘thing,’” he said. “It’s information that you might find useful.”

I wanted to tell him where he could stick his information, but I had to admit I was curious.

“You won’t forget anything that happened,” he told me. “You’ll retain the experience of all the other worlds. The memories of the many lives you’ve lived. Those memories will give you a perspective on life that no one else has.”

“And headaches,” I pointed out.

“And headaches,” Edward agreed. “But there’s something you should know. In the course of human history, there have been only nine individuals who survived being the subjective locus. You know their names, because they all went on to live extraordinary lives. Each one of them, in their own way, changed the world for the better . . . And you are the tenth.”