Dark Matter(93)

Jason25: How?

Jason10: You f*cker.

Jason9: How doesn’t matter, but yes, they’re safe. They’re also very scared. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I assume we all share the same basic desire, that no matter what, Daniela and Charlie can’t be harmed?

Jason92: Yes.

Jason49: Yes.

Jason66: Yes.

Jason10: Yes.

Jason25: Yes.

Jason4: Yes.

Jason28: Yes.

Jason14: Yes.

Jason103: Yes.

Jason5: Yes.

Jason16: Yes.

Jason82: Yes.

Jason9: I would rather die than see anything happen to them. So here’s what I’m proposing. Two days from now, at midnight, we all meet up at the power plant and conduct a peaceful lottery. The winner gets to live in this world with Daniela and Charlie. Also, we destroy the box, so no other Jasons find their way here.

Jason8: No.

Jason100: No way.

Jason21: How would this work?

Jason38: Never.

Jason28: Prove you have them or f*ck off.

Jason8: Why chance? Why not fight it out? Let merit decide.

Jason109: And what happens to the losers? Suicide?

JasonADMIN: For the sake of this conversation not becoming incomprehensible, I’ve temporarily frozen all accounts from participating except me and Jason9. Everyone else can still watch this conversation. Jason9, continue please.

Jason9: I realize there are many ways this could all go wrong. I could decide to not show up. You’d never know. Any number of Jasons could choose not to participate, to essentially wait in the wings for the smoke to clear and then do to one of us what Jason2 did. Except that I know I’ll keep my word, and maybe this is na?ve on my part, but I think that means all of you will too. Because you wouldn’t be keeping your word for us. You’d be keeping it for Daniela and Charlie. The other alternative is for me to take them and disappear forever. New identities. A life always on the run. Always looking over our shoulder. As much as I want to be with them, I don’t want that life for my wife and son. And I don’t have the right to keep them for myself. I feel so strongly about it, I’m willing to submit myself to this lottery, where, judging by the sheer number of us involved, I’m almost certain to lose. I have to talk to Daniela first, but in the meantime, spread the word. I’ll be back online tomorrow night with more details, including proof, jason28.

JasonADMIN: I think someone already asked, but what happens to the losers?

Jason9: I don’t know yet. All that matters is our wife and son living out the rest of their lives in peace and safety. If you feel otherwise, you don’t deserve them.



—

Light coming through the curtain wakes me.

Daniela is in my arms.

For the longest time, I just lie there.

Holding her.

This extraordinary woman.

After a while, I disentangle myself and grab my pile of clothes off the floor.

I dress by the remains of the fire—nothing but a bed of coals—and throw on the last two logs.

We’ve slept in.

The clock on the stove reads 9:30, and through the window above the sink, I see sunlight angling down through the evergreens and birches, making pools of light and shadow across the floor of the forest as far as I can see.

I head outside into the morning chill and step down off the porch.

Past the back of the cabin, the property slopes gently to the edge of a lake.

I walk out to the end of a snowcapped pier.

There’s a rim of ice a few feet out from the shore, but it’s too early in the season, even with the recent storm, for the rest of the lake to have frozen.

I brush the snow off a bench, take a seat, and watch the sun creep up behind the pine trees.

The cold is invigorating. Like an espresso shot.

Mist rises from the surface of the water.

I register footsteps squeaking in the snow behind me.

Turning, I see Daniela coming down the pier, following in my footprints.

She’s carrying two steaming mugs of coffee, her hair is a gorgeous wreck, and she has several blankets thrown around her shoulders like a shawl.

As I watch her approach, it occurs to me that in all likelihood, this is the last morning I’ll ever get to spend with her. I’ll be returning to Chicago first thing tomorrow. Alone.

Handing me both mugs, she takes one of her blankets and wraps it around me. Then she sits on the bench and we drink our coffees and stare out across the lake.

I say, “I always thought we’d end up in a place like this.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to move to Wisconsin.”

“When we’re older. Find a cabin to fix up.”

“Can you fix things up?” She laughs. “I’m kidding. I know what you mean.”

“Maybe spend summers here with the grandchildren. You could paint by the lakeshore.”

“What would you do?”

“I don’t know. Finally catch up on my New Yorker subscription. Just be with you.”

She reaches down and touches the piece of thread that’s still tied around my ring finger. “What’s this?”

“Jason2 took my wedding ring, and there was a point early on where I was beginning to lose my grasp on what was real. On who I was. If I’d ever been married to you. So I tied this string around my finger as a reminder that you, this version of you, existed.”