Dreams must come true, somewhere

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To him, she was but a feisty young intern, a girl to be thought of as kind and sweet, perhaps with some fondness as that for a younger sibling. To her, her existence now hinged on the one month she had to bridge the wormhole of a thousand years, to beam the information encoded in the particles of another time and place into his mind.

When she arrived through the portal, he had already a woman in his life and in his heart. What could she do but watch, and get on with constructing the scanner, desiring all the more fervently that through entanglement her brainwaves could affect his. In that irrational passion she had given up her home and the company of her kind just to seek him once more. Soon, perhaps even her existence. For as she did not belong in this universe, there will be a slow quantum decoherence of her identity, and those particles of her in the original time and place from which she came had been sufficiently disturbed by the scanning process, such that she existed no more in that plane.

If she could bring the hidden synapses in his brain into this reality, the entanglement of their particles would lend energy to solidify her existence in this universe. Otherwise, the atoms making up her body would dissociate, and so would the distinct interaction of particles that was her consciousness. It was simply improbable that she could return, there being insufficient energy to ensure the integrity of information transferred back.

She had regarded, with a curiously detached amazement as he got down on one knee in front of the woman who is now his wife. How could she not, after he had taken her and a few other close friends into confidence, and sought their help to plan a surprise proposal. All the while she had a smile fixed on her human face - though an almost unbearable longing wrenched her heart - and cheered along as he lifted his wife in delirious joy.

At his wedding red confetti floated through the air, minute scarlet specks racing down the bride’s plush dress, much akin to those drops that had ran down her own beautiful white fur – softer and more luxurious than any material could imitate. Those drops he had wiped away during their first encounter in the woodlands, prising her from the hunter’s trap and nursing her back to health. She gave up that part of the forest which had streams the clearest azure blue, surrounded by wildflowers both flamboyant and dainty, to stay with him.

Those few years were modest but cheerful, yet he would not recognize her again, even if he had seen the same pointed ears and flicking tail, or the little head which grazed his cheek whenever he had any reason to be unhappy. And human technology was hardly advanced as that of her kind, both then and now, so naturally he died much before her. Light at the end of the tunnel was rebirth, where his last remaining brainwaves entangled with those of a screaming new-born somewhere in another universe, and was condensed and hidden away somewhere in the unconscious.

Her kind never cared much for humans, yet she had her consciousness beamed into this human body that would not last. In this last night she had, she expressed her congratulations to him once again, staring at him with those unchanged eyes. Now there are only two possibilities: yes or no, on whether he would recognise her.
He was quiet for a moment, then chuckled, “for a moment there, you nearly reminded me of someone.”

“Who?”, asked she, being unsure what to think and what to hope.

“I don’t know. It was nostalgic, like someone I must have met before.”

That night, a sleek metal device arrived at the teleporter which brought her here. It had two buttons and a condenser antenna at either end, and a note attached.

‘We have found a way that you might continue to exist. Direct this device at the woman whom he loves so much, and the receiving antenna at yourself. Press the red button and her particles would dissociate, and give you enough energy to return. But I know how stubborn you are. If you would be so devoted to him that you should forsake those who miss you here, even though he does not love you, and you have no happiness there, then point the receiving end at his wife and the other at yourself. When you press the green button, the waveform of your consciousness will superimpose onto her physical brain, and rewire her neuronal connections into the form of yours.’

Another two possibilities. She went into his office, and considered the photographs on his desk. The contentment in his expression was one that she was familiar with. She bent down to the photograph, grazing her lips across his cheek. The device trembled in her grip. Then she tensed her arm, and flung it, such that it flew and arced, landing with a soft thud amongst the papers in the trash can.

Onto a canvas, she etched the vibrant emerald hues of trees and the vivid pinks of the sunset behind the cottage they once shared.

Reality is only defined by perception. Quantum beings can exist in more than one state at once, and so could the universe. With every outcome the universe branches into multiple probabilities. She chose to believe that just maybe, in some other possibility, another version of her could be with him.

With the last of her consciousness, she sent her particles spiralling into the still–wet paint, her brainwaves blending into and finally becoming one with the picture, a perpetual state of quantum superposition. The particles of this body, this mind, dissipated just as the first rays streaked across the clouds, and she gave her blessing to her other selves, content that even if only in another reality, he would remember her.