The Man Who Folded Himself

But it seemed the only answer. Every time I changed the past, I was creating an alternate world—

My head was starting to hurt.

Now, wait a minute — I had already changed the past! I had worn different clothes and I had given Dan two hundred dollars to bet instead of one hundred. And the newspaper I had brought with me—

The newspaper, of course! It had been staring at me all the time. FIVE-HORSE PARLAY WINS $57,600!

But it wasn’t a five-horse parlay — not anymore! It was only a four-horse parlay! We hadn’t stayed to bet on bet on Michelangelo. We’d doubled the first bet. It was only coincidence that we’d ended up with the same amount.

But the important thing was: I had changed the past. Just as Don had come back in time to change his past, so I had done the same thing to my past, though not on so large a scale. I remembered my past differently — I remembered different clothes, a different bet and a five-horse parlay. I remembered it the way it had happened to me — and then I had changed it.

So where was my Don — the one I had gone to the races with? Where was he?

The situation was exactly the same: I had changed the past and destroyed the future. So where was he?

Well, that was silly. He was me. He hadn’t disappeared — he was right here. I had simply done things differently this time around.

Ouch.

That meant that the Don who had come back in time with the newspaper was me too. (Of course — but would I have to go back in time to warn myself? No, because I hadn’t let the bets go that far.)

Then, if he was me… there really was only one of me! He would go back to the future — my future, our future — with his memories, but—

But if his memories were different than mine, how could we be the same person?

So the question was still unanswered: Where was the Don I had gone to the races with? The one who had worn a sweater and slacks and bet only a hundred dollars? Where was my good sport jacket?!!

Da

“You want to see it?”

I took it thoughtfully and looked. I took my check out of my pocket and compared them — they were not identical. The check number on Da

Of course, how could they be identical? We were leaving earlier in the day after a different set of bets. The situations were not the same — why should the checks be?

Then, this check I was carrying — it was no longer any good, it was from a world that no longer existed.

And it was the same situation with the disappearing Don; he was a canceled check in this world, wasn’t he?

But the canceled check hadn’t disappeared. I still had it.

(I remembered myself asking if we could cash them both.)

I’d been fooled once by the illusion of the duplicated check, but this time the check had been duplicated!

And if I could duplicate the check, then couldn’t I have duplicated myself?

There was another side to it too.

I’d already eliminated two possible futures: the one where I’d worn slacks and a sweater and the one where I’d won a million and a half dollars.

As far as I knew, both of those Dons had ceased to exist along with their futures. Neither seemed to be still around.

And if I could eliminate them — - what was to keep some other Dan from eliminating me?

Perhaps even now—

No. There must be something I was misunderstanding.

Da

I knew there was an answer.

There had to be.

For one thing, paradoxes were supposed to be impossible.

Oh, sure, I know — time travel makes the most horrendous of paradoxes possible, even probable; but that’s just not so. A paradox would be a violation of the laws of nature. By definition, they’re the laws of nature. And inviolable.

Therefore, paradoxes are impossible.

Because if paradoxes were possible, then time travel would have to be impossible — otherwise, we’d have people killing their grandfathers right and left. We’d have people seducing their mothers or kidnapping their fathers. We’d have time travelers killing the inventors of time machines. We’d have all ma

But time travel was possible. I had proved it myself.

So paradoxes were impossible.

It sounded all very neat when I explained it to myself that way. Paradoxes had to be impossible; therefore, they were. Everything could be worked out logically—

Then, dammit, why couldn’t I work this one out? If this wasn’t a paradox, it was still way ahead of whatever was in second place.

All right. Let’s assume that paradoxes are impossible — then where do I go from here?

The checks, for instance. Obviously, Da

Should I take it forward with me into the future? But then what would Da

My check shouldn’t exist. It was from a canceled world. Da

But I hadn’t. I had tampered with the timestream and didn’t have a valid check at all. And that meant—

—that I was a canceled check too.

Because whatever I did now, this Da

Did I still exist?

Was I about to wink out?

Was it just a matter of time?

Yes — of course it was a matter of time. Ha, ha. The joke’s on me.

No, this couldn’t be right; I was thinking in paradoxes again. After all, I was here and alive — I was me. I hadn’t eliminated Don at all. I had become him and done things differently, that’s all.

Sure — but I still couldn’t stop asking myself what had become of my Don who had done things the other way and the Don who had given me the newspaper and told me not to be so greedy. ("Forget about them — you simply won’t become them, that’s all,” I told myself. “How would you know?” I answered.)

Let’s see… there must be a way to figure this out.

Da

If he takes his check back with him, I won’t have it to cash. On the other hand, if I take it forward with me, he won’t have a check to show his Da

What if I gave Da

My mind began to boggle.

But it was the answer, of course. This Da