– Hand you're the one we never were sure about. When something had to be done, it wasn't you we went to. I went to Jack and Jack went to me. I trusted Jack. I trust you, too, but I knew, we knew, that you would not be there – not always. You were usually there but you have to always be present. Most of being a man is being there, Hand.
– You're talking about your father again.
– I am not!
– You are.
– I am. He was not there and that means you must! It means I know a man from a worm. And it means I have no patience for men who are worms. For men who are not there.
– But this whole trip, Will, is about you not being there. You're not anywhere. Where are you? Who are you there for? You're halfway across the world, driving at 100 mph through countries you know next to nothing about.
– There was a time when we planned to go into space.
– I did. That was me.
– When we all argued about whether we'd leave everything here to go into space. What we'd do if given the chance to see space on an exploratory mission, without possibility of return. Without possibility of ever seeing family or friends again. It was a choice between the world or your eyes.
– I said I'd go.
– That's why we worried about you, Hand.
– I won't go now.
– Now you wouldn't go.
– No.
We were lying in the forest and had to think of something to do. I had a vision and we would have to enact it. I told Hand that I would climb one of these trees and, once about twenty feet up, I'd jump from its branches to another tree, which I would catch and hang from.
"Can't be done," Hand said.
"Of course it can."
"Not by you. Look what happened to you in Morocco."
"That was different. It was a moving target."
"You'll die this time."
"We're doing it," I said.
"Now?"
"Give me a second."
I needed to rest first. It was still snowing. I needed to be sure.
– Jack.
–
– Jack I know you hate us for doing this. I know you think it's stupid. Everything we've done I know isn't your thing.
–
– Jack I have forced myself to dream of you. I have dreamt of you under ice, awake.
–
– Jack Lord God yesterday we traveled under a baking sun and in forests that looked like our forests. Jack I looked for you between those trees and I know it's stupid but in Saly while we watched a woman who would later be Annette, Hand talked about something called the multiverse and I wasn't really believing anything, wasn't convinced that what he said had any validity or basis in anything true but still then, as my fork ticked against my knife, I wondered over possibilities, and then today I found myself thinking that I would see you. Today it seemed not possible but maybe even probable. Probable here where the landscape was so similar to ours at home and – the multiverse explains dreaming, doesn't it? Fuck Jack I really thought we'd see you. But I don't even know if it's possible for you to live somewhere like this, another you, if you've died in Wisconsin. Is it many selves living at once, dying at once, or do all of our selves have their own path? I should have asked. Why didn't I ask?
–
– But Jack I've spent this day in Latvia thinking I would see you. The people here look like us, look like our neighbors, and the forests look like ours – there was a road today, one we followed looking for the Liv, that bent through pine so much like the road that takes us to Phelps and for a second I thought that yes something like this was possible and yes Hand and I would be delivered to you. I thought for a second that around the bend in the road there would be light and clarity and you'd be there and it would be like some kind of surprise party, you know what I mean?
–
– I just had a moment where I thought something like that was possible, that we would turn around a bend in the road and there would be an explanation, and an end, and we would say Oh, right, there he is. Or, Of course, of course, it was leading up to this all the while. Something like that, you know?
–
– Jack we have been above Marrakesh, to the top of the Atlas Mountains, we went there at midnight or something and we weren't even sure why but we outraced everyone chasing us and then we went up, and the whole while as we climbed I was sure there would be a reason. So often lately I have believed that if we put ourselves somewhere that we will be answered and there will be a reason. That if we see the Atlas Mountains in the dark and are compelled to drive to the top of the Atlas Mountains in the dark that once we've arrived at the top, after passing soldiers and over bridges, that a reason will be revealed to us. Because otherwise why have we come? Our own guidance systems… well, I just don't know if they're working so well at this point, we keep finding ourselves lost between the narrowest alleyways, men holding other men at knifepoint while others cheer and goad, and so many times I've thought that maybe that was the answer itself, that we were meant to stay there with them, that the car in front of us was meant to slow and the car behind us was meant to squeeze us and together they would keep us there, in those dark streets. But then the car chasing was gone, and maybe wasn't chasing us in the first place, and the car we followed we followed further and he pointed us to the mountains. Everything opened up and we were free to go. We're there under the blank sky and we're free to go.
–
– So we went up to the mountain, as the air went cooler and colder, and we illuminated the treetops with our headlights, and all the while we were sure there would be a reason at the top, but then we were at the top, where we imagined the top to be, and we stopped and stepped out onto the road, and could feel that we were at the pinnacle of something, and there was silence. There was no sound of anything – no animals, no water, no birds, no insects, no people, not even the wind pushing through trees. We had come to the mountain, to its apex, and there was nothing. So many times this week Jack, Hand and I have found ourselves somewhere we thought would speak to us and when we got there no one was speaking to us. At the hospital, Jack, I was sure we were being spoken to, that we were being given a chance, that that wretched money would have a point and Hand and I would have a point but then your mom came out to the parking lot with her hands on her head.
–
– A few times out here, and on the savannah, people appeared and made gestures to us, and we gestured to them, but I don't know if we were understanding each other, ever. Sometimes we were. I don't know. We've chosen money as our language, and I don't know if it was the right one. Jack?
–
– You know, though, the worst thing was being on top of that mountain, and having the thought that I wanted to be back below, being chased through those streets. I don't want to tell you this because I'm not in a position to be wishing for these things, and I'm sure you find this offensive considering where you are and why but Jack while up on that mountain listening to nothing, waiting and hearing nothing, and getting cold, I wanted to be back down in those alleys. Jack I wanted to be pursued and wanted to pursue, I wanted to be closer to death than I did to be there in the silence at the top of the mountain. Jack I don't know if you know how quiet it was up there. It was so black! It was much lighter within those streets, and even the knife at the throat of the man being pressed against the wall of the alley seemed to promise so much comfort, the edge of the blade seemed to me to give such love, would be like a finger lightly stroking my neck, and I wanted then, on the roadside when Hand and I had gotten out and were waiting, to be back down there again, lost in that ghetto. There were rules down there, and there was a task at hand, and there were few options and with few options comes such great solace, Jack!