After encountering Jonas’s pathetic doppelgänger—a low-resolution copy of Victor’s nemesis—Victor tasked his computer to scour the multiverse for signs of the quarks and neutrinos thrown off by Jonas’s tether, but those signs went inexplicably dark. Of course, Victor has no way of knowing that the phenomenon was an unintended consequence of Jonas’s “overhaul.” And so Victor continues to search, pushing his machine to its limits. He weaves new algorithms and releases them into his computer models like hounds on the hunt. He codes and recodes and codes again. His computer peers into universe after universe, but each time, his hounds return breathless and empty handed. The multiverse contains a near-infinite number of realities, yet all are quiet.

Victor considers the possibilities. That Jonas could be dead is the first that comes to mind, but in that case, his tether would still be working, casting off telltale neutrinos. Or maybe Jonas and his tether reality-slipped and found themselves underground, their molecules coalescing with that of soil and silt, rocks and pebbles. Such a mishap would likely damage the tether beyond operation, accounting for the lack of detectable neutrinos. The thought of Jonas tortured by dirt in his bones and rocks in his blood brings a smile.

Victor rolls the idea around in his head, envisioning all the myriad ways Jonas could be consumed by the earth. Each vision is more grotesque than the last, but in every one, Jonas’s mouth is agape, caught in the act of a final, silent wail of indescribable agony.

As satisfying as this ending would be, as exquisite a justice as Victor could contrive—Jonas ultimately killed by his own attempts to defy the will of the universe—he knows it’s not the explanation. True, it’s just an instinct, but that same intuition has guided Victor throughout his whole life. It won him Phaedra. It brought him to the zenith of his profession. The fact that that very same instinct lost him both is an inconvenient point he chooses to ignore.

He knows that Jonas is still alive. It’s just that his tether has ceased to function. But that doesn’t mean Victor cannot find him.

Jonas resides in a world not his own. A dog in a manger. An interloper. In whatever reality he has landed in, his presence is unnatural, an anomaly. As a matter of science, such peculiarities should be easy to detect. The multiverse may possess a near-infinite assortment of realities, but it is only a matter of time until Victor locates his nemesis.

And then they’ll finish this.

Though modest in appearance, Sushitei Hikarimachi is considered one of the best restaurants in Hiroshima. White lamps dangle, casting a sheen on the laminated menus, which seem out of place in such a high-end eatery. Jonas and Eva share a table along the wall, where they are served slices of fish so delicate, they’re almost translucent. Sashimi in assorted shades of pink and ivory. Sushi that rises to the level of art.

“Can I ask you a question?” Eva says.

“Of course,” Jonas answers. “Anything.”

“I’ve been avoiding it . . .”

“Why?”

She waves at the air with her chopsticks as though trying to catch the right words with them. “I don’t know. It feels selfish. Or weird. Or something.”

Jonas smiles warmly, trying to recapture some of the camaraderie and lightness that he has enjoyed with Eva in both her incarnations. “Why don’t you just ask and let me be the judge?”

Eva reaches for her sake and drains the small glass. “You told me how you met me before. Well, not before. Elsewhere. Not elsewhere . . .” She shakes her head and furrows her brow. “There’s really no good word for it, is there?”

Jonas shrugs. “Scientific breakthroughs often require new words to describe them.” He studies her and is reminded of her beauty, a quality he’s studiously ignored since meeting her counterpart several universes ago. Why? He casts the thought away. “You want to know what you were like,” he observes, reading her. “If you were different.”

She nods, a hint of embarrassment in her expression.

“You weren’t different,” he assures her truthfully. “You were pretty much exactly the same, right down to the way you picked at your right thumb.”

Eva had been digging at the skin of her thumb with the nail of her index finger, but she stops, instantly self-conscious. But then another emotion replaces it. Jonas has had enough experience with feeling like someone was stepping on his grave to recognize it in someone else, and he knows that he’s just made a serious mistake.

“Why are you using the past tense?” Eva asks.

Jonas’s blood cools, but he plasters a smile over his face. “Because I met you, past tense. I’m not still meeting you.”

Eva leans forward, steepling her fingers. “Do you know what I’ve discovered?” She bears down on him with a polygraph stare. “We’re both horrendous liars.”

Jonas swallows hard. He had led them both into a thicket by mistake. “Do you want to know . . .” He gestures an invitation with his hand, but the offer is clear in its insincerity.

“No.” Eva darkens. A coldness emanates from her. The distance Jonas had begun to feel between them now seems like a chasm. “I think I’ve learned more than I want to.”

She waves for another glass of sake and returns to her meal, her chopsticks pecking away at the fish like the beak of a pelican.

They finish the rest of the meal in silence.

THREE YEARS AGO

Thirty-five Hudson Yards was also referred to as “Tower E,” a hybrid hotel and residential building on Manhattan’s West Side. Although shaped like a prism, the sheets of glass that covered it reflected light rather than refracted it. Jonas wondered if the architects were aware of the irony.

He stepped out onto the roof, which soared over a thousand feet into the air. It was a beautiful spring day, and from this vantage he could see all the way across the Hudson River to Weehawken, New Jersey. Dappled sunlight danced along the surface of the water, looking almost electric.

He remembered a time when looking out from such a height would have unnerved him. Amanda had cured him of that, as she had cured him of so many things. Loving her made him want to be a better person, and all the things that once frightened him now seemed insignificant.

He saw her near the roofline. Her back was to him, and she was gazing out toward Hell’s Kitchen. Her hair waved almost imperceptibly in the gentle breeze. Next to her was a massive canvas, a huge five-foot square resting on a pair of easels. The canvas was coated in intersecting streaks of graphite. Lines plunged toward vanishing points. Although it was still rudimentary, Jonas could make out enough detail to suggest falling rather than flying. It was an unexpected departure for Amanda, whose prior works had always conveyed the idea of soaring.

He took a moment to admire her, the way she leaned on her right leg, cocking her hip almost imperceptibly to the side. The sun drew highlights in her brunette hair. The wind wafted at her T-shirt, making it flutter.

Amanda rarely painted this late into the day. As the afternoon waned, she said the shadows grew too long for her to work. The darkness cast by the city’s skyscrapers were, to her eye, like claws tearing through Manhattan. She preferred to work when the sun was high, and the light was sublime.

But now the sun was going down, and Amanda was flawlessly backlit by it. The sky looked as if it were aflame. Amanda’s burgeoning project was set ironically against what itself looked like a painting. Jonas took out his phone and snapped a photo. It captured her silhouette perfectly, and her inchoate project peeked in just enough to tease what it could become, what she would make it.

Jonas put his phone back in his pocket. “Hey, baby.” She didn’t turn around at first. He assumed she was focused on some detail, so he approached and took it in. Amanda worked in a way such that to see her art up close was to reveal an entirely different perspective, art within art, a painting within a painting. “This one’s coming along,” he commented. “It’s different, though. The vanishing points are lower.” He gestured toward the bottom of the canvas. “See? I pay attention when you explain stuff to me.” His tone was playful.

Amanda still didn’t respond, which was odd.

Jonas looked at her, and in an instant, his worry spiked. Her eyes were red. A tear had carved a line down the dust on her cheek. He felt cold. “Amanda?”

“I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly as she turned to face him. She looked leaden, pinned under some weight.

“What’s wrong?” He felt an urge to take her in his arms but sensed she didn’t want to be held in this moment.

Amanda bit her lower lip, as she often did when she was upset. He could see her straining not to cry. “I saw Dr. Gilberg today.” Jonas’s veins turned to ribbons of ice. He must have looked terrified because Amanda immediately added, “I’m fine. I’m not dying or sick or anything.”

But Jonas felt no relief, could feel no relief. Not until he knew what was wrong. He watched as she bit her lip harder. Her head gave a little shake as her tears started to swell. Her jaw jutted forward, trying to keep sorrow at bay with anger.

“There’s a growth on one of my ovaries,” she managed.

Jonas couldn’t resist any longer. He took her in his arms. He felt her body tremble against his, his shoulder damp beneath where Amanda rested her head. He stroked the back of it. “It’s going to be okay.” He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

Amanda shook her head vigorously. “They have to operate.” She was sobbing hard now. Her tears drenched his shirt as she gripped him tighter. “I hate—” she began. “I hate—” She couldn’t get the words. Tears were getting in the way.

“Hate what, honey?”

“I hate that I’m scared.” The words came in a rush, laced with defiant resentment.

“It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared. But we’re going to take this one step at a time, all right?” He pulled back slightly so she could see his face. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. “It’s going to be okay.” He paused before venturing, “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

She stopped crying but didn’t let him go. “Just hold me.”

And he did. Until the sun disappeared behind the skyline, and the stars began to wink down on them. Jonas hid his fear from view, the expression on his face that asked, What are we going to do now?