Michiko returned that night from Tokyo. She seemed if not at peace at least no longer about to go to pieces.

Lloyd, who had spent the afternoon going over a new round of computer simulations, picked Michiko up at Geneva airport, and drove the dozen kilometers to his apartment in St. Genis, and then- And then they made love, for the first time in the five days since the Flashforward. It was early evening; the lights in the room were off, but there was plenty of illumination seeping in around the blinds from outside. Lloyd had always been more adventurous than her, although she was coming up to speed nicely. Perhaps his tastes had been a little too wild, a little too Western, for her liking initially, but she had warmed to his suggestions as time went by, and he always tried to be an attentive lover. But today it had been perfunctory; the missionary position, nothing more. The sheets were usually damp with sweat when they were done, but this time they were mostly dry. They were even still tucked in along one side.

Lloyd lay on his back, looking up at the dark ceiling. Michiko lay next to him, a pale arm draped across his naked, hairy chest. They were quiet for a long time, each alone with their thoughts.

At last, Michiko said, "I saw you on CNN when I was in Tokyo. You really believe we have no free will?"

Lloyd was surprised. "Well," he said at last, "we think we have it, which amounts to the same thing. I guess. But inevitability is a constant in lots of belief systems. Look at the Last Supper. Jesus told Peter-Peter, mind you, the rock he'd said he would build his church on-Jesus told Peter that Peter would renounce him three times. Peter protested that there was no way that would ever happen, but, of course, he did it. And Judas Iscariot-a tragic figure, I always thought-was fated to turn Christ in to the authorities, whether he wanted to or not. The concept of having a role to play, a destiny to fulfill, is much older than the concept of free will." A pause. "Yes, I really believe the future is as fixed as the past. And surely the Flashforward bears that out; if the future wasn't fixed, how could everyone be having visions of a coherent tomorrow? Wouldn't everyone's vision be different-or, indeed, wouldn't it be impossible for anyone to have any visions at all?"

Michiko frowned. "I don't know. I'm not sure. I mean, what's the point of going on if it's all already fixed?"

"What's the point of reading a novel whose ending has already been written?"

She chewed her lower lip.

"The block universe concept is the only thing that makes sense in a relativistic universe," said Lloyd. "Indeed, it's really just relativity writ large: relativity says no point in s.p.a.ce is more important than any other; there is no fixed frame of reference against which to measure other positions. Well, the block universe says no time is more important than any other-'now' is utterly and completely an illusion, and if there's no such thing as a universal now, if the future is already written, then free will is obviously an illusion, too."

"I'm not as certain as you are," said Michiko. "It seems as if I've got free will."

"Even after this?" said Lloyd. His voice was growing a little sharp. "Even after the Flashforward?"

"There are other explanations for the coherent version of the future," said Michiko.

"Oh? Like what?"

"Like it's only one one possible future, one roll of the dice. If the Flashforward were to be reproduced, we might see a completely different future." possible future, one roll of the dice. If the Flashforward were to be reproduced, we might see a completely different future."

Lloyd shook his head, his hair rustling against the pillow. "No," he said. "No, there's only one future, just as there's only one past. No other interpretation makes sense."

"But to live without free will . . ."

"That's the way it is, all right?" snapped Lloyd. "No free will. No choices."

"But-"

"No buts."

Michiko fell silent. Lloyd's chest was rising and falling rapidly, and doubtless she could feel his heart pounding. There was quiet between them for a long time, and then, at last, Michiko said, "Ah."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows even though Michiko couldn't see his expression. But she must have registered somehow that his facial muscles were moving.

"I get it," she said.

Lloyd was irritated, and he let his voice show it. "What?"

"I get why you're adamant about the immutable future. Why you believe there's no such thing as free will."

"And why is that?"

"Because of what happened. Because of all the people who died, and all the other people who were hurt." She paused, as if waiting for him to fill in the rest. When he didn't, she went on. "If we have free will, you'd have to blame yourself for what happened; you'd have to take responsibility. All that blood would be on your hands. But if we don't-if we don't, then it's not your fault. Que sera est. Que sera est. Whatever will be already is. You pushed the b.u.t.ton that started the experiment because you always had and always will push that b.u.t.ton; it's as frozen in time as any other moment." Whatever will be already is. You pushed the b.u.t.ton that started the experiment because you always had and always will push that b.u.t.ton; it's as frozen in time as any other moment."

Lloyd said nothing. There was nothing to say. She was right, of course. He felt his cheeks growing flush.

Was he that shallow? That desperate?

There was nothing in any physical theory that could possibly have predicted the Flashforward. He wasn't some M.D. who had failed to keep up to date on side effects; this wasn't physics malpractice. No one-not Newton, not Einstein, not Hawking-could have predicted the outcome of the LHC experiment.

He'd done nothing wrong.

Nothing.

And yet- And yet he'd give anything to change what had happened. Anything.

And he knew that if he allowed for even one second the possibility that it could could have been changed, that it could have gone down differently, that he could have avoided all those car crashes and plane crashes and botched operations and falls down stairs, that he could have prevented little Tamiko from losing her life, then he'd spend the rest of his life being crushed by guilt over what had happened. Minkowski absolved him of that. have been changed, that it could have gone down differently, that he could have avoided all those car crashes and plane crashes and botched operations and falls down stairs, that he could have prevented little Tamiko from losing her life, then he'd spend the rest of his life being crushed by guilt over what had happened. Minkowski absolved him of that.

And he needed that absolution. He needed it if he were to go on, if he were to follow his light path up through the cube without being tortured.

Those who wished to believe that the visions didn't portray the actual future had hoped that, taken collectively, they would be inconsistent: that in one person's vision, a Democrat would be president of the United States, while in another's a Republican would be in the Oval Office. In one, flying cars would be everywhere; in another, all personal vehicles would have been banned in favor of public transit. In one, perhaps aliens had come to visit Earth; in another, we'd found that we really are alone.

But Michiko's Mosaic Project was a huge success, with over a hundred thousand postings a day, and it all combined together to portray a consistent, coherent, plausible 2030, each reported vision a tile in the greater whole.

In 2017, at the age of ninety-one, Elizabeth II, Queen of England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Canada, the Bahamas, and countless other places, died. Charles, her son, at that time sixty-nine, was mad as a loon, and, with some prodding from his advisors, chose not to ascend to the throne. William, Charles's eldest son, next in line, shocked the world by renouncing the throne, leading Parliament to declare the Monarchy dissolved.

Quebec was still part of Canada; the secessionists were now a tiny but ever-vocal minority.

In 2019, South Africa completed, at long last, its post-Apartheid crimes-against-humanity trials, with over five thousand people convicted. President Desmond Tutu, eighty-eight, pardoned them all, an act, he said, not just of Christian forgiveness but of closure.

No one had yet set foot upon Mars-the early visions that suggested the contrary turned out to be virtual-reality simulations at Disney World.

The President of the United States was African-American and male; there had apparently yet to be a female American president in the interim. But the Catholic Church did indeed now ordain women.

Cuba was no longer Communist; China was the last remaining Communist country, and its grip on its people seemed as firm twenty-one years hence as it was today. China's population was now almost two billion.

Ozone depletion was substantial; people wore hats and sungla.s.ses, even on cloudy days.

Cars couldn't fly-but they could levitate up to about two meters off the ground. On the one hand, road work was being curtailed in most countries. Cars no longer required a smooth, hard surface; some places were even dismantling roads and putting in greenbelts instead. On the other hand, roads were getting so much less wear and tear that those left intact required little maintenance.

Christ had not come again.

The dream of artificial intelligence was still unfulfilled. Though computers that could talk existed in abundance, none exhibited any measure of consciousness.

Male sperm counts continued their precipitous drop worldwide; in the developed world, artificial insemination was now common, and was covered by the socialized medical programs in Canada, the European Union, and even the United States. In the Third World, birth rates were falling for the first time ever.

On August 6, 2030-the eighty-fifth anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima-a ceremony occurred in that city announcing a worldwide ban on the development of nuclear weapons.

Despite bans on their hunting, sperm whales were extinct by 2030. Over one hundred committed suicide in 2022 by beaching themselves at locales all over the world; no one knows why.

In a victory for common sense worldwide, fourteen of North America's largest newspapers simultaneously agreed to stop running horoscopes, declaring that printing such nonsense was at odds with their fundamental purpose of disseminating the truth.

A cure for AIDS was found in 2014 or 2015. Total worldwide death count from that plague was estimated at seventy-five million, the same figure the Black Death had killed seven hundred years previously. A cure for cancer still remained elusive, but most forms of diabetes could be diagnosed and corrected in the womb prior to birth.

Nanotechnology still didn't work.

George Lucas still hadn't finished his nine-part Star Wars Star Wars epic. epic.

Smoking was now illegal in all public areas, including outdoor ones, in the United States and Canada. A coalition of Third World countries was now suing the United States at the World Court in the Hague for willfully promoting tobacco use in developing nations.

Bill Gates lost his fortune: Microsoft stock tumbled badly in 2027, in response to a new version of the Year-2000 crisis. Older Microsoft software stored dates as thirty-two-bit strings representing the number of seconds that had pa.s.sed since January 1, 1970; they ran out of storage s.p.a.ce in 2027. Attempts by key Microsoft employees to divest themselves of their stock drove the price even lower. The company finally filed for Chapter Eleven in 2029.

The average income in the United States seemed to be $157,000 per year. A loaf of bread cost four dollars.

The top-grossing film of all time was the 2026 remake of War of the Worlds. War of the Worlds.

Learning j.a.panese was now mandatory for all M.B.A. students at the Harvard Business School.

The fashion colors for 2030 would be pale yellow and burnt orange. Women were wearing their hair long again.

Rhinoceroses were now bred on farms specifically for their horns, still highly prized in the East. They were no longer in danger of extinction.

It was now a capital crime to kill a gorilla in Zaire.

Donald Trump was building a pyramid in the Nevada desert to house his eventual remains. When done, it will be ten meters taller than the Great Pyramid at Giza.

The 2029 World Series will be won by the Honolulu Volcanoes.

The Turks and Caicos Islands joined Canada in 2023 or 2024.

After DNA tests conclusively proved one hundred previous cases of wrongful execution, the United States abolished the death penalty.

Pepsi won the cola wars.

There will be another huge stock market crash; those who know what year it will take place are apparently keeping that information to themselves.

The United States will finally go metric.

India established the first permanent base on the Moon.

A war is under way between Guatemala and Ecuador.

The world's population in 2030 will be eleven billion; four billion of those were born after 2009, and so could never have had a vision.

Michiko and Lloyd were eating a late dinner in his apartment. Lloyd had made raclette-cheese melted and served over boiled potatoes-a traditional Swiss dish he'd grown fond of. They had a bottle of Blauburgunder Blauburgunder with it; Lloyd was never much of a drinker, but wine flowed so freely in Europe, and he was at the age at which a gla.s.s or two a day was beneficial for his heart. with it; Lloyd was never much of a drinker, but wine flowed so freely in Europe, and he was at the age at which a gla.s.s or two a day was beneficial for his heart.

"We'll never know for sure, will we?" said Michiko, after eating a small piece of potato. "We'll never know who that woman you were with was, or who the father of my child was."

"Oh, yes, we will," said Lloyd. "You'll presumably know who the father is sometime in the next thirteen or fourteen years-before the child is born. And I'll know who that woman is whenever I do finally meet her-I'd certainly recognize her, even if she were years younger than she was in my vision."

Michiko nodded, as if this were obvious. "But I mean we won't know in time for our own wedding," she said, her voice small.

"No," said Lloyd. "we won't."

She sighed. "What do you want to do?"

Lloyd lifted his eyes from the table and looked at Michiko. Her lips were pressed tightly together; perhaps she was trying to keep them from trembling. On her hand was the engagement ring-so much less than he'd wanted to get her, so much more than he could really afford. "It's not fair," he said. "I mean, Christ, even Elizabeth Taylor probably thought it was 'till death do us part' each time she got married; n.o.body should have to go into a marriage knowing it's bound to fail."

He could tell Michiko was looking at him, tell that she was trying to seek out his eyes. "So that's you're decision?" she said. "You want to call off the engagement?"

"I do love you," said Lloyd, finally. "You know that."

"Then what's the problem?" asked Michiko.

What was was the problem? Was it divorce that so terrified him-or just a the problem? Was it divorce that so terrified him-or just a messy messy divorce, like the one his parents had gone through? Who would have thought that such a simple thing as dividing up community property could have escalated into out-and-out warfare, with vicious accusations on both sides? Who would have thought that two people who had scrimped and saved and sacrificed year after year to buy each other lavish Christmas presents as tokens of their love would end up using legal claws to pry those presents back from the only person in the world to whom they meant anything? Who would have thought that a couple who had oh-so-cutely given their children names that were anagrams-Lloyd and Dolly-would turn around and use those same children as p.a.w.ns, as weapons? divorce, like the one his parents had gone through? Who would have thought that such a simple thing as dividing up community property could have escalated into out-and-out warfare, with vicious accusations on both sides? Who would have thought that two people who had scrimped and saved and sacrificed year after year to buy each other lavish Christmas presents as tokens of their love would end up using legal claws to pry those presents back from the only person in the world to whom they meant anything? Who would have thought that a couple who had oh-so-cutely given their children names that were anagrams-Lloyd and Dolly-would turn around and use those same children as p.a.w.ns, as weapons?

"I'm sorry, honey," said Lloyd. "It's tearing me apart but, I just don't know what I want to do."

"Your parents long ago booked flights to come to Geneva, and so did my mother," said Michiko. "If we're not going to go through with the wedding, we have to tell people. You've got to make a decision."

She didn't understand, thought Lloyd. She didn't understand that his decision was already made; that whatever he would do/had done was described for all time in the block universe. It wasn't that he had had to make a decision; rather, the decision that had always been made simply had to be revealed. to make a decision; rather, the decision that had always been made simply had to be revealed.

And so-

16.

It was time for Theo to go home. Not to the apartment in Geneva that he'd called home for the last two years, but home to Athens. Home to his roots.

It also, frankly, would be wise for him to not be around Michiko for a while. Crazy thoughts about her kept running through his head.

Theo didn't suspect that anyone in his family had anything to do with his death-although, as he'd begun reading up on such things, it became apparent that it was was usually the case, ever since Cain slew Abel, ever since Livia poisoned Augustus, ever since O. J. killed his wife, ever since that astronaut aboard the international s.p.a.ce station had been arrested, despite the seemingly perfect alibi, for having killed her own sister. usually the case, ever since Cain slew Abel, ever since Livia poisoned Augustus, ever since O. J. killed his wife, ever since that astronaut aboard the international s.p.a.ce station had been arrested, despite the seemingly perfect alibi, for having killed her own sister.

But, no, Theo suspected none of his family members. And yet, if any visions were likely to shed light on his own death, surely it would be those of his close relatives? Surely some of them would have been doing investigations of their own twenty-one years hence, trying to figure out who had killed their dear Theo?