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This. This is why Pribadium doesn’t like to travel through time, because it
causes headaches. Just because someone looks like you, doesn’t mean they
share your values. Even if you can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that
they are a version of you, you might not be able to trust them. They have
been through different experiences. Even if you literally split from each
other moments ago, one of you was standing on the left, while the other was
on the right. That may not seem like much to a human observer, but that can
alter your whole perspective, and with each passing second, the differences
only compound. Many time travelers recommend not seeing your alternates as
that at all, but as entirely distinct people. Trust, but verify, as you
would a stranger.
With Sora’s help, Pribadium!One has locked Pribadium!Two in a special
holding cell. Since she’s the one who created it, one might assume that she
has a way out of it; that she knows its secrets. It doesn’t work like that.
Pribadium knew that something like this could happen. It was designed with
that in mind, which is why the codes are random. She didn’t think she would
ever have to use this feature, but it was always a possibility. She can’t
risk the other her finding a way out just by drawing from their memories.
One of them is the prisoner, and one of them is the warden. Only the warden
has the code, and it was given to her as soon as that door shut tight.
“Are you going to give me the chance to explain myself?” Pribadium!Two asks.
“What good would that do?” Pribadium!One snaps back. “We’re a liar.”
“You used the collective singular there,” Pribadium!Two points out, “yet
you’re othering me at the same time. You can’t have it both ways, so to
speak. Hear me out.”
“You threatened to kill me, and now you want me to talk and listen to
reason? Oh, honey. Our point of divergence must have been more significant
than I knew.”
“I was never going to kill you,” Pribadium!Two contends. “I just wanted to
shock you for a sec, so you wouldn’t simply roll your eyes and use the
communicator anyway.”
“And look where that got you,” Pribadium!One points out, pointing at the
cell.
Pribadium!Two shakes her head. “But it worked, didn’t it? Now you can’t use
that communicator because you’re wondering what might be worse than me
killing you.”
“But you just said that—”
“It doesn’t matter that I was lying,” Pribadium!Two reasons. “You can’t take
that risk. You’re too smart for that. So tell me, do you want me to explain
why you can’t use that communicator, regardless of whether you calibrate it
for the reality that we’re in?”
Pribadium!One shakes her head again. She doesn’t know what to do in this
situation. Hearing her out could do damage, even if it’s only words. Still.
Even if the only reason Pribadium!Two doesn’t want her to try it is because
it might reveal that this is the main sequence, and the rightful reality in
the universe, it’s not a great reason. They would work it out. She wouldn’t
let the other reality die. They’re not monsters. Right?
“I can practically see the gears turning in your head,” Pribadium!Two muses.
“Have a seat, and I’ll explain. It’s not only about the transversal
communicator.”
Pribadium!One stares at her alternate self. It probably won’t hurt to
hear the explanation, but she can’t give someone who threatened her life the
satisfaction. “When we were down on Doma Tertia, Sora left me in a cell
alone for twelve days.”
“No,” Pribadium!Two argues, knowing where this is going.
“I will see you in twenty-four.” Pribadium!One leaves.
