[ WP ] You 're in a group chat with all different versions of you in different universes/timelines

Fuck, did Sartre have it wrong. Hell isn ’ t other people. Hell is myself. My *selves*. All nine of the fuckers. 
 
 **Connor1**: ok look outbound access is an issue so you ’ ll have to come here. W81 
 
 **oneconnorone**: fuck that 
 
 **thelongcon**: yeah ur world is a dump 
 
 **connie**: Does it really matter where? Travel is travel 
 
 **Con**: E225 has easy visa access for flects. 
 
 **conconcon**: E- side is shit. No way in hell I ’ m going past the cardinal. W127+ or nothing. 
 
 **C**: Anyone keen for an Onanist world? I can ’ t be the only one who ’ s curious. We wouldn ’ t have to get married or anything we could just say we ’ re defacto. 
 
 Thank christ this dodgy-as-fuck sidenet chat only allows ten simultaneous connections; having to deal with more than a few of these funhouse fuckers would be more than I could take, even if it is only via text. For now, anyway. 
 
 I take a few deep breaths and make a conscious attempt to unknot my shoulders. *You need them*, I remind myself. *Keep your cool. You need them*. 
 
 “ Time to shit or get off the pot. ” I mutter, my fingers an aggravated staccato as I type. 
 
 **OrConizer**: Enough. Here ’ s the deal. Meeting is on a world of my choice. It ’ s a partial donation, and you ’ ll get an immediate $ 100k untraceable cross-border W credits to wherever you choose. If you want E credits it ’ ll take a few extra days to organise. Full visa access to a restricted high-W world for both of you for six months. Best medical care available for the donation itself. 
 
 I sit back and wait for the responses, disgust and guilt swirling across an undercurrent of deviant shame. I ’ ve never understood people who were obsessed with flects. I have a hard enough time liking myself most of the time, let alone the fucked-up shadows of myself that physics has cast across the universe. I can still remember the burning curiosity when the walls first tore; I mean, who wouldn ’ t want to see what other versions of themselves and their loved ones existed, there but for the grace of oh-shit-why-did-I-do-that? Of course that particular fantasy didn ’ t last long. There was too much money to be made. The Onanist cults, grief tourism, sex trafficking. Black market organs. The Unique You clinics. Give humanity access to literally endless universes, and sure enough, we ’ ll fuck them all right up. Idealism and wonder have no place here. 
 
 I have enough conscience left that the hypocrisy stings a little. 
 
 **conconcon**: What about full donation? 
 
 **OrConizer**: What do you want? 
 
 **conconcon**: How high-W are we talking? 
 
 **OrConzier**: 750+. Will not specify here for obvious reasons. 
 
 **C**: jeeeeeeeezus 
 
 **Connor1**: holy shit man 
 
 **conconcon**: Changeling deal for myself. I ’ ve got the hookup from my end. I know you can get it from yours. 
 
 *Changeling*. Part of me had feared it was coming, but it still catches me like a punch to the gut. For a few moments all I can do is stare at that single word, so innocuous, so menacing. 
 
 I flick to an on-net connection and look up the sanctioned entry for W126. It ’ s a shithole. Main industry: off-world resource exports. Net migration: negative. Environmental contamination: high. Restrictions: food, water, energy. No unauthorised travel. Life expectancy: < 40 years. 
 
 I hesitate. Hate myself for hesitating. 
 
 “ Daddy? ” 
 
 The single word drops into the silence, rippling out from the silhouette in the doorway. 
 
 “ Baby. What are you doing up? ” Two swift strides and I ’ m at her side, gathering her into my arms. She ’ s impossibly light, her tiny body held together with chemicals and hope. 
 
 “ I can ’ t sleep. Will you read me the dinosaur story? ” She looks up at me, eyes heavy-lidded with threatened sleep. 
 
 “ Sure, baby. Why don ’ t you find the book and get into bed? I ’ ll be right in. ” I put her down gently and watch as she drifts back toward her bedroom. 
 
 I turn back to the screen. Cut the on-net connection. 
 
 I don ’ t hesitate any longer. 
 
 **OrConzier**: Yes. 

