“There must be another way,” you say, lowering your weapon. “Murdering some other version of myself can’t possibly be the answer.”
“Wait, what?” the other you says, bewildered.
“What if I just don’t go through the portal this time?” you ask. “That’s a paradox, isn’t it?”
Professor Velociraptor frowns and shakes her head. “It has to be more severe than that. The universe will want to fix it. It’ll find a way to work itself out.”
“Yeah, I really feel like I should go through that time portal,” the other you says. “How do I do it? Just push this button here?”
“No!” you shout as the shimmering vortex appears. You grab your other self by the arm. “We have to figure this out! If you go through, you’ll have to kill me to make a paradox! Or I’ll have to kill you, or…” Now you’re getting confused. Is this going to make a third version of you show up? Your doppelganger tries to get free from your grasp, so you wrestle yourself to the floor and wind up tangled together in a big heap. You literally can’t tell if the arm pushed up against the side of your face belongs to you or… you.
“I know it seems drastic, but you must do this to create an impossible eventuality in the timestream and peel yourself off the space-time continuum,” Professor V. says.
Your doppelganger gives you a pathetic look, which you recognize as your “please do not murder me” face.
“Wait!” you say. “What if we destroy the time travel device?” There are now two copies of the time bracelet—one on your wrist and one on your alternate self’s. If you destroy the other one, your double can’t use it to make the time jump, become you, and destroy it in the first place. Paradox! It’s a little convoluted, but it has to be a better option than self-murder.
“Brilliant!” the other version of you says. “We should totally do that! I’m in if you’re in.”
“Please don’t,” Professor Velociraptor says.
No, you’re pretty sure this will work. If you go ahead and destroy the time travel bracelet, turn to page 94.
If you listen to the professor and back off, turn to page 151.