Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. He'd first seen her the night he checked in, wearing the same jeans as now. Then she'd had a brightly colored T-shirt under a short sweater, but now an expensive looking blouse of dark blue paired with the faded denim. He watched her order a drink at the bar and take a table for two halfway across the nearly empty lounge. He closed the lid of his laptop, completely disinterested in the proposal he'd been ignoring for some time, and sipped his drink. She was young, maybe thirty at most. Slim, a casual grace to her movements, dark brown hair and dark eyes, a little thin for his taste but very attractive. She slipped on a pair of thick rimmed tortoiseshell glasses and flipped through a notebook, ignoring the glass of wine on the table in front of her. She scribbled, her brow furrowed, her lips pursing, then frowning. She scribbled some more. He'd only had one drink before this one, and this one was still half full, so he drained it quickly and got up to order another from the bored looking bartender. He noticed her notice him, however briefly, before she returned her attention to the notebook. He was suddenly intensely curious about what she was writing. He didn't feel buzzed enough to walk up to a strange woman in a hotel bar, but he found himself doing it anyway. His arms tensed for some reason as he approached her table, and he forced himself to relax. She didn't look up until he was only a step away, and he stopped when her eyes grabbed his and held them, her brown eyes intense, gazing at him, her eyebrows slowly climbing, her lips barely curling at their corners to form a guarded half-smile. "Hi," he said simply. - - - She looked up at the approaching figure and saw the older guy she'd noticed a night or two ago. They'd been checking in at the same time, her with her cheap department store roller bag, him with a much more expensive and well-weathered model of leather, and an equally traveled laptop brief. She remembered his designer jeans and sport coat, but now he was in the remains of a black two-piece, the jacket of which was slung casually over the chair at the table he'd abandoned to approach hers. He was older than her, but not by a lot. She guessed he'd be forty, maybe a couple years older. He was handsome, but not overly so, greying hair, a body like he wasn't a complete stranger to gyms. He had a rocks glass with a medium caramel liquid in it, not straight liquor, but close. Almost everything about him looked expensive, but worn. He said hi, and she stared at him. "Hello," she finally said back, not sure what else she might do, not wanting to ask what he wanted, but wanting very much to know. He seemed unsure, as if he'd come over to say just that and hadn't planned for much beyond it, and she found herself smiling a little wider as the silence stretched. "I... uh..." he began, looking in the direction of his own table, and then back to her, managing to avoid looking at her open collar, which was a little impressive. "I was just wondering if you're alone. If you wouldn't mind some company," he concluded, sounding a bit like a nervous high school boy she'd once known, seeming almost as harmless, at least right then. She didn't know what to say, really, having not gotten used to men hitting on her, if that's what he was doing. Of course it was, silly, and you should really say no and leave here right now, forget the drink, you're alone in a strange city, be cautious, be reasonable, be realistic. "Sure," she shrugged, her hands opening in front of her, then moving to flip her notebook closed and fidget with her pen while he pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down. "Why not," she added, trying to sound flippant and casual, but feeling suddenly very nervous indeed, like he'd moved into a space that had previously been hers alone. - - - If anything, she was prettier up close. She'd taken off the glasses, her eyes lighter brown than they'd seemed before. They were beautiful. She smiled cautiously at him over the rim of her glass when she sipped, and leaned back in her chair, away from him, crossing her arms over her chest, clutching her drink at her elbow. So defensive, he thought, but didn't know how to put her at ease. "I'm Laura," she finally offered, reaching a slim hand across to him, his own moving to take it before he replied. "Michael." She smiled then, and he couldn't help smiling himself. "What brings you here?" he asked, trying to start a conversation. "Work," she admitted, tilting her head slightly. "Same for you, I guess?" "Yeah. I guess it's pretty obvious." She nodded at that, her hair playing about her collar in a very pleasant way. He felt more inxoxicated than he was, or maybe had drunk more than he thought. His stomach felt light and indistinct. She seemed close, warm, and unreachable. They exchanged boring details about work and travel, agreeing it could be unpleasant at times, but not so bad others. He offered that this trip wasn't bad at all, now that he'd found someone to spend a little time with. - - - He was easy to talk to, she had to admit. Engaging, funny, and his subtle flirting was easy enough to deflect or, if particularly clever, maybe even respond to in kind. She'd finished her drink and ordered another, and now had put her laptop away and consigned herself to getting nothing work-related done as long as there was something more entertaining to do. Their conversation was energetic, ranging from topic to topic with ease. Some silent, mutual assent found them getting a table together in the restaurant half of the hotel bar, and they ordered appetizers. She got another drink. He'd probably had three while he was with her, those tawny lowballs, and was starting to show the effects in their topics of discussion, if not his mannerisms. He was saying something about black holes. "What?" she shook her head, grinning. "Sorry, I drifted there. I have no idea what you're talking about," she giggled. He smiled widely. "It's ok," he dismissed. "I was just asking if you'd heard of Hawking's Information Paradox. That black holes destroy information, and what Hawking came up with as a solution." "No," she laughed, "I certainly haven't. I mean, I know who Stephen Hawking is, but... what were we just talking about?" "Possibilities," he said softly. They'd been joking about possible outcomes to... well, a variety of things. What it would be like if you could tell the future, or knew in advance when only certain things would occur. What it would be like if you'd done something different in the past, at a pivotal moment in your life, like her deciding to turn and walk out of senior prom when she'd suddenly decided that yes, in fact, she DID want to go with David and had no idea why she'd said yes to Paul. "Yeah..." she replied, "it does make you wonder what would be different now, doesn't it? So what did Stephen say?" she sipped at her drink, but found it empty, and turned to look for their waiter. "Well the whole problem was that information can't be destroyed," he said, and she realized he'd just said this a moment ago, when she was off in her examination of how drunk he was. Or wasn't. "And that's a problem." "Why?" "I'm..." he chuckled. "Not sure. But it's a big problem, so Hawking had to solve it. And the way he solved it was to theorize that there isn't just one universe, but many, billions even. And another one is created every time you make a decision." He paused, waiting to see if she'd catch the link to their earlier topic of choices and possibilities. "I don't follow," she admitted, and he grinned, probably glad he was able to maintain an edge over her in the smarts department, which had been debatable over the last hour or so. "Well, the theory goes," he began, pausing for the waiter to deliver her fresh drink, "that any time something happens in the universe, every possible outcome happens at the same time. That each of these outcomes defines a new universe. A multi-verse." "OK, so..." she raised her eybrows, at least a little interested in where he was going with all this. "So every time you make a decision, you actually make all possible decisions. And versions of you in all those different universes go on with their lives, changed a little bit by whatever decision was made." "Versions of me, eh?" she grinned. "Millions of them," he smiled back. "Each one a little different, having made slightly different choices. Or wildly different choices, maybe." She thought about David and Paul again, at the prom. One of her had stayed with David, and maybe... "I wonder if any of them are happier than me," she mused. "Or richer. Or more successful." He smiled at her again. "The odds favor it. But then, there are probably just as many that aren't." "So maybe I'm perfectly average, taken for all? All of me?" she laughed then, the idea getting rather absurd. "If you are, then..." he laughed also. "I don't know. I'm not a physicist. It's just an interesting idea, that every time you make a choice, you make them all. Any time you decide whether to do something or not, you both do and don't do it." "And make a new universe," she concluded. "Exactly. For example, there's a universe where I didn't come ask you to sit down and chat. I'm just glad this isn't that one." So was she, truth be told. But the invitation for a riposte was there, so she took it. "And there's one where you asked, and I told you to beat it." He laughed at that and drained his cocktail. "And maybe one where you came over to me?" "Or I ordered the beef tips and not the shrimp cocktail," she nodded. "But what does this have to do with the black holes? The information paradox?" she asked, suddenly remembering where all of it had begun. "Oh," he wrinkled his forehead. "Yeah. That." He chuckled. "Hawking said that it was OK if we thought some information was lost, because in the whole of the multiverse, there are universes where it isn't lost, so it's not *really* lost at all." "And that somehow makes it all OK?" she concluded, and watched him nod. "I guess so." They fell silent for a few minutes, and she grew increasingly anxious in the lengthening pause, for what reason she couldn't say. Half her drink was still in the glass in front of her, but she felt a bit like it would be too much if she finished it, so reluctantly, but also with some relief, started gathering her belongings together. "Well Michael," she began, "it's been great fun talking with you. More than I'd have had otherwise, for sure." "I enjoyed it also," he said, and reached across the table with one hand. "Pleasure meeting you, Laura." Taking his hand in hers, she bowed from the waist as best she could from her seated position, and thanked him. "Very nice to meet you, as well." He didn't release her hand right away, and she sat, motionless, waiting for his light grip to lessen, but it didn't, and she was about to say something about needing to go when he spoke softly. "Would you like to come up to my room?" His eyes met hers and she, with some effort, kept any expression off her face. She'd been expecting a full-blown pass, but was really surprised when she found herself thinking about what to say. 'No' was the obvious choice, the one she was certainly going to make, and it was just a matter of how politely she said it. Right then it hit her, and she burst out laughing, his expression turning to puzzlement just before it changed to amusement, and he joined her in laughing, and let go of her hand. She thought for another moment before she answered. "I'm flattered, really, but I can't. I'm just..." "It's OK," he interrupted, "it was inappropriate for me to ask. I apologize. You're just so much fun to be around, and I didn't want it to end." "I don't either, but I do have to work in the morning, and I'm sure you do to," she continued. She noted the waiter had come with their bill, and mentally complimented him on his expert attention to detail. "Let me apologize by picking this up?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. "Only if you let me cover the tip," she countered, and with that agreement reached they settled the bill together, her with her credit card and him by signing to his room number, 735. She was on the 7th floor, as well, in 718, and she pointed out the coincidence. "I'm not sure what to make of that," he grinned, "maybe we can meet up again while we're both in town? Have dinner someplace?" He noted the look on her face and retreated a bit in tone and intensity. "Just keeping each other company." She recalled the substance of the conversation just before, and the realization she'd had when he'd asked her to his room, and replied carefully. "Well, if you're right about this Hawking thing, I'm going to make both decisions anway. I'll say yes, and I'll say no." He laughed. "I guess you will at that. I just hope in this universe, you'll say yes?" he questioned, and she looked at him a long time before she answered. "What happens if I don't decide at all? If we just leave it to chance?" she mused, and watched him think it over, try to think of something clever to say. "I guess that means yet another universe is created. The one where you don't say yes OR no." They looked at each other for another moment or two, and she quietly got up, collected her purse and laptop bag, and walked away. But something bothered her, something about the way he asked, or how embarrassed he'd seemed at having done so, and before she got to the door leading to the hotel lobby, she turned and walked back to the table. If he was surprised at her return he didn't show it, but his face did indicate he was pleased about it. She knew what was bugging her now and was at least a little annoyed. What kind of girl did he think she was, anyway? "Just one thing," she asked, standing next to her seat. His eyebrow raised in question. "Do you often pick up women in bars?" He took a deep breath before he replied. "I don't expect you'll believe me, but this is actually the first time I've tried." She pursed her lips at him, considering, fingering the strap of her purse in one hand. "Actually I do believe you," she said softly. "But now I want to know why..." she paused. "Well, why me?" "I guess it was just all that talk of possiblities," he replied, almost perfectly echoing her own thoughts. "I made this the universe in which I'd ask such a question, where I'd never have done so before." She had to smile at that, because she could tell how genuine he was being, and now that he'd done it and she'd said no, he seemed more relaxed about the whole thing, that it was just something to be discussed or analyzed, and not something he'd actually done that needed justification or explaination. "And I hoped maybe," he continued quietly, "that it'd also be the universe where you said yes." She smiled, holding his gaze for a moment, nodded her acceptance, and again turned without a word and walked away. - - - He was surprised to hear a knock at his hotel room door as he was getting ready for bed, but not as surprised as he was when he saw who was standing in the hall when he opened it. She smiled at his clearly stunned expression, and crossed and uncrossed her arms in front of her, biting her upper lip, incredibly nervous, until she finally said what she'd planned to say. "Let's make another universe."