Bob was late to the birthday party. He missed the honoree, but he found Sarah. She grabbed his hand.
"Did you know I was coming?" he asked dryly.
"I know it as it happens, just like anyone else," she answered.
"So, you're cured?"
"I wasn't sick."
"What was it, then?" he asked eagerly. "What happened to you?"
"I'm the worst person to ask."
"Why?"
"First you tell me what was wrong with me."
"It was like you were living in a memory," said Bob.
"Exactly!" said Sarah, grinning. "And now it is a memory, so how is it different than any other memory?"
"Do you remember remembering?"
"No. I see everything at once, like a deck of cards spread out."
"You know when you're going to die?"
"I see the whole world, Bob. Like a deck of cards."
"Then," said Bob, "you'll help me save it." It was so odd for him to feel like he needed help.
"It's going to end in the spring. We have to prepare."
"Prepare? We have to fight it."
"Things end, Bob. No matter how much you fight."
"Get Donald to help you. He's better with this passive stuff."
"You don't like Donald," she said. "You think Donald is dangerous."
"One of your cards said that," he replied.
"You went out with me to find out about Donald."
"Yes, and then I couldn't stop myself..." Bob stopped himself.
"I need your help," she said.
"What difference does it make to you? If everything is going to end anyway, why do you need to prepare?"
"We all have an ending," she replied. "Does that mean we should just give up?"
"What? You're the one giving up!" He was surprised to hear his voice so high-pitched.
"I'm just being a realist."
They both started laughing at once. Bob could feel himself loving her.. Horribly, horribly loving her for no reason at all.
"If you see everything that's going to happen," he said, "why try to convince me of anything? Or are you saying exactly what is needed to get me to do what you want me to do... or what I'm supposed to do?" Bob hated the whole idea of prophecy.
"It's not like that," she replied. "The future is not set. The possibilities keep branching out from any action I take. But... it's just that they all converge on this one thing... the end of the world."
"How is it going to end?" he asked resignedly.
"It's going to die of old age."
"What?"
"I don't have any details. It's just this point where the future stops."
"Maybe it's just your own death," he said, even though her death was too monumental for him to comprehend, but she didn't blink.
"No, I see myself dying all over the place, in any number of threads, and they all continue anyway."
"So you don't have to think any more? You just pick a future off of a menu?"
"No, I'm thinking like crazy. I come up with actions and I see their consequences. I make a decision and more options open up. I'm thinking, deciding, thinking, deciding... I've never been more active. I know exactly when to do something."
She took a step toward him. He opened his arms. She kneed him in the balls.
Object: pain.