The Truth About The Many Worlds Of Printed Pages

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The interior of the old house was in stark contrast with the wilderness surrounding it on the outside. It was unexpectedly bright, modern, and minimalistic.

"Welcome to the Bibliophiles' Society," a well-dressed, middle-aged man greeted them at the door.

After they all shook hands, and the man introduced himself as George O'Neil, the Society President's First Secretary, he led them down a long, well-lit corridor lined with multiple doors, towards another tall, closed door.

He knocked before opening it, then beckoned them to walk inside even as he announced, "Miss De Angelis and Mr Boyd have arrived."

Siena's grip on William's arm tightened; she didn't seem to like this place one bit. Meaning to reassure her, he patted her hand soothingly, but it had the opposite effect-- she let go of his arm and took a step away from him as if she only remembered now that he was there.

He gave her an inquiring, raised-eyebrow look, but Siena only shrugged in response. She was definitely puzzling him.

"Welcome. Take a seat, please." A voice reached them from across the vast room they had entered.

A room containing a long table made of bright wood situated in its centre, with six people already seated behind it. There were several other similar tables buried under clusters of strangely looking objects, machines, and other weird, scientific equipment placed along the room's white walls. It wasn't an office, but it was not a laboratory either.

Two empty chairs were arranged in front of the table in the middle of the room, and while George rushed to his own seat, the man who had spoken before pointed those seats out to Siena and James.

They sat down, and Siena did not object when William pulled his chair closer to hers. Whatever was about to pass, they were in it together.

"My name is Christopher Wilkinson, I'm the current President of this Society. Just like your father, William, and your grandfather, Siena, had been before me," the man, maybe as old as George the secretary said, smiling at them.

"Wait, I remember you! I was with dad a couple of times when you two met... but it was a long time ago, I was no older than ten!" William called, making Siena look at him curiously.

"That is correct," the President smiled. "Unfortunately, the two of us have never met before, Siena. You were only just born when your grandfather passed away, and even though your grandmother continued to work for us, together with James' father, she never permitted any of us to meet you. However, you are both here now, and we hope you'll continue in their steps," Mr Wilkinson concluded.

"What is this Society about?" Siena asked cautiously, not wanting to commit to anything before she understood. She let her eyes travel over the people at the table in front of her, then the objects clustered on the tables lining the walls. She wasn't sure about this.

"We are getting to it, Siena." The man smiled at her.

"You are just like your grandmother," the only woman seated at the table spoke suddenly, "we were very close friends, she and I, you might know my name. Alicia Waterstone."

"I... do. Grandma did tell me some things about a certain Alicia, her friend..."

"That's me." The ancient woman giggled, her wide smile adding yet more wrinkles to the infinity of those criss-crossing her kind, open face. "You wouldn't believe how much fun we used to have..."

"I'm sure that you two can talk later, Alicia. Right now, we should give them the explanations they're waiting for."

"Of course you're right, Chris," Alicia spoke to the middle-aged president in a motherly tone, making him look like a little boy who needed to feel important. "Explain away."

'Chris' nodded his head covered with thick, salt and pepper curls to her thankfully, then turned to Siena and James. "Have you ever thought that you were different?"

The two young people exchanged a quick, puzzled look before William asked, "Different how? What do you mean, exactly?"

"You both read exceedingly. You, Siena, chose to study art history, but it's fiction, the worlds contained in books that interest you more than anything else, correct?" an old man, sitting at the table next to Alicia, asked.

Siena nodded, observing his shock of white, wild hair making him look a little like Einstein, wondering just how he knew that about her.

He smiled, then turned to her companion. "And you are just the same, James. You are a journalist, a very clever inventor, and a skilled painter, but it's books, the fictional worlds that really attract you. Between you two, you've already read more books than most scholars do during their entire lives."

"Fine, you might be right," Siena admitted. "So? What does it mean?"

"It means that you are our next couple, if you'll agree, of course," Christopher replied.

James thought that the conversation was, somehow, flowing around in circles. They have been here for at least half an hour now, but he was none the wiser than before. He was just opening his mouth to complain when Siena beat him to it.

"Look, Christopher, Alicia, all of you, I did not come here all the way from Florence to find out that you know that I like books. And I'm sure that James did not need to hear that either. Will any of you finally tell us something that we don't know? Please?"

He couldn't have said it better himself, James thought, smiling at Christopher's surprised expression.

But the man collected his wits fast. "Think about the many-worlds theory, Siena. Parallel worlds constantly branching off from each other, nanosecond by nanosecond without intersecting or communicating. Take that towards philosophy. Add possible-worlds theory and fiction theory, and you'll understand what our Society does," he said seriously.

James heard Siena take a deep breath even as she leaned a little more into him before she asked, "Are you... talking about multiverse?"

She was lost. James did not understand everything Christopher had said, but he could help her understand at least something before the others would decide how to explain the rest.

"Not exactly, Siena. Multiverse pictures many self-contained universes in... different regions of space and time. The many-worlds theory sees them all at the same level." James spoke softly so the much more complicated terms of those talking at the table could finish the picture for her.

"Very well said, James," Alicia's voice reached them, making Siena, who was completely absorbed in James' words, start. He actually managed to make it all sound interesting to her.

"Thank you, Alicia, but what about the fiction theory? What does that have to do with this?" James asked her.

Alicia nodded, then turned to the other members of the Society, "Silence, please. I'll explain the rest."

Once they all quieted down, the old woman spoke to Siena and James. "Let us direct this argument a little more towards philosophy. Think of our many worlds, as possible worlds. Possible fictional worlds, existing in those books you love to read. What if every single one of those imaginary worlds is real? And what if you two, working together, might have a chance to change them? To create happier lives for many, many unfortunate and tragic characters? It would not change the books for the readers in our world; you don't have to worry about that. You would only make their lives better in their own universes."

After a while of perfect silence, which followed the old woman's explanation, Siena and James asked in unison, "How?"