"It might." Okay." Barris braced himself, he wasn't a complete fool. Likely he was going to die horribly. But maybe it would be quick instead of being buried alive in one of the Big Six accounting firms and slowly strangled in audits and meetings.The Destinator closed the switch.Barris flinched. Time, turned sideways, spread out in front of him like an Escher staircase. The incidents of his previous life moved awayfrom him like the steps and risers of a non-Euclidean escalator. Everything he had ever seen, felt or heard; thought, hoped or smelt, happened again; all at once.Naturally, he screamed. He also tried to turn and run, and leap from a precipice and hurl himself into the inferno and every other possible panicky inexpedient method of escape from the pain of being himself; now, then, and forever in a frozen moment.Time had become distance and distance, rotation and rotation, probability and probability, noise and noise, thought... and other even stranger, semantically. They'll notice the different handwriting," he said reasonably.Cherry stretched languidly. Mike was entranced by her breasts now presented so enticingly for him. He quickly considered calling in sick. "Mike, the school has never seen my mom's handwriting. She didn't care about that stuff. I filled out my school paperwork since fifth grade," she said. "I write my own notes." Oh," he said, not quite believing what he was hearing."Hurry," Cherry said, rolling back over and closing her eyes."Oh yeah," he said, the clock not giving him time to consider alternatives. He jumped into his clothes and was running out the door before he had another thought.He had plenty of thoughts during the day. He had thoughts ranging from the pleasure of making love to Cherry to thoughts upbraiding himself as a perverted child molester and horrible teacher taking advantage of a student. He wasn't sure exactly which of those he was.When he arrived home, Cherry was in the kitchen. "Hey," he called out. She.
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