"I mentioned earlier about this being an infinite universe. There _must_ be more than just the world you live in and the world I live in. Think it over--millions of everybody making decisions all the time, following one path and discarding another--there must be millions of worlds! An infinite number of them!" Chuck drained his glass and went back to the cabinet to help himself. "It's not just a theory," Charles insisted. "I _know_ there's more than just our two worlds. I've seen a couple of them. I could even take you to them. And every time anyone makes a decision, new ones spring into existence. Do you follow me?" "I guess so," Chuck said. "As much as anyone can follow a thing like that." "I'm still not finished--" "Hold it," Chuck cut in abruptly. "Before we get tangled up any further, what am _I_ doing here?" * * * * * "I had to tell someone," Charles said. "I couldn't keep a thing like this to myself, yet who could I tell? I thought it over and said nothing to anyone in this world, because it suddenly occurred to me that the best person to confide in was one of my hundreds of selves." "Quit it," Chuck begged. "You'll drive me nuts--you and your hundreds of selves!" "You're one of them," Charles reminded him. "The others all exist somewhere. I just happened to reach _you_ by accident. When I started down Hobson's Hill, I didn't know which Charles Mead would be in the town. After all, I've made dozens of big decisions in the past few years. There must be plenty of other Charles Meads in existence." "That still doesn't explain why you brought _me_ here. Don't tell me you intend to round up all the different versions of yourself. If so, count me out!" "You're getting warm," Charles said. "If you'll bear with me a little longer, I'll stretch your imagination again." Chuck groaned and settled down resignedly in the armchair. "If there really are all these worlds," Charles began, "and I can't see why there shouldn't be, then a world must exist where there's a Charles Mead who never made a wrong decision! A Charles Mead who did everything right, who never made a wrong move in his life! Of course there must also be one of us who never made a _right_ decision--to say nothing of all the endless varieties between the two extreme cases. But, of course, I'm not concerned with them." Chuck stood watching the sleeping girl by the ornamental pool, looking back, thinking back over seven years. Then he went over to the cabinet and poured himself another drink--a strong one. "So what if there is a perfect Charles Mead somewhere? What about him?" "I'd like to see him," Charles said. "I'd like to see such a world. Wouldn't you?" "In your place? Not a chance! What's wrong with the world you're in now? It looks good to me. A lot better than mine--beautiful wife, big house, big shot in the company...."