I’m in a state of utter shock. I’ve been a bit of a mess after last weekend’s escapade, but I finally plucked up enough courage for another trip to Schlitz Stadium earlier tonight. According to the schedule I saw last time, the Hops are on a trip to Detroit, and I thought it might be a good opportunity to look around a little, or maybe even find a way to get down onto the field. So I fired up the old cathode ray, opened up the wormhole and hopped in. The press box was dark and empty, as I had hoped. It was a clear night, and there was a light breeze coming in through an open window. I was about to head out into the concourse when something fluttered across the front table and caught my eye. I walked over, grabbed it, and my heart stopped:
Okay. Two things.
First off, 1953. Strangely enough, this one doesn’t faze me so much. The signs have been there all along: references to the pennant race, a "new" expansion team in L.A., the 154-game season…. It seemed too audacious to believe, but the possibility has always been in the back of my mind. The real takeaway here is that now I’m traveling in both time and space. It’s been theorized that time-travel through wormholes is possible, but most physicists seem to think that it can only be done in the other direction – that there could be ways to travel into the future, but never into the past. Clearly, I disagree. I’ll try not to bore you, but this has something to do with the "Roman ring" I described to you before (the stable group of wormholes I’ve discovered), the idea that matter exhibits wave-particle duality, and something called the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. Basically, I think I might actually be traveling very quickly through multiple wormholes. I hop into the mouth of one, somehow get whipped around near the speed of light, then hop off through another and into Schlitz Stadium. Going back I do the same thing, in the opposite direction. Yeah, it’s nuts, but the theory is all sound, so far as I can tell.
Besides, the nature of this place I’m visiting is more intriguing anyway. Clearly, it’s some kind of parallel universe. So my question is this: how did it get there? There’s this theory that we’re living in something called the multi-verse, where there are an infinite number of parallel universes that account for everything that does exist, but also everything that could exist. Like, each time you make a decision, some new parallel universe pops up to account for every possible outcome. An example: I had toast for breakfast this morning, but for a moment I thought about making eggs. Well, in a parallel universe somewhere, I chose eggs. See? So pretty soon the whole thing gets way out of hand. There are millions of branches created every day based just on your decisions. Try multiplying that by 7.1 billion people in the world, and you just want to curl up into a ball and have a cup of hot cocoa.
Personally, I think that the multi-verse is cyclic. Meaning that all of these trillions upon trillions of parallel universes are basically bumper cars zipping around on a giant extraterrestrial track. And each time they crash into one another, it creates a Big Bang. At which point, everything within those universes ceases to be, and it all starts anew. And really, this could happen at any time. It could happen to our universe right now. Of course, versions of us would still be whizzing around somewhere out there, wreaking cosmic chaos with each inconsequential decision we make. Eggs or toast? Whoosh. It boggles.
All of this means that what I’ve found in Cream City is incredibly, incredibly improbable. Maggie says it’s 1953. So somewhere, at least 61 years ago, but not before the invention of baseball, somebody made a decision that led to a parallel universe. And that universe led to more parallel universes. And so on and so on until Milwaukee became known as Cream City, its baseball team was named the Hops, and Maggie Piper decided to take Journalism 101 her freshman year of college. Depending on where that initial split was, the Cream City universe could have certain shared events with our universe. World War I, for example. Babe Ruth, maybe. Who knows? It’s absolutely fascinating.
Now on to the second thing, and this is the one that has me seriously freaked. What do I do? Should I acknowledge this note in some way? Do I dare ever return to Cream City? At this point, I owe it to science to keep on exploring, right? And I didn’t even think of this until after I got back, but should I have taken the note at all? Probably not. I should have just ignored it. So do I sneak back through and return it while the Hops are still on the road? Last week I wrote about not knowing whether to remain detached or become a participant observer. Now I feel as though I may have forced my hand. I have some serious thinking to do this week. One way or the other, you’ll be hearing from me soon.