Nora looked around and found herself lying in her own bed.
She checked her watch. It was one minute past midnight. She switched on her light.ย ๎ขis was herย exactย life, but it was going to be better, because Voltaire was going to be alive in this one. Her real Voltaire.
But where was he? โVolts?โ
She climbed out of bed. โVolts?โ
She looked all over her ๏ฌat and couldnโt ๏ฌnd him anywhere.ย ๎ขe rain patted against the windows โ that much hadnโt changed. Her new box of anti-depressants was out on the kitchen unit.ย ๎ขe electric piano stood by the wall, silent.
โVoltsy?โ
๎ขere was her yucca plant and her three tiny potted cacti, there were her bookshelves, with exactly the same mix of philosophy books and novels and untried yoga manuals and rock star biographies and pop science books. An oldย National Geographicย with a shark on the cover and a ๏ฌve-month-old copy ofย Elleย magazine, which sheโd bought mainly for the Ryan Bailey interview. No new additions in a long time.
๎ขere was a bowl still full of cat food.
She looked everywhere, calling his name. It was only when she went back into her bedroom and looked under the bed that she saw him.
โVolts!โ
๎ขe cat wasnโt moving.
As her arms werenโt long enough to reach him, she moved the bed.
โVoltsy. Come on, Voltsy,โ she whispered.
But the moment she touched his cold body she knew, and she was ๏ฌooded with sadness and confusion. She immediately found herself back in the Midnight Library, facing Mrs Elm, who was sat this time in a comfy chair, deeply absorbed in one of the books.
โI donโt understand,โ Nora told her.
Mrs Elm kept her eyes on the page she was reading. โ๎ขere will be many things you donโt understand.โ
โI asked for the life in which Voltaire was still alive.โ โActually, you didnโt.โ
โWhat?โ
She put her book down. โYou asked for the life where you kept him indoors.ย ๎ขat is an entirely di๏ฌerent thing.โ
โIs it?โ
โYes. Entirely. You see, if youโd have asked for the life where he was still alive I would have had to say no.โ
โBut why?โ
โBecause it doesnโt exist.โ
โI thought every life exists.โ
โEveryย possibleย life. You see, it turns out that Voltaire had a serious case of โ โ she read carefully from the book โ โrestrictive cardiomyopathy, a severe case of it, which he was born with, and which was destined to cause his heart to go at a young age.โ
โBut he was hit by a car.โ
โ๎ขere is a di๏ฌerence, Nora, between dying in a road and being hit by a car. In your root life Voltaire lived longer than almost any other life, except the one youโve just encountered, where he died only three hours ago. Although he had a tough few early years, the year you had him was the best of his life. Voltaire has had much worse lives, believe me.โ
โYou didnโt even know his name a moment ago. Now you know he had restrictive cardio-whatever?โ
โI knew his name. And it wasnโt a moment ago. It was the same moment, check your watch.โ
โWhy did you lie?โ
โI wasnโt lying. I asked you what your catโs name was. I never said I didnโt know what your catโs name was. Do you understand the di๏ฌerence? I just
wanted you to say his name, so that you would feel something.โ
Nora was hot with agitation now. โ๎ขatโs even worse! You sent me into that lifeย knowingย Volts would be dead. And Voltsย wasย dead. So, nothing changed.โ
Mrs Elmโs eyes twinkled again. โExcept you.โ โWhat do you mean?โ
โWell, you donโt see yourself as a bad cat owner any more. You looked a๎er him as well as he could have been looked a๎er. He loved you as much as you loved him, and maybe he didnโt want you to see him die. You see, catsย know.
๎ขey understand when their time is up. He went outsideย becauseย he was going to die, and he knew it.โ
Nora tried to take this in. Now she thought about it, there hadnโt been any external signs of damage on her catโs body. She had just jumped to the same conclusion that Ash had jumped to.ย ๎ขat a dead cat on the road was probably deadย becauseย of the road. And if a surgeon could think that, a mere layperson would think that too. Two plus two equals car accident.
โPoor Volts,โ Nora muttered, mournfully.
Mrs Elm smiled, like a teacher who saw a lesson being understood.
โHe loved you, Nora. You looked a๎er him as well as anyone could. Go and look at the last page ofย ๎ปe Book of Regrets.โ
Nora could see that the book was lying on the ๏ฌoor. She knelt on the ๏ฌoor
beside it.
โI donโt want to open it again.โ
โDonโt worry. It will be safer this time. Just stick to the last page.โ
Once she had ๏ฌicked to the last page, she saw one of her very last regrets โโI was bad at looking a๎er Voltaireโ โ slowly disappear from the page.ย ๎ขe letters fading like retreating strangers in a fog.
Nora closed the book before she could feel anything bad happen.
โSo, you see? Sometimes regrets arenโt based on fact at all. Sometimes regrets are just . . .โ She searched for the appropriate term and found it. โA load ofย bullshit.โ
Nora tried to think back to her schooldays, to remember if Mrs Elm had
said the word โbullshitโ before, and she was pretty sure she hadnโt.
โBut I still donโt get why you let me go into that life if you knew Volts was going to be dead anyway? You could have told me. You could have just told me I wasnโt a bad cat owner. Why didnโt you?โ
โBecause, Nora, sometimes the only way to learn is toย live.โ โSounds hard.โ
โTake a seat,โ Mrs Elm told her. โA proper seat. Itโs not right, you kneeling on the ๏ฌoor.โ And Nora turned to see a chair behind her that she hadnโt noticed before. An antique chair โ mahogany and buttoned leather, Edwardian maybe โ with a brass bookstand attached to one arm. โGive yourself a moment.โ
Nora sat down.
She stared at her watch. No matter how much of a moment she gave herself it stayed being midnight.
โI still donโt like this. One life of sadness was enough. What is the point of risking more?โ
โFine.โ Mrs Elm shrugged. โWhat?โ
โLetโs do nothing then. You can just stay here in the library with all those lives waiting on the shelves and not choose one.โ
Nora sensed Mrs Elm was playing some kind of a game. But she went along with it.
โFine.โ
So Nora just stood there while Mrs Elm picked up her book again.
It seemed unfair to Nora that Mrs Elm could read the lives without falling into them.
Time went by.
Although technically, of course, it didnโt.
Nora could have stayed there for ever without getting hungry or thirsty or tired. But she could, it seemed, get bored.
As time stood still, Noraโs curiosity about the lives around her slowly grew. It turned out to be near impossible to stand in a library and not want to pull things from the shelves.
โWhy canโt you just give me a life you know is a good one?โ she said suddenly.
โ๎ขat is not how this library works.โ Nora had another question.
โSurely in most lives I will be asleep now, wonโt I?โ โIn many, yes.โ
โSo, what happens then?โ
โYou sleep. And then you wake up in that life. Itโs nothing to worry about.
But if you are nervous, you could try a life where itโs another time.โ โWhat do you mean?โ
โWell, itโs not night-time everywhere, is it?โ โWhat?โ
โ๎ขere are anย in๏ฌniteย number of possible universes in which you live. Are you really saying they all exist on Greenwich Mean Time?โ
โOf course not,โ said Nora. She realised she was about to cave in and choose another life. She thought of the humpback whales. She thought of the unanswered message. โI wish I had gone to Australia with Izzy. I would like to experience that life.โ
โVery good choice.โ
โWhat? Itโs a very good life?โ
โOh, I didnโt say that. I merely feel that you might be getting better atย choosing.โ
โSo, itโs a bad life?โ
โI didnโt say that either.โ
And the shelves sped into motion again, then stopped a few seconds a๎erwards.
โAh, yes, there it is,โ said Mrs Elm, taking a book from the second-to-bottom shelf. She recognised it instantly, which was odd, seeing that it looked almost identical to the others around it.
She handed it to Nora, a๏ฌectionately, as if it was a birthday gi๎. โ๎ขere you go. You know what to do.โ
Nora hesitated. โWhat if I am dead?โ โSorry?โ
โI mean, in another life.ย ๎ขere must be other lives in which I died before today.โ
Mrs Elm looked intrigued. โIsnโt that what you wanted?โ โWell, yes, butโโ
โYou have died an in๏ฌnite number of times before today, yes. Car accident, drug overdose, drowning, a bout of fatal food poisoning, choking on an apple, choking on a cookie, choking on a vegan hot dog, choking on a non-vegan hot dog, every illness it was possible for you to catch or contract . . . You have died in every way you can, at any time you could.โ
โSo, I could open a book and just die?โ
โNo. Not instantaneously. As with Voltaire, the only lives available here are, well,ย lives. I mean, you couldย dieย in that life, but you wonโt have diedย beforeย you enter the life because this Midnight Library is not one of ghosts. It is not a library of corpses. It is a library of possibility. And death is the opposite of possibility. Understand?โ
โI think so.โ
And Nora stared at the book she had been handed. Conifer green. Smooth-textured, again embossed with that broad and frustratingly meaningless titleย My Life.
She opened it and saw a blank page, so she moved to the next page and
wondered what was going to happen this time.ย โ๎ขe swimming pool was a little busier than normal . . .โ
And then she was there.
