Free Caine's Law by Matthew Stover

linguo-psychology of truth claims—”
    “This isn’t a fucking debate. Or a seminar. Jesus.” He shakes his head. “I’d forgotten how fucking aggravating you are.”
    “You never knew in the first place. Isn’t that what you keep telling me? I’m not the Duncan you knew. You’re not the Hari I knew. You and I never met before last night.”
    “Be whoever you want. Answer the fucking question.”
    “But doesn’t my answer have a sensitive dependence on who I really am?”
    “Fucking academics. Quit stalling.”
    Duncan concedes the point with an apologetic nod. “So if I understand the question, the choice is either to leave the world—the universe, reality, whatever—as it is, in all its darkness and disrepair, or to make, ah, mmm … one thing … happen the way I wish it had happened.” He recovers control of his voice along with his professorial detachment. “Knowing in advance that any consequences, for good or ill or otherwise, are wholly inconceivable.”
    “More or less.”
    “It’s a Monkey’s Paw choice.”
    “You say that like I might actually know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
    “A short story, three hundred years ago or so. English author, W. W. Jacobs. ‘The Monkey’s Paw.’ Three wishes—three chances to bend fate to your will, yet each brings only horrors. Changing destiny only makes it worse.”
    “Sure. Except destiny is bullshit, and
worse
depends on who you ask.”
    “I can see why you’d like to believe so.”
    “And that matters exactly fucking how?”
    Duncan finds himself conceding a point again. “Of course. It’s only that … I mean, I suppose …”
    His voice trails away and he lowers himself to the pile of skins beside the campfire. Now he is cold. Weakness creeps along his limbs, and his left hand trembles, and he cannot speak with his eyes open, and so he closes them and gives himself back to darkness.
    “I only want to know,” he says, very, very softly, “if it’s real. If it’s true. If I choose to … to take it back … will it happen?”
    His closed eyes burn. Tears trail down his cheeks. “That’s all. All I want to know. All I need to know. If I decide to change it, will it change?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Maybe? That’s … all? After all this? All you can give me is
maybe
?”
    “Duncan … I thought I was being clear. I guess I wasn’t.” Caine’s voice is low, reluctantly apologetic. “It’s not the change whose consequences are unknowable. It’s the choice. One possible consequence of the choice is … might be … that your change can happen. That’s all I can give you. That’s all there is.”
    “So you’re telling me my choice might destroy the universe … for
nothing
?”
    “Not for nothing.”
    “Ah, I see. Of course. Betrayed by my early training.” The tears rollthicker now, though his voice is detached and distantly calm, like a kindly professor who continues to lecture through even his most fanciful daydreams. “This isn’t a fairy tale.”
    “I wish it was.”
    “Easier for you,” he murmurs. “You’ve never known a world without magick.”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?”
    “It’s not important. And I don’t think I could make you understand.” He draws a deep, shuddering breath. “It really is just the choice. The thing-in-itself.”
    “Yeah. Would you risk the universe to change one thing?”
    “God help me …” The calm in Duncan’s voice chokes on his tears. “You can’t … I’m only a man. You can’t ask me to make this choice. Not if it really counts for something.”
    “Except I do.”
    “… gods …” He finds himself reduced to pleading with figments of other people’s imagination. “… have mercy …”
    “No gods here, Duncan. Just you.”
    He hangs his head. This is not a place for lies.
    “Then yes.”
    His truth is barely a whisper.
    “Yes, I would. For even a chance. For the
hope
of a chance.”
    “Okay. Thanks, Duncan.