Free The Man Who Folded Himself by David Gerrold

would become my Don! That’s why his check would match mine when he went back to meet me. (And he’d test to see if he could change the past too! He’d try wearing different clothes than me: the slacks and sweater!)
    And I’d still end up with the money!
    Yes, of course. It had to be the answer.
    I’d been sitting and staring at the checks for the past ten miles. Now I handed Danny the false one and he slipped it into his pocket without even looking at it.
    (Ha-ha! I cackled gleefully to myself.)
    I realized Danny was saying something: “—what happens now? Do you go back to your time?”
    I grinned at him. “Not yet. First we go out to celebrate. Like rich people.”
    This time, I won the argument over who was going to use the bathroom first. I don’t mind sharing my razor, but at least I ought to get the first shave off a new blade. Danny seemed a little bothered by the pseudo-intimacy of both of us dressing out of the same closet, so I compromised and let him wear the red sport jacket. While he showered, I reset my belt and flipped back to morning, phoned The Restaurant and made reservations for two, then flashed forward again, appearing at the exact instant I had disappeared and in the same spot. The air hadn’t even had time to rush in. (That was one way to minimize the jump-shock.)
    It was at The Restaurant that I began to realize what Don had meant the night before and why he had said what he did. Danny looked so . . . innocent. So unprotected. He needed someone. And I could be that someone—I was that someone; I knew Danny better than anyone.
    He was my “little brother”—I would have to watch out for him; and that would make him feel as secure as I felt when my “big brother” Don was around. It was a strange feeling—exciting.
    â€œYou’ll never have to be alone again,” I told him. (I knew how lonely he was; I knew how much he hated it.) “You’ll always have me. I’ll always have you. It makes more sense this way.” (I would keep him from falling into those bitter, empty moods, those gritty moments of aching frustration. It would be good for both of us.) “I
don’t like being alone either. This way I can share the things I like with somebody I know likes them too.” (No, I would never be lonely again; I would have my Danny to take care of. And my Don to take care of me. Oh, it was such a wonderful feeling to have—how could I make him see?) “I don’t have to try and impress you, you don’t have to try to impress me. There’s perfect understanding between us. There’ll never be any of those destructive little head games that people play on each other, because there can’t be.” It all came spilling out, a flood of emotion. (I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted to hold him.) “I like me, Danny; that’s why I like you. You’ll feel the same way, you’ll see.
    â€œAnd I guarantee, there are no two people in this world who understand each other as well as we do.”

    Life is full of little surprises.
    Time travel is full of big ones.
    My worrying about paradoxes and canceled checks had been needless. If I had thought to read the timebelt instructions completely before I went gallivanting off to the past and the future, I would have known.
    I was right that paradoxes were impossible, but I was wrong in thinking that the timestream had to be protected from them. After all, they were impossible. It wouldn’t have mattered whether I had given Danny a check or not; changes in the timestream are cumulative, not variable.
    What this means is that you can change the past as many times as you want. You can’t eliminate yourself. I could go back in time nineteen years and strangle myself in my crib, but I wouldn’t cease to exist. (I’d have a dead baby on my hands though. . . . )
    Look, you can change the future, right? The future is