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Everybody was no longer dead because I'd destroyed the timeline. I could work with this!

The first thing I noticed was my nose traveled near the sidewalk and a new-mown lawn. Smells evoked a corgi I knew, and a yellow monster with claws. A collar jerked against my throat. A giant in black heels held my leash.

More useful than the abandoned Los Angeles I'd left: all manzanita brush and tumbledown adobe. I recognized my mother from wedding photos.

I barked. Our beagle had died when I was 9. I could change history by—

She picked me up.

I nipped her finger.

As I fell to the lawn, I scratched at the time crystal thinking about being 9.

...

The flash, the deafening blast: was it an H-bomb at The Port of Los Angeles? I coughed, choking on smoke. My lungs burned—my skin, too. My nylon jacket had melted to my arm. Blinking through fogged eyes, I saw toppled buildings. Columns of black smoke rose to the clouds. Glass sprayed to the street cut my hands.

I'd learned my father was a spook when I'd started work at Los Alamos. A dog bite had butterflied into this?

I brushed the crystal so my death wouldn't make nuclear war my final timeline. I wished I wasn't born.

...

It took minutes to shake the horror this time, though I'd destroyed the world multiple times in the last months. The bed bounced a little, the springs squeaking. I felt comfortable and relaxed into it.

I felt good. Really good.

When I realized why, I jumped back, throwing off the sheets, hitting the headboard, and kicking somebody.

"Honey! Honey!" cried a man whose voice I recognized, scrambling up to grasp my shaking hands. Caring /flowed/ from his touch. His frown in the morning light showed more concern than my father had ever shown me. I was my mother, and I was naked—

He was—

I gulped.

"I'll get you some water," he said, climbing from bed. My vision faded without touching the crystal. I'd interrupted my conception.

...

I rubbed my face as I recognized my high school. It got me looks, and it helped me forget seeing my father that way.

High school. I'd met Leo as a senior, and first learned of his crystallized-time theory. I rushed toward the cafeteria, remembering our table, hoping he was why I was here.

My stomach growled. Either that, or hunger.

I spotted him with a loaded tray—alive as 30 years ago when we'd met—and sat. He scooted away, stuttering. I realized I was a girl only after I'd calmed him down by talking 10 minutes about the physics text next to him.

I could work with this. I wasn't a "dog," I saw, nor a beagle. Leo hadn't gotten laid until 27. I'd give him something better than time theory!

"Condoms," I whispered into my best friend's ear. When disbelief colored his face, I kissed him in front of everyone. Deeply.

I'd been married to Elsa 23 years before I blew up the world, so I punted.

...

He flashed the box of Trojans from his backpack as I led him to the room I knew our quarterback used in building C. Experience as the opposite sex didn't exactly help. I fumbled with my bra, of course. This me, giggly, actually attracted to Leo who'd been my best friend, made it fun to fumble. Maybe, hopefully, I wasn't a virgin. I couldn't make Elsa's trick to inflate the condom work.

I heard that distinctive whine of a charging electronic flash.

Was it frustration at the interruption, or anger? I flung loose clothes and myself at the door, grabbing at a kneeling student. A shutter clicked. Shoes squeaked. Blinded, I still caught the Pentax by the strap, dragging the photographer and throwing a not very good punch.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

"Elsa?" I asked, startled. She'd told me we'd attended the same high school, though we'd met at Uni. As purple lights faded, I glimpsed a younger, hotter, her—with a hand to her nose. She grinned and rolled her eyes.

"We agreed," she whispered. "I'd follow if you landed your lion." She took another shot.

Full frontal of me, not Leo, who stared at us. I spat out the condom. Wasn't going to work now, anyway.

Him.

Her.

"You're alive," I said as it sunk in and I sunk to the floor. The Lion of Time and Elsa my lost lioness. I'd let a moment of their indiscretion spark jealousy that led me to incinerate the world. Months dead, now alive. I began to cry.

A golden glow grew in front of me and Leo said, "T—that's a time crystal!"

"A what?" asked Elsa, clicking the shutter.

No longer embedded in my sternum, it spun, floating, sparkling between us as he knelt to my right and she on my left.

"You see it?" I asked.

"Yes."

I wasn't alone anymore, fixing my mistake! I hugged them, hopeful for the first time in—

A teacher in the hall yelled, "Who's in there?"

[5 hrs. Author retains copyright.]

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