Note: This essay contains mild spoilers about the novel Dark Matter, by Blake Crouch, and the Apple TV+ series based on it.
We all look back on times when, if we’d made another choice, or if things had simply gone another way, our lives would look very different today.
It’s easy to romanticize them with a cavalier, “If only I’d (fill in the blank) back then, I’d be (fill in the blank) now.” It’s a form of regret, especially common among prisoners and audience members of The View.
With that in mind, there’s a fascinating theory to contemplate. It says ours is just one of an infinite number of universes; that there are countless others, where there are countless other versions of you.
Somewhere you’re a pharmacist.
Somewhere you’re a bus driver.
Somewhere you’re a jazz drummer.
Somewhere you’re a CEO.
Somewhere you’re a car thief.
The theory also says that everything that can possibly happen is happening somewhere within these realities.
Like, everything.
Somewhere, the most popular soda is Cherry Tomato Coke.
Somewhere, Top 40 radio is nothing but Sousa marches.
Somewhere, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck actually wrote Good Will Hunting.
Marvel movies have gone all in on this multiverse idea, and it’s also the engine that drives the novel and Apple TV+ show Dark Matter.
About 17 years before the story begins, Jason Dessen had a life-changing decision to make. The Jason we follow—call him Jason 1—had chosen one path. At that exact moment, another Jason—say, Jason 2—made a different choice, which broke him off into a separate universe, or timeline.
Jason 2 is consumed with his physics research, and eventually invents a huge box—helpfully called “the box”—that can transport someone to different universes.
Not satisfied with his life, he wonders if he made the right decision all those years before. He uses the box to find the world where he’d chosen the other path. That’s Jason 1’s world. Jason 2 wants to make it his.
It’s trippy, man.
And it gave me an idea.
Boxing day
Since I have the same “what if?” questions as everyone else, I thought why don’t I pop into some other universes to check up on a few of the other Chrises out there? To see the roads not taken by me that were taken by them?
I needed the box.
Unfortunately, when it comes to physics, I have more in common with Einstein, the dog from Back to the Future, than I do with Albert. And I have enough trouble assembling a cardboard box, so building a quantum superposition box seemed like a steep learning curve.
I was in luck, though. Just a few minutes on Etsy yielded exciting results. Several sellers offered up their homemade versions of the box. I chose one created by a woman named Gwen, whose credentials included a Ph.D. in theoretical physics and numerous five-star ratings for her Schrödinger’s cat finger puppets.
When it arrived, I wasted no time. I knew full well where I wanted to go first: Wendy’s. I was starving. But then I hurried back, got in the box, and closed the door.
That’ll teach me
I decided to begin with one of the most important choices we all make: one’s career. There was a time when I thought I might want to be an English teacher. What would my life be like if I’d followed that plan? I exited the box, eager to find out.
By this point, you’re probably wondering how the box works, along with how I’m able to control which universe it goes to. Those are really good questions.
Anyway, everything in this alternate universe looked much the same at first. I went to my house, baseball cap pulled down so no neighbors could clock me. It turned out Chris 2 didn’t live there.
I pulled out my phone and started searching the socials. You’re probably curious why my phone worked, seeing as how my account didn’t exist in this universe. I don’t know—quarks? Just go with me on this, will you?
Bingo. He belonged to a teachers’ group on Facebook, where he and many others posted about how hard it is to do their jobs these days. Budgets get slashed, so they have to spend their own money on classroom essentials. Students are getting more brazenly disrespectful. Parents are entitled nightmares who always take their kids’ side.
It made me sad: Chris 2 is still on Facebook? Dude.
Of course, the stuff about teaching was even worse. All of these teachers started out with so much enthusiasm but now seemed defeated. I’m not sure how Chris 2 has hung in there that long; I don’t think I have that kind of fortitude. Advertising has its problems, but I’ll take clueless clients over pompous parents any day.
A breakthrough on a breakup
Back in the box, I wanted to take a look at a personal situation. When I was in my mid-20s, I had a girlfriend, Lucy, who I wanted to marry. She eventually broke up with me. I was devastated. I had to see how things would have gone had we stayed together.
Again, I started my quest at my house. This time it paid off. I could see Lucy through the window, talking to—then yelling at—an older, heavyset guy. Lucy looked terrible; years of stress played out across her face, and her eyes were shrouded in sadness.
When the poor schlub she was chewing out turned around, I was shocked to see that it was Chris 3. He looked 15 years older, and as if he’d spent those 15 years stuffing down his feelings with cheesecake.
In the years after Lucy broke up with me, I eventually came to think it was for the best, but I hadn’t imagined this. She and Chris 3 were obviously miserable.
I think I owe the Lucy from my universe a debt of gratitude for dumping me. Mind you, if I ever run into her, that will remain unsaid. She was no angel, and I’m not that generous.
Still, it’s good to know.
A novel idea
There was one more universe I wanted to investigate. Years ago, I wrote most of a novel but never finished it. I was dying to find out what would have happened if I’d kept going.
The first thing I did upon entering that world was to Google myself. A few scrolls down and there it was: a link to my book on Amazon. Holy shit, Chris 4 actually got it published! It was emotional to see it exist in real life, even if that life wasn’t really mine.
Then, like when you unwrap a three-pack of underwear on Christmas morning, my excitement took an instant nosedive. The reviews were…fair. That’s both fair as in so-so, and fair as in just. One guy called Chris 4 a Nick Hornby-wannabe, which stung because at the time I was writing it, that was true.
I checked to see if Chris 4 had any other books listed, but he was one-and-done. I didn’t bother to find out where he ended up; I had a feeling it was going to be another bummer, like he cracked and went all in on writing Bigfoot erotica or something. I was, however, finally able to let go of my guilt over never finishing that novel. The fact was, I hadn’t found my own voice yet, and it was better that I didn’t force it.
Boxed out
I felt bad for my cohort of Chrises. My life isn’t perfect, but seeing all the ways things could be different, I’m clearly the lottery winner of the group. I’m willing to bet that in the world where I was an actual lottery winner, I’d have been murdered for the insurance money.
The box ended up teaching me that there’s no point in romanticizing “what if.” The only thing that matters is “what is.”
In that spirit, I decided to leave all the other Chrises alone and focus on my own life. I turned the box into a writing studio. I still explore other universes there, and if I question a decision I make, I can make as many others as I want until everything is as it should be.
The multiverse is one of my favorite theories! I often comfort myself when making difficult decisions with the idea that, somewhere out there, another Holly is out there traversing the other path. And Dark Matter was great.
Thanks for sharing your trip through the box. Love the box as a writing studio and glad the Chris on this plane has concluded he can make as many decisions as he needs be to arrive where the evolving current Chris, exploring universes in writing, wants to go. :)
As someone living in the Pacific NW, I can tell you— there’s a HUGE market for Bigfoot erotica! Get after it, Chris #4!