Darrel growled angrily. Was what inevitable?
He wrote again, and as he wrote he saw an increasing fascination and wonder in the girl's eyes as she watched him. The rite was as strange to her as it was to him.
"Absolutely," his message said. "I do."
Now what? This was all meaningless.
"Do you truly love me, Darrel? Do you think there is a way for us?"
That did it! Now he was committing himself to all sorts of things like ... wait a minute—as a matter of fact he was in love with this twisted-around Neptunian witch. No. That wasn't the right word. She wasn't a witch. She was more like a ... hell! They would get nowhere with this question and answer method. It was too balled up.
Flat statements were what they needed. Statements that were self-evident.
He began to write down his theory about this paradoxical situation in which they were both entangled. It was pure theory, but to Darrel it seemed the only logical explanation of these weird events. That he and Leyloon were living time-lines running counter to each other, seemed obvious enough. Within infinity there must be infinite possibilities. Since infinity was, in relation to time or anything else, infinite in one direction as well as the opposite direction, it was conceivable that corporeal objects could co-exist but in time-fields diametrically opposed.
Neptune existed in the opposite time-stream. The region occupied by this time-stream undoubtedly continued around in a ring corresponding roughly to the planet's orbit. The disturbance midway from Uranus' orbit would substantiate that. How far into space, away from the sun, the diametrical time existed, was impossible to guess. Its influence might extend beyond the solar system—or not. Who knew?
There was understanding in Leyloon's eyes. And agreement.