It’s exactly the sort of topic which animates Stephen: hands gesturing, voice going a mile a minute, contemplating the existential implications. Sometimes people were into it, other times they just gave polite nods while he went on. But now that he’s stopped to think about it, Cosima has a unique perspective to offer here.

“Yeah, I suppose all of this is the most concrete example of nature vs nurture. All of you being raised by different people, in different environments. With alternates, ironically, I think there’s a little more commonality: you might’ve still been born to the same people and with broadly the same experiences except for one crucial alteration in your history, or there’s some element in your world which is fundamentally different. Which results in butterfly effects. Exactly how much does your world influence your own personality and self. She was a redhead, for some reason.”

Which isn’t the most important thing about all this, but. They’ve definitely reached the part of the evening for metaphysical weed conversations.

“Anyway. I was on the run across the multiverse with a young girl in tow, and this other Christine tagged along and helped us out. Saved our asses a few times. And she felt… the same. Does that make sense? Like the most crucial part of her was the same as the woman I knew, the clever and compassionate and brave parts of her.”

A wince, teetering on deciding whether or not to mention the worst part, before he decides, fuck it, they’re being honest here and confiding in each other: “But technically, strictly speaking, this woman was a complete stranger to me. I’d just met her earlier that day. And at the end of it, I told her that I loved her in every universe.”

An embarrassed pause.

“She was pretty kind about it, all things considered.”