Redshirts

exists and is persistent even when the Narrative does not impose itself.”
    “Okay,” Hester said.
    “Probably,” Jenkins said.
    “I really want to throw things at him,” Hester said to Dahl.
    “I’m going to vote for the idea we exist and will continue to exist even when this show stops,” Dahl said. “Because otherwise we’re all doomed anyway. All right?”
    No one offered a disagreement.
    “In which case, to get back to what I was saying, if we go back in time and stop the show, then the Intrepid stops being a focus of the Narrative,” Dahl said. “It goes back to just being a ship. We stop being glorified extras in our own lives.”
    “So we won’t die,” Duvall said.
    “Everybody dies,” Jenkins said.
    “Thank you for that news flash,” Duvall said, irritated. “I mean we won’t die just to give an audience a thrill.”
    “Probably not,” Jenkins said.
    “If we really are in a television series, then it’s going to be hard to stop,” Hanson said, and looked to Dahl. “Andy, a really successful television series could be worth a lot of money, just like a good drama series today can be. It’s not just the show, it’s everything around it, including things like merchandising.”
    “Your boyfriend has an action figure,” Hester said to Duvall.
    “Yeah, and you don’t,” Duvall shot back. “In this universe that’s a problem.”
    “I’m saying that even if we do travel back in time and find the people making this show, we might not be able to stop it,” Hanson said. “There might be too much money involved.”
    “What other option do we have?” Dahl said. “If we stay here, the only thing to do is wait for the Narrative to kill us off. We might have a slim chance of stopping the show, but a slim chance there is better than a certainty of a dramatic death here.”
    “Why even bother trying to stop the show?” Hester said. “Look, if we really are extras, then we’re not actually needed here. I say we go back in time and just stay there.”
    “Do you really want to live in the early twenty-first century?” Duvall asked. “It wasn’t exactly the most cheerful time to be alive. It’s not like they had a cure for cancer then.”
    “Whatever,” Hester said.
    “Or baldness,” Duvall said.
    “This is my original hair,” Hester said.
    “You can’t stay in the past,” Jenkins said. “If you do, you’ll dissolve.”
    “What?” Hester said.
    “It has to do with conservation of mass and energy,” Jenkins said. “All the atoms you’re using now are being used in the past. If you stay in the past, then the atoms have to be in two places at the same time. This creates an imbalance and the atoms have to decide where to be. And eventually they’ll choose their then-present configuration because technically speaking, you’re from the future, so you don’t actually exist yet.”
    “What’s ‘eventually’ here?” Dahl asked.
    “About six days,” Jenkins said.
    “That’s completely idiotic!” Hester said.
    “I don’t make up the rules,” Jenkins said. “It’s just how it worked last time. It makes sense in the Narrative, though—it gave Abernathy, Q’eeng and Hartnell a reason to get their mission done in a certain, dramatic amount of time.”
    “This timeline sucks,” Hester said.
    “If you brought atoms forward, they would have the same problem,” Jenkins said. “And in that case they’d choose the present, which means the thing from the past would dissolve. It’s a pretty problem, actually. Mind you, that’s just one of your problems.”
    “What else is there?” Dahl asked.
    “Well, you’ll need to acquire a shuttle, which will be no small matter,” Jenkins said. “It’s not like they’ll let you borrow one for a lazy excursion. But that’s not actually the hard part.”
    “What’s the hard part?” Duvall asked.
    “You’re going to have to get one of the five stars of the show to come with you,” Jenkins said. “Take your pick: Abernathy, Q’eeng, West, Hartnell or Kerensky.”
    “What do we need one of them for?” Hester asked.
    “You said it yourself,” Jenkins said. “You’re extras. If you try to aim a shuttle at a black hole, you know what will happen? The gravitational forces will rip apart the shuttle, you’ll spaghettify into a long stream of atoms sucking down to the singularity, and you’ll die. You’ll be dead long before the spaghettification, of course. That’s the end event for you. But you get