Lady of Misrule (Marla Mason Book 8) by T.A. Pratt Page B

this branch free.”
    Marla opened the cooler and took out another bottle of water. “What happens then? Will we even notice? Most people aren’t aware they spawn a new reality every time they make a choice between regular or decaf coffee anyway.”
    “Ah. No. It’s not something we have to do often, but... cutting off this branch from the greater multiverse will be about as good for this branch as cutting a limb off a tree is for the limb. Or an arm off a person is for the arm.”
    “We’re talking about some kind of philosophical rot?” she said. “Metaphysical gangrene? Epistemological maggots?”
    “Decay. I think ‘decay’ covers it. What it would look like, what that means in terms of practical effects... Cause and effect would stop working. Physics would start to break down. Things would get seriously weird, but most people would die before it got too weird, like as soon as oxygen forgot how to oxidize, or when the first couple of laws of thermodynamics gave out.”
    She frowned. “So basically if I fail I’ve consigned this entire branch of the multiverse, my branch, where all my friends and enemies and also my husband lives, to some kind of horrific oblivion, without even the comfort of knowing that I succeeded in some adjacent reality? Well. I wasn’t short on motivation before, but this doesn’t hurt. Why do you care, though? We’re one universe among trillions and trillions. Why even bother with the freezing? Why not go straight to the amputating?”
    Bradley smiled. “You’d laugh, but... it’s basically just sentimentality. See, you’ve got continuity-of-experience with the version of Marla Mason who caused us to ascend to our current position. We feel like we owe you, so we’re going a little out of our way to keep you from dying a horrible death.”
    She clucked her tongue. “That’s no way to run a multiverse, B. You’re soft. But it’s to my advantage, so I won’t complain. What happens to you , this instance of you, if we fail?”
    “I’m stuck here, going through all that misery with you.”
    “And if we succeed?”
    “Then I get integrated back into the collective.”
    She nodded. “Good. Then you have some motivation to bust your ass beyond mere sentimentality, because you don’t want to get stranded in a decaying universe any more than I do. You’re welcome to join me, then.”
    “Much obliged.” He would have said it sarcastically if he’d thought she was likely to pay any attention.
    “How long do we have? I’ve only got a month on Earth anyway, you know, before I’m due back in the underworld. I could try to get a special dispensation, but the way our deal was made, it’s like trying to get an exemption from a law of nature, not a zoning ordinance. Which is to say, it’s not impossible, but not easy, either.”
    Bradley grimaced. “I’ve been here a few weeks already, tracking the Outsider – I came as soon as it got substantial enough to register as a threat. You won’t need an extension on your time in the mortal world. I’d guess we’ve got ten days before our, ah, cut-off. If we haven’t killed or imprisoned or neutralized this thing by then...”
    “Yeah. Okay. Let’s get going. Now that I think about it, we’re going to be on the road longer than I said. We need to make a side trip before Santa Cruz.”

Crapsey on the Floor
    Crapsey woke up to jostling and bouncing, and once he determined that his arms and legs were bound, he decided he should pretend to be asleep. Maybe just keep pretending to be asleep until he actually fell asleep, and then proceed that way indefinitely, on a cycle of real-sleep/fake-sleep/real-sleep. The only problem would be having to go pee, which he had to do a little bit already , and then eventually there’d be an issue with thirst, and also hunger, but those were problems for Future Crapsey, and fuck that guy –
    “Your breathing changes when you wake up, moron,” Marla Mason said in her usual tones, which were