"But," Bob said.  "Couldn't there be an imbalance?"
        "What do you mean?"
        "Couldn't there be more universes where you do more things good than evil, or evil than good?  Who says there's a balance?"
        "I guess...."
        "And you mentioned fractals and symmetry.  Not all fractals are symmetrical.  That's one of the things that makes them so interesting.  They're chaotic but also governed by a logic."
        "I guess...."
        "I guess the point is moot because it's all just a mental construct anyway, just an intellectual game."
        "Pretty much like everything."
        "Yeah."
        "And so I guess, there's really no proof of any of this either way."
        "So," Bob said.  "I guess we're right back where we started from?"
        "Yeah.  And why the hell are we talking about this anyway."
        Long pause.
        Bob:  "I've been depressed."
        "Yeah?"
        "It's just that me, and Heather.  Well."
        My heart leapt.
        "She's distant and weird," Bob said.  "She brushes me off now.  It's like she-- I don't know-- like she's more distant and cold.  Weirdly suspicious."
        "Really...."
        "Or maybe I'm the suspicious one.  She's always saying she's got other things to do and people to meet.  And whenever I want to get together with her it's like she's got other things to do-- or she hangs out with me begrudgingly.  I mean, yesterday she was fine.  We had fun and all, and then before-- well...."
        "Uh-huh...."
        "She just wanted to be alone.  Then she just went, 'Sorry.'  In this, this... tone."
        "I kinda know what that feels like, yeah," I said.
        "It's just, I don't know.  I don't know what's wrong?"
        "Entropy?"
        "You and entropy!  It's not entropy.  It's something serious.  This isn't something that can be solved with a quick little bit of predictable Brian Cotts cynicism.  You can't just go 'entropy' and leave it at that.  What an asshole."
        "Hey," I said.  "It's not my fault she's acting weird."
        "You could at least be a bit more sympathetic."
        A long pause.
        "Well," I said.  "What do you think is wrong?"
        "I don't know.  I really, really don't."
        "You don't think she's pregnant, do you?"
        "No, she's not pregnant.  I already asked that during one of the few times we actually really talked lately.  She just looked at me like I was a bug and said, 'NO.'"
        "Oh."
        "So I don't know what it is."  Bob paused.  "Sometimes it seems like she's maybe found somebody else, maybe?  Or something?  I'm not sure."
        "I don't know."
        Bob was quiet for a long time.
        "I guess," he finally said.  "I guess that's pretty much it then.  I guess I'll just tell her if she doesn't, y'know, start treating me better maybe, maybe it'll just be... maybe I'll just leave or something.  If she'd just talk to me, right?  This is driving me crazy."
        Silence.
        "Yeah," Bob said.  "I don't know how much more of this I can take.  I guess it's over.  I better go now."
        And he hung up the phone.
        And then I hung up the phone, feeling satisfied and calm.
        I contemplated phoning Heather, but decided against it.  Maybe tomorrow.
        So I sat down and looked out the window and smiled.
        The next day, I thought again about calling Heather, but I decided I'd give myself some time to think about what I wanted to say to her.
        Two days later, Bob and Heather were married.
 

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