Infinity + One by Amy Harmon

Author:Amy Harmon [Harmon, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781499535396
Amazon: 1499535392
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2014-05-23T23:00:00+00:00

“Fisher! Wait! You’re going to fall.”

Finn felt the fog in his own brain, in the way his lips struggled to form the words. He was drunk. He hated being drunk. Fish was drunk too. Which was why walking along the roofline was a bad idea. But Finn followed him, just like he always did, climbing the ladder that wouldn’t hold still, placing his feet on rungs that wavered before his eyes.

Fish just laughed. “I’m not gonna fall. What was that thing Dad told us about the arrow in flight? The paradox? Or was it the pair o’ dicks? The arrow isn’t really moving, remember? It’s motionless. If we fall, we aren’t really falling.” Fish laughed uproariously at himself, and Finn laughed too.

Pair of dicks. That’s what they were. They shared the same face, the same room, the same friends, but at least they didn’t have to share the same dick. That was good. Fish liked to put his in some nasty places. He had terrible taste in women.

The paradox Fish was talking about was another one of the Greek philosopher Zeno’s—Dad loved Zeno. Zeno said in order for an object to move, it has to change position. But in any given instant, the arrow isn’t moving to where it is, because it’s already there, and it’s not moving to where it’s not because no time has passed for it to get there. So in essence, if time is made up of instants, and if in any given instant the arrow is not moving, then motion is impossible.

The tangle the paradox created in Finn’s head became a tangle in his feet, and about halfway up the ladder he slipped, proving motion is indeed possible and extremely painful as he hit the ground.

He laid there, stunned, the wind knocked from his chest, his eyes on the sky. It was unclear and the air felt wet and heavy as he struggled to pull oxygen into his deflated lungs. You couldn’t see stars in Southie. He wondered if you could see the stars in St. Louis, where his father was moving. The thought made him angry, the anger clearing the muddle from his head better than the fall from the ladder.

“Since when have you ever listened to anything Dad says, Fish? And you are going to fall,” Finn shouted, and struggled back up the ladder, wondering if he was already too late. He hadn’t heard anything.

Fish was sitting on one of the little gables above the two windows that overlooked the front yard. Finn made his way gingerly to the other, straddling it like he was taking a turn on the mechanical bull at O’Shaughnessy’s, and the roofline swam and bucked a little, making the comparison even more apt. The alcohol in his belly sloshed and rose in his throat, and Finn realized that the bull was going to throw him if he didn’t hold on. He lay against the shifting shingles and gripped the edge of the dormer weakly. But instead of getting

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