As Good as it’s Gonna Get

Chrysanthemum was not having a good day—not that any of her days had been any good—but her most recent 24-hour stint on Earth had been particularly odious. The rain hadn’t stopped, heavy drops pouring from the sky, soaking Chrysanthemum throughout. She hadn’t been able to see the stars for a week. That morning, the dryer had eaten her work uniform, the one with her name stitched into it, and her manager was going to charge her fifty bucks to get it replaced. He’d probably yell at her in the meantime. And Betty still wasn’t returning any of her calls. Chrysanthemum missed her. That was the thing that stung most of all.

None of it was that bad, in and of itself. But all of it weighed down on her. Chrysanthemum was tired, more than anything else.

Dwelling on every little misfortune wouldn’t do her any good, so Chrysanthemum tried to carve her face into a smile and focus on her work. Most of the customers she was taking orders for weren’t too impolite, so that was something.

She sucked on a breath as she walked towards the kitchen, carrying the overcooked burger she was supposed to send back. Everything was fine.

Then she bumped into Darren as she entered the kitchen, an occasion sure to dampen her spirits even further. 

“Hey, Chrissy, your sister’s here,” he said. “She’s almost at the front of the line in front of my register, but I figured you’d want to take care of her.”

Chrysanthemum did her best to keep that smile plastered on her face; it was impossible for her to say how much she loathed that nickname. “I told you to call me Synth. Please… And— my sister?” It was only then that she registered the rest of his sentence. As far as she knew, Darren had never met Amelia.

“Yeah, your sister. I could tell ‘cause she looks just like you. Uncanny as hell.”

“Thanks. I’ll take her.” Synth looked absolutely nothing like her sister— red hair to her sister’s blonde, tall to her sister’s short. She loved her sister, of course, but they were nothing alike.

“You’re welcome!” He smiled like he’d done her a favor.

One of these days, after one of them had been fired, Synth was going to knock a few of Darren’s teeth out.

---

Synth walked over to the register Darren had directed her to. It was probably just a ploy for him to avoid work, but Synth was interested despite herself. There was too little novelty in her life.

“Hello! Welcome to the Roll and Patty. What can I get for you today?”

The woman looked up at her, and Synth saw her own eyes staring back. Darren was right about one thing—it was uncanny as hell. There were differences, of course. The woman’s hair was cut differently, her build was less muscular, and a tattoo Synth never would have gotten snaked its way up to the woman’s collarbone.

“This place doesn’t happen to have the Smokestack right now, does it?”

“No, not at the moment.”

“That’s tragic. Only good thing they ever served here.”

Synth would be fired if she agreed, so she only said, “Well, I’m sure I can find something else to your liking.”

“I’ll take a plain burger—well-done, no sides. That’s the least likely to give me salmonella, if I remember? Oh, and I’ll have a water.” The woman laughed, and it was an unsettling thing, like the last bit of air being released from an old balloon.

“Um, I’ll put that in for you.” Synth punched in the familiar numbers. “Alright, that’s that. We’ll have that out for you in only a moment. Can I get a name for this?

“It’s Chrysanthemum.”

Synth did her best to keep the smile plastered on her face. “Wonderful! We’ll be right back.”

---

Synth didn’t confront the woman when she brought her the hamburger. She didn’t know how. Synth was just trying to get through the day, and really didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with the strange woman. So she did her job. The woman, at least, was easy enough to take care of—even if she wasn’t a big spender. Synth hoped that she tipped well. And yet…

---

“Order for Chrysanthemum?” Synth called out. It was still unnerving to taste her own name on her lips, and in reference to a person so similar in appearance to herself.

“Thank you very much,” the woman said. Her face and tone were bright in a way Synth didn’t quite approve of. “Meet me at Rickerson Park at the end of your shift. Alright? It’s still open here, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Wonderful! Well, I’ll meet you there.” There was a character to her laugh like shattering glass.

“You’ll what?”

“You want answers, right? If you’re curious, you’ll be there… Chrysanthemum.”

---

Against her better judgment, Synth drove over to Rickerson Park after her shift, the check engine light still gleaming orange. She was tired and wanted to do nothing more than crawl into bed and close her eyes for a good while, to be secure in the comforting embrace of sleep. But Synth could not forget the woman. Her face, her hair, her name—all of it stuck in Synth’s mind in a way that she couldn’t dislodge.

When she arrived at the park, Synth was greeted with an empty parking lot. The sky was dark, and no stars were showing. A soft breeze ruffled her hair. And for a moment, she did not know how she felt.

And then, like a shadow behind her, the woman appeared. “Walk with me,” she said, leading Synth down a trail.

The pathway was familiar. Her father had taken her here a few times when she was much younger, but she hadn’t traveled through Rickerson Park in a long while. 

“Now, I’m sure you’ve watched enough movies to have figured out where this is going,” The woman said. She then paused, as though basking in the drama. “I’m you! Or, well, I like to think of myself as the original, so I guess I should say that you’re me. Of course, we all like to say that, so it doesn’t really matter.”

This was the direction that Synth’s thoughts had been flowing, but it didn’t make things make more sense. “How-?

“It’s timelines. We’re from different realities where we made different choices. Isn’t that fun? I mean, you’ve been keeping up with movies—the multiverse is in vogue now. In any case, how’s the job at NASA going?”

Synth balked. “The job at NASA…?”

Ah, you didn’t make it there. No worries. Not everyone does. A few of us are working at SpaceX or Interplanetary Alpha. Don’t sweat it. Sometimes, NASA doesn’t recognize our brilliance, and one company is as good as any other.

“Right. Of course.” Tears started forming in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, girl, I’m just messing with you.” Synth felt a hearty slap against her back. “None of us got hired either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, a whole lotta us dropped out of college. But the ones who stayed haven’t fared any better. No job, no internship, just flipping burgers at a restaurant that eventually gets closed down by the health inspector.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, that universe hates us. But at least we got each other. That’s something, isn’t it? Look at me, prattling on without having introduced myself. I call myself Mum. And you go by Synth, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, Synth, want to see something interesting?”

“More interesting than this?” Synth gestured to her doppelganger in front of her.

“A bit. Watch.”

Mum withdrew from her pocket a strange cube-shaped device, all covered in lights and arrays. Grinning, Mum tossed the cube into the air. When it reached its peak, the cube hung there, suspended. Static prickled across Synth’s skin. 

Then, slowly, it descended. The cube pulsed. And a passageway appeared in the air.

Mum looked toward Synth. “Follow me.”

---

“This is the Cradle.” Mum extended her hands in a grand, sweeping motion. Synth could not help but let out a slow breath at the sight before her. The two of them stood on a balcony overlooking a cavernous atrium. Everything was decked out in NASA-chic. Bright lights lit white walls and white floors. Soft blue lights flickered on various buttons and touchpads. 

Dozens of women filled the atrium. If it had been surreal to see one other person who bore her face, it was even more so for Synth to see a small army of people that looked exactly like her. Some conversed with each other; others sat and read. Synth noticed one of them cooking something that looked much more appetizing than anything served at the Roll and Patty.

All of them seemed less downtrodden than Synth herself did.

“Those are all… me?” She asked.

Mum smiled and put a hand on Synth’s shoulder. “That’s right, a hundred other Chrysanthemums. From all across the many timelines, I found so many other versions of myself. No matter what any of the Chrysanthemums did differently, it seemed like we all ended up in similar spots. So, well, I collected a lot of them here. What do you think?”

Before Synth could answer, a nearby computer terminal flashed red and a robotic female voice read the words: Timeline 4c69676874 is dissolving. It will soon be unreachable.

Mum barely glanced at the computer terminal before silencing it with the press of a button.

Synth raised an eyebrow.

“Oh. Don’t worry about that. Timelines do that sometimes. We have a few theories as to why. But I’m sure you don’t care about all the technical details.” 

“Oh, alright. What’s my timeline designation?”

“Let me see,” Mum took out a slender device, prodding at it for a moment before she seemed satisfied, “It’s 686f7065.”

Synth, however, stared at the blotch of ink on Mum’s forearm that had been uncovered by her shifting around.

“You got a tattoo?” Synth idly thought of getting a tattoo on many an occasion, but she’d never had the nerve.

“Oh, yeah, that thing,” Mum smirked and pulled back her sleeve, revealing an intricate map of tangled stars. “My parents hated it. But I figured I’d get it to commemorate my trip to Chile.”

“You went to La Silla?” There had been a chance for Synth to visit the La Silla Observatory in Chile and maybe even get an internship there. But things had gotten away from her, and she missed her one shot.

“Yep. Oh, you jealous? A few of us managed to make our way there. It never goes anywhere, of course. We all end up in the same place. Hey, don’t be too downcast. Think on the bright side. If nothing ever works out, you don’t need to worry about the could-have-beens. Whatever you did or didn’t do, whatever you wish you had done differently—it doesn’t matter!”

“Oh.” Synth could feel a pressure building behind her eyes. 

Mum’s voice lowered into something gentler as she said, “You could always live with us.”

“Here?”

“Yes. There could be a place for you in the Cradle. With us. The world is cold and cruel, isn’t it? The least we can do is look out for each other. I mean, we’re the only ones that understand what it’s like.”

“Would I still be able to go back home?”

“This would be your home. But if you’re wondering if it would be possible for you to regularly visit your timeline, the answer is no. We’re off finding new Chrysanthemums. We wouldn’t really be able to leave the Cradle parked here. But, is there really anything for you in your timeline? We’d give you a better life, where you could be happy again.”

It was enough to give Synth some pause. “What about Amelia? I couldn’t just leave her.”

“Oh. She still talks to you, does she?”

“Of course she does. We mean the world to each other.”

Something glistened within Mum’s eye. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Synth, but everyone here ends up having a falling out with our little sister. That’s how things work. You can’t stop it, just like you can’t ever get a job at a space agency. The universe hates us, Synth. Nothing we can do about it. I don’t know what I can tell you. I wish that I could tell you anything else.”

“No, that can’t be true.”

“You can ask the others, if you want. It might actually be good for you to see what the other Chrysanthemums are like. It’ll help you get a feel for this place. We have good people here. You’ll like being able to talk to others who can understand you. We could meet back up in, like, an hour if you’re amenable to that. I have some work to attend to anyway.”

“Sure.” Synth decided that she did want to meet the other hers. It wasn’t that she wanted to join the Cradle. But she needed to know what had happened to the other Chrysanthemums. She needed to know if they were happy.

Mum smiled at her and turned away, passing through some doorway. Meanwhile, Synth found herself walking down the flight of stairs, passed a dingy hallway and a faded exit sign,  into the grand Atrium.

As she did so, she checked her phone. Betty still hadn’t texted her. 

She was fine.

Synth made her way down the stairs slowly, her shoes squeaking against the polished white floor. The air in the Cradle felt different from the sticky, humid atmosphere of the hometown she had just left. Everything was cleaner and full of light.

As she moved through the atrium, she noticed the quiet hum of voices, all conversations happening in hushed tones. She watched a few of the other Chrysanthemums as they engaged with one another. Some were laughing, others seemed deep in thought, and a few were even scribbling notes in their journals or tapping away at keyboards. A few looked as tired as Synth felt, but many more seemed to be at ease, their shoulders relaxed. Many wore placid smiles; some were even laughing.

Synth suddenly felt awkward and out of place. She looked at the crowd and couldn’t find anything that drew her in. And then her eyes alighted on the form of one of the Chrysanthemums. This one sat at one end of a long table apart from the others, quietly eating her meal. She was all clad in white and gold, looking like a star plucked from the heavens.

The Chrysanthemum looked up at Synth and smiled, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “You must be the new prospect. Mum’s told us about you.” She extended her hand. “You can call me Saint.”

“Synth.”

“So, what do you think of this place?”

“It’s alright.” Synth suddenly wished that she had a plate of food so that she could concentrate on that instead of the doppelganger in front of her. “It is still an odd thing to get used to.”

“No, that’s fair. It does sometimes still feel strange. But this place is nice. It’s peaceful, if nothing else.” Saint made a show of a smile.

“Do you not like it here?”

“No, it’s not that. This place is still good—far better than home, at least. I just sorta made a mess of things, and some of the girls are wary of me. It’s all good, though. I have more friends here than anywhere else.”

“What… happened?”

“Well, when Mum told me about the other timelines, I thought it was finally my ticket out of here. I mean, everything sucked, right? I’m sure you know the feeling. Well, my plan was to find a double living a moderately comfortable life, kill them, and replace them. I’m sure you can guess how that turned out.”

“You ended up here, so I can figure.” And so they lapsed into silence. “Well, do you promise not to kill me?”

Saint nodded emphatically. “I’d swear it on Amelia’s life”

“Does that mean anything?” Synth said, trying the words carefully. “Mum said that no one talks to their sisters anymore.”

And Saint’s eyes were like fire. “She still means the world to me… even if…” Something seemed to break within the woman, like so many loose threads all coming undone. 

“My sister means the world to me, too.”

Saint took a long sip of her water, closing her eyes as she did so. She set her cup down when she finished and spoke, gazing off into the middle distance. “I hope you stay with us. It is a lot nicer here. Helps ease the loneliness and all that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. It does seem rather nice here.”

“I haven’t found a more pleasant lot anywhere.”

---

Synth left her conversation with Saint feeling just slightly unsettled. So, she busied herself with fetching a mug of tea. She was pleased to find it already made just the way she liked it—Irish breakfast with just a splash of milk and two teaspoons of honey, only partially stirred so that the last half of the cup was sweeter than the rest. It had been some time since she’d been able to justify making a frivolous purchase such as honey, and it had been a long time since she’d had her tea just the way she liked it.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the counter, letting out a long sigh. She brought the cup to her lips again, letting the warm tea spill over her tongue and warm her insides. Some of the knots within her eased.

When she opened her eyes, she found someone else standing before her, grinning and holding her own mug.

“Nice to meet you. I go by Krys. It sounds like you’re the new gal.”

“Prospective, but yeah. I suppose I am.”

“Well, is there anything you’d like to ask me? I am at your service.” Krys gave Synth a mock salute before laughing and leaning back against the counter.

“So why are you here?”

Krys stroked her chin, eyes dancing. “Why are any of us? Do you usually go straight to existential questions right after meeting someone?”

“No, I mean, why did you join the Cradle?”

“I know what you meant. Sorry, it’s fun to mess with people.” Krys shot Synth a toothy grin. “Well, I’ve always wanted to study the stars. I mean, all of us have, right? You’re me, so I don’t need to tell you that. We look up, and the eyes of the universe stare back down upon us.”

“When you can see them.”

“Yes, when you can see them.” Krys cast her gaze upwards, towards the ceiling, towards something beyond. “That’s the best thing about the Cradle, y’know? It can take us anywhere, to any spot in the world, in any timeline. Mum gets us far from anyone else, where it’s just us and the stars. They are so much brighter than they were back home; it really is breathtaking.”

“Oh,” said Synth with a whispered outtake of breath. “My goodness. How good is all the equipment?”

“Pretty good. Certainly better than any amateur astronomer. And we have some of the brightest minds—indeed, only the brightest minds—here to discuss everything with.”

“You mean, the other us’?”

“Exactly. We have so many dedicated people with a passion for astronomy. The discussions are lovely.” 

“I’m sure they are.” For the briefest moment, Synth imagined what it would be like. She wanted, more than anything, to try out their telescopes.

“But, is it just Chrysanthemums discussing the stars?”

“Yeah. The Cradle isn’t really designed to be able to house anyone else. It isn’t much of a loss, though.”

“The discussions don’t start getting circular?”

Krys gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I mean, we don’t live in a cave or anything, we keep up with the world, read the headlines, see what’s happening in the journals. We just don’t have to deal with all the kerfuffle. We focus on what matters.”

“I see.” And she did. “So, what was your life like before the Cradle?”

Krys looked at her for a long moment, eyes gleaming faintly in the sterile white light of the atrium. “Before the Cradle?” she repeated, voice softening. “It wasn’t much. I was working nights at a planetarium, giving tours to people. Most of them didn’t care, but it wasn’t a bad gig, better than a lot of the other Chrysanthemums, I hear. I guess it was kind of the dream.”

Synth thought back to her toil at the Roll and Patty and grimaced.

Krys continued, saying, “I’d point out Jupiter’s moons or talk about Messier 13, and they’d check their phones. A few people paid attention, and that was nice. But I was there for myself and the stars. Well, the observatory waned in popularity. A few people needed to be laid off. I was one of the last to let go, because I knew what I was doing. And it came late enough that I already knew that not a single one of the myriad space agencies had accepted me for any kind of position. I still don’t know why. Even Betty got an offer from CNSA. And she never looked back or cast a glance my way—even though I’d helped her get where she did.

And I just felt stuck. I couldn’t mesh with the dullness and drudgery of the workaday world. We were meant for the stars, not this world of mud and concrete. I fought with the parents and Amelia. Y’know how it goes. Eventually, even though the planetarium was closed, I decided that I’d hop the fence, just to be there one last time. It was the only thing I had left. I sat under the dome while the projector showed the whole sky. I remember thinking—if I could just step through it, maybe I’d find somewhere that actually meant something. Then I met Mum, and then I was here.”

“The Cradle does seem rather nice,” said Synth, a note of something creeping into her voice.

“I’d like you to stay with us. It’s always nice having new people to talk to.”

Another Chrysanthemum, clad all in lively verdant greens, approached them. Her face seemed just slightly brighter than that of anyone else Synth could remember meeting.

“Hello,” the Chrysanthemum said, “Mum says she’s ready to meet with you.”

“Oh, I’d better go then,” said Synth to Krys, “I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so.”

Synth turned to the new woman. “Alright, lead on.”

---

As they walked, Synth opened Instagram with the intention of stalking Betty. 

Before the app could load, the other Chrysanthemum’s voice jolted her back to reality. “You really shouldn’t doomscroll while you’re walking. We’ve lost at least three of us to staircases that way.”

Synth started and looked back up at the person leading her.

“You’re Synth, right?” The person asked. “I’m Thyme.”

“Thyme?”

She shrugged. “Ran out of close nicknames pretty quick once we hit fifty of us. You might have to duel the other Synth if you want to keep yours. Anyway, we should pick up the pace. Mum wants to know your answer so we can get going.

“Get going?” Synth echoed.

“Mm-hmm. In perpetual drift.” Thyme tapped the metal railing beside them. “The Cradle’s always on the move. Mum says we’re looking for a timeline where things go right for us. Though I presume she’s given up the hunt by now.”

“Has she ever found one?”

Thyme’s smile faltered. “If she had, she probably wouldn’t still be here…”

They descended a final staircase that looped back into the atrium. A few Chrysanthemums waved at Thyme as they passed.

“What’s your story?” Synth felt the need to ask.

“You’re looking for my melodramatic backstory? There really isn’t much to tell. Betty and I ran away and tried to join the circus. There was an incident involving a ring of fire and a half-trained pig. Now I’m here.” Thyme shrugged without even a touch of irony.

“Oh.”

“You thinking of staying?” Thyme asked, casually but not carelessly. “Almost everyone does. Some don’t, of course, but paltry few.”

“I don’t know,” Synth said. The words were surprisingly heavy. “I still have a life.”

“Sure,” Thyme said, hopping onto the railing and balancing as she walked. “But you could be living instead of just being alive. In any case, Mum will ask you soon, so you should try and make up your mind. Whatever choice you make, don’t choose the one you’ll regret, aight? Goodness knows we have more than enough already. But don’t sweat it.”

Synth stopped walking. Thyme turned back to her.

“Mum says the universe hates us,” Thyme continued. “And I don’t think that’s quite right. The universe doesn’t care. It just is, and it’s dark and cold and devoid of sentiment. Saying the universe hates us gives everything too much credit.”

Synth looked up at the ceiling—as if the stars beyond it might hear her.

Thyme put her hands in her pockets. “So if the universe is uncaring, you should be someplace where people do. Care, that is.” Her voice softened. “It’s not the best place in the world, but it’s a home, and you can’t ask for anything better than that.”

Thyme stopped before a stainless steel door. “Alrighty, here we are.”

---

“So, are you taking the offer?” Mum said, voice brimming with expectation

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Still? What more do you need from us? Please tell me. If there’s anything you need, we can get it for you. We just want you to be happy.”

“I still don’t know. And maybe that’s a sign that I should leave.”

Synth took half a step backwards, but she did not run away. She could not tear herself away from Mum’s gaze.

Mum’s hand wrapped around Synth’s wrist, pulling her back. “Please, don’t do this to yourself. I know what it’s like.”

Synth waited for Mum’s grip to strengthen, for it to tighten around her wrist like a manacle. But Mum let go, leaving Synth standing there, free to leave, eyes welling up with tears. It had been so long since she had last cried that she did not know what she was feeling. 

And then Mum’s arms wrapped around Synth in a tight embrace, “You don’t have to know everything right now. You don’t have to be strong or certain or brave. You’ve been carrying so much for so long… You don’t have to do that here.”

Synth’s breath hitched. The words were gentle—gentler than anything Synth had heard in months. Maybe years.

“I want you to be happy, Chrysanthemum,” Mum murmured. “If staying here gives you even a sliver of that, then stay.”

Synth was so tired and wanted nothing more than to have some measure of respite. “Maybe…” she began, “maybe I could stay here. In the Cradle. Maybe it could be home.”

Mum squeezed Synth’s shoulders, a smile shining upon her face. “I am so proud of you. Come on—let me show you where you’d sleep, and we’ll introduce you to the others properly. We’ll take care of you.”

Mum turned, radiant, and began to guide Synth down the corridor.

Synth followed. Her feet moved automatically, pulled along by the warmth, by the promise, by the fragile hope blooming unsteadily inside her. The Cradle’s white lights seemed softer now, almost inviting. Almost home.

They reached a branching hallway. Mum walked ahead, humming under her breath, delighted and distracted. 

Down a side corridor, half hidden in shadow, the metal door she’d glimpsed earlier shone with a dull green glow. The faded word EXIT stared back at her.

Her heart gave a violent, sudden jolt. She swallowed, throat tight. She took a step back. Mum didn’t notice—too far ahead now, already. 

She stopped in her movements and stared at it, looking almost past it. She did not want to go back to where she was broken. But, something within her bade her to move, and Synth felt her hand brush against the handle. She turned the doorknob. And, shaking, she stepped through. She would regret this choice, she knew.

Synth supposed there were some things worth regretting.

---

There was a pillar of light that fell onto soft grass and cold earth. Standing and trying to get her bearings, she realised that she found herself amongst the trees in Rickerson Park, somewhere deep, somewhere real.

Synth ran. She ran as far as her legs would take her, not caring about the direction. When she couldn’t run anymore, she bent double, panting.

She looked up.

The sky had cleared, and the stars were beautiful. Like so many burning embers. It wasn’t the most impressive view of the sky she had seen. But still she gazed up at it, drinking in the moment.

Her phone buzzed. And she checked it. Something cracked inside her when she saw that there was still no text from Betty, still no text from anyone she cared about—just a scam pretending to be from the DMV.

Synth laughed and texted Amelia as a tear fell upon her phone screen.

---

---

Somewhere, in the Cradle, a computer terminal lit up red. Timeline 686f7065 is dissolving. It will soon be unreachable.