Eric Sullivan sat on a bench in the little park across the street from the building where he worked, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Everything, all of it, had added up to him sitting there eating that specific sandwich. Every decision he’d ever made combined with every circumstance beyond his control.

Meanwhile, at that very moment, there existed an infinite number of other Eric Sullivans across the multiverse. Each Eric Sullivan lived one of all of the possible lives that Eric Sullivan might have lived. With every moment came new possibilities, and so more Eric Sullivans.

There were currently many Eric Sullivans sitting on the bench with the comfortable backrest in Gillis Memorial Park, eating a sandwich made from slightly expired peanut butter and sugar-free grape jelly purchased accidentally. But this Eric Sullivan was the only one who finished his sandwich while an orange convertible narrowly avoided rear-ending a purple sedan on the street behind him and a cardinal flew past in front of him.

Eric didn’t notice the convertible but he did appreciate the cardinal, its red feathers had been particularly bright. He smiled and closed his eyes, he listened to the cardinal chirp somewhere overhead, leaves flutter in the breeze and a pair of squirrels scamper up the bark of the oak tree behind him. This was why he came to Gillis Park, for moments of peace like this, even in the middle of a busy city.

That afternoon would be a flurry, filled with all the hoops he’d have to jump through as part his boss’ newly installed productivity metrics system. If anything, Eric thought the system reduced productivity. But, he wasn’t in a position to say so.

Sitting in the park, he didn’t think about any of that, he was content.

…

“For the first time since Dr. Kathryn Blake’s discovery nearly a decade ago, consumers will finally have access to the multiverse!” Said the founder.

“Remarkable! And right on our phones?” Asked the TV reporter.

“That’s right! Simply download the app, fill out the questionnaire and…Boom! There you are, the you you’ve always wanted to be!”

“Can we talk to our, well, ourselves?”

“Unfortunately, no. That technology still doesn’t exist and the other you will not be able to see you or even know they’re being seen. But, think of it this way, that means you’re free to live vicariously!”

…

Eric wouldn’t have called any part of the process to install A Window to a Better You simple. There were about a dozen consent forms he had to agree to, the download took nearly three hours and the questionnaire ran over fifty pages and consisted of questions that somehow seemed both random and intrusive.

But, in the end the app was up and running and there he was on the screen. The Eric Sullivan he subconsciously wished he could be. That Eric Sullivan lived in a brownstone in the historic part of the city, one of several homes he owned. He employed a sizable domestic staff which included a driver who chauffeured him to the headquarters of the company he’d founded whenever that Eric Sullivan felt like going into the office.

For that Eric Sullivan, work days consisted of him dominating meetings, setting deadlines at a whim and charming investors. Outside of work he ate at the best restaurants, belonged to the most exclusive clubs and ventured off in his private jet to any place in the world that suited him.

Eric was hooked.

…

“Parasocial relationships, that has always been the draw of celebrity,” said the famous psychologist, “All of the glamour and prestige, we imagine that we’re a part of it. That we’re a part of their lives.”

“And that’s what’s happened here?” Asked the TV reporter.

“Yes, and to an even greater degree. Dangerously so. Here, the celebrity is us so it’s even easier to imagine the life we see on the screen is ours. The life on the screen becomes more real to us than our real life outside it.”

The viewers did not hear the words of the psychologist. Distracted, the controller in the booth mistakenly hit the wrong button and the news went off the air.

…

The lights in Eric’s apartment flickered. They’d been doing that a lot lately. He’d also noticed the trains had been running later, stores were less stocked, accidents more frequent on the roads, streets were filled with more trash, food in restaurants colder. Society in his universe was beginning to unravel as people couldn’t help but pay other universes more attention.

On yet another “sick” day, Eric watched his other self berate his employees, stare at himself in mirrors and speak only to hear himself talk. Watching, Eric was starting to feel more embarrassed than envious.

“This isn’t caramel!” His doppelganger roared at his secretary.

“The barista assured me that it was, Mr. Sullivan, especially after last time.”

His doppelganger removed the lid of his coffee.

“Here. You tell me if you can taste it!”

Eric turned off his phone.

…

A few days later, Eric was back sitting on his favorite bench in his favorite park. Back to possibly his favorite place, period. He was eating his favorite lunch, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made from non-expired peanut butter and regular jelly. He watched as a caterpillar slowly inched its way across the bench’s armrest.

He smiled and enjoyed this quiet moment. His life may have been simple, small even, but he honestly wasn’t even sure what exactly a better life would look like.

There were many Eric Sullivans who were content with their lives. Once again, this Eric Sullivan was one of them.