A Quantum Love Story
Mike Chen
On Sale Date: January 30, 2024
9780778369509
Trade Paperback
$18.99 USD
368 pages
ABOUT THE BOOK:
Mike
Chen brings us an epic love story—in a time loop. When strangers Mariana Pineda
and Carter Cho get stuck together repeating the same four days, finally
reaching Friday might mean having to give up the connection growing between
them.
On
Thursday at 12:42pm, Carter Cho is working as a technician at a
particle accelerator when it explodes, striking him with a green
energy—and sending him back in time to Monday morning. And this happens over
and over again. Which at first is interesting, but quickly becomes lonely as
the world moves through the same motions and only he changes. If he ever wants
to get out of the time loop, he needs help.
On
one of the loops, he finally manages to bring Mariana Pineda in with him by
getting her struck by the same energy at the same moment. Now they have to find
out how to get the accelerator to finish its current test so that they can
finally reach Friday.
Along
the way, Carter and Mariana help each other through grief, decisions about
unfulfilling jobs, and confronting difficult pasts—all the while eating lots of
great food since their bank accounts and cholesterol reset with every loop. But
the longer they stay in the loop, the more they realize that getting out of it,
might mean they’ll have to give up the connection growing between them
that’s slowly leading to love.
BUY LINKS:
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Carter
Cho wasn’t really into science experiments.
Otherwise, he might have completed his degree in
quantum mechanics. Cooking experiments, though? Totally different, because
there was a real joy to that process. But setting a hypothesis, identifying
controls, and looking for…stuff?
Seriously, that seemed like such a slog.
Except for this particular Thursday morning, on the
corner of a crosswalk and standing across from the world’s biggest, most
advanced particle accelerator, a science experiment felt necessary.
He didn’t really have a choice. It seemed to be the
only way to possibly understand or even escape his very strange predicament.
Carter checked the time on his phone, waiting for it
to tick specifically to twenty-three seconds past 8:22 a.m.
At that moment, the crosswalk light would switch,
signaling for pedestrians to go.
Then everything would cascade, a waterfall of
specific actions by the world around him:
The person on Carter’s right would step out first.
The person
behind him would wait an extra four seconds, eyes stuck on his phone.
Annoyed,
the woman next to that person would let out an exaggerated sigh, move around,
then rush forward six steps into the street before catching her shoe.
Then she
would stumble forward, her coffee spilling. The first time he went through
this, he’d noticed the spill just in time to sidestep it before continuing on.
All of
these actions sat line by line on the old-fashioned paper notebook in his
hands, a checklist of what was to come with the precision delivered by his
photographic memory.
Science
experiments all led to a result. As for this, he wasn’t quite sure what the
result, or even the purpose, might be. He already knew he was in a loop of some
sort, something that started the instant he woke up on Monday mornings.
And it
always ended up with the huge facility across the street exploding.
The Hawke
Accelerator, both a modern marvel of technology circa 2094 and also some sort
of weird top-secret project that no one really understood—now also the place
that would simply go boom.
Carter
should know. The first time he experienced this, he was in the accelerator
chamber’s observation room, right in the heart of where the go boom happened
at precisely 12:42 p.m. on Thursday. Which was today, again. Just a few hours
from now.
He’d been through this six times before, each time
expanding his acute understanding of the details surrounding him. Usually he
wrote things down at the end of the day, a memory trick he’d learned about
himself very early on that helped cement the details into place, so even when
he started the loop over without any scribbled notes to organize his thoughts,
his photographic memory recalled it.
But this morning, he went in reverse, writing out
the exact steps as they were meant to be.
And then he’d make sure it played out that way, bit
by bit.
After that, he wasn’t sure.
Carter thought of his parents, their usual voices chastising him for
his lack of planning and forethought, how his teenage foray into coding and
hacking was more about fun than applying himself, and now look at him, simply a
technician running tests and tightening screws. Even now that he’d been through
this loop several times, he hadn’t bothered to call them back from their
birthday messages. Part of him used the excuse that he should stay as close to
the original path as possible, but he knew better.
Even if
this weird loop existence meant a complete lack of consequences, calling his
parents was the last thing he wanted to do.
Carter
checked his phone one more time, five seconds remaining until the crosswalk
kicked off the sequence. He gripped the notebook, staring at the list of things
to come.
A chime
came from the crosswalk. And Carter began to move.
The person
on the right moved.
The man
behind Carter stayed.
An
exasperated sigh came from behind him. Carter kept his eyes on his notebook,
counting steps in his head. “Ack,” the woman said, right when Carter
sidestepped. His focus moved down to the next item on the list, then the next,
then the next, not once looking up. Instead, he executed through a combination
of memory and instinct, sliding sideways when a cyclist rolled by on the
sidewalk and slowing down just enough to follow in a group waiting at the front
entrance of Hawke.
Someone
coughed, marking a time to pause and wait thirteen seconds, enough time to
review the next items on the notebook still in front of him:
Front desk hands out mobile
device for the David AI digital assistant.
Security guard says something
about visiting group from ReLive project.
Passing scientist asks what
time Dr. Beckett’s flight gets in.
He moved
through the security gate designated for employees, taking him past the lobby
threshold and over to the main hallway that split in three directions. He
stopped, leaned against the wall and waited for the final item to come to pass.
Nothing special or unique, just the sound of heels walking in a hurried cadence
from his right to his left. Carter checked the notebook, waiting for the
visitor’s David AI to speak exactly what he wrote.
“Your next
meeting starts in two minutes,” the AI said from the small mobile unit in his
familiar London accent. “Oops! Looks like you might be late. Should I give the
meeting notice of that?”
Carter
mouthed the words as the visitor spoke, his voice fading down the hallway.
“No, thanks. I’ll just hurry.”
David’s
simulated voice could still be heard as Carter put the notebook down, holding
it at his side while considering what just happened. He wasn’t particularly
religious, though part of him wondered if he’d been condemned to some sort of
purgatory. The predictability of it all, the strange exactness of everything he
saw playing out as written on the notebook in his hands.
The first
few times, he’d felt disbelief. Then curiosity. Then amusement.
This time,
well, he guessed that was the purpose of this experiment: to figure out how he
felt knowing he could predict every exact movement of every person he
encountered.
Disbelief,
curiosity, amusement, and now the whole thing was just unnerving.
Nothing
out of turn. Nothing different. Nothing unexpected.
He blew
out a sigh, hands pushing back his wavy black hair. Something tugged at him, a
wish for things to be different. A person walking from his left instead of his
right. Or the plant behind him coming to life and biting his arm. Or a piano
dropping out of the sky and smashing his foot.
Anything at all to end this.
Ten
minutes passed with Carter lost in his own thoughts, but that in itself turned
out to be a change. Normally, he’d take a walk to clear his head, but the
list’s finality wound up freezing him. All the previous loops, he’d
tried to follow his original path as closely as possible, always ending back in
the observation room where the accelerator started to deteriorate and a
massive blast of energy struck him. Perhaps that was the only real difference,
as he’d changed spots in those final moments to see exactly where the bolt
landed on the floor, even using his photographic memory to draw a precise grid
of the floor panels.
What he could do with that information, he wasn’t
sure. But it had to mean something.
This time, though, a weight paused him, an
all-encompassing blanket that left him pondering far longer than he’d ever
done.
And then it hit him: he’d deviated farther from his
path than before, and nothing bad had happened.
Heck, if he wanted something bad to happen simply so
it could, maybe it’d be best if he pushed farther. Or even went in the complete
other direction.
At this point, he’d normally turn right, check in
with the technician’s desk, grab his cart of tools and begin going through his
assignments for the day. But a sharp, almost foreign defiance grabbed him.
He would turn left. He would not check in
with his supervisor. Instead he’d go…
Carter’s eyes scanned, looking for the most opposite
thing he could possibly do.
Of course.
His steps echoed as he pressed
ahead, a strange jubilance to his feet. He moved around people milling about or
talking about actual work things, practically skipping with joy until he turned
to the entrance of the Hawke cafeteria and straight to the bakery station and
its waft of morning pastries.
Ten
minutes passed with Carter lost in his own thoughts, but that in itself turned
out to be a change. Normally, he’d take a walk to clear his head, but the
list’s finality wound up freezing him. All the previous loops, he’d
tried to follow his original path as closely as possible, always ending back in
the observation room where the accelerator started to deteriorate and a
massive blast of energy struck him. Perhaps that was the only real difference,
as he’d changed spots in those final moments to see exactly where the bolt
landed on the floor, even using his photographic memory to draw a precise grid
of the floor panels.
What he could do with that information, he wasn’t
sure. But it had to mean something.
This time, though, a weight paused him, an
all-encompassing blanket that left him pondering far longer than he’d ever
done.
And then it hit him: he’d deviated farther from his
path than before, and nothing bad had happened.
Heck, if he wanted something bad to happen simply so
it could, maybe it’d be best if he pushed farther. Or even went in the complete
other direction.
At this point, he’d normally turn right, check in
with the technician’s desk, grab his cart of tools and begin going through his
assignments for the day. But a sharp, almost foreign defiance grabbed him.
He would turn left. He would not check in
with his supervisor. Instead he’d go…
Carter’s eyes scanned, looking for the most opposite
thing he could possibly do.
Of course.
His steps echoed as he pressed
ahead, a strange jubilance to his feet. He moved around people milling about or
talking about actual work things, practically skipping with joy until he turned
to the entrance of the Hawke cafeteria and straight to the bakery station and
its waft of morning pastries.
“Don’t
worry about it. It’s totally fine. I, uh,” he said. She bit down on her lip,
brow scrunched, though eventually they locked gazes. “I should have watched
where I was going.” He gestured at the growing coffee stain on his outfit.
“You
sure?”
“Absolutely.
It’s work clothes. It gets dirty. No big deal.”
The
woman’s expression broke, relief lifting her cheeks into a toothy grin, one of
those unexpected sights that made everything a little bit better. She looked
back at the group, then the coffee cup in her hands. “Damn it, I spilled a
bunch. Is there a place to get a refill?”
“You’re
going to the main conference room?”
“Yeah.
Spent all week there.”
All week.
All the times Carter had been through the loop before, even seen the names of
various guest groups on schedules, and yet they’d never crossed paths—not
until he did the exact opposite of his routine.
Funny how
that worked.
“We
finally get to see the observation room, though. In a little bit.” She held up
her coffee cup. “Just need a refill somewhere along the way.”
“Café is
back there,” he said, thumb pointing behind him. “Way back there.”
“Ah,” she
said with furrowed brow, a conflicted look that seemed about much more than a
coffee refill. “Probably should meet with the team. Not enough time.”
Not enough
time. The concept almost made Carter laugh. “Well,” he said, pulling out a bag,
“a donut for making you late?”
She took
the bag and peaked inside, cheeks rising with a sudden smile. “I don’t usually
like donuts. But these glazed ones. Simple, you know?” She shuffled the bottom
of the bag to nudge the donut out the opening. “Are you sure? I spilled coffee
on you.”
“Yeah. I’m, uh,” he started,
pausing as their gazes lingered. “My fault for running into you.”
The
wrapper crinkled as she examined it up close before taking a small bite. “I
should get back to my team. Maybe they’ll hand out free coffee by the time we
get to the observation room. Thanks for this.”
Carter
dipped his chin, a quick farewell as he considered the inevitability of the
next few hours, a march toward a chaotic and violent reset. He matched her
smile, though as she turned, he pondered saying something.
Normally,
he wouldn’t. But with the world exploding soon? He went with the opposite of
normal.
“My name’s
Carter, by the way,” he said. “Carter, the guy who gives people donuts.”
Her gaze
shifted, first looking at the floor, then up at the ceiling, even at the bag on
her shoulder before finally locking eyes again. “Mariana,” she said, holding
up the donut bag, “the woman always looking for coffee.” She bit down on her
lip before glancing around. “I’m going to tell you something completely
random.”
“Okay?”
Carter said slowly. “About donuts?”
She
laughed, an easy, bright laugh, though her eyes carried something far heavier.
“No. The group I’m with. We’re touring the facility. But I’m quitting. They
don’t know yet. Today’ll be my last day. Science is great until it’s not.” Her
shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you
this. Probably because we’ll never see each other again.” She spun on her heel,
an abrupt move followed by determined steps forward.
“Not
unless you need another glazed donut.”
She
turned, slowing as she walked away backward, this mystery scientist who
spilled coffee on him and then caught his attention. Because the idea that
someone didn’t like most donuts, well, that was as opposite as anything he’d
ever encountered in his life. “Maybe that,” she said with a small grin.
“I’ll
remember your name in case we do,” he said. “Mariana.”
Her fingers fluttered in a quick wave, then she turned, and Carter
leaned against the wall, ignoring the people who came and went.
Mariana.
Maybe he should write that down, just in case she became important. He pulled
the notebook out from under his arm, only to find the pages soaked with coffee.
A pen would rip through those pages. He’d have to
trust his memory to recall her name, her voice, her face. On the off chance
that they ever met again.
None of it mattered anyway, but as experiments went,
this morning did at least prove helpful.
Now Carter knew that he could do anything, even the
opposite of normal. And that might just lead to him escaping this thing. Or,
at the very least, a lot more pastries.
Mariana disappeared into the sea of people, and as
she did, her words echoed in his mind. First her group went to the conference
room, then the observation room above the accelerator core. He knew that space
well; after all, he’d been in that same room when everything began to explode
and—
Wait.
That was it. A possible connection that he’d somehow
missed before. He’d been there, of all places, summoned to check some of
the power conduits lining the walls as the whole thing fell apart. Could that
exact space be important?
Carter’s head tilted up. Maybe the observation room
held the key to everything.
And if it did, what would happen if others were caught in it too?
Excerpted from A Quantum Love Story by Mike Chen.
Copyright © 2024 by Mike Chen. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books
S.A.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Mike Chen is the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Brotherhood, Here and Now and Then, Light Years from Home and other novels. He has covered geek culture for sites such as Nerdist, Tor.com and StarTrek.com, and in a different life, he’s covered the NHL. A member of SFWA, Mike lives in the Bay Area with his wife, daughter and many rescue animals. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram: @mikechenwriter.
SOCIAL LINKS:
Author website: https://www.mikechenbooks.com/
Twitter: @mikechenwriter
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