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the second law of thermodynamics.
Entropy is a measure of the disorder in a closed system.
Nikki has been fighting the entropy in her life for so long that the struggle has become an old friend. A codependent, cantankerous friend who wants the best for her, who doesn’t want to let her out of sight. A friend who won’t let her risk it all nor let others in, who’s kept her in a bubble protected from the chaos raging outside. Or so she has fooled herself into believing.
In a closed system, entropy is always increasing or remaining the same.
Tom’s reappearance has been the equal and opposite reaction she’s been fearing for so long. Like the awakening of a long-dormant volcano, she has felt the trauma rumbling beneath the surface ever since her breakthroughs after Mexico. The lengths she went to to compartmentalise her grief have been matched tenfold. The chaos she has tried so hard to suppress has instead been nourished with two decades’ worth of repressed ghosts and workplace trauma.
The entropy of the universe is continually increasing.
Ever since Thomas’ death, she has been in a freefall. Gone is the Nikki with the controlled variables and balanced equations, with the stable boyfriend and their 5,000 miles of safe distance. In her place has been a woman wearing risk like a badge of honour and a heart encased in so much pain it has hurt to breathe.
The chaos has been rattling around her ribcage for years now, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, coaxing her into letting it free. It has pushed her in front of death’s door enough times that the grim reaper has grown tired of trying. It has seen her, in what feels like an age ago, fall into a bed with someone who made her feel twenty years young again. Made her feel like she could redo half her life. His name wasn’t Tom but his eyes were bright and his charm was thick. He made her feel like she could be forgiven.
Entropy is what distinguishes the past from the future, giving a direction to time.
She’s thought she could outrun her past but it is all coming full circle. In another timeline, she’s picking her teenager up from the station on her reading week return home and waiting for her husband to call her from his latest deployment. In this one, her child has returned to stardust and her ex’s obsession with what-could-have-been is tearing apart the fabric of her reality. His grief turned outward and hers turned inwards, both creating the disorder that has led them to the here and now. His and hers.
But there is one difference between them, she thinks, as she watches Simone feed her chlorophyll children and Jack tend to the building blocks of life under the microscope. Leo, Harry, Zac, Charlie, Janet, Thomas, Clarissa, Jack. Max and Rosie. Simone and Gloria, their latest additions. Adam, their most recently bereaved. Even little Amelia, Artie, and Marie. She has a family — and it is more real and more fulfilling than their make-believe one would have ever been. Her found family is the result of a chaos that she wouldn’t give up for the world. His family exists only in his imagination.
Higher entropy is always statistically more likely because closed systems favour the direction of increasing entropy.
In the same way one cannot unscramble an egg by scooping it back into its shell, Nikki cannot undo the trauma of her past by pretending it doesn’t exist. It is a part of her that she will have to confront and heal. Acknowledging that won’t taint her present, she understands that now. Giving space to her past may cause more disorder but it doesn’t mean losing control. It doesn’t mean she’s failed. Disorder is morally neutral. Its increasing nature is a fact of life. She can fear it or she can embrace it. She can let it continue to gestate in the closed system of her heart or she can open it up to the mercy of her surroundings.
“I don’t want Vegas,” she says so quietly she’s not sure he’s heard. Her fingers tremor and her heart palpitates. Endless timelines stretch out before her; she wills herself to focus on the coolness of the work bench. The heat flows through her fingertips. Particles vibrate, entropy increases.
“I don’t want Vegas,” she repeats.
“Mmm?” Jack turns to regard her carefully.
Her gaze flits between his eyes and the shadows behind him. “I know I’ve been shutting you out. I hate that I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this. Us.”
Jack sighs and curls his body further over the bench, ducks his head so she can’t make out his face. In the silence, a star supernovas 30,000 light years away. She swallows the urge to baulk.
The entropy change of an open system is self-organising.
Finally, he raises his head and speaks, though it’s more to the bench than to her. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”
“What?” She has opened herself up and the entropy is already making her eyes sting.
“I don’t want you to tell me what you think I want to hear.”
“Jack, that’s not–”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He leans into her but refuses to meet her gaze. Instead, he takes her hand. It’s cold from the bench. His warmth seeks her out. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll always, always be right here. I’ll be waiting.”
The confidence of his monologue is betrayed by the sadness in his eyes, the hopeless hunch in his shoulders. A bolt of resolve shoots through her. She realises she has been looking at this the wrong way: it was the closed system she should have been fearing all this time. Her heart, split wide open, feels calm. Like a pressure valve has released.
The entropy of the universe increases and tends towards the maximum value.
“No,” she says, tugging her hand away, which she regrets when she sees him wince. Gently, she places a hand on his arm and lets the entropy settle in. They will find their equilibrium. “You’re not listening. That isn’t what I want.”
The entropy is shifting, the disorder is increasing elsewhere. It is consuming Jack before her eyes and he is fighting it, fighting it ‘til the bell rings. She needs him to know.
The look on his face could crush her. Could. She wants it to free her. His hand curls around her shoulder. They have drifted into each other's personal space, Nikki in the vee of his legs, close enough to feel the other’s breath caress their cheek. “What is it you want, Nikki?”
“I don’t care if we’re in Liverpool, London,” she laughs nervously, “or Vegas. I don’t want you to wait. I don’t want us to waste any more time waiting .”
It looks like he wants to say something. She shakes her head. Before the panic can drown her, certain it will drown her no matter what route she takes, she lets the chaos escape her lips. “It’s you that I want, Jack.”
It’s his turn to laugh. He caresses her nose with his, holding her tight. “You’ve always had me.”
Around them, the universe expands. Stars turn into black holes and new planets are born from the stardust. She lives.
Entropy is a measure of the disorder in a closed system. In a closed system, entropy is always increasing or remaining the same. The entropy of the universe is continually increasing.
Entropy is what distinguishes the past from the future, giving a direction to time. Higher entropy is always statistically more likely because closed systems favour the direction of increasing entropy. The entropy change of an open system is self-organising.
The entropy of the universe increases and tends towards the maximum value.