Me₃ looked rather bushed. “Oh goody,” he flatly announced, “I got to you in time.”

“What…the…crap,” both I and Me₂ stammered.

Me₃ straightened up. “We seem to have a common problem—or, rather, several.”

“Yeah, we have an ex worthy of Maury Povich,” Me₂ retorted. “What are you doing here? And why did you stop me?” Me₂ glared at me—that is, the Real Me. “And don’t get me started on you.”

“You weren’t in the In-Between—” I began. Me₃ cut me off.

“Yes, this is all about our ex. What did we ever see in her?” Me₃ sighed, more a statement than a true question. “Well, the facts of it are this.” He produced a clicker to a slide projector and pressed one of its buttons. A bulb and a fan clicked to life and illuminated some very retro-style graphs and charts, warm with the tint of vintage film. I could read some of the labels: Passé, Présent, Futur.

“Why’s it in French?” I asked.

Me₃ shrugged. “We always did have an affinity for French. Now, though, shut up and listen. This is going to be a head trip.”