Jessica Mallory was sitting idly in her chair when Delia and I came back into the audition room.

“I’m afraid we can’t offer you a role in The Lamb Broker,” I said.

“What?”

“We cannot offer you a role in The Lamb Broker,” I reiterated. “I’m afraid our decision is final, but you are more than welcome to keep an eye out and apply for any future postings of ours.”

This was not news I wanted to deliver—she had by far the most impressive résumé in our casting pool—but Delia had overridden me in our discussion. “Something about her seems … off,” she’d said. “I know she’s starred in all these other projects, and she’d definitely be a powerful Phoebe, but, like I just didn’t get good vibes from her to-day. I’m not sure if I could handle working with her day in and day out.”

“Well, you’re the director,” I’d replied.

And here I was, delivering Jessica Mallory our decision. I knew she wanted the role of Phoebe badly, and I expected her to be visibly distraught.

Instead she just cocked her head nonchalantly. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll just try again.”

“Uh … no, it doesn’t work that way,” Delia said.

“Oh, I’m sure I can.” Jessica Mallory pulled out a small red button from her purse and let her thumb hover over its surface. Was it some kind of threat?

“Whatever that is,” Delia stammered, suddenly gripped with terror, “don’t do anything silly.”

“Look, Jessica,” I jumped in. “You’re a phenomenal actress, we’ve adored you in your other projects, but—”

“No need to flatter me,” Jessica said. “The fact of the matter is, we’ve already burned our bridges, and this is a junk timeline. By pressing this button I will destroy the Universe and reset to my last checkpoint right before my audition. Then I’ll just keep trying until you give me the part. Usually this takes like forty, fifty tries.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Delia asked.

“Do we … die?” I asked.

“I mean, yeah. The whole Universe does, the timeline gets cut off. But if it’s any consolation, you won’t feel a thing.”

“You’re not serious, are—”