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All TheMyriad Ways
LARRY NIVEN
Also by Larry Niven Published by Ballantine Books
CONVERGENT SERIES
THE FLIGHT OF THE HORSE
A GIFT FROM EARTH
A HOLE IN SPACE
THE LONG ARM OF GIL HAMILTON
NEUTRON STAR
PROTECTOR
RING WORLD
TALES OF KNOWN SPACE:
The Universe of Larry Niven
WORLD OF PTAVVS
A WORLD OUT OF TIME
THE FLYING SORCERERS
(with David Gerrold)
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 All TheMyriad Ways
LARRY NIVEN
ADel key Book
BALLANTINE BOOKS •NEW YORK
ADel Rey Book Published by Ballantine Books
Copyright (c) 1971 by Larry Niven
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. Published in theUnited States by
Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, inc.,New York , and simultaneously inCanada by
Ballantine Books of Canada,
Ltd.,Toronto,Canada .
Page 2
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS;
"Unfinished Story #1," Copyright 1970, Mercury Press, Inc.
"Not Long Before the End," Copyright 1969, Mercury Press, Inc.
"All theMyriad Ways ," Copyright 1968, Galaxy Publishing Corp.
"Theory and Practice of Teleportation," Copyright 1969, Galaxy Publishing Corp.
"The Jigsaw Man," first appeared in DANGEROUS VISIONS, ed. by Harlan Ellison, Copyright 1967
by Harlan Ellison
"Becalmed in Hell," Copyright 1965, Mercury Press, Inc. "For a Foggy Night," Copyright 1971,
Mercury Press, Inc.
ISBN 0-345-28196-9
Manufactured in theUnited States of America
First Edition: June 1971
Fourth Printing: November 1978
Cover art by Dean Ellis
To MARILYN, alias Fuzzy Pink who starred in a couple of stories and inspired others
CONTENTS
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 ALL THEMYRIAD WAYS 1
PASSERBY 12
FOR A FOGGY NIGHT 28
WAIT IT OUT 36
THE JIGSAW MAN 45
NOT LONG BEFORE THE END 59
UNFINISHED STORY #1 72
UNFINISHED STORY #2 73
MAN OF STEEL WOMAN OF KLEENEX74
EXERCISE IN SPECULATION: THE
THEORY AND PRACTICE
OF TELEPORTATION 83
THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF
TIME TRAVEL 110
INCONSTANT MOON 124
WHAT CAN YOU SAY ABOUT
CHOCOLATE COVERED
MANHOLE COVERS? 154
BECALMED IN HELL 167
ALL THEMYRIAD WAYS
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 There were timelines branching and branching, a mega-universe of universes, millions more every
minute. Billions? Trillions? Trimble didn't understand the theory, though God knows he'd tried. The
universe split every time someone made a decision. Split, so that every decision ever made could go both
ways. Every choice made by every man, woman, and child on Earth was reversed in the universe next
door. It was enough to confuse any citizen, let alone Detective-Lieutenant Gene Trimble, who had other
problems to worry about.
Senseless suicide, senseless crime. A citywide epidemic. It had hit other cities too. Trimble suspected
that it was worldwide, that other nations were simply keeping it quiet.
Trimble's sad eyes focused on the clock. Quitting time. He stood up to go home and slowly sat down
again. For he had his teeth in the problem, and he couldn't let go.
Not that he was really accomplishing anything.
But if he left now, he'd only have to take it up again tomorrow.
Go, or stay?
And the branchings began again. Gene Trimble thought of other universes parallel to this one, and a
parallel Gene Trimble in each one. Some had left early. Many had left on time, and were now halfway
home to dinner, out to a movie, watching a strip show, racing to the scene of another death. Streaming
out of police headquarters in all their multitudes, leaving a multitude of Trimbles behind them. Each of
these trying to deal, alone, with the city's endless, inexplicable parade of suicides.
Gene Trimble spread the morning paper on his desk. From the bottom drawer he took his
gun-cleaning equipment, then his .45. He began to take the gun apart.
The gun was old but serviceable. He'd never fired it except on the target range and never expected
to. To Trimble, cleaning his gun was like knitting, a way to keep his hands busy while his mind wandered
off. Turn the screws, don't lose them. Lay the parts out in order.
Through the closed door to his office came the sounds of men hurrying. Another emergency? The
department couldn't handle it all. Too many suicides, too many casual murders, not enough men.
Gun oil. Oiled rag. Wipe each part. Put it back in place.
Why would a man like Ambrose Harmon go off a building?
In the early morning light he lay, more a stain than man, thirty-six stories below the edge of his own
penthouse roof. The pavement was splattered red for yards around him. The stains were still wet.
Harmon had landed on his face. He wore a bright silk dressing gown and a sleeping jacket with a sash.
Others would take samples of his blood, to learn if he had acted under the influence of alcohol or
drugs. There was little to be learned from seeing him in his present condition.
"But why was he up so early?" Trimble wondered. For the call had come in at 8:03, just as Trimble
arrived at headquarters.
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