!!!!!SPOILERS!!!!LEAVE!!!!SPOILERS!!!!YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE ANYWAY!!!SPOILERS!!!!LEAVE!!!!
Christ on a crutch, quit you're fookin' blathering, okay? I get it. You want to return to the reality where you're a teacher, your wife is a un-famous artist, and your kid Charlie is, well, a kid. I get it. Your ampoules are down to single digits, the woman who saved your ass has abandoned you, and, now that you think you've found "your" reality out of the infinite choices offered to you by The Box, you've become a stalker, even slipping into your wife's house to watch her and your doppelganger, ah, sleep!
I get it. You're a fully-justified, been-wronged, victim hero. I get it. You're lamenting your choices in life, like superstar scientist verses domesticated, average guy; taking the path of caring human being in microcosm as opposed to what you gave up as single-guy, dedicated genius of cleanroom celebratory discovery for the goodness of all mankind.
I get it. Another iteration of you has learned the hard way that discovering how to traverse the multiverse—that mirror of limitless possibilities—takes a fookin' toll. Not to mention the ethics, the human values that twist dark and powerful of a reality-altering discovery like this in the wrong hands. He's robbed you at gunpoint and taken your place in your now-past, mellow life lounging. Jason2 is you, desperate enough to take desperate measures to get the fook out of a world he's opened like a can of radioactive worms inside a dead cat. You know, what's-his-name's cat.
I get it. The only thing that's pumping essence into this read is whether you've got the stones to kill him and conquer, and, if you're gonna wise up and quit trying to go backwards and, instead, create (that's what writing down everything and straining your mind is about before you open another fookin' door) a new starter kit.
Good luck, fooker. I'm not sure I'll be there in conclusion.
Okay, Blake, OKAY! Swallow back that scolding stare, dude. I finished it, dammit! And it ended exactly how I thought it would end. Of course our hero doesn't kill his usurper; Jason2's left in the non-multiverse—away from all those braying duplicates vomiting up lovesick and poppin' pimples—so he can build another box and drive on to the garnished horizon of matrimony dogging another man's wife like Kharis, The Mummy, dragging his feelingless leg as if it were an abandoned moral code. So there's your sequel, okay?
Seriously, the object of all motivation and desire in Dark Matter seems to be Daniela, quite a one-dimensional character that handles massive, life-altering change pretty easily. She foists off her lifework—no matter, it's just art, her individuality, her voice—just like her hubby, determined to straighten-out the bends in conjugality. She accepts Jason2 despite his foreign habits and idiosyncrasies. It's only after Jason1 appears that she questions #2's credibility, which is understandable. But she spews back with a wifey-poo devotional: "Yeah," she says. "I'm with you"(p.296). She says this multiple times, as if convincing herself. I guess she's not in the read long enough to develop a personality.
Let's face it. This one's trying to crawl out of the Summer Read box, but it just doesn't have the legs. I think this story would've made a very tight novella in the hands of say, John Varley. That said, everybody on Goodreads.com disagrees with me.
I predict a fookin' Summer Blockbuster Movie is in order.