"See? The 39th causal loop is collapsing. Every dimension that branched off from the 38th iteration is getting deleted . Folded back into the main trunk. And guess whose garage is the pressure valve?"
"See? 40th iteration. Clean. No problems."
(looks up): "Is that why Dad's chair keeps moaning?"
The kitchen chair whimpers softly.
The kitchen lights flicker. Outside, the sky turns the color of a forgotten error message.
Rick freezes. He slowly turns to Morty, eyes wide.
"We are the 39th. The jump failed. We're the ones holding the line. And the deletion wave is…" He checks his watch. "Three minutes away."
"What happens to the 39th version of us?"
bursts through the garage door, hair singed, holding a device that looks like a graphing calculator stapled to a Geiger counter.
"What?!"
"No time for your 'about tos.' The Cosmic Index just ticked over to 39. You know what that means?"
"Oh, man. What do we do? Do we fight it? Do we run?"
The ship flying directly into a pink void, Morty screaming, Rick laughing, and the number 39 burning like a brand on the moon behind them.
"Morty! We gotta go. Now. The universe just hiccupped."
"That's… that's really dark, Rick."