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One: The past influences the present, but then sometimes it doesn't.
Before, long before, there was a headline in the local newspaper: "Shipbroken pleasure cruisers found alive at sea; cruise ship itself mysteriously gone".
Jess read the article, with the usual curiosity of someone that had nothing to do with the incident. She then proceeded to forget it, like you always forget the things that have nothing to do with you.
The article published the following week ("Remaining bodies from mysteriously disappeared cruise ship found; the police have begun an investigation into possible foul play"), she didn't even read.
Two: Fifty dead Sallies, but only a handful of Jess - there has to be a catch.
There's a Jess without blood on her hands in the bridge, the place the killer Jesses only reach once. She counts the ‘herselves’ as they run around the ship – the first Jess; Jess in the dinner hall; the Jess that knows; Jess with the gun; axe-wielding Jess. She knows what they do, where they run – who they kill.When a Sally comes, she steps behind a corner and waits until it's over. That is not what she’s waiting for.
Eventually, the door opens and another Jess enters. "You told me to come," she says. "Now tell me what's going on."
This time, Jess steps forward instead of hiding. This loop, her loop, is slow; she has seen the ones below come and go and come. This is the first time another of her has arrived.
"Here," she says, and she points, "this is what you need to see."
Three: Keeping your sanity can come at the price of losing it.
There's a Jess that always visit the Sallies once she's replaced on the bridge. The Jess on the bridge always watches her – she only goes to see the Sallies when she needs to remember, when she needs to keep the feeling in her gut that screams.
Four: A bad mother, a good mother, or just plain ‘a mother’.
Sometimes, a Jess remembers. Sometimes, a Jess realizes that there are ‘herselves’ that don't kill. Sometimes, she doesn't care. Sometimes she kills them all just to see her son.
Five: Seamless time loops can sometimes be a very good thing.
The notepad never runs out of paper and the pen never runs out of ink. It takes thirteen loops to convince a new Jess to come to the bridge – luck or bad luck, she doesn't know, but that's the number of papers that makes a Jess pick the paper that says, if you want to know, come to the bridge, instead of a version of KILL THEM ALL.
Six: Hope is hope even without pertinent information.
There's a single note on the bridge that isn't written in any of their hands. It says, you must abandon ship when the storm comes. The Jess on the bridge never touches it. The ink is bleached by the sun, the paper frayed at the edges from exposure. Jess watches it and never, ever leave the bridge unless another Jess has come and she can leave to write notes for future Jesses.
Seven: Sometimes you just don't give a shit about hope and just want to be happy – even if it doesn't last.
Sometimes she just kills them all and then kills the first Jess before she can touch her son. She spends that day playing with Tommy and telling him that he's wonderful. When they are inevitably dying (malfunctioning wall socket, drunk driver hitting their house, poisoned food, burglary gone wrong, drowning in the bathtub), she holds him until they die. Together.
Eight: Nothing stays the same in a timeloop – even when it does.
The Jess that writes notes usually suicides by the Jess with a gun. One time, however, she goes on a rampage and kills every Jess she can find. That time, Greg kills her and then cries over her body. Or at least that's what the Jess on the bridge tells her. It’s hard to believe something you can't remember.
Nine: The end is frightening – because what if it isn't the end?
The storm looms at the horizon; the waves are beginning to form beneath the roof of clouds. Jess on the bridge knows that the most recent party to arrive is still wandering the corridors, without having reached the dinner hall. She grabs her shotgun and heads off. Every corner, every stretch of carpet is familiar, and it means nothing to make the other Jess her first kill and then force the others overboard at gunpoint. She hesitates with her leg half-over the rail, looking at the electricity crashing closer.
She has the time to ask herself what if, but then the Jess that has been writing notes climbs up the stairs in search of the shooter and sees her. She throws herself fully overboard before she can think, sinking into the water beside Greg, who paddles away from her as fast as he can. He's not a good swimmer, she realizes. Funny how she never knew that.
The storm settles above them and a wave crashes over her head. She tries to breathe and gets a mouthful of water. Everything goes black.
Ten: The human mind's ability to forget is amazing...
She wakes up to Greg slapping her face. She blinks, her mind slots into place and suddenly she's a single Jess, not one of many.
"Jess! Oh my God, I thought you were dead!"
She stares up at Greg - he's forgotten, she realizes. She still remembers, however. She remembers and remembers and remembers...
Tommy.
Eleven: ...but sometimes it's far from enough.
There's a red mark on Tommy's cheek as she picks him up (from school - such an amazingly small thing to be overjoyed by). She drives them to the library to hit the computers (to find them a hotel, any hotel - she can't, she refuses to return to... home) but she has to run to the bathroom to puke. Tommy cries and she hugs him even as he stops crying because she puked and he begins to cry because mommy is being weird.
Twelve : Remembering makes you a lonely person, but it also makes you the richer person.
They move as far from the sea as they can without leaving the country. She finds a school for Tommy, finds a small house and a job. She doesn't keep in touch with anyone from the boat.
Thirteen: The end?
There are no mirrors in their house, and Jess turns her face away from reflective windows and surfaces. Beneath her pillow lies a tattered piece of paper, and out on the sea, beneath clouds that appear as suddenly as they disappear, a cruise ship steams straight ahead. On its bridge, there's a new note written in large block letters: you must abandon ship when the storm comes.