Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Microstory 2297: Found a Happy Medium

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Yesterday, I announced that the Kansas City Metro’s response to Nick and Dutch’s passing would be a sort of forum where people could come up on stage, and say whatever they were feeling. I didn’t get into the details before, but everyone who asked to do this was going to have to submit an application at least the day prior, explaining what they were going to say. Then, while each speaker was up at the mic, the next one would be experiencing a screening process to make sure that they weren’t planning on doing something inappropriate, like a striptease, or a racist rant. Of course, they could always lie and switch it up once they got their turn, but we believed that we could have made it work. Sadly, most people online did not take to this idea. They thought it was stupid, dangerous, or just totally irrelevant. We hear you, and we see you, so we’ve changed our plans. We’re not going to be doing that, but we’re not going to be doing nothing either. We’ve found a happy medium. The two of them touched many people’s lives while they were on Earth, and their positive impact could be felt everywhere. We are in the process of contacting everyone that they knew while they were here. It is only they who will be speaking at the event. I appreciate all of you speaking out for your truth, and clearing a path for a better concept than we originally had. This has not set our schedule back. We will still be holding the event on Saturday, the 20th. We’re not yet sure where it’s going to be, though. A sports stadium would have a lot of room, but both of them hated sports, so we are sure that we want to do that. Y’all are good at giving advice. Where do you think we should hold it?

Monday, December 9, 2024

Microstory 2296: To Be a Gathering

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I had a meeting today with the Mayor of Kansas City. She regrets that we’re doing the memorial service in Chicago, but she understands, especially since our two cities have such a great relationship with each other. Still, she would like to do something in honor of Nick, and I think that would be fine. We had a lot of trouble figuring out what that might be. He didn’t like parades, and a vigil seems too depressing. We spent most of the day discussing it, taking breaks here and there so she could manage other needs of the city. In the end, we decided that it’s just going to be a gathering where people can come up to the microphone on stage, and talk about whatever they want. It doesn’t even have to have anything to do with the deceased, if they have something else to say. It’s unconventional, and a little strange, and I think Nick would have liked it. Dutch would have, that’s for sure. That guy danced to the beat of his own drum. Don’t worry, we’re going to be screening people throughout, to make sure they’re not offensive or otherwise problematic. It’s going to be a lot to coordinate, but we think that we can be ready by Saturday of next week. There’s a reason we chose that date. This is kind of going to be a Kansas City thing, so if you’re coming from elsewhere, and have made travel arrangements to Chicago, we don’t want it to be too easy to add an extra thing. You are welcome to come, if you want, but it’s mostly just for us. Thanks for your understanding.

Sunday, December 8, 2024

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 25, 2477

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Mateo couldn’t move as he was staring up at this young woman who was standing over him, claiming to be his daughter. She looked like a cross between himself and someone in the Nieman family, but he couldn’t run a DNA test just with his eyes. This could be anyone pretending to be a relative for some personal agenda. A cabal may have cast her for the role specifically because she resembled what Romana was expected to grow up to look like. Trust, but verify was the first thing running through his head.
She seemed to be figuring what he was thinking. “You don’t have to believe me. We’ll know soon enough, but first, warm up by the fire. I would like to spend some time alone with my father before we involve the rest of the team.”
Mateo stood up, walked a couple meters away, and sat back down on the rocks to let the heat begin to dry his clothes. He watched the waves splash against the shore, always just out of reach, even with the wind. He wanted to stand yet again, and take her into a big hug, but assuming she was telling the truth, she still didn’t know this man. He was a famous person to her, but more of an idea than a real person. Her impressions would have been built from anecdotes and rumors. Like all his other children, he never got the chance to raise her. Who would he father but fail next?
“You’re not a failure,” Romana assured him.
“Can you turn it off, the mind-reading?”
“Yes, I just...couldn’t help myself. I’ve been waiting for this day for a very long time.” She shakes her head. “So long.”
“Why wait? Were you stuck in a time bubble, or the past?”
“I was in the past,” she began to explain, “but I wasn’t stuck. We went there on purpose. Well, I didn’t have any say; I was only a baby. That’s just where I grew up.”
“Karla left us a message on the mirror,” Mateo said. “She told us to not contact her; to maintain radio silence until things were safe. We respected that. We didn’t even talk about it amongst ourselves. I don’t think I ever mentioned it to Marie.”
“It’s because we were unreachable,” Romana clarified. “Those mirrors couldn’t bridge two points in time, only space.”
“I’ve been at this for several years. If I hadn’t gotten stuck in those time bubbles, and fallen out of my pattern occasionally, it would not have even been two years. If you’ve grown up like this, just as Dubra did, you’ve been doing it for longer than me.”
“Thousands of real years,” Romana confirmed. I was there, in the cemetery. I saw your first jump. I even saw you come back a year later.”
“Wouldn’t we have jumped at the same time?” Mateo asked.
“I can adjust the departure time by a few minutes, like if I’m in the middle of a conversation, or if I’m ready to leave early.”
“How were you there at any rate? It was the wrong timeline.”
“I’ve mostly been living in the Third Rail, which allowed me to enter any timeline I wanted whenever I went back to the main sequence.”
“How is that possible? The Third Rail suppressed powers and patterns.”
“Not for me. I’m a lot like you, but not completely. My temporal metabolism is slightly different. Half of my genes are from the Niemans, and I was carried by many mothers. We call it a mutation.”
“Where’s your real mother, Karla?”
“I’m not ready to talk about her yet. I can tell you about my grandmother, though, Tyra. You met her when she was old. In a different cemetery?”
Mateo thought back to what she might have been talking about. If it was in the Third Rail, then she must be referring to the time when Mateo needed to get away from the group, and decided to take a drive back towards that reality’s version of Topeka. “She said her name was Tallulah, but it always seemed like a lie.”
Romana smiled. “Yeah, she didn’t want to mess with your future. She was visiting her husband, and had no clue that you would show up. Both of them took the serum to be on my pattern. Then they both died, and I left the reality to...visit my past; see where I came from. I’ve watched you a lot, from the shadows, across multiple timelines.”
“I’m not proud of everything I’ve done.”
“Neither am I,” she replied.
They were silent for a few moments, both watching the wrathful ocean crash into the distant cliffs. “I would love to know your intentions,” he finally mustered the courage to say. “Are you staying, or is this just...a gift that you’re about to take away so you can live your own life?”
“I thought about coming to you sooner, like right after you met Baby!Me. But there are people who don’t need to know what happened during my first year on Dardius. I decided to end up here a bit early, so I could make a home for us all. Here’s a hint, it’s not under Castledome. It’s much prettier, and it’s not on the map. I was hoping that...that you could—I know you’ve missed so much, and maybe you just wanna...”
“I don’t wanna let you go. We’ve never really had a home, especially not me after I accidentally erased myself from history. I just keep running around the multiverse. I did wonder if this could be a place where we could put down roots when I first saw these domes. I didn’t know what was going on, or who was in charge, but it felt like we belonged here. Now that we have the slingdrive, we can commute anywhere we want, but return home at the end of the day. I don’t know that I want you going out there, even though I’m sure you’ve seen some stuff already, but...”
She placed a hand on his. “We can make up for lost time. We don’t have to make any decisions right away. I don’t need to join the team if you don’t want me to. I just want a family. I haven’t been alone my whole life, but it’s been lonely in recent days.”
“I’m sorry, I left. I don’t know what they told you—”
“I don’t blame you for that. I know that you had to protect me...from yourselves. That was the bravest choice I’ve ever heard of anyone making. I don’t know that I could have done it. I waited this long because I wanted you to be able to take me seriously. I would have waited longer, until I was an actual adult, but paradoxically, I also want you to still see me as a child. Does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense,” he promised. He spread his arms open, letting the blanket fall down behind him as he pulled her into a bear hug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I thought we would have more time. I thought the threats would have disappeared in a few hundred years, and you would still be a wee baby girl.”
“It’s okay. It’s no one’s fault,” she said as she was gently separating herself. “Except for Oaksent. He started to look for me. He dismantled the LIR Towers piece by piece during our interim year so my mother, Auntie Constance, and I wouldn’t have a safe place to land.”
Mateo stopped himself from getting too worked up about that. “What of Silenus?”
“Silenus made the same sacrifice that you did. He drew them away.”
Mateo nodded reverently, but didn’t press the issue. He instead changed the subject. “Well, could I see this dome that you apparently built for us?”
“It’s not quite ready yet,” she answered, equal parts embarrassed and excited. “The automators are still putting on the finishing touches. I was going to wait a year to introduce myself, but then you teleported to the North Pole Ocean, and I felt like I needed to help. You could have called for anyone, but they’re busy, and...”
“I appreciate it,” he said. “I’m glad for this extra time.”
Matt, where are you?” Leona asked through comms.
“I’m alone for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he responded to her.
That doesn’t answer my question.
“I’m in Ancient Rome,” he lied. “All these white pillars and shit.”
Leona took a beat. “Fair enough.
Romana smiled, then placed her hand on his shoulder. They were suddenly sitting on a stone staircase. All around them looked like Ancient Rome, with all these white pillars and shit. “Now you’re not lying.”
“You can teleport? Is that innate, or was your substrate upgraded?”
Her smile grew twice as big. “I didn’t teleport. I just made you do it.”
“So you’re a metachooser.”
“No. I’m just Romana.” She stood up, and stole his hand from him before running down the steps. “Come on!”
They ran down to the street, and between the buildings. They winded through the alleyways, Mateo having no clue where they were going, until he saw it. It was a replica of the Colosseum, just like the one Saga and Vearden were forced to build on Tribulation Island. Romana led him through the entrance, and onto the main grounds. “Maybe you could do it here. For the symmetry.”
“Do what here?” he asked.
“Get remarried?”
“To who?” He was offended.
“To Leona, silly. You were forced to do it last time. You should do it again, but for yourselves.”
“If we ever renew our vows,” Mateo began, “this is the last place we would do it.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
She teleported them away, or rather she made him do it. They were now standing on Ayers Rock, or this world’s version of it, anyway. Could every geographical and cultural location on Earth be found here somewhere? “What about here?” she offered.
“Do you know my personal history with this place?”
“Good point again,” Romana said. She took him to several other domes, each one either designed to resemble an important spot from Mateo’s past, or which incidentally reminded him of somewhere important. They settled on a desert, which boasted the most magical of starry holograms above. They slept out under the stars that night, and jumped forward together come midnight central. Only then was she ready to meet the rest of the group.
“Who’s this?” Leona asked upon seeing her.
Mateo could not read his wife’s mind, but he did feel a hint of jealousy from her, and it triggered painful flashbacks to his history with Cassidy Long. He met her in much a similar way, alone and on a world that everyone believed to be otherwise uninhabited, yet ready for a population. He needed to clarify the truth right away. “Gang, please allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Romana Nieman.”
Leona’s eyes lit up at the revelation. “Oh. Oh, dear.” She reached over and wrapped her arms around Romana’s shoulders. “I am so happy to meet you.”
“They grow up so fast,” Ramses joked.
The rest of the team began to exchange hugs with her as well, and welcome her to the party. She caught them up on her life between being a baby on Dardius, and her arrival to Castledome, but she left out some of the less fun developments, such as the deaths and sacrifices. Mateo still didn’t know everything himself, but now they had time to get to know each other. Once the pleasantries were dying down, Ramses clapped his hands together. “Well, I was going to announce that we were ready to establish our spatio-temporal tethers, but the machine will need to be recalibrated for the additional member. I wouldn’t exactly call this a one time thing, but if someone new needs to be added later, we would have to sever the original links, and start all over again. Which is fine, so if, Romana, you’re not quite ready to commit...”
“I’m ready. What does it entail, though? Can we never be apart from each other?”
“No, we can,” Ramses clarified. “Here are the properties. We will always know two things about each other. We will always be aware of where we are at this very moment, and we will know where we are according to our shared time gaps. To put it another way, if one of us uses the slingdrive to travel to the Andromeda Galaxy, we’ll all be aware that they’re there right now. If someone instead jumps back to the year 1845, we’ll sense them there based on how long it’s been for us, and for them. So if they stay in 1845 for three days, and then travel to, say, 2024, we’ll know that, but it will take us three of our own days to find out, even though both are in the past anyway. Make sense?”
They all nodded.
“Will we be able to reunite with each other in such a case?” Olimpia pressed.
“Possibly,” Ramses admitted. “The tether keeps us in lock-step, but it’s not powerful enough on its own to allow cross-travel. We would need some other way. We would need a second slingdrive, or a sufficiently powerful traveler. But would still be the navigators.”
“Got it,” Angela decided. “Anything else we should know?”
He waited an uncomfortably long time to respond. “There’s a chance that something will be screwy when the machine is activated. I’m confident that it will work, but in order to power the Livewire in the first place, I had to tap into our quintessence reserves. There’s a chance that we’ll be scattered to the winds, and our first mission will involve finding each other again. Someone will have to use the Ambassador to do that, and I might not be the one closest to it.”
“Why would anyone necessarily be close to it,” Marie questioned. “What if we all end up distant from it?”
“The ship is part of the link,” Ramses said. “At least one of us will experience a strong tether to it.” He presented some e-paper. “You’ll all need a copy of the operator’s manual. It’s obviously mostly automated, but you’ll still need to handle some things.”
They continued to discuss the dangers associated with the Livewire tether, but ultimately decided that it was worth the risk to never be truly parted from each other ever again. Ramses activated the linking machine. Nearly everyone managed to stay right on this ship; all except Romana. And for some reason, they couldn’t sense her.

Saturday, December 7, 2024

Extremus: Year 93

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In New Migration Theory, there is a concept of a “true native”, which is academically known as the rooted generation in order to avoid charged sociopolitical connotations. A true native would be anyone who identifies as such, and can reasonably consider themselves that way. Trying to establish a particular definition would undoubtedly offend people. The rooted generation, however, refers to very specific people born to a given area. The Void Migration Ship Extremus is about to experience it, and the keystone for this species really just depends on who happens to be born first.
When the original passengers of Extremus first boarded the ship, they were leaving their home behind. They knew that they would never see the destination planet, but they didn’t do it for them. They did it for the descendants. Even now, after all this time, not a single person on board is expected to be alive to see the mission realized. It will be up to those who have not yet been born. Until then, the rooted generation will be in reference to a native of the generational ship itself. Again, they don’t for sure know who that is yet, but they know what the trigger was. Naruhito Arethusa was three years old on Launch Day, making him one of the youngest babies to board. He wasn’t the absolute youngest, but lifespans aren’t all the same, so others have died already, making him the last man standing. While he had no intact memories of Gatewood, he technically lived there. He was a Gatewooder. He was 96, and is survived by his children, grandchild, and great grandchildren.
Naruhito being the last Gatewooder is an important milestone in Extremus history. Everyone alive today was born on the ship. He was too young to be able to decide for himself whether he wanted to board the ship or not, but he still had influence on the decision, if only subconsciously for his family. No one else here even had the hope of altering this decision. It had already happened. The first member of the rooted generation is one who will have a temporal gap between them and Gatewood. Of course, knowledge and stories have been passed down the years, so it’s not like this big mystery, but they will never meet a Gatewooder. Everyone who sees this future person will be an Extremusian who never saw Gatewood themselves. The distinction between this baby, and everyone else who was born here, is not meant to cause some kind of generational divide. It’s not there to cause anyone to other anyone else. It is just, again, a milestone. Whichever baby is born first will become the first member of the rooted generation, and its inherent value is enough to warrant some form of celebration. This achievement was never inevitable. A million things could have happened in the last 93 years to prevent its success. Yet through it all, Extremus and its passengers have persevered. The rooted generation is a testament to that. The job isn’t over yet, but this is still an accomplishment. Or it will be anyway, once the baby is born.
The problem that Tinaya is facing today is one which no one thought would happen. It didn’t occur to them that this issue should arise, and cause conflict between otherwise perfectly normal and well-adjusted families. “This is highly irregular, Dr. Cernak.” After Dr. Ima Holmes died, Captain Soto Tamm appointed a new Chief Medical Officer, though Tinaya can’t remember her name at the moment. Whoever it was, they coincidentally retired at around the same time that the captain’s seat was changing butts. One of the last things that Lataran did was appoint Radomil Cernak to the position. “Why are you treating a passenger, and why have you brought me here?”
“I’ll let her explain,” Dr. Cernak replies.
A very pregnant woman is sitting sort of between them in a wheelchair. Her doula is holding onto the handles, and showing no signs that she’s going to say anything herself. “My name is Veta Vivas, and my child’s name will be...” She pauses to create a sense of anticipation. No one is feeling it; they’re more annoyed. “Root. Root Vivas.”
“Congratulations,” Tinaya says politely, not understanding why she should care. If this were an emergency, the tone of the room, and the behavior of the medical staff, would be quite different. “When are you due?”
“Unfortunately, a week from now,” Veta answers. “The Wiegand baby is due in three days.” Back in the olden days, a baby’s due date was only ever the best guestimation. Few babies actually came into the world on time. Some were early, some were late. These days, with advances in medical science, the date is generally spot on, even if it has to be adjusted slightly during the gestational period as development presents a clearer pattern. This late in the process, however, doctors are never wrong.
But Tinaya. She still doesn’t know what this has to do with her.
“I have put in a request to induce labor,” Veta goes on. I want Root to be born now, or his name will just sound stupid.”
“You’re rejecting it?” Tinaya asks Dr. Cernak, not accusatorily.
“I wasn’t the first,” Dr. Cernak explains. “Like you said, she’s not my patient. She...escalated the issue when she didn’t receive the answer she was hoping for.”
Tinaya nods, and looks back at Veta. “You want your child to be the first in the rooted generation.”
“He deserves it. We deserve it.”
“You realize that inducing labor in order to give one particular family this privilege is not only unfair to other parents, but goes against the spirit of the milestone. We don’t get to decide who turns out to be the first to take root. That is time’s job.”
“So you’re rejecting us as well,” Veta figures.
“I’m not rejecting anything,” Tinaya argues. “This is a medical concern. I’m the captain. I don’t understand why you’re bugging me with this.” She’s still looking squarely at Veta. She doesn’t blame Dr. Cernak for seeking help with the problem. She can tell by everyone’s respective demeanor that this is not the beginning of the conversation, but the middle of a long one. Tinaya has so far gone down in history as the least polite captain. Even Tamm was charming and beloved by many until the scandal blackened the lines of his story. Tinaya is the oldest to hold command, and she doesn’t take any shit. People know this about her, and they respect her for it. She’s not losing any popularity contests because of it either. The captain has to be firm, even if that means some people don’t get their way.
“This is Root’s birthright, literally,” Veta insists. “We were trying to conceive for months before we sought medical assistance.
Tinaya is flabbergasted by this response. “First off, if you had successfully conceived earlier, then you would be having a different child, rather than the one you’re having now. Secondly, and more importantly, Naruhito Arethusa died yesterday. This other hypothetical child would not have had any hope of being the first in the rooted generation as they would have been born months ago.”
“We don’t see it that way,” Veta says matter-of-factly. “My husband and I were really close to conceiving 280 days ago today.”
Tinaya sighs. “Dr. Cernak, I’m asking you one last time, are you rejecting Mrs. Vivas’ petition for the inducement of labor?”
“I am rejecting the petition,” Dr. Cernak confirms.
Tinaya studies Veta’s eyes. “Please place Mrs. Vivas on safety watch for the remainder of her pregnancy, and clear your schedule to perform the delivery procedure yourself once the time comes.”
Veta is fuming. “What the hell! You can’t do that! I’m not suicidal!”
“Safety watch is not about suicide alone,” Tinaya begins. “It’s about the risk that you pose to yourself, and-or to others. “You have exhausted all of your legal options for the inducement of labor, and I can tell that you are willing to explore alternative methods, which would not be safe for you, nor your baby. If you don’t already know what they are,” Tinaya says before looking up at the doula, “she surely does. You will stay in quarantine until you have the baby. Should something happen to delay the Wiegand baby’s birth, you may get your wish, but we will not be assisting in this regard. My word is final.” She turns around to leave, suddenly realizing her grave error.
“You can’t do this!” Veta screams. “Root is the root! Root is the root!” She sounds like she’s thrashing about. The security guard posted in the infirmary runs over to help.
Tinaya teleports to the passenger hospital, and approaches the reception desk. “I need to look up a patient. I don’t need any medical data on her, just the name of her obstetrician.” She submits the name, then proceeds to Dr. Causey’s office.
“Captain, this is quite the surprise, and an honor. If you are looking for discreet treatment, I promise you that I can offer it, no questions asked.”
Tinaya has never heard of a member of the executive crew seeking medical attention from someone who enjoys a distance from scrutiny, but perhaps it’s happened. If it’s true, it’s none of Tinaya’s business. “That’s very kind of you, but it won’t be necessary. I need you to place a patient of yours on safety watch. A...rival of hers is determined to predate her date of delivery.”
Dr. Causey nods. “Veta Vivas; I am aware. Lena has already expressed her concerns to me regarding this one-sided conflict. You believe she is in danger?”
“I made the mistake of telling Mrs. Vivas that her child may end up winning if something happens to Mrs. Wiegand. I meant it innocuously, but immediately grew concerned that she might encourage someone to force a delay...or worse.”
Dr. Causey nods again. “That is a scary thought, however, my patient is willing to trade delivery dates to avoid any social unrest. She has no strong feelings about her child becoming the first rooted descendant, and recognizes that it’s evidently quite important to this Veta Vivas.”
“That will not be happening,” Tinaya contends. “Perhaps if you had made this arrangement sooner, it might have worked, but now it’s too late. I cannot allow you to reward Mrs. Vivas’ inappropriate behavior. I’ve already placed her on safety watch. If I backpedal now—”
“I understand,” Dr. Causey interrupts. “We should have dealt with this internally. There was no need to bring the Captain into this. I apologize for the inconvenience, I’m sure you have more important things to attend to.”
“So you’ll place Mrs. Wiegand on safety watch?”
“Might as well,” Dr. Causey agrees. “We’ll take good care of her, and protect her from any interference. She won’t complain; she’s very laid back.”
“Thank you.” Tinaya taps on her watch. “I’ve placed you on my priority access list, so if you need to contact me, you’ll be able to circumvent the communication filters that shield me from every rando who wants to talk to the captain.”
“Great. I’ll be sure to call you every hour, on the hour, to ask you your favorite colors and foods.”
Tinaya chuckles. “Good day.” She disappears.
When Tinaya returns to the executive infirmary, Dr. Cernak is locking the door to the safety watch room. Tinaya watches through the window as doula is helping Veta into the bed.”
“She staying in there with her?”
“She’s a tethered doula,” Dr. Cernak begins to explain. “She literally can’t leave her client’s side. Time will teleport her right back if she tries to walk away.”
“She consented to that?” Tinaya questions.
“It’s her whole job. She takes a new one every year. I believe she only gives herself a week or so off, depending on who commissions her next, and when they need her.” They stand in silence for a moment, watching to make sure the mother is okay. “We’re getting her her own bed to put in the corner.”
“I’m sorry you had to do this,” Tinaya says to him.
“Me too, but this is what these rooms are for, even if this is the first time anything quite like this has happened. I would rather be safe than sorry. Though...you do realize that the other mother—”
“I just spoke with her doctor. She’ll have to go into safety watch too, in case the father gets any crazy ideas put in his head, or someone else close to Mrs. Vivas.”
They’re silent again before having to flatten themselves against the wall to make way for the trundle bed. “I kind of like the name Root,” He decides. “If this hadn’t become a whole thing, I might suggest it for the actually rooted child.”
“Yeah, maybe. Listen, I gotta go pick up my own kid, but call me if you need me. Maybe consult with Dr. Causey about the situation too. After both children are born, they’ll probably all need some counseling. I, for one, would like to see them become friends one day. There’s no need for all this hostility. This is no one’s fault.”
“Will do, Captain. Thanks for comin’ by.”
Tinaya jumps back to her stateroom, and plops herself on the couch.
“Can you talk about it?” Arqut asks respectfully from the perpendicular loveseat.
Tinaya stares forward into space. “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”
“You’re just as beautiful today as the day I first saw you at graduation.”
She furrows her brow, and cocks her head towards him. “You were at my graduation? Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
“You were only a little baby at the time, I’m a few years older. Seems creepy, looking back.”
She scoffs. “You couldn’t have known that we would end up together. Besides, because of my time travel, I’m actually older than you.”
“Well, I’m telling you now.”
Tinaya kisses the air in his general direction as he does the same towards her. “I better go get Silvy from school,” she determines.
“I’ll take care of it. I didn’t do anything today.”
“Thanks.”
 Tinaya’s watch beeps with a text message from Dr. Causey. That whole every hour, on the hour thing was a joke, right? It reads, I just received word. The rooted child has been born. A different OB agreed to induce labor for the Hearn family.

Friday, December 6, 2024

Microstory 2295: Stress Out of the Process

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What I’ve learned is that the publicity firm that Nick was using to protect his life story from rumors and lies is no stranger to memorial services. A few of their clients have died while they were working with them, and their survivors can purchase a new package to help with arrangements. Some clients even purchase it ahead of time in anticipation, like one would reserve a burial spot in a cemetery because they know they’re gonna die eventually. Nick didn’t do that, because he didn’t even think to hire anyone when his health started to decline from the prion infection. Well, I think he did consider it way back then, but he didn’t have the money, and didn’t follow through until later. Anyway, I purchased the memorial package, so they’re handling everything. I’ll be signing off on all decisions, but I won’t have to think them up myself, which takes a lot of the stress out of the process, so I’m grateful for their help in this matter. Or perhaps they should be thanking me for my help, if they’re the ones taking point. I did secure a reservation for the Causeway Center in Chicago, though. It’s so last minute that someone already had the auditorium booked. Homes for Humankind and CauseTogether.hope have assured me that whoever it was was happy to push it back to another day, but it’s hard for me to imagine how that’s possible. That room can accommodate hundreds of people, which means that they have to contact hundreds of people to alert them to the change in dates. I suppose that’s not necessarily true. Maybe they booked the whole place for an audience of eleven. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure out who it was, and if they’re really okay, but I can’t seem to find any information. You would think that an event like that would be advertising somewhere so customers could sign up for their thing instead. If you know what was supposed to be happening in the auditorium next Friday, shoot me a message. I feel that I owe them a thank you. In the meantime, I’m flying up to look at the venue this weekend, but I’ve already seen photos, and it looks great.

Thursday, December 5, 2024

Microstory 2294: Mostly Long and Narrow

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What Nick’s publicists and I determined is that people from all over the country, and indeed all over the world, are interested in coming to his and Dutch’s memorial service. Because of this, we decided that it didn’t have to take place in Kansas or Missouri. If you’ll recall, there were some issues months ago when someone created an unauthorized CauseTogether.hope campaign for him. Despite the issue, he’s maintained a healthy and amicable professional relationship with the website. At the same time, he was working with Homes for Humankind. As it turns out, the house-building organization and the charitable fundraising platform teamed up some years ago to build a sort of convention center. It is here that charities come together, and reach out to their donors, volunteers, and beneficiaries. It’s located in Chicago, which is fitting, since the three of us went there one time on the Heartland Expressway, and Nick visited the city many times in his home universe. The Humankind Causeway Center is mostly long and narrow to fit the theme of its namesake, but there are two larger buildings on either end. One contains a large ballroom, and the other boasts an auditorium that can fit about 900 people. I can’t imagine that quite so many mourners will sign up to attend the service, but it should be great for our needs. We’re still working out the dates, but I’ll keep you updated as needed. Gratitude for all your words of love and togetherness during this difficult time.

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Microstory 2293: Hits Some Harder

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New plan. Dutch has been presumed dead as well, so I’m planning a single memorial service for the both of them. They were good friends, I think they would have liked that. People have been commenting on social that it’s some sort of money-saving scheme. Trust me, we don’t need to save money. We’re millionaires, remember? Well, I am, anyway. I’ve not spoken with the lawyers yet, but I believe all the money goes to me. Yay, I’m rich! I’ve always wanted to lose my best friends so I can live alone in a big empty house. In case you can’t tell from the written word, that’s sarcasm. I hate this. This was never the plan after Dutch opened that door, and cured Nick with space magic. Nothing will be changing. Nick decided where he wanted to regularly make donations, and I have no reason to alter that plan. We invested some of it, to make it grow, so we can keep donating beyond what we already have. That’s why we didn’t just disperse the lump sum, and walk away. All right, I better get back to work. It takes me a long time to get anything done, because I often have to stop and cry. I can’t provide you with details about the memorial service right now, but I’ll make an announcement shortly on my own social media account. We need to gauge how many people will want to come. He wasn’t the kind of person who needed a lot of people to attend, but he told me that it’s not about him. If a large crowd shows up, then whatever, so I have to make sure the venue can accommodate them. We all have a different relationship with death. Most people obviously don’t like it, but it hits some harder than others. They can feel grief for those they’ve never met. Some even feel it when they learn of a person’s death who they had never even heard of before. Who are we to judge their reactions? I’m getting a lot of messages from people who are interested in being there, so I think we’re gonna have quite a large audience. I’ll let you know when I can. I’ll probably have to get our publicity firm involved since I’m sure they have experience with this stuff.

Tuesday, December 3, 2024

Microstory 2292: Laws of Life and Death

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I still can’t let my emotions get the best of me. I have to plan Nick’s memorial service. I know it sounds like something that can wait, and maybe it can, but I’ve got it in my head that we have to do something special for him. Weeks ago, I remember him telling me about his stories. He had all sorts of aliens and “supernatural” creatures (who weren’t really supernatural, just higher level science). You know his fascination with immortality, right? Well, the pseudomortals were his very first attempt at that kind of plot device. Or no, it might have been his second, because Gavix may predate them. Anyway, pseudomortals could die, but after four days, they would come back to life in new bodies. The exact mechanics of this would not be apparent when you start reading, but over the pages, you would learn more about why this is. It isn’t random. Evidently, while the pseudomortals were a relatively short-lived subspecies of humans, they sort of opened the world up to the idea of the four day gap. It became a key tenet of multiple fictional religions—which we now know actually weren’t fictional at all, but his Earth believed them to be. The pseudomortals merely tapped into the laws of life and death; they didn’t create them. The basic idea is that after you die, you stay in a parallel dimension for four days before moving on to the true afterlife, and these religions formed rituals and conventions based on this concept. So even though Nick never lived in a world that had these religions, or even had the four day rule, I thought it would be nice to honor him by laying him to rest on the fourth day after his death. The problem is, none of his writings came with him on his multiversal adventures. Everything he was ever able to tell us had to come from his memory. So even if I’m remembering everything he said correctly, he might not have been remembering it exactly how he wrote it years ago. He admitted that he couldn’t recall what the religious rituals were like, but he knew that they were more involved than just having a funeral after four days, and then going home. There’s a part where you’re supposed to enjoy the deceased’s favorite activity? And he thought that the memorial and burial were on different days?

I’m freaking out about this, and I keep forgetting for a fraction of second that he’s gone, so for those brief moments, I think that I can just ask him to try to remember, because he’s the expert, but of course, that won’t work, because the whole reason we’re doing this is because he’s the one who’s gone, and I’ll never see him again, and I’ll never find out if Dimitri Orion ever gets his job back, or how the crew of the Atom Ship escapes the supervoid. And I know none of this means anything to you, but I think my emotions are breaking free, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get them back in the bottle. They’re still searching for Dutch, but I can tell that their hearts aren’t in it anymore. At this point, they’re looking for a body, not a person. So actually, I have two memorials to plan, but I don’t have any clue what Dutch would have wanted. We didn’t talk about this stuff, because we’re all so young, so why would that have come up? Because our lives have been in danger all year, that’s why. We were so naïve. We thought it would be some psycho who wanted to test their immortality or portal opening powers, not just an icy road. The edge of a mountain switchback? After all this, how is that what finally took him out? He would be so disappointed if he were here to find out about his death. Okay, I’m getting too morbid. I gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow. Or not. I promise you nothing.