Microstory 2752: Foul Trouble

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

Zelda and Jolanda both do a lot of exhilarating activities. Framed one way, they sit on opposing sides of the spectrum. Zelda likes to lose control. It is absolutely possible to be bad at an extreme sport, but once you learn how to do it, a lot of it involves letting go, and allowing the forces of nature take over. Gravity is a big one for them. Jolanda’s thing is all about taking control. When she’s inside of the car—or when she literally is the car—she makes every decision about where it goes, and what it does. For both of them, the work is very tough and strenuous, and they’re all sports, but a certain kind of sport. What they’re doing right now is exploring one of the other kinds.

“Fellow treasure hunters, please allow me to be the first to welcome you all to...Sportsdome,” Rage says dramatically. It’s a surprisingly unpopular dome. That might be a harsh word to use. It’s not as popular as it would be if you picked the whole 83-kilometer diameter dome off of Castlebourne, flew it to Earth, and dropped it somewhere. The problem with this dome is it’s simply a collection of all sports fields of play. There’s nothing innovative about it except the fact that it’s all consolidated. You can get each one of these games anywhere, and for much cheaper than the energy credits it takes to travel to this world. Basically, if sports are your thing, you’re probably better off staying put wherever you already live. Castlebourne is for niche experiences.

“I played one of the ancient games once,” Colley says. I think it was called bolleyball. And I think I only played it because it rhymed with my name.”

“You’re thinking of volleyball,” Jolanda corrects. “I’ve played a ton of these, but only in VR. A lot of people hate that because it isn’t pure, but if you have a halfway decent physics engine and synaptic integration, there’s really no difference these days.”

“What are we doing here?” Zelda asks. She sounds and looks bored.

“Zel, I would have thought you loved this stuff,” Elise points out.

“There are too many rules,” Zelda complains. “I don’t like rules. I mean, back when dying once meant dying forever, I understood the rules for safety. And I even understand them today for the purposes of continuity, pain aversion, and convenience, but these little sports have such arbitrary rules. They’re all, like, you can’t bounce that with two hands, or, it’s gotta bounce once and inside of these white lines. A lot of the rules have to do with bouncing and dropping. I just don’t find it exciting.”

“We’re not here to be excited,” Rage clarifies. “We’re here to learn the mechanics of gameplay. Some of you use your minds, some of you use your bodies. Traditional sports marry the two. Those rules you hate, Zelda, are part of that. You have to remember where the ball goes and how to get it there. You have to see the obstacles in real time, and find a way around them. Half the audience is cheering you on, half of them wanna see you fail. None of you has done activity on behalf of someone else. Even I, who has usually been part of a team, sees an escape room as a private accomplishment. I share the joy of accomplishment with my team, but my mind leans on what I personally got out of it. Sports athletes can’t think like that. Their sole job is to serve the team, even if that means sitting on the bench during a play and encouraging their teammates. That’s why I signed us up for the Total Lifestyle Experience.”

“What’s the total lifestyle experience?” Elise asks as Rage is walking off. She and the others rush to catch up. “Hey, what’s the total lifestyle experience?” she repeats.

An hour later, the six of them are standing on the grass field. They expected a big fancy arena, but this place looks like it’s been neglected. They’re wearing the same uniform, which is a shirt, short shorts, tall socks, and spiky black shoes. There’s another team of six people here, Combined, they’re standing in a triangle shape, using the wall as a third side. At the top point is a scraggly white-haired man. His shorts are even shorter, and he has a whistle. It’s impossible to not notice his whistle.

He’s been whistling this whole time, apparently communicating with the bots who are running around the field, moving equipment around. Now he finally turns to sneer at the players. “So you think you’re good enough for league football, do ya?” he asks in an English accent. “You’re the sorriest lookin’ excuses for players I ever saw this side of the meridian!” He looks at one of the other team’s members. “Your shirt is on backwards, ya wanka! What’s the matter, ya never worn clothes before?”

The youngish-looking girl tries to pull her elbow in to turn the shirt around, but is too embarrassed to keep going, so she ends up pulling it off all the way.

The boss guy, whatever his job is, shakes his head. “Girls in the league. What are we gonna have to let in next? Billy goats!? I long for the days when men were men!”

One of the other women on the other team begins to walk away.

“See, that’s my point. Women can’t handle the stress of being in a real club. What’s your problem, young lady? That time of the month?” He laughs and slaps Minotaur’s shoulder because they’re standing the closest, expecting them to agree.

“I have a vagina too,” Minotaur snaps back, shutting him up.

The blonde woman comes back with a football. Without saying a word, she tosses it towards the girl who was wearing her shirt backwards. The girl does a backflip, kicking the football behind her. As she lands on her feet, the ball ends up square in the goal, which is halfway down the field. “Any questions?” the blonde asks.

Somehow, the old man shuts up even harder. He does eventually have to continue, though. “I have to go make sure there’s no scheduling conflict with the pitch. In the meantime, you can either run drills or talk about your fee-fees.” He walks off.

The blonde from the other team, who appears to be in charge, smirks at the hunters. “We’ve got you on toast. Who do you even play for? I earn your life in a week.”

“Did you have to look up football slang, or does being an arsehole come naturally to you?” Rage volleys.

“Rage, what are you doing?” Elise questions. “What’s happening here?”

“I told you,” Rage begins. “I signed us up for the total experience. We’re a ragtag group of eclectic misfit underdogs. They’re the jerk pros who everyone knows is gonna win the big game until the last second when the shyest and least confident player on our team uses a random, seemingly unrelated, skill from their life for a complete upset.”

The treasure hunters stare at Rage, still not quite understanding the point of it, but also not getting the point of playing football in the first place, so they might as well lean into it. Elise looks back over at the blonde boss. “Wankuh.”

The blonde laughs. “Not quite how you pronounce it, but I’ll take it. Before we play the big game,” she goes on with airquotes, “you should know that we’re after the same thing. There’s a deeper level to Treasure Hunting Dome. We’re gonna find it first.”

Rage looks extremely surprised and distressed. She clearly had no idea.

The blonde smirks again. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Miracle. Miracle Brighton.”

Microstory 2751: Checkpoint

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

Thanks to Minotaur’s directions, Jolanda is able to negotiate them to the finish line. She presses the garage door opener just as Elise did before, but nothing happens.

“The second button, probably,” Elise suggests. She has been so helpful on this adventure. They never could have figured out where to find a key, how to open a door, or buckle their seatbelts on their own. She’s really pulling her weight.

The door opens to reveal only a hallway, so they all step out to cross the threshold on foot. It’s eerie; dimly lit with some of the overhead lights flickering, and uncomfortably narrow. Just like the main entrance to the warehouse, the door behind them slams shut on its own, locking them in. The wall to their left rises up, and disappears into the ceiling. On the other side is a torture room, for lack of a better term. They see a table full of scary and sharp instruments, oddly shaped beds, and even what appears to be an electric chair. Rage is here, inside a glass cage. She’s sitting in a toddler chair, her wrists tied behind her back, and she’s gagged. Her mascara is running down her face and she looks scared. She’s screaming unintelligibly at them.

“Nobody move!” Zelda orders. “That usually means there’s a tripwire or trap.”

They freeze and look around, but don’t see anything. They continue cautiously.

Elise goes over to Rage’s cage, looking out for booby traps. “Can you hear me?”

Rage screams again and nods her head.

“I appreciate your dedication to authenticity,” Elise goes on, “but at this juncture, the easiest way to get you out might be to kill myself where I stand, and seek help from the outside world. We’ll continue to play along, but if you’re genuinely being held against your will, we’ll treat it more seriously, and go meta. So if this is real, I want you to blink both eyes. If it’s still part of the team-building game, give me a wink instead.”

Rage winks.

“Okay.” Elise turns around and claps her hands. “Let’s find a way to escape this room. I don’t know of any pertinent quotes from historical figures.”

Five minutes later, Rage is out of her cage, and is able to spend the next twenty minutes helping them solve the rest of the clues to escape the room itself. She says that she asked an AI to design the puzzle on her behalf, so she wouldn’t know how to solve it either. She asks them kindly not to talk about anything but the room until that door reopens, and everyone respects that because this was the deal. She does assure them that this is the last exercise for now. There is no level beyond it until after the debrief.

“I was watching on the monitors,” Rage says after the game is over, and they’re walking into what she calls the lounge. “I only had a bot lock me up once you were at the end of the track. I want to thank you all for playing it straight, instead of finding some workaround. You could have asked to exit the trial at any time, and I would have obliged, but it didn’t seem to cross your minds. I hope you don’t feel tricked or disrespected. Zelda was right, I needed to see how well you five worked together so I would know how to plan the curriculum. It seemed more useful to throw you in the deep end rather than laying out what you would be up against. I’ve not yet synthesized the data, but just from watching you, I think it’s safe to say that we will not need much training. Despite not knowing each other, you breezed through the challenges, and didn’t argue with each other even once. I’m sincerely impressed and grateful.”

“I had a lot of fun!” Zelda announces. “There could have been a few more airplanes to fall out of, but I can’t complain. It’s only the first day.”

“Yeah, there’s almost always one skydiving or basejumping challenge on a treasure hunt,” Rage agrees. “I didn’t get approved for a plane here, but we’re not stuck. We can always go to Adrenadome to do other training. We can go to any of your prime domes, or anywhere for that matter. There’s no time limit. If y’all wanna take a break for a couple years to relax in Polar Tropica, I won’t argue. Based on what I just saw, though, this is the team I want. If I could brag, I think I knocked it out of the park, assembling you. I’ve worked with a lot of teams under Escape Dome, and I’ve never been happier. As I already said to each of you individually, you can leave whenever you want, but I really hope you stay. I want this to be the six, and I will wait until everyone agrees that we’re ready.” She pauses for a moment. “Minotaur, Elise...out of the bunch, you were the most hesitant to come out. How are you feeling now?”

Elise and Minotaur exchange a glance, not having known that about each other. Elise is very curious now, what it was like when Rage tried to recruit the others. Were they as confused, or did they understand the reasoning instantly? Colley can solve clues, and the other girls are used to living fast. Their skills are more obvious. Elise still doubts her value here, and she’s afraid that everyone else sees it too. She’s going to respectfully bow out. She has to. She will only bring them down. There’s no way that a treasure hunt benefits from someone like her. Rage will understand; Elise believes that much about her. This is the right decision, for herself, and for them. “I wanna keep going.” What?

“Great!” Rage says. She’s ecstatic. She could probably sense Elise’s continued reluctance, and is just as surprised by the answer.

Elise is surprised too. Did her subconsciousness respond before she could? She had no idea she was going to agree. What did she just get herself into?

Jolanda, Zelda, and Colley all volunteer to stay as well, to less fanfare

“Minotaur?” Rage presses. “Remember, there’s no wrong answer.”

Minotaur sports a poker face before finally saying, “you son of a bitch, I’m in.”

This does feel like a heist, doesn’t it? Elise doesn’t know all that much about Treasure Hunting Dome, but you don’t play thieves. It’s more of a race where if you find the prize, you’re entitled to it. Still, Rage claimed that there was some deeper level to the whole thing, so maybe they really will be doing something that no one has ever done before. Maybe they’ll have to break some rules. Maybe they’ll have to break them all.

Whatever ends up happening, Elise is out of her comfort zone now. That’s probably a good thing. She has spent so much time on her own, only occasionally working with others when the skill she was learning demanded it. She doesn’t have any surviving family or lasting friendships. It’s not that she dislikes people, but you don’t need them to survive in a post-scarcity society, like the ancestors did. Socialization is a skill which she never thought to develop. Skilldome doesn’t offer it. Perhaps they should. It’s a lost art for some. She’ll suggest that to them, but first, it’s time to party.

They don’t run any exercises for the rest of the day. They eat, they drink, and they interact merrily. They don’t do any training the next day either...or for the rest of the week. Only after that do they get to work, running drills and teaching each other various things. A week after that, they go on their first field trip to a dome that none of them has been to before.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 24, 2568

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

The technology that Leona used to boost Kayetan’s merging ability was the same she used to get him back home. That way, they didn’t have to make yet another sling there. Once he did return to Earth, though, he would not be able to return. They were many light years away, and he couldn’t usually travel that far. Of course, he was at hers and Mateo’s wedding, where he managed to merge people from all over the bulk, so how was he able to accomplish that? She forgot to ask. They’ve changed realities and timelines so many times since then, though, so he might not have even ever done that.

As it turned out, the fire that burned down the crops was a total accident. There was technically an arsonist, but it was part of nature. The team didn’t have much time to study it, but there was a special type of alien beetloid which could start fires by rubbing its legs on stones. It must infuse the right kind of metal into its diet, and spark a reaction through some kind of chemical that it also produced. It might do this to clean, or mark its territory, or maybe as part of a mating ritual. Some of the endemic plant life could handle it by dispensing a natural fire suppressant. It appeared to be a symbiotic relationship, actually. The beetles cleared the brush for whatever reason they had, and the fire-resistant plants got to keep all of the soil’s nutrients for themselves, against the burnable competitors. The grapes would obviously not survive over in their territory.

The solution? Plant the grapes on the other side of the river. This caused some uproar in the population, but they agreed to it, because it was the only answer that made any sense. And it would probably help in the long run. Since they now had no choice, this was where they were going to live. Everything Ramses’ computer was afraid of, with two factions growing apart from each other, was no longer an issue. Well, it could still happen, but it would not be because of grapes. They would survive this crucible at least.

When they finally reunited on Ramosus in 2568, they found themselves trapped in the in-house slingdrive. Romana was on the other side of the plasma barrier, holding her hands up defensively. “Now, I know that you’re mad, but don’t you feel fulfilled? You completed your tasks. That’s all we’ve been wanting, right? You’re not here to seek out new life and new civilizations. You’re volunteer fixers. I just gave you a little nudge. I know you didn’t want to do it like this, but I’m hoping you’ll forgive me one day, if not outright thank me. I just...I wanted you to stop worrying about me, and to move on.”

Mateo tried to push his hands through the plasma. It gave, but it didn’t break. “Why are we locked up in here? Did you think we were gonna hurt you?”

“No, I didn’t think my parents, aunts, and uncle were going to physically cause me harm, but I thought you would punish me. I wanted to see Boyd again, and you wouldn’t let me. I figured I would feed two birds with one worm. You six get the satisfaction of saving two colonies from themselves, and I get to spend time with the one person who is only for me. The barrier is just so I could gauge your reaction upon returning.”

Leona placed her hand on the barrier too, but to try to reach out to Romana, not to escape. “Our reaction is that we love you, and that the Boyd program is dangerous until Ramses makes sure it’s safe from the dark particle corruption. It was never permanent.”

“Well...” Romana seemed bashful now. “That wasn’t all I wanted to do with Boyd.”

“What did you want to do with him? Meet him in immersive VR?” Mateo pressed.

“No.” She opened her arm to present a young man who was walking into the lab. “Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you, Boyd Nieman...literally in the flesh.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Extremus: Year 142

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

The plan did not work as well as Waldemar and Faramund hoped. Some thought Waldemar was faking being an idiot while others claimed they thought he was stupid the whole time. This experiment has mostly served to show him who his friends are, and who his enemies are. So that’s something. He’s afraid that some have fallen through the cracks, though. What if his true enemies are smarter than that, and know how to keep themselves hidden? They could be conspiring against him right now, and he would have no idea. He needs help. He needs someone he knows might be powerful enough to track everyone on this ship. And she just so happens to be his girlfriend.

He’s sitting on the couch with Sable now. He knows he can’t trust her fully, but they’ve been getting along, so he will take this risk. It’s the only way. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, Waldy,” Sable replies. “What is this about?”

“I need something from you, but you may not like it. You may not agree with it.” He sighs. If she blabs to anyone it could ruin him. He won’t be able to control an uprising. Even some of his loyalists will fight back. This ship needs stability. No one else can give them that. They wouldn’t even try, because they don’t have the stomach for it.

“What is it?” Sable presses. “You’re making me a little nervous. Just say it.”

“I have reason to believe that there are people on this ship who don’t like the way I’m running things. I believe that they are plotting against me. Finding every single one of them might not be possible. It might even be multiple parties who have nothing to do with each other. I could never truly know. Unless I track everyone. The ship’s privacy controls are unalterable. Believe me, I’ve tried. They’re hardcoded into the design.” Probably to prevent this very thing. “So I need a workaround. I know that you’re an expert in time tech. I think you can help me. Would you be interested in that?”

“You want to spy on everyone?” Sable presses. “Would anyone be exempt?”

“Besides you and me?” Waldemar asks rhetorically. “No. No one can be trusted.”

“How can you be sure you can trust me?” Sable questions. “I could be faking my relationship with you. You don’t know. You can’t read emotions, let alone thoughts.”

“I don’t know it,” he admits, “but I have to ask someone for help, and you’re the best. There’s a way to know what’s happening on Extremus by peering through spacetime. It subverts all cameras, all spatial locks, everything. It can’t be avoided.”

“Are you sure that this technology exists, or are you simply guessing?”

“I know the tech exists,” he says. “What I don’t know is if you have it. Don’t deny that you have abilities. I remember killing you once. I thought it was a dream, but now I’m certain that you traveled back in time to undo it. It’s fine, I’m not mad. I don’t actually have an inherent problem with secrets. I just don’t want people to use their secrets against me. I don’t have the time or bandwidth to get people in trouble for every little thing they do. The surveillance tech would only be used to find rebels, full stop.”

“Well, how do I know if I can trust you? You say that that’s all it would be for. You might even mean it at this very moment, but you could always change your mind.”

“You can always turn it off,” Waldemar says. “You will retain that power.”

Sable appears to think about it. “Hm. That’s not good enough. I would have to suspect that you’re abusing it and then turn it off. Besides, you’re in a tricky spot, being the captain. You should distance yourself from this anyway. I won’t give you the tech—which I admit, does exist, though I would have to make some modifications—but I would give you the intel. I retain full control over it. I surveil, and report my findings.”

Waldemar considers her proposition then offers her his hand. “Deal.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2750: Directions

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

Now that she realizes there’s another platform on the other side of the gap, Elise can make out the edge. Her flashlight gloves aren’t illuminating Zelda, though, and neither is the glowstick over there. She tries to scan back and forth, but nothing. “Zelda!” she cries. “Zelda, did you survive that? Keep shakin’ that bush!”

“If she fell to her death, we should have heard her screaming,” Colley reasons.

“Not necessarily,” Elise returns. “Some adrenaline junkies die so often that they don’t even have the reflex to scream in fear anymore.”

“You said there was another chute?” asks the girl in the yellow shirt, whose name Elise still doesn’t know.

“That’s what it looks like,” Elise answers. “I would sooner throw my body against the exit than try to do what Zelda did. If she couldn’t make it, I could never.”

“Such a compliment,” Zelda’s voice comes. She’s upside down, hanging over the doorway.

“How are you back on this side?” Colley questions.

“Rule number two,” Zelda begins, “in an escape room, there is always a second way. Come on, I’ll pull you up one by one. The catwalk is narrow, but doable.”

Elise goes up first. She and Zelda then help the others up too. They walk single-file along the three walls until making it to the other side, where they find another door. This one opens up to a garage. It’s barely big enough to fit the land vehicle that’s parked here. Unlike the last room, this room is pure white and glowing. It’s pristine in an eerie sort of way. There are no other doors. The vehicle has nowhere to go. It’s also locked.

“If there’s one thing I know from the few escape rooms I’ve tried,” the yellow-shirt girl says as she’s sidestepping around the car, “is that if they give you a lightswitch, you always flip it.”

All these people have done escape rooms before. Elise has never tried. They take skill, but not definable skills. They’re not in Skilldome.

She flips the switch. The lights turn off for a few seconds before being replaced with blacklights. The walls are absolutely covered in graffiti. “I’m Jolanda, by the way. I don’t remember if I said that.” She’s looking at the writing and images, as is everyone else. “I saw this in an ancient show once. He hurt his leg real bad.”

Colley sidesteps around the car now, going the other direction, and looking at the graffiti carefully. “I see the pattern. It’s a coded language.” He runs his hand along the paint. “It’s actually not that complex.” He points at various sections of the walls with both hands like he’s making connections in his head. “I’m guessing Rage doesn’t want us to spend days in here. Just give me a few minutes to compile the vocabulary.”

“What’s your specialty again?” Minotaur asks him.

“Anthropology, history, linguistics, culture,” Colley answers as he’s still looking over the imagery. “I cracked the mystery of Empty Planet in record time.”

“I’m not familiar with that one.” Elise is probably showing how sheltered she is.

“You pretend you’ve landed on an alien world where all the aliens have disappeared. You have to figure out what happened to them, and where the om—never mind, that’s saying too much.” He looks over at Jolanda. “Is there a keypad on that car?”

“Yes,” she responds. “It’s alphanumeric. Did you crack this code too?”

“Not yet,” Colley says. He’s staring up at the very center of the ceiling, where a circle about half a meter in diameter is suspiciously blank. “I’ll be asking you to turn them off and on again in a particular sequence. Always flip when I say to, with no delay.”

“Okay.” Jolanda gets into position.

Colley is still staring at that blank spot. As he instructs her when to turn the lights off and when to turn them on, he deliberately changes tempo. She has to flip them at the right speed for the new images to appear one by one. Elise doesn’t recognize the glyphs but Colley seems to know exactly what he’s seeing. “Stop, I got it. Here’s the code. One, seven, three, four, six, seven, three, two, one, four, seven, six, castaway, three, two, seven, eight, nine, seven, seven, seven, six, four, three, temple, seven, three, two, volunteer, seven, three, one, one, seven, eight, eight, eight, seven, three, two, four, seven, six, seven, eight, nine, seven, six, four, three, seven, six.”

The door opens. “I’m driving of course,” Jolanda says, getting in the driver’s seat.

Everyone else gets in too, even though they don’t know how to get out. Elise is in the back. She watches Jolanda stare at the console, evidently not knowing what to do.

“Uhh...I don’t see a start button. Machine...go!” Jolanda attempts.

“Here.” Something Elise actually knows. She leans forward and flips the visor down. The keys fall out, so she catches them in her other hand. She sticks it in the ignition, and turns it. She tilts her head when it revs up. “Hm. Either this is gas-powered, or it’s simulated to be. To be safe, we better open the door.”

“How do you do that?” Jolanda asks.

Elise reaches up again and presses the button on the garage door opener.

The wall in front of them recedes from them, splits in half, and slides to either side. Jolanda smirks when she sees the traffic on the expansive roadways ahead of them.

“We don’t technically have to drive,” Colley points out.

“Yes, we do,” Jolanda and Zelda say simultaneously as if having rehearsed it.

“Hold on to your butts,” Jolanda warns.

“Samuel L. Jackson,” Colley cites, “circa 1993.”

“Wait!” Elise interrupts. “Those straps are called seatbelts. You put it around your chests, and buckle them securely to keep your body in place.”

“You may have learned how to drive safely,” Jolanda warns as she grips the steering wheel, and decidedly doesn’t put her seatbelt on. “I learned how to drive well.” She slams on the accelerator, and shoots them onto the track.

Immediately, a robocar nearly collides with them, but she doesn’t let it. Each time Elise thinks they’re about to die, Jolanda finds a way out of it. She doesn’t ever turn her head. She can watch straight in front of her while knowing everything else that’s going on around them. It’s a wild ride. Elise can’t help but keep checking her mind stream. She trusts that Rage chose this driver for a good reason, but Jolanda was right; Elise only knows how to drive safely. She has to try to relax and let the chips fall where they may, so to speak. After ten minutes, they find themselves right back where they started.

“How the hell did that happen? Is this another puzzle?” Jolanda questions.

Elise unbuckles, leans forward again, and retrieves a map from the glovebox.

“Give that to me,” Minotaur requests. They spend a minute looking it over. “Okay, I know the route. You can drive the same speed, but follow my instructions.”

Microstory 2749: Mind the Gap

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

After Elise and Rage get dried off and cleaned up, the former follows the latter to the vactrain station where they head for a dome called The Sandbox. Rage evidently wants the team to meet each other on neutral ground. Before they embark on the treasure hunt, it’s prudent for them to get to know each other first, and learn how to work as a team. Rage expects them to be here for the next few weeks. She hasn’t yet explained why this particular dome. Elise has never heard of it before. She still isn’t sure why she was picked for this at all. She hasn’t excelled at the skills she’s attempted. She just likes to try new things. It was time for a break, though, so she’s not complaining.

It might seem like overkill, but according to Rage, this will be an important crucible. If anyone decides to quit, it’s a lot better if they do it before they begin the hunt. Losing a member doesn’t immediately disqualify the remainders from moving on. Everyone could leave by the end of it, and as long as the last remaining player sticks around, they can succeed. But obviously Rage doesn’t want that. She wants them to be perfectly in sync. She told Elise that she doesn’t know what that looks like, but that will precisely be the point of the exercises.

It’s making Elise a little nervous, all this uncertainty, but knowing that she doesn’t have to commit to anything right away has taken some of the pressure off of her.

After the vactrain lets them off at their destination, they take a smaller one to the other side of the dome, to an entrance where no one else is around. Also weird, so Elise checks her consciousness stream to her backup bodies, and they’re all fine, so she presses onwards.

They have to walk across a meadow before they get to a big warehouse in the middle of nowhere. It feels even more remote now. There’s not even any other infrastructure, and it doesn’t match the normal institutional architecture of Castlebourne. Is this where Rage lives? What is the Sandbox even for?

Elise steps inside when Rage holds the door open for her. As she’s scanning the antechamber, spotting the other people here, she hears the door close behind her. She turns around and tries to open it but it’s locked. She tries for a few more seconds, but it’s hopeless.

“She locked us in?” one of the strangers questions. She’s wearing a graphic t-shirt and baggy camo pants. She, along with the others, look just as confused and anxious.

“I don’t suppose anyone has superstrength?” Elise asks.

“No,” the guy replies. “Rage told us to come with standard human substrates.”

“It’s a trap,” someone else determines. They’re sitting on the edge of a metal table, one foot propped up on a chair, and the other dangling loosely.

Elise tilts her head. “I’m still connected to my backups. If she wants to kill us, it’s not going to work on me at least.”

The person who figured that it was a trap stands up and takes a knife out of their pocket. “I can kill anyone who wants to get out of here the easy way. I can’t promise to make it painless, but it’s an option.”

“Let’s look for a bloodless way first,” a girl in a yellow shirt suggests.

Elise looks back down at the handle. It doesn’t have a keyhole, but it looks like the one on the other side of the room does. She walks over to it. “I can pick it, if anyone has something I could use. Whatever is on the other side could be worse, though.”

Graphic tee girl pulls a bobby pin from her hair and hands it over. “If you’re going through hell...keep going. Winston Churchill.”

“Unverified attribution,” the guy counters.

“Then I’ll take the attribution—Zelda Frances,” she self-cites.

“Colley Rochelle,” he returns.

“I’m Elise Perkins,” Elise adds as she’s finishing unlocking the door. She doesn’t open it, though. She straights back up, and hands Zelda her pin back.

“Can’t do it?” the girl in yellow asks.

“No, it was easy,” Elise answers. “We just need to all agree to open it.”

“As long as we’re streaming, the danger isn’t real.” Knife-wielder heads for the door without waiting for permission. “I go by Minotaur,” they add as they’re opening it.

Elise has to grab Minotaur by the shirt collar when they slip right over the edge. It’s dark inside; they can’t see how deep the drop off is, but Elise won’t be able to hold on alone much longer. Colley runs over, and reaches down to pick up some of the slack.

“Rule number one,” Minotaur says as they’re standing back up. “look before you leap. I’m humiliated. This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered a trapdoor.”

“I think we all realize by now that this is a test,” Zelda says. “Rage wants to see where we are, so she knows how to train us.”

“She doesn’t need to be tested too?” Elise questions. She puts her flashlight gloves on, and cautiously reaches into the room. The pit is wide and deep. Her lights don’t have the range to show her the bottom, which means it’s too far for them to dangle and fall safely. She gets a look around at the rest of the open area. At least two packs are hanging on the wall, over a very narrow ledge. “I think they’re parachutes,” she announces.

Zelda gently moves Elise out of the way so she can peek around the corner, holding Elise’s hand up to control the flightlight. Without saying a word, she leaps over to the ledge, and holds one of the packs to brace herself. She opens a zipper and takes out a glowstick. She cracks it in her teeth with one hand so the other hand can keep holding on. “I need quiet, please,” she requests, even though no one is talking.

Zelda drops the glowstick down into the pit, listening for it on the bottom. “Thirty meters. We would never make it. There are only two packs anyway.”

“So they’re just there to tease us?” Elise asks her.

Zelda looks over her shoulder. She cracks a second glowstick, and tosses it behind her. It lands on the other side of the pit, which is at the same elevation. She smirks.

“No,” Elise says. “You can’t be serious.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Zelda recites.

“You shouldn’t try it,” Elise warns. “That’s at least fifteen meters, probably more!”

“It won’t be my first time.” Zelda takes her belt off and anchors it to the hook where the pack was hanging. She bites down on the belt to stay aloft, leaning backwards over the pit while she puts the parachute pack on. “I’ll find out what’s on the other side. There must be a drawbridge or something, or there would be a pack for each of us.”

“Or we’re meant to share,” Colley offers.

“Not possible with this maneuver.” Zelda holds onto the hook with her index fingers as she crouches on the ledge, facing the wall. After preparing herself mentally, she pushes off like a cricket. At the perfect moment, she releases the speedchute, using the force of the deployment to propel her just far enough to cover the gap. Hopefully.

Microstory 2748: One One Cocoa Full Basket

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Elise Perkins has dropped her rapping iron again. All of her tools can float except for that one. It keeps sinking to the bottom of the pool, and every time she dives down to retrieve it, she ends up pushing all of her other tools away, so she has to swim around to get those back too. She has taken so many courses here, but has never found a class called Keeping Track of Your Stuff 101. She did find underwater basket weaving, though. She knows it started as a joke, but she’s having fun with it, despite the drops.

Her basket is fairly complete at this point, so she uses it as a little liferaft for her other tools while she very carefully sinks below the surface herself, and slowly swims down to find the rapping iron. It’s an awkward shape, so it doesn’t always land right below. The chlorine stings her eyes as she’s hunting for it. She could have designed a body for herself that doesn’t feel that kind of inconsequential pain, but she wants to immerse herself in the culture. She wants to feel what her ancestors felt when they were doing these kinds of things. She wants to be authentic.

She spots it. Huh. It’s right next to another one. Wait, no. That one isn’t a rapping iron. What the hell is that thing? No one else is in the pool right now. Did they really drop something earlier, and it was never picked up? It’s not like the droids to make such a mistake. She swims towards it, but before she can catch it, the second metal object latches itself onto her iron and they both begin floating upwards. She keeps grasping at them, but they’re moving too fast. She follows them up to the surface, only noticing then that someone is standing on the pool coping. Are they trying to steal her tool? Who the hell would do that? It’s not worth anything. They can get their own!

Elise makes one final push. She takes hold of her rapping iron, as well as the magnet, and the string it’s attached to. She yanks it away, which causes the figure to totally faceplant into the water. Serves them right. But now there’s a problem. What if this stranger is a serial killer? Now she’s in a very vulnerable position with a person who she has just royally pissed off. She breaks the surface quickly, and swims the rest of the way to the wall so she can pull herself up. She hears a bunch of splashing behind her.

The stranger is flailing about, trying to keep their head above water. They’re panicking, and can clearly not swim. Well, maybe it’s not so clear. They could be faking.

This is ridiculous. Elise is immortal, and there’s security all over the place. She doesn’t have to be afraid. So she jumps back in, thankful that she learned to become a certified lifeguard not two months ago, and rescues the non-swimmer.

The stranger is still panicking as she scrambles out of the water, and lies on her back on the deck to catch her breath.

Elise stands there patiently, wringing water out of her hair, and adjusting her bikini, which magnet girl nearly tore off of her during the struggle.

The woman rolls over to her side, and stands back up. She stares awkwardly at Elise. “This is not how I wanted this to go. How embarrassing that I should not know how to swim. I just...didn’t think you would pull me in.”

“I didn’t think you would try to steal from me,” Elise replies.

“That was only my way of introducing myself. I thought it would be funny.”

“Well, it wasn’t. It was just confusing, and honestly, a little scary for me. I change substrates when I feel like it, but I never let my body die. I have an aversion to pain.”

“I get it,” the woman says. She takes a deep breath, and holds out her hand. “Hi. I’m Ciaragie Benetton, but everyone calls me Rage. Don’t worry, it’s ironic. It might not seem like it, but I’m typically very cool under pressure.”

“My name is not important,” Elise replies. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to get back to my basket.” She starts to scan the surface because now her tools will have scattered all over the place. She sees her basket first. It is completely mangled and broken. She looks back over at Rage. “You ruined it. I’ll have to start over.”

“I’m sorry, Elise. I should have said just hello, like a normal person.”

“How do you know my name?” Elise questions.

“I came here to find you,” Rage explains as she’s stripping naked. “I’m putting together a team to compete under Treasure Hunting Dome. I believe that there is a secret, hidden level to be played. I believe there is a prize which no one has ever heard of, let alone attempted to locate. I’ve been going around, finding the best of the best from people who have experience in other domes. I myself have spent decades in Escape Dome. But I also have a navigator, and adrenaline junkie, even an anthro—”

“I’m sorry, what the heck does this have to do with me?” Elise asks. “I’m not the best of the best at anything. I spend my time learning archaic skills, like underwater basket weaving, and bricklaying. You must have me confused with someone else.”

Rage shakes her head. “No, you’re who I’m looking for. I don’t know what you know about Treasure Hunting Dome, but the challenges often involve exactly things like those skills. Some are inherent, like digging through a haystack to find a data-needle which contains your next clue. But for some of them, completing the challenge is just what tells the Exemplar that you deserve the clue, so they hand it to you.”

Elise sighs. “It’s not really my thing. As I was saying, I enjoy the quiet. I don’t wanna go on an adventure. When I’m not here, I’m reading classics in Branch of Babel, or relaxing on a boat in Raindome. I don’t do fun. I don’t do challenges.”

“You don’t wanna do anything with what you’ve learned,” Rage presses. “So you can weave a basket underwater. So what? It’s not like the world needs more baskets. You don’t even need a basket. You could print one in minutes.”

Elise points to the water. “That was supposed to be mine. It was going to be something that I made myself. No, I don’t need a basket, but I want a basket that’s one hundred percent unique. It wasn’t programmed, it wasn’t generated. It would be mine. My house is filled with things that I have created with my own two hands. I made the house itself...on my own...from scratch. That’s what makes me happy. I do it for me, and no one else. I don’t expect someone like you to understand that.”

“I understand,” Rage argues. “Oh, I understand better than you think. The prize for winning an escape room is getting out of the escape room, which you already were before you voluntarily went in. We collect the same things. We collect experiences.” She holds her hand out again, but this time not to shake. “Come with me. Let’s experience something neither of us has before, which I believe no one in the universe has. You might not be able to put a physical object in your home, but you’ll never forget it.”

Elise stares at Rage’s hand with a frown. That’s a pretty convincing argument, she has to admit it, if only to herself. “I’m not promising anything, but I am willing to listen. Tell me more about this Treasure Hunting Dome.” She doesn’t take her hand.

Rage smiles as she drops her arm. “Let’s meet the team first.”

Microstory 2747: Staged

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

Pribadium doesn’t have Sugar board the Teaguardian. Instead, she does what she said she would, and programs it for a relativistic loop to keep them busy. That way, they can’t interfere with their important demolition work. Pribadium and Sora then teleport over to Sugar’s ship so they can learn about what happened after the bulk portal closed.

Years ago, Tau Station was forcing its way through a haphazard breach in the membrane of the universe. They were trying to enter something known as the bulk. There are an infinite number of universes, known as branes, floating around this “hyperspace” where time has no meaning. Everything that happens within it is happening at the same time. Everyone who is crossing over using their own methods—the Crossover, the time knife, Ochivari wingsinging—it’s all happening at this exact same moment, relatively speaking. The bulk sees time as a spatial dimension, rather than a temporal one. So when Sugar, Runaway, and all of the survivors of the dimensional collapse, are floating around, trying to continue to survive, time is really only an illusion.

Not all of the space station made it through, but fortunately, every section that had life in it did. They were congregated in the auditorium. The tear in the spacetime continuum wasn’t large enough, and didn’t last long enough, to keep the rest of it intact. It came out on the other side twisted and mangled. The surviving section doesn’t even have any means of propulsion, except for a few stationkeeping thrusters, but they can’t naturally be controlled from here. Sugar and Pribadium have had to jury-rig a way in. In the meantime, the survivors have been getting by on the emergency food synthesizers. Metabolism is supposed to stop while you’re out in the bulk, but you will still get hungry, depending on how shielded you are from the equilibrium.

“We need supplies,” Runaway points out. “We need to be able to move. We need to look for a home for these people. Whatever we end up doing, we can’t just leave them here for all of eternity.”

“I agree,” Sugar says. “But the thrusters aren’t powerful enough. The amount of force required to move an object of this mass through an equilibrium isn’t a reasonable expense. We need to siphon that energy into a small vessel, pilot that out of here, and go look for help. The station will simply stay where it is while that’s happening.”

“So we need a ship?” Runaway questions. “We looked, there is none.”

“There are industrial fabricators, though. I can build one,” Sugar promises.

“You can build something large enough to carry all these people?” Runaway asks.

“Again, that would be a waste of power. This would only be a small shuttlecraft, for me and me alone. You will stay with your progenitors, and keep them safe.”

“I don’t like you going off alone,” Runaway admits.

“We gotta keep it tight,” Sugar explains. “I can do everything myself.” She pats Pribadium’s forge core, which she has hanging off her hip. “This has all of our research, some of which postdates my last memory as the original Pribadium. It also has an AI.”

“That’s not good enough,” Runaway contends. “I want you to have a corporeal person by your side. If you have to leave the ship in a brane that you visit, someone should be standing next to you. Now stop arguing, and let me find that person.”

“Huh?”

Runaway shuts her eyes. A moment later, she reopens them and walks over to one of her progenitors. She escorts him back, arms interlaced like a date. “Sugar Delgado, Vantu Hidayat.”

“Or Van. I was told you wanted help with something?” he asks.

“She will be going on an away mission, and needs a lieutenant. You are a jack of all trades. You’ve studied engineering, medicine, even temporal sciences, despite the fact that you’ve never heard of real time travel before.”

“I know all of that stuff myself,” Sugar tries to explain to Runaway.

“He’s not going because you need him to do things for you, but to do them with you. I thought we already went over that. I just didn’t want to saddle you with a moron like...never mind. Van is perfect. I don’t even need to let him answer whether he wants to go. I know him well enough to know that he will. That’s why I picked him.”

Van smiles. “I wasn’t planning on stuffing a habitat into an asteroid, and retreating into a virtual construct. I was building myself an exploratory vessel. I want to visit new worlds in base reality. I was told that aliens didn’t exist, but I had hope anyway. Now you two tell us that they’re real, they’re just in other universes. I am so in.”

“Well, it’s going to be a couple of weeks,” Sugar says. “I don’t have the ship yet. I suppose I can add one more seat to the design. But there will only be one bathroom.”

“Not a problem,” Van replies sincerely. “I can help fabricate too, not because you need it, but just to take some of the tedious burden off your hands.”

“Very well,” Sugar decides. “Let’s get to work.”

“And so we built the ship,” Sugar says, finishing her story to Pribadium and Sora. “We departed, ultimately finding a new universe with tons of resources, and a very friendly technologically advanced peoples, who helped build us this thing.” She indicates the capital ship they’re on right now. “I chose it because of its modular properties.”

Pribadium nods. “It can be a transport vessel as easily as a cargo ship. Then it can become a warship or a hospital. Why come here, though, instead of returning to Tau?”

“We tried to at first. Tau Station was different when we got back. Its...meta-time had changed, it’s so weird. It was attacked, boarded, and overtaken.”

“By who?” Sora pressed. “Aliens?”

“Yes, basically,” Sugar confirms. “The Maramon. They came in higher numbers and superior firepower. They wanted Tau Station for themselves, but they didn’t like what it was called, so they changed it to something else. Van and I barely got out of there alive, but we’re pretty sure the Maramon either killed the human survivors, or transplanted them across the bulkverse. We came here to seek your help finding them.”

“We have our own problems right now,” Pribadium tells Sugar. “Sora’s Doma Tertians still need a place to live, and as we all know...” She glares at Sora, lovingly but not too playfully. “...they can’t live here. They need to be transplanted too.”

“That can be arranged.” She used a finger sequence to call up a monitor, which switched to the feed from the hangar bay, where a smaller transport ship was sitting. A man, presumably Vantu, was running an inspection on the exterior.

“That’ll do.”

“Wait, you skipped something,” Sora points out. “What do they call the station?”

Sugar nods. “They call it...The Stage.”