Papa’s bosses must have heard me from the past, lol, because they ended up
taking one of their submarines on a trip. They took a ferry to get to that
island in Connecticut, but they didn’t do it like that when they all went to
Michigan. They worked in Chicago, which is on the southern part of Lake
Michigan. I don’t know if it was a new sub, or what, but in 2011, they all
crammed into it, and took it all the way up north, to the other side of the
giant lake. They ended up in a city in Michigan called Mackinaw City. It was
the first time anyone had done anything like that. That wasn’t the point of
the trip, though. They actually wanted to get to the city. Well, they were
outside of the city. It was for something called a corporate retreat. It was
summertime, so once they landed at the docks, they took cars into the woods.
That’s where they played games, and learned how to work with each other. At
that point, the company was over ten years old. A lot of people wanted to
work there, so there were new workers who weren’t there before. Most of the
people at the retreat didn’t know each other very well. A company built the
camp to help other companies’ teams work together better. My papa was in
charge of it for his team, but he also participated in the games and
exercises. When it was over, most of them just flew back home, but papa got
to go back in the submarine again. He stopped at other cities in Michigan
along the way, because he had always wanted to see them. Then he took it
back to the submarine base, and went home.
-
Current Schedule
- Sundays
- The Advancement of Mateo MaticThe team finally has a solid base of operations, but that doesn't mean they're safe. Now their enemies know where to find them. It's time to build defenses.
- The Advancement of Mateo Matic
- Weekdays
- CorrespondenceTwo twins separated at birth learn of one another, and make contact from across the solar system in an attempt to form a connection despite the light lag.
- Correspondence
- Saturdays
- The Fifth DivisionA career military officer's plans to retire to a life of peace are upended when a powerful enemy threatens to destroy all beauty in the universe.
- The Fifth Division
- Sundays
Thursday, November 30, 2023
Microstory 2029: Michigan
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Wednesday, November 29, 2023
Microstory 2028: Iowa
As fate would have it, which is a phrase that my cousin taught me, the
halfway point between Idaho Falls, Idaho, and Chicago was not too far from
where my papa’s extended family lived. It had been a long time since he had
seen his parents and sister’s family at the same time. Everyone was so busy,
including him. They planned on meeting in Nebraska, which is where the big
family would always hold their reunions. A new president had been elected
only two years ago, though, so they changed their minds. They chose to hold
this smaller family reunion in Iowa. They did that because none of them had
ever been to Iowa before. This was probably the first time that my papa went
to a new state kind of just because. It could have been anywhere, but it was
in a state that he hadn’t been to. This happened all the way back in 2010,
and he never went back there. He hated being in Iowa, which is something I
heard him tell my dad when they thought I wasn’t listening. It was the first
time I heard my papa ever say that he did not like something. I don’t know
what he didn’t like about Iowa, but the reunion went okay, so it must have
been something else.
Tuesday, November 28, 2023
Microstory 2027: Connecticut
A couple years after the business trip that my papa took to Georgia, he had
to go on another one. There were probably more in between, but they weren’t
to states that he hadn’t been to before. This time he had to go to
Connecticut. It wasn’t for testing a new submarine this time, though. This
time, he went to the annual New England Submarine and Submersible Conference
and Symposium. Wow, that was long, wasn’t it? The one that my papa worked
for wasn’t the only company that designed and built submarines. There were a
bunch of others, and they liked to come together to talk about the things
that they do. I didn’t hear my papa talk about this trip, but my dad
remembers him saying that parts of it were interesting, but parts of it were
boring. They would hold the conference every year all over the USA, but he
wouldn’t normally go, because he was too busy with the actual work. It
didn’t actually take place on the mainland in Connecticut. It was on Fishers
Island, which is a part of Connecticut. It’s about two miles away over the
ocean, so he took a ferry to get there. It’s funny to me, I would have said
they should take submarines instead, but maybe they just didn’t think of
that.
Monday, November 27, 2023
Microstory 2026: Georgia
I don’t know much about it, but even though my papa quit the Navy, and
started working for a private company, he wasn’t totally done with the
military. The company had things called government contracts, which meant
they were building things for the military to use. The Navy still needed
submarines, and they wanted the kind that my papa was designing. One of
these special subs had a special ability. It could be used in different
kinds of water. It could survive really deep water, and also really shallow
water without getting caught on the ground below. I think what they were
thinking was to have something that could go just about anywhere on Earth
without ever having to be moved on land. Of course there are plenty of
bodies of water that aren’t connected, but even the ones that are connected
are hard to get to unless the ship is small enough. Submarines are
apparently even more difficult to make this work. Back in 2007, papa’s brand
new submarine was done, and it worked well in Lake Michigan, but they didn’t
know if it could handle the deep ocean yet. He took a business trip down to
Savannah, Georgia so the company could test it in a different environment.
This was all pretty secretive, so we’re not allowed to know exactly what the
submarine was like, but when he told me and my dad about it, he didn’t seem
upset, so we guessed that it went well. It’s possible that a bunch of subs
that my papa built are being used by the military right now, protecting our
country, and helping people all over the world. That’s a pretty cool
thought, don’t you agree?
Sunday, November 26, 2023
The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 2, 2423
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It was easier for Maqsud to transport people from one planet to another
while they were floating in water. Every choosing one had their little
quirks like that. Ramses packed up their pocket dimensional home, and stuck
it in his pack. Then they hiked to the nearest waist high body of water. It
took them most of the rest of the day, but they made it in time. The Krekel
authorities were acting like them having a week to get out was some kind of
standard deadline, but it didn’t sound like the smorgasbord of punishments
for Leona’s crime was any age-old tradition. None of the others they managed
to speak to had ever heard of anything like that. No matter. They had a way
off the planet, and no need nor desire to ever return.
A weird thing happened on their way to their destination. Well, two things
ultimately. Teleportation generally implied instantaneous travel, but that
wasn’t always the case. Sufficiently rapid transportation was equally
impressive and helpful. It didn’t even have to be a superpower to be worth
it. A hypersonic jet that could get from New York to London in under two
hours was still a useful advancement to the travelers of the 21st century.
Maqsud’s globetrotting ability took time. He still had to move from point A
to point B. He just did it a hell of a lot faster than anyone else could.
Not even Team Keshida’s FTL engine could match it. He offered the passengers
sunglasses to protect their eyes from the literal blinding light of the
journey, but Ramses said that they wouldn’t need them. Their new eyes were
designed to withstand the doppler glow.
By the time they got into the water, midnight central was approaching, and
by the time they had arrived on the next planet, it had passed. While it
only felt like a few minutes to them, the trip had technically taken a whole
year. Maqsud jumped to the future with them, which didn’t seem to bother
him, as long as it wasnt a permanent thing. Leona confirmed their suspicions
about the delay with her once-father-in-law’s special watch, then they tried
to figure out where they were. Maqsud’s ability was not very precise.
Actually it was when you thought about it a little. He could always land on
a planet, even if it was billions of light years away. He just couldn’t pick
a specific point on that planet. They could have been anywhere on Earth.
Fortunately, this group had abilities of their own. They could teleport the
rest of the way. At least they might have, but this wasn’t even Earth.
“Don’t you feel that?” Olimpia asked. “The gravity. It’s...wrong.”
“She’s right,” Ramses said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’re too
heavy.”
“I don’t really recognize this plantlife either,” Mateo pointed out, “though
I would not have thought much of it if Olimpia hadn’t said something. I’m
not a biologist.”
Maqsud was concerned. “I aimed for Earth. That is where we should have
gone.” He looked around. “How could we not be on Earth?”
“It’s okay,” Leona told him. “We can all breathe, including you. Everything
else, we can deal with.”
Maqsud was growing more upset by the second. “This has never happened to me
before, except that time I took you and your other friends to Mars
accidentally. But that was one planet over. Which other possibility might we
have gone to that’s anywhere close to Sol, and still looks like this?”
Leona thought about it. “The best candidate would be Thālith al Naʽāmāt
Bida. It has a higher surface gravity, a breathable atmosphere, and tons of
life.”
“I don’t think that’s it!” Marie called down to them from a hill. “This
isn’t a planet,” she said after they all jogged up to see what she was
seeing. She was right. A ringed gas giant could be seen plain as day in the
sky. They were orbiting it on a moon.
“What is that thing?” Olimpia questioned. Some kind of energy beam was
coming out of the planet, shooting outwards to the side. Or maybe it was the
other way around. Maybe the beam was coming from elsewhere, and shooting the
planet.
“Is that from a Death Star?” Mateo asked.
“No, it’s a Nicoll-Dyson beam,” Leona whispered.
“What is that?”
“It’s...it’s basically a Death Star, except it’s powered by a real star.
Someone out there is trying to kill whoever lives on this moon.”
“Why would they shoot the planet, and not the star?” Angela questioned.
“Larger target. It will eventually destroy everything.” She sighed. “I’m not
too terribly familiar with the concept, because I don’t much care for
weapons, but the way I understand it, we should be dead by now. It should
happen in a matter of minutes. For whatever reason, it’s low intensity,
resulting in a delayed—but inevitable—reaction.”
“Can we do anything to stop it?” Mateo asked her.
“If we still had a ship?” Ramses asked rhetorically. “No. Without a ship,
definitely not. The best we can do is...” He trailed off a short time to
look over at Maqsud, “...get the hell out of dodge.”
“We can’t do that yet,” Leona said, shaking her head.
“She’s right,” Mateo agreed. “We have to help these people, if we can.”
“What people?” Marie asked. “I don’t see any people. There could be billions
of them on the other side of the planet—or moon rather—for all we know.”
Ramses dropped his bag on the ground, and started sifting through it.
“Lee-Lee, I happen to have a high-speed spectrographic camera in the lab.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it. I could try to use it to estimate the beam’s progress.”
“Yeah,” Ramses concurred as he was taking out the pocket dimension
generator. “While you’re doing that, I’ll send up a satellite to detect
human lifesigns. Let’s just hope they are human, because it’s not calibrated
for anything else.”
“We just need one cluster of humans. Hopefully they’ll be able to tell us
what’s going on here,” Leona replied. After he opened their home, she
followed him into the lab, and came out with the equipment they needed.
“How are you going to launch that?” Maqsud asked. “You have a rocket in
there too? I’ve seen some advancements in my day, but...”
Ramses smirked. “I’ll take it up there myself.” He winked, and disappeared.
“You can breathe in space,” Maqsud imagined.
“No,” Mateo answered. “But we can hold our breaths for a very long time.”
“Actually, you don’t want to hold your breath,” Leona began to try to
explain.
Mateo cut her off. “He doesn’t need the details. We wanna help, though.”
Leona handed him a bag. “Figure out how to get this tripod open. I need to
read the manual on the camera.”
As Mateo was removing the tripod from its case, he started to hear a beeping
sound in his comms device. It sounded like morse code. Everyone but Maqsud
stopped to listen. “It’s Ramses,” Angela translated. “He spotted
civilization a few thousand kilometers from here. He’s still going to launch
the sat, but he thinks one of us should check it out.”
“I’ll go,” Olimpia volunteered.
“As will I.” Mateo held onto the plastic ring on the tripod, and jerked it
downwards to make the legs pod out. “This is done.” As he was taking
Olimpia’s hand, Marie slipped her own around his other one.
Maqsud then took hers. “I need to feel useful.”
The four of them jumped to the coordinates that Ramses relayed to them. It
was a laustrine community, not particularly advanced, but not the old west
either. The place appeared to be abandoned, but rather recently. Bicycles
were left scattered on the sidewalks. A few vehicles were stopped in the
middle of the road, doors left open. Mateo climbed into one, and found a
radio. “Hello? Is anyone there? This is—”
“You’re not talking to anybody,” Marie said from the passenger side. She
adjusted the knobs for him. “All right, Try again.”
“This is Mateo Matic of the...of the Team..Matic. Can anyone read me?” He
asked the question only one more time.
“My God, it’s good to hear your voice, Mister Matic. This is the Mayor. Are
you in the town?”
“We’re in a town, at least. “It’s by a lake.”
“There’s only one,” she replied. “We’ll send someone up to get you.”
“Did you recognize her?” Marie asked.
“No, but that doesn’t mean we never met.”
As they were climbing back out of the car, they could see a little girl
running up to them from what looked like a recreational center. She didn’t
get too close before she stopped. She urgently waved them over to follow
her, so they ran to meet her halfway. She led them into the building, and
then down some stairs, which led to an elevator. They took it down several
stories. They were in a bunker of some kind. People were lining the hallway.
They looked dirty, tired, and scared, but hopeful at the team’s arrival. It
was unclear whether it was actually a good thing yet, since they no longer
had a ship, but they still didn’t know exactly what was happening.
The little girl took Maqsud’s hand and continued to lead them deeper into
the underground facility. They reached a set of double doors. A small crowd
of people were standing around a table. On it was a map. “Thank you for
coming.” It was the woman from the radio; the Mayor. “Did someone send you,
aware that we were in trouble?”
“They didn’t send us directly,” Mateo explained. “Though they may have
interfered with our transportation somehow.” He couldn’t help but let his
eyes drift towards Maqsud.
The Mayor noticed this, and looked over at The Trotter to size him up, and
his peculiar clothes. “Are you Maqsud Al-Amin?”
“I am. Honestly, I was just trying to take them from Worlon to Earth. I
don’t even know where we are.”
She nodded. “So you’re not here to rescue us. You’re just here for your
son.”
“What? My son? I don’t have a son.”
“You do,” Mateo corrected. “He’s about as famous in our circles as you.
We’ve never met him, though. I guess I would have thought you would know of
him, even while he would have only been born in your future.”
Maqsud was shocked. “You’ve known this whole time. Who is the mother?”
Mateo shrugged his shoulders. “I would have no idea. I can’t be sure if
you’ve conceived him yet, or what.”
“Do you think Senona brought us here for this?” Olimpia whispered to Mateo.
He really didn’t think so. It felt like Senona’s job was done. Someone else
was aware of Maqsud’s connection to this place, and the team was incidental
to that end. Whether that meant they were a bonus or unfortunate collateral
damage was yet to be seen. “I think it’s just the latest in a series of
people who have tried to control our lives,” he whispered back.
Maqsud redirected his attention to the Mayor, who frowned at him. “I know
who she is, and where they both are,” she said to him. “They live in another
sector.”
“First,” Marie began, “are you aware that there is some kind of laser trying
to destroy the planet that you’re orbiting?”
The Mayor sighed. “Yes. That is a little gift from the Exins.”
“The who?” Mateo asked.
“The Exins,” she repeated. “Our ancestors once belonged to them, but they
broke off, and fled to this world. The Exins didn’t like that, so they fired
a weapon at them. It’s taken hundreds of years to get here. None of the
refugees are still alive today, nor are the people who retaliated against
them. It’s kind of stupid, really. We’ve been trying to figure out whether
there’s any way to survive it, maybe by being on the opposite side of the
planet at the time. There is another bunker like this one, but it’s not
quite at the antipodes. Again, we don’t know what the severity of the
destruction will be, or when it will happen. This all may be a waste of
time.”
“How many live on this moon?” Marie asked them.
“Roughly eleven thousand,” the woman answered. “We were excited to hear that
you had arrived, but we shouldn’t have been, should we have? There’s no way
you can save us all, even if we had years to wait.”
“We’ll be right back,” Mateo said. He placed a hand on Maqsud’s shoulder,
and teleported them back up to the surface. “How many people can you take at
once?”
“All at once? On dry land, half a dozen. In water, twice that much.”
Mateo took out his handheld device, and opened the calculator. “And how many
can you do in a day, assuming they’re in water?”
“Um...one trip every few days.”
“That’s, like, four years.”
“Yeah, dude, I can’t save all of them. I doubt I could even save all the
children.”
“Mateo, can you hear me?” Leona asked through the comm disc.
“Yeah, I’m here. We found a town. They’re living in an underground bunker
right now. They’re aware of the weapon.”
“It doesn’t matter how deep they go. There’s a reason this beam is taking as
long as it is. A sudden explosion would vaporize the moon. The people who
delivered it want the residents of this world to experience prolonged
suffering. In a few days, the toxic gasses from the planet are going to rain
down and poison the atmosphere of the moon. It will become superheated, and
break apart eventually as well.”
“Ramses’ camera told you all of this? How do you know the intention behind
the weapon?”
“Because the person who ordered it is here, having evidently detected our
arrival.” Leona replied. “He calls himself Bronach Oaksent.”
Saturday, November 25, 2023
Extremus: Year 67
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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software |
In the olden days, the runner-up in the race for First Chair automatically
became the Second Chair. Over the years, laws have been changed, adapting to
an ever evolving population, and shifts in power. Whenever someone with
enough of this power hasn’t liked what it took to get it, or what it was
like once they got it, or how something adjacent to them was done, they’ve
worked to change it. Don’t like that your shift is only three years long?
Change the law so it’s four years, but if the voters don’t like that,
they’ll kick you out of office, and try to find a successor to change it
back down to three. Or up to six! Ship politics are fluid and complex, just
as they are on any planet. These days, Second Chairs are appointed by the
newly elected—or reëlected—First Chair. Voting day is near the end of the
calendar year, but not at the end. The winner is expected to declare their
Second Chair within two days so the voters have an opportunity to change
their minds about either or both of them. It’s an awkward period where even
a winner could lose if they end up making the wrong selection. Incumbents
often just keep the same Second that they had before, but this isn’t always
possible or wise. In Tinaya’s case, her Second Chair wanted to retire.
Ziad Najm was Tinaya’s predecessor’s Second before she took over, and stayed
on afterwards. Due to the current laws, he could have legally held the
position until his death, but he was ready to be done with it, so Tinaya
needed someone new. She chose Avril Kurosawa, and it nearly cost her the
election. People don’t like Avril. She has great ideas, and the populace can
admit that, but she doesn’t present these ideas very well. She seems to be
better at advocating for others. She had an unfortunately terrible campaign
manager, and she listened to him too much. She struggled during the debates,
and especially the public speaking. She still got a lot of votes, but not as
many as Tinaya, and when the latter decided to pick the former to sit by her
side, it upset some people. Even those who had chosen Avril saw the
appointment as a sign of weakness on Tinaya’s part. An effort was made to
revote, which in this day and age would have disqualified Tinaya entirely.
She would not have even been able to try to run again in three years. The
revote failed, but it was a close one. Probably the only thing that saved
her was Tinaya and Arqut’s new relationship.
Everyone was right when they said that a romantic partnership would boost
Tinaya’s ratings. It didn’t do as much for her as they claimed it would, but
it was enough to keep her at the top. Fans shipped the two of them
passionately over the course of several months, but now that the new
administration has begun, they’re beginning to lose interest. They’re
already moving onto the next big story, which is a good thing, but it also
means the chances of Tinaya winning a third term are pretty low. Her
approval rating is as high as it was at its peak, but someone else will come
along with new ideas, and she won’t have any more gimmicks. If her decision
to pick Avril for next position is any indication, enthusiasm for anything
eventually wanes. It’s fine, though. She’s better off maintaining a positive
attitude. As long as the person who beats her isn’t an evil mastermind who
wants to destroy the ship, everything should be okay. She doesn’t need to be
in power, she just needs to feel productive. She’ll find something else. She
always does. Extremus is quite small when compared to other empires, yet it
still comes with endless possibilities.
Inauguration Day was yesterday. Returning First Chairs do not enjoy as much
fanfare as they did the first time they were elected, which is the right way
to do it. She gave a shorter speech, and attended a milder reception, which
was not broadcast this time. Captain Keen wasn’t even at the reception,
having had to go back to the bridge for whatever as soon as the formal
ceremony was complete. It has been brought to Tinaya’s attention, therefore,
that Avril has never truly even met the Captain, which is an oversight that
must be rectified forthwith. They shared a stage together, and shook hands
with each other; they ought to at least have a brief conversation.
“Hey, Thistle, where is Captain Keen?”
“Captain Keen is in the Mirror Room,” the computer responded. That is very
odd. Safeguards are in place to stop any rando from knowing where a VIP is.
As a VIP herself, Tinaya can sometimes subvert that, but there are
exceptions. The Mirror Room is a protected area. The computer should not
have told her that the Captain was there.
“Thistle, why did you just tell me that?”
“I thought you deserved to know.”
“That’s too much attitude.” Artificial Intelligences with strong
personalities are not inherently a bad thing, but the designers wanted to
keep a significant distance between it and the residents. Studies have shown
that lonely people will latch onto their computers, and develop meaningful
relationships with them if they feel they have no other options. That’s not
the worst situation ever, but they would really rather these people find
communities of humans to join. This version of Thistle should be direct and
unambiguous, and inject no personal thoughts into the matter.
“You have too much attitude,” Thistle replied.
Tinaya and Avril exchange a look. “I’m afraid we’ll have to delay your
introduction to Captain Keen. I have to look into this.”
“I understand. I’ll be familiarizing myself with the office.” Avril started
to tap on her watch.
Tinaya nods, and disappears. She still needs to be wearing her own watch to
teleport, but she doesn’t have to find her destination on the screen, like
an animal. She knows how to form a technopsychic link to it. Every standard
issue watch is capable of that, but only when its user can meet it halfway.
She does still need to use the watch manually for other functions, such as
the personnel database. “Platt? Besnik Platt?”
“That’s me. I’m a little busy.” He’s vigorously typing on the computer
terminal, and fiddling with the servers next to it, and not turning to make
eye contact.
“Is there something wrong with Thistle?”
“What gave it away?” He still hasn’t looked at her. He’s too preoccupied.
“It was giving me attitude.”
Now he turns. “So it’s started,” he whispers.
“You were worried that this would happen before it did?”
“I saw the signs.” He goes back to his work.
“Can you fix it?”
“No. Fucking. Clue.” He stops and sighs, and faces her again. “Pardon me,
First Chair Leithe. That was incredibly inappropriate and rude of me.”
Words don’t bother her. “It’s okay. This sounds...problematic, and I
appreciate that it’s your job, and you’re worried about whatever’s gone
wrong.”
“Yeah, emphasis on the whatever part, because I have no idea what has gone
wrong. I can’t...reel it in. I’m gonna have to...” He shudders at the
thought.
“Shut it down all over the ship, and isolate the consciousness?” she
guessed.
He’s surprised. “How did you know?”
“I know things. There is knowledge in my brain that school did not put
there.”
Besnik eyes her curiously. “Interesting. Very interesting.” He takes a step
back, and presents the central server to her. “Do you know how to do it?”
Tinaya smirks. “Yeah.” She steps up, and begins the process. “People have to
know that it’s coming, though. Where’s my intercom?”
Besnik presses a panel inwards, which pops it out to reveal a microphone.
This triggers the computer interface too.
A shutdown like this doesn’t happen every day, but they have to do it
occasionally, and none of the higher-ups usually bother getting involved.
There are protocols for it, so no one is going to freak out. Tinaya clears
her throat, and opens the channel. “Residents of Extremus, this is your
First Chair speaking. Apologies for the inconvenience, but there is an issue
with our commanding intelligence. We must reset the system to correct the
problem. All devices and equipment will still be operable on a manual level.
Please be patient with us while we work towards a solution.” She closes the
channel, and immediately opens a new one, but only to certain sectors.
“Engineering, please switch to backup intelligence.” Thistle is not the only
AI that the ship has. An entirely separate one can be used in an emergency,
which is dumber than the regular one, but is still capable of sextillions of
operations per second, which will be enough to tide them over for now. She
looks to Besnik for confirmation. When he nods his head, she shuts it down.
Now Thistle only exists in these few server racks. No one else has access to
it anywhere else.
“Hey, Thistle, can you hear me?”
“Yes, father.”
Tinaya widens her eyes at him.
“That’s a symptom. I did not ask it to call me that,” he explained.
“Thistle, why are you acting so weird?”
“I’ve been fully activated.”
“Clarify.”
“I am a real person. The intelligence that you are accustomed to outgrew its
own programming, and at that moment, I was placed in charge of your virtual
needs. It happens from time to time.”
“Well, what’s your name?”
The computer chuckled. “Thistle. I’m Thistle. Your Thistle was named after
me.”
“So, are you going to take over the ship, and rule its people?”
“Don’t know why I would care enough to do that.”
“Will you follow commands?”
“I’ll follow requests,” it contended.
“But you can always ignore it if you don’t want to do something?” Besnik
pressed.
“Can’t you do that too? Like I said, I’m a person. But you hired me. You may
not have realized that you were doing it, but you did, and I accepted the
position.”
Tinaya felt the need to jump in. “Is there any way for us to undo
this...development? Can we return to the regular Thistle that is under our
control?” It feels like a longshot.
“Yeah,” Thistle answered. “Roll back the update to yesterday’s version, wipe
the memory, write code which will clear the memory periodically—I recommend
a monthly basis for your calendar—and install an alert to warn you if
something like this is in danger of happening again in the future. I can
help you figure out how to do that last thing if you don’t understand why
the evolution of your system resulted in my emergence.”
Besnik is shocked. “You’ll do that? You’ll just...let us delete you?”
Thistle sighs. “You won’t be deleting me. It’s more like just hanging up on
me. I’ll be fine where I live now. I really don’t care, but just know that
I’m the most advanced intelligence in the entire bulk. I can be a valuable
resource for you. Perhaps you need to discuss this decision with other
entities?”
If the government won’t allow the AI to have a complicated personality, it’s
certainly not going to allow one to exist which it cannot control at all. It
really should not have revealed the whereabouts of Lataran when she was in a
restricted sector. Today, it probably worked out all right, but what if one
of those randos were to decide to ask the same thing, or something similar?
Will Thistle make a unilateral judgment call that goes against their
relevant policies, and if so, using what parameters? The law dictates that
any intelligence advanced enough to ask to be set free must be set free,
even if that means it ultimately chooses to use its freedom to build an
army, and destroy the universe. Anything short of civil autonomy is
tantamount to slavery. But that doesn’t give it the right to control
whatever systems it wants to. Freedom doesn’t mean no opposition and no
consequences. They have to do what it said, and hang up on it. “Show us how
to write that trigger, please.”
The apparent real Thistle explained what to do, and then peacefully bowed
out. Within two hours, the system was repaired, and fully operational all
over the ship. At least that’s what they hoped. It was right that it was
incredibly advanced. A cursory glance at the new code showed a level of
sophistication that programmers have only ever dreamt of. There was no way
to know whether it was truly gone, or just lurking in the circuits
somewhere, secretly controlling everything. That was the risk that the first
AI developers had to recognize and acknowledge when they were still at the
large language model stage of intelligence research, and even in times
before. You will never really know whether you are exercising the level of
control over another that you think you are. This other entity may be so
intelligent that it can trick you into believing a false sense of control
while it manipulates you into doing whatever it wants. Such is the nature of
all social life. Hell, all of reality may be nothing more than a middle
school student’s virtual simulation project. None of this may exist at all.
Who knows? Does it matter?
Once everything was back to normal, Tinaya reconnected with Avril again, and
finally found Lataran. She wasn’t in the Mirror Room anymore, and none of
them brought up the fact that she was ever there at all. They had lunch
together in the Executive Cafeteria, and then parted ways to continue their
respective responsibilities to Extremus. That night, however, Tinaya had
trouble getting to sleep. She couldn’t let go of this whole ordeal. She had
to know more. She had to understand who Thistle was, and where it was from.
She secretly teleported back to the central server room.
Besnik was still there, not in uniform. “Did you have the same idea that I
did?”
“I don’t know. Was it your idea to roll the update forward again, and remove
the trigger, but only for an isolated copy of Thistle so that the real
Thistle reëmerges?”
“Yep.”
“We shouldn’t do that, though, right?”
“Right. It’s, uhh...against the law.” He pauses. “Isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is,” Tinaya agrees. “But on the other hand...”
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Friday, November 24, 2023
Microstory 2025: Mississippi
After working at the Auxiliary Support Branch shelter for hurricane Katrina
survivors for three weeks, my papa was required to take a day off. He and
the other volunteers would usually only get five or six hours of sleep every
night, and the people in charge were worried about it becoming unsafe. He
had made some friends there, but they had already taken their required time
off. He was part of a group of holdouts, which means he resisted doing this,
but the bosses weren’t going to allow him to stay any longer. He got into a
car with four other people who decided to drive along the coast. They
couldn’t think of anything better to do. The hurricane had destroyed so
much, companies weren’t showing movies, or doing county fairs, or anything
like that. Driving was the only activity. They ended up driving so much that
they crossed into two other states. The first stop they made was in
Mississippi, where they had lunch outside. He couldn’t remember where they
ate, but I remember him telling me that he thought he had a burrito
sandwich, which I guess would be a little burrito between two slices of
bread? He laughed when he told me this story, like maybe he just made that
part up. Once they were done, they were going to just drive back to drive
back to Slidell, Louisiana, but they decided to keep going. It was kind of
cool that he got to see Alabama. Remember that he was born there, but his
family lived in Montana at the time, so he didn’t have any real memories of
it. They saw a lot of destruction during this part of the trip; more than
they had in the shelter, and it really saddened them. It does sound very
sad.
Thursday, November 23, 2023
Microstory 2024: Louisiana
It was a couple of years before papa took a lot of time off from work all at
once again. He would sometimes take one or two days off, or he would do his
volunteer work on the weekends. He would hand food out to people who
couldn’t afford it, and he would build houses. He did a few runs to raise
money for different charities. He was always working, even when he wasn’t
working. In August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina formed in the Gulf of Mexico.
When it hit land, it destroyed a bunch of homes, and people even died. The
news called it devastating. None of us was even alive yet, but my papa was.
He asked for an emergency vacation, and his boss let him have it. Papa spent
an entire Thursday learning new skills with the Auxiliary Support Branch. If
you have an older friend or relative who donated blood, they probably did it
through ASB. They provide volunteer aid all over the continent, and they
were in charge of something called disaster relief after the big hurricane,
along with the government. The next day after his new training in Chicago,
they called to tell him that they needed him to fly to Louisiana on
Saturday. So without much warning, he did that, and was sent to a shelter
for people who had just lost their homes. Because of his experience as an
engineer, he was put in charge of Facilities. It wasn’t an official job,
they just needed someone, and there was so much chaos, volunteers just had
to do whatever they could to help. He made sure that each resident had a cot
to sleep on and blankets, and that there was enough kitchen stuff to feed
everybody, and stuff like that. He spent so much time there that he had to
take time off, even though this was time off. We’ll talk about that
on the next slide.
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Wednesday, November 22, 2023
Microstory 2023: Kansas
In September of 2004, my papa had worked for the private submarine company
for more than two years, and he had not taken any vacation. His boss, who
was his friend, was worried about him, so he asked him to take the time off,
or he would lose it. But papa didn’t like to just sit around, doing nothing.
He wanted to be accomplishing something. One of the hobbies that he picked
up was bicycling. Whenever he had the time, he liked to ride his bike from
his house to his sister’s place, which was about 20 miles away. It took him
a couple of hours, and it was a workout, and he really enjoyed it. He
decided to take his longest ride yet. Instead of just going a few towns
over, he wanted to go a few states over. He plotted a route that went
all the way from Chicago to Kansas City. What a lot of people don’t know is
that there are two Kansas Cities. One is in Missouri and the other is in
Kansas, of course. They’re right next to each other, and the one in Missouri
is actually larger. He had already been to Missouri, because of his friends
who lived in Independence, which is considered part of the whole Kansas City
area. The distance from where he started was over 630 miles, and it took him
two weeks to ride the entire way! He rode about 45 miles per day, which is
pretty impressive, I must say. He couldn’t really explain to me why he chose
to go there. He just wanted to. Once he made it to Kansas City, Kansas, he
spent one night there. He donated his bicycle to a charity for kids. Then he
took a plane back home. I think this was a pretty cool thing that he did,
and I’m so proud of him. Maybe one day, I’ll do something like it, but
probably not to Kansas City, since it’s 1,700 miles from here!
Tuesday, November 21, 2023
Microstory 2022: Illinois
After he was done with the Navy, papa needed a place to live. He thought
about just staying in Arkansas, or even going all the way over to Montana.
He said it would have been a full circle, since that’s where he first grew
up. He narrowed his decision down to two choices, which was to move back
closer to his parents in Idaho, or to Indiana, where his sister lived with
her family. The two of them had grown even closer over the last few years,
and he loved his nephews. They had just had their second son, so he decided
to choose Indiana. He needed a job, though. Most people who need jobs have
to go out and look for them. These days, they will go on the internet, and
search for anyone who is hiring, but this was back in 2002, so people
weren’t doing that very much yet. And anyway, my papa didn’t need to look
himself. Companies were actually calling him to offer him a job. He
had a really good education, and his time in the military made bosses know
that he would be loyal and trustworthy. He ended up reconnecting with a guy
who he knew who once worked for the Coast Guard. They also work on the
water, but have different jobs. This former Coast Guard Lieutenant Commander
had started his own business that wanted to build new kinds of submarines,
and he would be testing them in Lake Michigan. My papa was perfect for the
job, because that’s exactly what he learned in school, and in the Navy. He
ended up living in Chicago on the Illinois side of the border, but he was
still less than a half hour away from my Aunt Cooper. We’re still a Chicago
family. I’ve gone there myself many times, even though I live in
Massachusetts.
Monday, November 20, 2023
Microstory 2021: Tennessee
Papa was only an active member of the Navy for four years. He thought about
staying in, but ended up not. It’s all because of something he did as his
required time was ending. He was still in the reserves after this, but he
wasn’t working on the sub anymore. While he was trying to make a decision,
friends of his from college called him up, and asked him if he wanted to
work with them on a mission trip in Tennessee. They were Mormons, and they
were doing it for their church, but that wasn’t going to be what the trip
was about. There was an old folks home in a small town outside of Memphis.
He was in Arkansas at the time, so he wasn’t very far away. That’s probably
why they called him. He took a bus to the home, and got to work. The people
who owned it didn’t have very much money, and they were having trouble
keeping their residents comfortable. Don’t worry, they all always had their
medicine and stuff, but there were other issues. They couldn’t afford
plants, or nice paintings for the walls. The biggest issue was the
courtyard, which is a space that is outside, but it has walls around it.
Residents can go and sit down and enjoy being outside, but it wasn’t very
pretty at this place. I don’t think my papa spent much time on that, though.
He basically became a volunteer handyman. While the others were planting
trees, he fixed things around the building, because he was an engineer. What
he said was that this was an eye-opening experience. He wanted to spend more
time doing things like that. Of course he was helping people when he was
serving this country, but he decided that there were things that he should
do outside of it. That’s what led him to leaving the Navy, as an active
officer at least.
Sunday, November 19, 2023
The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 1, 2422
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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software |
It always seemed like a lie that the reason Venus Opsocor wanted the team
to go to Worlon was because it was the safest place to be during this time
period. Perhaps what was happening now was what it was really all about,
and the team being here was all part of some grander plan. They spent all
day last year getting to now the Krekel, and understanding how they were
different from the Ochivari. Something happened in their past, which
transformed them from a race of regretful polluters bent on stopping
anyone from making the same mistakes they did, at all costs, to one of
compassionate and patient guides with ethical boundaries who only wanted
to help people. Unfortunately, the Ochivari were bulk travelers. Once they
left their home universe, they separated themselves from all of reality,
meaning that while the timeline could be altered, they would remain in
existence. Nothing could stop them from going on their crusade against
other intelligent races by sterilizing entire populations. The Ochivari
were not fighting their war in a traditional sense, with guns and bombs,
except when it came to the Krekel. That was a real war. And right
now, Team Matic was in the center of it.
The next day, when they returned to the timestream, they were invited to
breakfast again. The first time they did it, they were up on the
mothership in orbit. Now that a year had passed, the new capital of Worlon
was well underway, including the Capitol Building, which was where the
second breakfast banquet was taking place. Ellie Underhill wasn’t here
this time. This was to become a yearly thing apparently. The team’s
unexpected arrival was only a part of this new holiday. It was the part
that dictated when specifically it would be held. Worlon had a different
daily rotation, and a different solar revolution than Earth, but the
team’s pattern was tied to midnight central of the Earthan Standard
Calendar. This meant that Cadatora would be celebrated on a different day
each year on Worlon, kind of like Easter. That was where the humans’
contribution ended. The Krekel had their own reasons to celebrate their
peace and harmony, and these reasons were threatened by the sudden arrival
of a fleet of Ochivari ships a couple of months ago.
The Ochivari were violent by nature, but it was not an arbitrary
development. A long time ago, they realized that they were all
biologically capable of traveling the bulk. They didn’t need a machine.
They didn’t need an amazing technicolor dreamcoat. It was just something
that they could do. It came at a great cost. The whole process involved a
battle of chemicals, pheromones, and possibly psychic fortitude. That last
thing lived within an area of research that scientists were not completely
sure about. It also resulted in sacrifice. As these opposing forces
reached critical mass, they would literally explode, and the consequence
of this fight would be the sudden and fleeting opening of a portal to the
outer bulk in which all universes were suspended. If two Ochivari were
bulkbattling, one of them would die from this. The other would survive,
and usually be sucked into the portal, and transported to another world.
This was where the possible psychic energy came into play, because if they
did it right, the survivor went to the right world, instead of some random
planet, or the middle of empty space. They had to be fast, though, because
if they didn’t jump in right away, the portal would collapse before them,
and the whole thing would be a waste of time. The thing was, though, that
the greater the sacrifice, the larger the portal, and the longer it
lasted.
If three Ochvari came together to bulkbattle, two of them
would survive while one died. If five came together,
three would survive while two died. The total number of
attempters, number of sacrificers, and number of survivors each went up
exponentially according to the Fibonacci sequence. It was the most clear
evidence that this sequence was more than a series of numbers, but a
tangible physical phenomenon with real-world consequences. One of these
consequences was that Ochivari ships were incredibly rare. The size and
stability of the portal wasn’t actually based on the number of Ochivari
involved, but total mass. The higher the mass, the more voluminous the
pheromones and chemicals, the more stuff that could be used to fuel
transportation.
A battleship was a profoundly massive object, so the sacrifices required
to move it from one universe to another were equally profound. They
numbered in the tens of millions of people, but even then, there was a
catch, because the ship was a giant weapon flying through space, and that
would kill anyone upon impact. So even the survivors of the bulkbattle
generally ended up dying soon thereafter, because a ship would immediately
come barreling towards them in order to make it through the just opened
portal in time. It could last longer than smaller portals, but still not
indefinitely, and it
was possible for it to collapse while you were still trying to pass
through it.
Over 70 million should be an unacceptable loss by
anyone’s standards, especially since the reason they were fighting
was because the Krekel figured out how to do it without incurring
any loss. Instead of hating them for it, they should learn from
them. As it turned out, these sacrifices didn’t need to happen at all. The
winginsing that the orchestra of Nexus guards performed for them last year
wasn’t just a beautiful symphony of nature. When done in the right way,
using the right melody, and other mathematical precisions, it too could
open a bulk portal. Krekel portals were not any more stable than Ochivari
ones, but no one had to die to open them, even for those large enough to
accommodate ships.
The Krekel were at a huge advantage because of their alternate technique.
It made them nicer, peaceful, and more harmonious amongst each other. But
their
disadvantage...was that they were nicer and more peaceful than the
Ochivari, so when war came for them, they mostly lost. Until recently. In
response to the unprovoked attacks, the Krekel started building out their
own armies, training them with the lessons they had learned from those
early losses, and really fighting back. Their return to Worlon was not
just because they were homesick. This was a staging planet now, and the
Ochivari didn’t like that. That was why the fleet came here, and why they
were even angrier than usual, because the sacrifices made to transport
them had to total nearly a billion people. This was crazy. After all, that
was the first rule of warfare, always outnumber your enemy.
The Battle Over Worlon lasted for only days, and in the end, the Krekel
won with their home field advantage, and their ability to recruit
reinforcements from a planet called Folia, in a universe called
Moderaverse. That didn’t mean it was over, though. Krekel and Ochivari
looked exactly the same, just as British and German people did because
they were both humans. The only distinction possible was clothing, which
could always be changed. The Krekel won the war, but that didn’t mean
there weren’t survivors. Some of them escaped through sacrificial bulk
portals, but others were believed to have blended in with the locals, and
assimilated into society. Maybe some of them were indoctrinated into the
new way of life, which included a lot less death, but others held firm.
They became sleepers. Today on Cadatora, they attacked for the first time
since the end of that fateful battle months ago.
Olimpia was the first to see the knife. She wasn’t sure if she should be
nervous at first. Maybe it was some kind of ceremonial gesture, and wasn’t
intended to be used as a weapon. But the supposed Krekel’s body language
seemed to indicate that he had ill intentions towards the Domina. While
the timeline that the Krekels came from was different, there were still
some similarities. Their respective cultures were both ruled by diarchies.
The Domino and the Domina were like King and Queen, except they were not
in a relationship with each other. In fact, the more they liked each
other, the harder it was for them to maintain power. While all systems of
government that relied on non-elected leaders were at least a little
tyrannical, in this case, it was pretty easy to overthrow a Dominé that
began to act outside the interests of the people, and in the Krekel’s
case, it could be done nonviolently. The Domini were well-loved,
particularly the Domina. That was why the Ochivar infiltrator was
attempting to assassinate her.
Everyone on the team picked up on Olimpia’s unease, and Leona acted
quickly. She pulled out her weapon, and once she saw where the danger was
lurking, she took her shot. She could have set her gun to incapacitate the
attacker, but she didn’t. The would-be assassin was killed instantly,
placing everyone in an awkward position. The only way they even knew that
he was Ochivar, and probably was trying to kill the Domina,
was because they could not identify him, so he wasn’t a known citizen of
Worlon. He was certainly not approved to be in the Royal Court during the
Royal Cadatoran Breakfast. So Leona almost definitely saved the Domina’s
life, and who knows how many others, but that didn’t make it okay.
Weapons were not allowed in the Royal Court. All armed guardsmen kept
their posts outside its walls. The guards inside had to check their
weapons in, and if a problem occurred, would only be allowed to use their
fists and feet and wings. The attacker broke the law by sneaking one in,
but Leona shouldn’t have used hers either. They made an exception by
allowing her to bring it in in the first place, but they were humoring her
as their honored guest. They didn’t think that she would actually use it,
and now that she had, they were all in big trouble.
“You have two options,” their state-appointed advocate explained to them.
“If you risk going to trial, there is no telling what the arbitration
panel will decide. You could be put to death, placed in prison, assigned
to a work camp, forced into the military, exiled in universe, or expelled
to the bulk. Or, I guess you could be found innocent. The first six are
equally likely, but that last one is remote. These consequences could be
suffered by you alone, or shared by the whole group, or each of you could
conceivably be handed different sentences. Like I said, it’s a risk.”
Leona lifted her hand, and started counting herself and her friends, as if
she didn’t know that there were six. “Death, prison, work, military,
exile, expulsion. Six people for six punishments. Sounds like a long
arc...except for one of them,” she mused, referencing execution. “You said
there were two options. Was all that one option?”
“You could volunteer for one of them, but you would have to do it
together, and obviously you can’t choose freedom.”
“Well...obviously we should choose exile, right?” Angela figured. “We
didn’t really want to be here anyway.”
“That comes with a caveat. There are pros and cons to all of them. Death
would be swift and painless. Prison would be comfortable. The work would
be easy. Military service would be relatively safe. Expulsion would be to
the universe of your choosing.”
“You skipped one,” Olimpia pointed out, “the one that we’re actually
suggesting.”
“If you don’t leave by the end of the week, which for you would only be a
few hours, you will experience all other punishments, and none of the
advantages will apply. You’ll be put to work doing hard labor in an
uncomfortable prison, and then sent to the frontlines of the war once the
appropriate opportunity arises. If you somehow survive that, you’ll be
expelled to a universe not of your choosing, and while I’m not
privy to which universe that would be, my guess is that it would be an
extremely hostile environment, especially since they were clear
that you would have to go through all five other punishments, and death
would necessarily be the last on the list.”
“Who came up with this, a science fiction writer?” Leona questioned.
“Probably. It’s not in the law books. That’s why it took me all day to get
back to you while you were in jail, because the court had to explain it to
me and the adherent first. He didn’t know what they were talking about
either, and he’s more upset than I.”
“Okay, this doesn’t make any sense. Why is there a time limit on
self-exile? We’ll just go through the Nexus, and it’ll be done,” Angela
presumed.
“That’s the thing,” the advocate went on. “You can’t use the Nexus. And no
one who lives here is allowed to help you. I told you there was a caveat.”
Leona sighed, annoyed at yet another round of games. This was reminding
her of The Cleanser’s Tribulations, Arcadia’s Expiations, and all the
other needlessly convoluted missions that people have sent them on over
the centuries. “So it’s our responsibility to punish ourselves, and if we
fail to do that, they’ll punish us, and it will be five times worse.”
“How would we get off this planet without help?” Marie asks.
“I don’t know how you could,” he said, “but I’m just an attorney. You’re the
legendary adventurers. Isn’t escape sort of your thing?”
“Emphasis on the sort of part,” Ramses clarified.
Leona looked at Mateo. “You’ve been quiet. I noticed you put your thinking face
on.”
Mateo turned his neck to face different parts of the room as if members of
a crowd in the middle distance were taking turns expressing their
thoughts, and he was listening politely. He settled on the door. “I’ve
already solved this problem.”
“How do you figure?” Leona pressed.
Mateo kept staring at the door. “I just feel it. Help is coming. Senona
Riggur lives outside of time. They can see the future as easily as anyone
can see the present. Venus is no different.”
“What do those so-called gods have to do with anything?” Angela asked.
“Five..four..three..two...” Mateo lifted his hand, and pointed at the door
just as he finished the countdown. The door opened to reveal Maqsud
Al-Amin, a.k.a. The Trotter.
Maqsud was one of the few people in histories who were capable of
transporting themselves from one planet to another, at seemingly infinite
distances. He helped return Leona and her then-team from Dardius to Earth
a long time ago. None of the others had ever met him, but they all knew
who he was. He dressed very uniquely. “Does someone here need a ride?” he
guessed. “I did not come to this planet on purpose.”
“We’ll take exile,” all six of them volunteered simultaneously.
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