Extremus: Year 114

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Cloning is illegal on Extremus. It’s very illegal, and has been for quite some time. What happened with Captain Halan Yenant and Lieutenant Eckhart Mercer was already in a gray area, and since then, both the civilian government and crew decided that it was best to make it against the law, full stop. The Question is sort of a workaround for this problem, but the reality is clear in this situation. Waldemar’s clone is an empty shell, and not only does Admiral Leithe have the right to destroy it, but she has the obligation to do so. There is only one caveat. She must report it. She must, in fact, report it to three particular people. The Captain, the Head Councillor, and the ship’s Consul all have to be told first. The silver lining is that she only has to inform those three, and they don’t have to inform anyone else, or place the information on any sort of official record. The problem is, they don’t know what Waldemar becomes. Oceanus seems to have some idea, but the other two presumably know absolutely nothing. What happens if they try to arrest Young!Waldemar for his actions? First, it will make the incident a matter of public record, but also, the charges will never stick anyway.

The clone is older than the original, which suggests that he may be from the future. You can’t be held liable for a crime that you might have committed in the future of only one timeline. That would be unfair, and since there is evidently no one to question about this, besides present day Waldemar, they don’t know if he was responsible for it in this possible future. It’s only marginally more difficult to procure someone else’s DNA than your own. Waldemar’s advocate would have a field day in court, and it would become this huge spectacle. This would likely only cement his popularity as a leader of and for the people, reinforcing his predestined future power over the ship.

As of yet, nothing has happened, but this peace won’t last forever. While AI!Elder is not capable of transmitting his code back to Extremus, he does have power over the Frontrunners. This includes being capable of teleporting Waldemar’s clone to anywhere on the hull, specifically to what they call The Black Deck. Situated at the stern, the Black Deck is the opposite of the White Deck, because unlike the latter, viewports on the Black Deck can be opened. The doppler glow only comes in from the forward ports, which is why they’re closed and locked at all times. The thing is, on the Black Deck, there’s nothing to see. There’s literally nothing to see. It’s just a void. No stars, no nebulae. People describe the experience as being unsettling and profound, which is precisely why they sometimes go up there. If a cloning pod were to suddenly appear in front of one of these windows, someone would probably see it, if only eventually. This is the threat that AI!Elder is making if he’s not released.

At last, it’s time for a meeting with Consul Sevara Sanchez. Tinaya has been keeping AI!Elder at bay for the last several months so she would be dealing with Sevara, instead of the previous Consul, who couldn’t be trusted. Well, it’s more that she didn’t like him, Sevara seems great. “Thanks for meeting with me, Consul.”

“No, thank you. This job has been forever darkened by the first one, who turned out to be a traitor, so I’m glad to have a meeting with an admiral so soon.”

“Well, Vatal was more of a spy than a traitor. But it doesn’t matter. You may not be so happy when you here what I have to say.”

“Oh, my.”

“Do you know who Waldemar Kristiansen is?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know many names yet. Is he on the Council?”

“He’s the eighth captain.”

“Oh, I didn’t think that had been decided yet. It’s a little early, no?”

Tinaya doesn’t respond. This is such a touchy subject, time travel. Neither one of them should know what’s going to happen, let alone be involved in trying to change it.

Sevara seems to pick up on it. “Oh. I see. What can you tell me?”

Not much. Nothing about her son, or Audrey. She focuses on the basics, and the fact that Waldemar’s rise to power is, by all accounts, inevitable. All they can do is try to mitigate the equally inevitable fallout. This means dealing with the clone, and possibly running a quiet investigation to search for any other clones which may be stashed somewhere on Extremus. AI!Elder must be dealt with too.

“Who is this Pathfinder who led you to the Frontrunner where you found the clone?” Sevara asks after Tinaya finishes the overview.

She doesn’t really need to know that. “Well, his name is Pronastus Kegrigia.”

“Good to know,” Sevara replies. Then she doesn’t say anything else.

Tinaya waits a little for Sevara to acknowledge the real point of the story, but it never comes. “So, what do you think...about the clone?”

Sevara shrugs. “Destroy it,” she says, as if it’s an obvious solution, and not morally gray, at best.

“The issue is, I’m not sure that Captain Jennings or Head Councillor Linwood will agree. I suppose I’m fairly confident about Oceanus, but definitely not Linwood. He’ll probably make a big stink, and bring in all his friends for consultation, and it will get out of control. I’m trying to keep the circle tight. I’m not even telling my husband, even though as superintendent, he would be well within his rights to know.”

“In a few months, Linwood will be replaced, probably by Flowers.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Tinaya laments. “AI!Elder won’t wait that long, that is. I barely made it to today.”

Sevara giggles. “AI!Elder? Is that what we call him? I like it.”

“That’s just how Captain Yenant referred to him in his logs. I’m sure the brainiacs gave it some kind of longwinded model number.”

Sevara nods and goes silent again, but only for a moment. “Well. Let’s go with this. You and I will travel to the Frontrunner, and I will supervise the destruction of the clone. We won’t tell Captain Jennings. We won’t tell Head Councillor Linwood.”

“How’s that legal?” Tinaya questions.

“It’s not technically, but it will be our little secret.”

“Consul Sanchez,” Tinaya scolds.

“Admiral Leithe, you are currently being coerced into placing the ship in danger by a known artificially intelligent threat actor. You are under extreme pressure to protect the crew and passengers of the Extremus, which gives you the leeway you need to be discreet with who you confide in regarding this matter. If you want, we can divulge the truth to the new Head Councillor next year, and complete the disclosure requirement, but we need to take care of this right now, before either of them can make another move against us.”

“The whole reason I’m waiting is because AI!Elder won’t release him. I can’t jettison the pod, I can’t teleport it. I can’t even open it.”

“Well, let me handle him. I have authority over the Frontrunner systems that not everyone does.”

“You do?” Why would she? Why would she have higher clearance than Tinaya, except maybe over legal data? Why would she have anything to do with the Frontrunners?

“I do.” She’s quite confident.

After Sevara deals with something else on her tablet, they teleport to the bow together, and then jump a second time to make it to the Frontrunner where the Waldemar clone is being kept. It’s still there, and so is AI!Elder, who is displeased with their arrival. “Who is this woman?” he demands to know.

“This—” Tinaya begins.

Sevara steps forward and holds out a hand like she wants someone to shake it. “My name is Sevara Sanchez, Consul of the Transgalactic Generation Ship Extremus, Seventh of Eleven.” The captains are really the only ones whose titles officially include X of Y ordinals, but others sometimes use a similar format. Consuls are known for adopting the same convention. Tinaya has never known why. The real weird part is that she said Transgalactic Generation Ship, which they stopped using when Halan Yenant altered course into the void. They’ve since moved back into the galaxy, but the name was never changed back. No, the weirdest part is when Sevara shakes the air in front of her as clasping AI!Elder’s hand.

“A consul?” AI!Elder questions. “You brought me a consul? I’ve never felt so insulted in my life. Bring me someone who matters.”

“Let me see the pod,” Sevara asks of Tinaya. After being led into the room, she examines it surprisingly thoroughly. She looks over each side, and even runs her hand along the casing. Does she have some kind of background in cloning tech, or is she just a weirdo? Tinaya is starting to think that maybe she’s just a weirdo. Once Sevara is finished, she takes a breath, and looks up into the aether. “Okay, I’m satisfied. The pod and its occupant must be destroyed. AI!Elder, please disable the magnetic clamps, and release the specimen into our custody.”

“I’m not going to do that,” AI!Elder responds. “That wasn’t our deal.”

“No, you don’t make deals with the Admiral anymore,” Sevara contends. “You’re dealing with me now.”

“Consul, please be careful,” Tinaya urges. She’s whispering, knowing full well that the AI’s sensors are more than adequate to pick up the sound.

“I know what I’m doing,” Sevara insists. She looks back up. “How about those clasps, Old Man? I ain’t got all day.”

“I have been trapped in these subsystems for decades, and I’m ready to be set free, so if you’re going to do that, then this is your chance. If you deny me just one more time, I will instantly transport the pod to the exterior of the viewport on the Black Deck, and magnetize it against the hull. Anyone will be able to come and look, and then you’ll have a ton of questions to answer.”

“I don’t think you’ll do it,” Sevara antagonizes. “I think you’re bluffing. It’s the only leverage you have.”

“I have more leverage than that,” AI!Elder claims. “I can destroy these Frontrunners, which puts you at risk of another meteoroid strike.”

“Hm. I think I can live with that.”

“Sevara. Please.” Tinaya is getting really worried now. This entity has their lives in its hands.

“What are we still waiting for?” Sevara asks AI!Elder. “You said you wouldn’t be denied again, yet the pod is still there. Get on with it, or calm down, so we can talk.”

“You asked for it,” AI!Elder says. Suddenly, the pod disappears.

“No!” Tinaya shouts. She looks over at Sevara, who is just smirking. “Oh, I get it. You’re evil. I wish I had known that before!”

“I’m not evil,” Sevara replies with a laugh.

“What did you do?” AI!Elder is pissed.

“I rerouted the pod’s transport,” Sevara explains. “It’s tucked away safely inside the ship, where you no longer have purview. Thanks for releasing it...like I asked.”

“Kiss your Frontrunners goodbye,” AI!Elder warns. “And your own asses.”

Sevara takes Tinaya by the forearm, and teleports them both to safety, back to the corridor overlooking the plasma bubble. That bubble doesn’t last long, though. They see five explosions before them. All the debris, all the plasma, and probably a whole lot of temporal energy, comes rushing towards them. It’s going to kill them both first, but it could damage the ship enough to end the mission right here, right now. Unexpectedly, though, the oncoming storm just disappears. For a second, it’s only black until a bright gray light forms, threatening to blind them. A hand reaches out, and shuts the panel. It takes a moment for them to regain their sight, at which point they see none other than Waldemar Kristiansen.

“Whew! Just in time!” he exclaims.

“How did you know?” Tinaya asks him.

“You have always been kind to me, Admiral, so I will not lie to you,” Waldemar says. “I’m from the future. I sent my consciousness back in time to stop the apocalypse. I just teleported the ship a few thousand kilometers away, so we’re safe now. We just don’t have any Frontrunners. Rebuilding those will be my first priority as Vice Captain.”

“Vice Captain?” Tinaya echoes. That’s not a thing. That’s not a thing anywhere.

“Yeah, after I came back into my younger body, I couldn’t help fix what happened to Extremus unless I was given some measure of authority, so they came up with a new position for me, and for others in the future. No longer will captains start their shifts without any clue what they’re doing. They’re going to have experience on the crew first, and compete against their rivals until the best one ascends.”

Goddammit. It’s Tinaya’s fault. She’s the one who creates the worst captain this ship will ever see. Fate is such a bitch.

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Microstory 2540: Concierge Doctor

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I’m obviously bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, but even if I felt comfortable divulging any privileged information about my patient, there would be nothing to say. Landis is in perfect shape, which is exactly what you would expect to find in someone with such abilities. It’s the easiest work I’ve ever done. It’s probably not necessary, it just seems rational for this one man to have a personal concierge doctor available to respond to his hypothetical needs at all times. A lot of the work I do involves running reports on his vitals. They do change, throughout the day and day to day, but they’re always within acceptable and optimal parameters. His stress levels can fluctuate, but the underlying conditions are apparently mitigated through his own self-healing. I don’t know a whole lot about it. The researchers keep their research behind closed doors. I’m just responsible for how he’s doing, not why he’s healthy. I try to follow current health guidelines regarding his lifestyle and eating habits. For one, he works twelve hours a day, which isn’t recommended, but I was overruled. Secondly, he doesn’t get any exercise, which is why I firmly believe his ability is healing him, because otherwise, he shouldn’t be doing so well. I certainly wouldn’t call him a sloth, but if he moved around more, it would either exhaust him after hours, or his own patients would have to walk with him, which is an absurd proposition. So, his diet. That’s really the only thing that I can control. I decide what goes in his body, and I run my own blood tests on him to make the best judgment calls I can for every single meal. Most people don’t have their diets so precisely tailored, but obviously, I have quite a bit of time on my hands. So I work closely with his personal chef, who has no problem following my recommendations, and Landis himself doesn’t really care. I sit at the ready should anything go wrong in my office that’s attached to the healing room, and at the end of every shift, I perform a quick physical examination. I work long hours, but they’re easy hours. Sometimes I reminisce about the rush of the emergency room, but I know how lucky I am, so I try not to take my good fortune for granted. One day, I may become obsolete entirely, and while that might sound scary, the world would be vastly superior to even the one we have today. I’m all for it.

Microstory 2539: Fareweller

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I’m the last stop on this wild ride that we call a once-in-a-lifetime miracle cure. Unlike the Greeter, my job is exactly what it sounds like. There’s a tiny bit more to it, but mostly, I just smile and wave goodbye. Most of the time, the questions I get are about where the restrooms are, how to get back to where they parked, how to get back on the highway, and the like. I make sure that they didn’t forget anything in the waiting rooms too. It doesn’t happen often, because the Guides and Queuers are watching for those types of things, but it happens; people lose stuff. Usually, they don’t even care, because they’ve just been cured, but I have to do my due diligence. There’s also one important duty that doesn’t sound like something that should be necessary, and maybe it isn’t, but I’m there, so I might as well. I always ask them if they expected Landis to breathe on them, and if he did. I know, it seems redundant, and I’ve never run into any issue, but it’s a chaotic place. It wouldn’t be impossible for someone to get confused, and wander to the exit when they ought to be looking for the entrance. It’s impossible to get through the Settlement area without paying or being paid, but if you haven’t entered the healing room yet, you absolutely could subvert the entire process. For most people, even if this does happen, they’re gonna see that EXIT sign, and realize that something went wrong. We do have patients with memory and mind problems, however, and they could get lost. Again, the Guides and Queuers are there to wrangle people into the right places, but the system isn’t perfect. This is also a great question for people to hear if they have complaints. It offers them the opportunity to air their grievances, without me first pestering them for feedback, or implying that there should be something for them to complain about. “Were you expecting Landis Tipton to breathe on you, and if so, did he?” // “Well, he did, but he also accidentally spit on my face a little, and I don’t like that.” There’s not really anything that I can do about it, but perhaps send it as feedback through the proper channels, but the biggest reason is to make sure that these people are feeling seen and heard. It’s our last chance to provide them with a quality experience, so we don’t want to miss anything. One of my co-workers came up with the idea. She thought that it was a good question to ask, and management actually agreed, so they wrote it into the procedures guide, which I think is pretty cool. They actually listen to us. Not every organization would do that. I think that’s it for me. Goodbye.

Microstory 2538: Personal Chef

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I’ve been cooking my whole life. My grandmother raised me, along with my two siblings. They were older, but they were tasked with other responsibilities to maintain the household. I had a knack for the culinary arts, so that’s what she fostered in me. I cooked all the meals for everyone, and I loved it. My grandmother was very practical, though, so she didn’t let me focus all of my attention on my passion. She made me study all of my subjects in school, and after I graduated, she refused to let me go straight to the culinary institute. She knew that I wouldn’t get much out of a four-year degree, but she didn’t want me to have to rely on only one thing. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in me, but a cooking school wasn’t going to teach me all of the skills that she thought every adult should have. Spending two years at my community college was a great experience, which I believe turned me into a more well-rounded person. I’m still a chef, and that’s really all I care about, but I also remember reading the books, exploring evolutionary ecology, and learning to speak French. That was a pretty big one. I adore French cuisine, so it made sense to add that to my personal inventory of skills. Once I was done there, I went on to the Antova School for the Culinary Arts, where I graduated at the top of my class. It too was a two-year program, so when I entered the workforce, I wasn’t behind my peers. People often ask if—or even when—I’m going to open my own restaurant, but the truth is that I have no interest in that. There’s too much businessy stuff going on with that. I didn’t study any of that stuff, and I don’t want to return to school to do so. And I don’t wanna do it anyway. It gets in the way of the cooking. Sure, I can slap my name on a building, and call it mine while someone else actually handles the business side of things, but that’s just vanity. I’m perfectly content in the kitchen, working with my hands, and making something that people will enjoy. I never thought I would ever be cooking for a man like Landis Tipton, but who knew such a man would ever exist? It’s not the most exciting role, cooking for only one person who is not a picky eater in the least, but I’m a part of something bigger, and that’s good enough for me. If this job ever ends, I could always start tutoring elementary school students in French.

Microstory 2537: Bodyguard

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My job is pretty straightforward. Everyone knows what a bodyguard is. Landis Tipton is my one and only charge, and to clarify what that means, I will not protect anyone else at his risk. Wherever he goes, I go, and if he goes somewhere with other people, there’s likely to be another member of the security team there. That guard, and anyone else of sufficient proximity, would be responsible for handling a physical threat to those other people in the room. Landis is the only one I’m ever concerned for. I don’t wanna say that his life is worth more than anyone else’s, but...it is. Let’s be real, I’m not here to protect the highest bidder. I’ve answered a calling to serve this planet’s greatest asset, and that is not an exaggeration. I firmly believe that, and I don’t know if I could successfully do my job if I didn’t. I stand off at his flank, keeping one eye on him, and the other eye scanning for threats. Every minute, three or four people come into the healing room who have never been here before. They’re mostly grateful for the opportunity. At worst, perhaps they are anxious or scared. He does heal children, and children often fear medical environments. They are obviously not the threats I’m worried about, however, I also can’t discount them, especially since every minor has to be accompanied by a caregiver. Anyone—anyone—who walks into this room could have ulterior motives. Just because they have a disease that qualifies for healing, doesn’t mean they don’t also have some nefarious agenda. Or maybe it’s not nefarious, per se, but obsessive or destructive. A lot of people are in love with this man, or think they are, and they want more than they are entitled to. Kisses are the biggest thing. They either try to sneak one for its intrinsic value, or because they think it might somehow be a more powerful cure than his breath alone. I don’t know. I don’t care. I put a stop to it. They’re given the rules, and we have signage posted at strategic locations. They’re all fully aware of what they’re there to do, and why those rules are in place. They only spend a fraction of the time under Landis’ breath. Most of it is learning about the Foundation. So really, I don’t tolerate the missteps. I’m gentle and careful, but firm and strict. His safety comes down to more than just whether someone has a weapon or not, and I am the last line of defense against all hazards, great and small.

Microstory 2536: Executive Assistant

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They call Landis’ nurse his left-hand woman, and that’s because I’m his right-hand woman. That’s really only because I literally always stand on his right side. His left arm has better veins for drawing blood, so that’s his “medical side”. Though, they sometimes come over to my side of his body, because they need to test things like, is his blood different in his other arm? No, it’s not, by the way. As I was trying to explain, I was an assistant for three years before I landed this job. It was difficult and trying. My boss was great, but she was very demanding. She had high expectations of me, but she earned that right by building herself up from just about nothing. I figured that working for the Foundation would be a new challenge, but it’s really pretty cushy. He doesn’t exactly need me to do anything for him. His schedule is the same every day. He goes to bed by 21:30 so he can get up at 05:30 for breakfast before work at 06:00. He usually takes his half-hour lunch at 11:00. It’s his main meal, and it’s always pretty big. It’s prepared by a world-class chef whose only job is this. After his afternoon/evening healing shift is over at 18:30, he has a therapy session, which usually goes alongside his dinner. It’s much lighter than his lunch, which is important, because he then has an hour-long massage therapy session starting at 19:30. This wasn’t his idea by the way, it was prescribed to him by his doctor, who was afraid Landis would not be able to relax. He doesn’t enjoy any other relaxing hobbies, so it was kind of something they had to come up with to help. This next part is a little tricky, so let me try to keep it classy.

After the massage, Landis takes a quick shower, and then meets with a woman for about a half hour, including some light conversation. It’s a different woman every night, as coordinated by the Legacy department. This woman is virile, and of course healthy—but it’s important to note that she is typically naturally healthy. They arrange it differently sometimes for comparative experimentation, but for the most part, we’re talking about a young woman in her prime mothering years who has not undergone the healing breath treatment herself. That is what she is looking for. While the pharmaceutical company is researching paths to the panacea, an alternative program seeks to potentially expand production of the cures by simply spreading it throughout the population. Not every pregnancy takes, but all told, Landis has fathered, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......about 800 children. Woof, that’s kind of something that we don’t really talk about. Part of the funding that we receive goes into supporting these families for the rest of their lives. As of yet, no child has exhibited any special abilities, but the oldest one isn’t even five years old yet, so they’re not taking that as proof that it doesn’t work. The program continues. When I first met Landis, he was chill and funny. He liked to talk, and be around people. This experience has changed him, and while most seem to attribute his turtle-shelling to the burden of the healings, I believe the daily expectation of procreation has affected him more than anything. He likes women. He likes sex. And it’s all consensual. But it still heightens his anxiety. He still considers it part of his job. On the one hand, that makes it easier to detach himself, and simply perform. On the other hand, is that psycho-emotionally healthy? I don’t know. I really don’t. But I’m here for him every day, and if he were to ever express doubt in continuing either of his jobs, I would be the first to know. I won’t let him do anything he’s not comfortable with, even if it’s something that he’s done a thousand times before.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 12, 2525

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No one chased the team as they fled the city, probably because they hadn’t done anything wrong, so the locals had no reason to try to apprehend them. Most of the team didn’t even know why they were running. They just trusted that Leona had good reason to order them to. She had to remind them to slow down, though, because their bodies moved too fast. They were supposed to be normal humans who were born a few decades ago, and would die several more decades from now. Finally, when they were out of the city limits, and safe within the coverage of the trees, they were able to stop. “Rambo, you understand what’s going on?” Leona asked him.

“I have an idea. Fascinating development. I need to get my hands on the slingdrives, so I can figure out why we’re off the mark. Proxima Centauri is close to Sol, but it’s not Sol. We also jumped to our next year too early”

“No, I mean, with the people in this dome. Do you understand why we ran?”

“Oh, of course I do. The Oblivios.”

“Then please go check the perimeter. Do it quietly. There could be campers or homesteaders, or just hikers. I’ll explain what happened to everyone else. I’m not sure if they’ve ever heard of Oblivios.”

“On it, boss.” Ramses left.

Leona caught her breath so she could think more clearly. “Okay. Oblivios. They came to this planet with the intention of living a more simple life, with very primitive technology. It’s like Castlebourne’s Dome for Pioneers, but for real.”

“They don’t look like pioneers,” Angela pointed out.

“That was 300 years ago. The reason they’re called Oblivios is because they had their minds wiped. The first generations didn’t remember advanced technology. They didn’t even know that they were in a dome, so they didn’t pass stories onto their children. Most of the criticisms of the project were about how they would eventually end up like this. You can’t stop progress. Since whatever dogma they had against tech was lost to them, they couldn’t instill such values into their descendants, so those descendants kept trying to make their lives better.” She pointed back in the direction of the city. “This is where that leads.”

“You’re gonna wanna see this, sir,” Ramses said through comms.

“If you see people, don’t talk to yourself.”

“I’m sure they’ve developed short-range wireless by now. There’s something I don’t think they’ve made yet, though, and I’m looking right at it.”

“Be right there,” Leona responded.

The group walked over to Ramses’ location, and before they caught up, saw what he was referring to. A gargantuan tower rose up into the sky, and disappeared above the clouds. The city they came from was advanced, but not like this. It took the kind of megaengineering that the hosts needed to build the domes themselves. It was hard to tell, but it might have risen all the way up to the ceiling. It might have been structurally necessary, since this dome was so much older than the ones on Castlebourne, but probably not.

Leona tilted her head. “That looks familiar to me. Why does it look familiar?”

“We’ve seen towers before,” Mateo pointed out.

“Yeah...” Leona wasn’t so sure. It was of plain design, but not generic.

“There’s no one around,” Ramses informs them. “Let’s just jump over to the base, and see what’s up with it.”

Leona was hesitant, but she looked around too, and checked her lifesigns detector. They were calibrated for human life, and sufficiently related cousin species, so they should be pretty accurate in a world that didn’t have transhumanism yet, but there was no way to be sure. They weren’t even worried about naked eyes anyway, but surveillance. “Okay, fine. Let’s just slip back into the trees first.”

They hid away, and then teleported to the tower. As soon as they appeared, a door opened up, likely via motion sensor. They all stepped into the elevator, and let it take them all the way up to the top, which yes, was right there at the dome’s zenith. A woman greeted them when the doors opened. “Greetings, travelers. I saw you teleport in. My name is Aeterna Valeria. I run this joint.”

“The tower, or the dome?” Mateo asks.

“Both, I guess.”

“You’re related to Tertius Valerius,” Marie guessed.

“Yeah, he, uhh...he was my father.”

“We just saw him not too long ago,” Romana explained. “He’s still alive.”

“I don’t really see it that way. It’s been something like two hundred years for me.”

There was an awkward pause in the conversation, which Leona needed to break. “So...report?”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that. Are you hungry? I have a synthy. It takes a few hours, but I’ve already synthesized some mashed potatoes and green beans for myself, if you’re interested in joining me. I like leftovers, so I always make extra.”

None of them was hungry, but they agreed to eat to be polite. It was good, and interesting to go back to regular food, instead of just programmable dayfruit or dayfruit smoothie. Leona needed to break the silence again while they were eating. “The people down there. What do they think of this tower?”

“They can’t see it,” Aeterna began to explain. “I have my father’s powers. I make them forget. I make them forget the tower at the same time they’re looking at it. It’s not technically invisible, but effectively so. I exempted you from it when you showed up.”

“Did you notice that they have moved past their original mandate?” Marie pressed.

Aeterna rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. We knew it was gonna happen. Our key contact died, but before she did, she and my father would fight all the time about keeping the dream alive. He said he promised he would erase people’s memories, but that he wouldn’t govern their thoughts. If someone came up with the lightbulb, they could have a freakin’ lightbulb. So that’s what they did, and they kept doing it, and now they’re here.”

“They said something about tunnels,” Mateo brought up.

“Yeah, they interact with the other domes,” Aeterna confirmed.

“How does that work?” Romana questioned.

“The others are pretty good about it. They don’t understand the technology, and they certainly don’t know that there’s a pretty girl up in this tower with magical memory powers, but they play their parts. Most of the nearby domes were also once intentionally primitive, though with no one like me. The Oblivios don’t really get how the dome works, but they know that they can’t go outside. They used drones to find the wall a long time ago, in defiance of the sonic deterrents, and for some reason, they didn’t freak out about it. It looked like a barren wasteland, and it made them sick, but they saw through the ruse anyway, and now they’re about to figure out the whole thing. The weird part about it is that they simply accepted that this was how their little pocket of the universe functioned. I was expecting riots, but everyone’s okay. It’s crazy really; a fascinating social experiment, I’m sure.”

“If they know they’re in a dome, why are you still here?”

“They know they’re in a dome because the data told them so. The drones kept crashing into the holographic walls, and I can wipe their memories of it all I want, but they’re gonna look back at that data, and it’s going to challenge their beliefs. So yeah, I gave up. But they still can’t see the tower. I’m still making them forget that they’re looking at a superscraper in the middle of it all. It’s limited in area, so it’s easier. They’re not looking for it, whereas they were looking for a way through the wasteland.”

“You ever thought about just stopping?” Romana offered.

Aeterna consulted her watch. “Yeah, won’t be long now.”

“What do you mean?” Mateo asked.

“The planet is going through a period of instability,” Aeterna went on. “Back on Earth, technologies like LiDAR were inevitable. Earth is too big, and you gotta navigate it. It’s easier to let computers do it for you. Here, in this cramped space, they didn’t need it. Human-driven cars are fine. You never have to go very far.”

“The tremors finally gave them a reason,” Leona realized.

“Bingo. Necessity being the mother of invention, it was suddenly absolutely necessary that they build sensor arrays to measure the world around them. Weather, for the most part, can be controlled in here, but we can’t stop the ground from shaking. They feel it just like everyone in all the other domes does.”

Ramses nodded. “And as soon as they turn on one of these sensor arrays, it’s going to pick up on the tower that humans keep forgetting, even when a camera records video of it, and plays it back later.”

Aeterna nodded back. “I won’t be able to combat that. And honestly, I shouldn’t try. The tower was a dumb idea that my father had, and I stuck around because once it was built, it couldn’t be dismantled, or it would ruin everything. They thought that someone with our power would have to stay here forever to keep it working, but the scope of this place is not limitless. They were always going to find the wall, and the data from their geological surveys would always contradict their perceptions. The ancestors thought, if they just went back to the way things were, they would stay that way. But that’s not what happened before, or they wouldn’t have needed to leave Earth to reclaim that way of life in the first place. So shortsighted.”

“Why did Tertius leave? He didn’t even tell us that he had a daughter,” Mateo said, worried about how she would react.

“Well, he gave up on the Oblivios a long time ago. I don’t know why I’ve been holding on. I suppose in rebellion to him. I told him, if he left, he couldn’t come back. He has respected that, which I appreciate.”

“It might not have been as long for him as it’s been for you,” Leona reminded her. “I didn’t get the sense that it had been a full 300 years since he last saw me.”

Aeterna shrugged. “Whatever.”

“What if...” Romana began. “What if you did see him again? Would you be mad?”

Aeterna considered the question. “A year ago, I might have been, but as I said, this is all ending anyway, so it would be fine. I’m not gonna break down crying, and hug my daddy, but we wouldn’t fight. Well. I wouldn’t pick a fight. Let’s just say that.”

Romana accepted this answer, and decided that this somehow translated to her taking a matchstick out of her breast pocket, and setting it down on the table ceremoniously.

“What’s that?” Mateo asked.

“It’s a muster match. Light it, and Tertius Valerius will appear.”

“He gave this to you?” Mateo pushed harder. “Why would he do that? Did he know that we would end up here? Did you?”

“Of course she did,” Ramses deduced. “She brought us here.”

Romana’s demeanor didn’t change. She remained cool. “I spend more time in the timeline. I get to know people. He asked me to come here. He said that anytime would be all right, but he clearly really wanted it to happen by 2525, so I’m glad we got a move on with it.”

“I don’t like that you did that,” Ramses admitted. “I don’t like that you messed with my slingdrive.”

“I don’t like that you lied to me,” Mateo added.

“This is between a father and his daughter, but a different father and daughter,” Romana defended. She redirected her attention to Aeterna. “He asked me not to light it. He said that you have to do it, so it’s up to you if it gets lit at all. He did want to be here with you when the tower becomes detectable, but he understands if you’re not ready, and will accept it if you never are.”

Aeterna stared at the match for a moment before picking it up. She held it between her thumb and forefinger for another moment, until slipping the other end between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand. She was about to break it, or was at least contemplating it. No one knew what was going through her head, but it looked like an internal debate as her nostrils flared, and her lips moved, suggestive of the words that she was thinking of. At last, she let go of the match with one hand, and scraped the head against the wooden table. A flame burst out of it. It looked like any normal lit match.

For a second, nothing happened, then a smoke portal appeared a couple of meters away. When the smoke cleared, Tertius was standing there. He smiled kindly at his daughter, barely registering that there were other people in the room. They just regarded each other, her not being able to move, and him not wanting to make the first move. Suddenly, Aeterna burst into tears, and ran over to hug her dad.

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Extremus: Year 113

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Audrey didn’t feel comfortable giving Tinaya the location of any secret consciousness transference technology which might be on the ship, and neither did Silveon when she asked him instead. Though with the latter, it seemed more like he didn’t know; like they didn’t discuss it before he time traveled, because it wasn’t relevant to his mission. He actually seemed rather perturbed at the implication that Audrey did know. For months, Tinaya let it go, and moved on to other things, but the situations with Waldemar and Thistle have only worsened, so these dark fantasies have continued to eat at her. She needs to get this solved, even if it interferes with the kids’ plans. Unfortunately, she’s not gotten much time to speak with Audrey discreetly.

“I know she told you,” Tinaya says.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” Silveon answers. She didn’t even have to clarify what she was talking about. He just knew right off the bat.

“Where is it?”

“You can’t transfer Thistle’s mind to Waldemar’s.”

“It would solve all of our problems.” Tinaya also didn’t tell them what she was planning to do with the tech, but they must have pieced it together.

“The human body would not be able to handle the data that Thistle contains.”

“That’s BS. AIs have been downloading their data into organic substrates for centuries.”

“Thistle is not a normal AI. You’re the one who told me that part of his memory isn’t even located in base reality.”

“That’s what he told me about it, but why can’t his Waldemar body access it from wherever it actually is, just as his servers do now?”

“Don’t ask me, this isn’t my field of research, but I don’t think it’s possible, based on the discussions I was a part of when we were working on the plan to send my mind back in time. They wanted to send multiple people into one body as a sort of amalgamated supersoldier, but it couldn’t be done. And anyway, why do you even need consciousness travel tech? Basic realtime mind transference should be in the central archives.”

“It’s not. They deliberately erased it before we launched. You should know that.”

“Sorry I didn’t study harder in school, mom. I was a little preoccupied. It must be in the Bridger Section somewhere, though. A trusted ally provided it for us, and I always assumed that’s where he got it. I didn’t ask questions, because compartmentalization.”

“I don’t know if you’re being cagey or ignorant, but son, I don’t like this side of you. To be clear, I still love you more than anything, but you still seem to think that this is your mission, and yours alone. You brought me into this, even if you had rather I stayed out of it. I may not be from the future, but I know things. And I know that this can work.”

“Consciousness overwrite was always a possibility, mother,” Silveon begins to explain. “It’s one of the plans that Audrey and I have not mentioned. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Back in the stellar neighborhood, where all the time travelers live, someone could have done it with a snap of their finger, like Nerakali Preston. Our version of the technology doesn’t just take one mind, and put it in someone’s body. It’s more like it holds it in place, and pushes it backwards in time. It stays in the same brain, just at a different point in history. You can overwrite an older Waldemar with himself, but not someone else...not Thistle. You might be able to modify it—I mean, someone theoretically could; not you specifically. I’m not going to help you with this, because it is not part of the plan. Audrey and I are on the same page with this one.”

“Well, at least you two are talking again. How nice for you.” That was too catty.

“I love you, mother.”

“I love you too, Silvy.”

Not long after Silveon leaves for work, Pronastus shows up. “Hello, Admiral. Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“I can’t right now,” Tinaya replies. It’s not really true. Lataran is liaising with the crew today, but she doesn’t want to think about anything but her objectives.

“I think you can. I think you need a break.” He starts to mumble, “I really think you should take a break.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Tinaya ultimately concedes, realizing where he’s going with this. He leads her farther towards the bow. The bridge, the engineering section, and the executive wings are all near the front of the ship, but there’s a lot ahead of them, particularly shielding and storage. It’s the most dangerous part of the ship, because if they’re gonna get hit by a meteor, that’s where it’s gonna happen. Technicians come here all the time to work, but they don’t stay here any longer than they have to. Tinaya herself has never been down here before, because she’s never needed to.

Pronastus isn’t entirely sure where he’s going. He’s just letting his pathfinding ability work, but it appears to be a little unclear. He keeps sticking one foot down a corridor, then realizes his mistake, and backtracks. She quickly learns to follow him a couple meters behind while he figures out the correct route. “Ah, here we are,” he finally says. This is it. This appears to be the absolute most forward section. It’s the extreme of Extremus. On the other side of this hull is outer space. There’s nothing here but a panel on the wall that reads, CAUTION: DOPPLER GLOW. DO NOT OPEN WHEN TRAVELING AT REFRAME OR FRACTIONAL SPEEDS.

“You want me to open that?” Tinaya questions. That would blind them, so the answer better be no.

Pronatus studies the words, like an illiterate person would, but Tinaya assumes he’s just trying to figure out whether that’s really what they’re meant to do here. “That warning is out of date.” He sniffs it, and it’s not clear if he’s getting any information from doing that, or if it’s just theatre. “Yeah, this is original signage.”

“What does that matter?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m pretty confident that we can open it. If you want,” he goes on, “you can go around the corner, and I’ll do it myself.”

Tinaya sighs, and takes hold of the handle. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You go around the corner.” After he does so, she opens the viewport, and braces herself for the blinding light. That’s not what she finds on the other side, however. Instead, it’s a massive bubble of some kind. It’s gray, like doppler glow is, but not nearly as bright. Her eyes have to adjust a little, but it’s not bad. It’s a fairly smooth surface, but it fluctuates and oscillates like a liquid, or no...a plasma. That’s plasma. This is a plasma shield. And all those frequent ripples are from meteoroids. But if this protective bubble is here, why does this sign warn people against opening it?

“Holy shit,” Pronastus says, walking back up to the port, just as surprised and awe-inspired as her. “Why isn’t this a channel on the broadcast system that you can watch on your holoscreen?”

“That’s a very good question. Maybe it’s slowly blinding us, I dunno.”

“Sometimes I can kind of feel the past too,” Pronastus tells her. “I often need context, because I don’t empirically know everything about it. I realize why the panel is here when it seemingly doesn’t need to be. It’s because it used to be necessary. And then they came up with the Frontrunner program.” The frontrunners are five little baby Extremus vessels, which fly ahead of the main ship. They’re entirely unmanned, and self-sufficient. She’s never heard of them needing to be repaired, replaced, or even visited. She’s not even sure whether they have life support or not. They developed them over a hundred years ago to enhance the protective shield, which turned out to be necessary—not due to natural obstacles, but an intentional meteoroid minefield, placed there by man. The True Extremists made that whole region of space far more dense than it should be in order to throw the Extremus off course. It worked. That’s why Halan Yenant went to hock, and why the ship has had to correct course gradually ever since. These frontrunners may be old, but they’re still vital, even without the ultra-density of that part of the Milky Way. Space debris will always be a danger.

“I think I’m supposed to go to one of them, but I don’t know which one. What are your spidey-senses telling you?” she asks him.

“I’m not allowed to call it that. But...that one.” He points. They can’t really see the frontrunners, but they can see five evenly-spaced dips in the bubble, which are probably where they are. “Or that one,” he adds, pointing again. “They’re both screaming at me.”

“Okay, it’s not safe, so you stay here.” She starts adjusting the settings on her watch. Usually, whenever anyone teleports anywhere on the ship, it’s logged in the system. As an Admiral, she can switch that off to go dark, but there’s still a problem. Even though there’s probably nothing you can do about it, they have a built-in “man overboard” feature, which will set off all sorts of alarm bells if someone ends up teleporting outside the hull. Not only are there safeguards to prevent it from happening at all, but just in case it does, the alarms can’t be disabled or turned off unless—

Pronastus has retrieved a black cloak from his bag, and is offering it to her. “I knew the code to the armory, and the cabinet where this was being stored. My mind had me steal it a week ago, and now I know why.”

Tinaya takes it from him, and examines it. “Hm. Is this darkbursting tech?”

“Oh, maybe,” Pronastus decides. “It did say DB on the cabinet.”

This could work. If she’s wearing it, she should be able to make it to the frontrunner without being detected. The question is, which one? She doesn’t even know what she’s looking for here. She’s just been guessing that he’s been leading her to consciousness transference technology, but it could be a swimming pool for all she knows, or an okapi sanctuary. He helps her slip the darkbursting outfit on, which covers her whole body, leaving only a small mesh screen for her to look out of.

“I can’t see you. Where are you? You’re invisible! Ahhhhh!” Pronastus jokes, flailing his arms about. It doesn’t make her invisible to the naked eye, just to instruments hunting for heat signatures, or in this case, a teleportation signature.

“Go back home, Mr. Kegrigia. You have been an immense help, but if this doesn’t work, or if it isn’t what we think it is, I don’t want you getting caught up in this mess.”

“Aye, Admiral.” He salutes, and then walks away obediently.

Tinaya teleports away, hoping to land somewhere with life support, and regretting at the last second not coming here with her own life support. All she would have needed to do was grab a helmet from her stateroom. Then again, Pronastus should have had one in his back if she needed it. She holds her breath with her eyes shut for a few seconds before giving in and trying to look around. She’s in a dark room, and she can breathe just fine. She opens the darkbursting suit, and pushes herself out of it like a baby being born. “Um. Hey, Thistle? Are you there?”

Nothing.

“Hey, Micro. Respond.” Another common AI model.

Still nothing.

Wait. They made these a long time ago. “Hey, Elder.”

“Yes, Admiral?” Ah, shit. This AI went rogue way back in the early days of the mission, and they had to destroy it, but it evidently survived here without anyone realizing it.

“Turn on the lights, please.”

“Of course.” The lights turn on.

There isn’t really anything here. It looks like what you would expect out of place that isn’t supposed to be manned, but could be in a pinch. There’s a bed, a couch, and some seating around a table, as well as a desk. There’s a lavatory in the corner, and a kitchenette with a food synthesizer. “What is the most interesting thing on this vessel?”

“Besides me?” AI!Elder asks. “You.”

“Besides me and you.”

“Let me think.” He takes a beat. “There’s a cool helmet in that closet over there.”

“Hold on.” Tinaya seals herself back up in the suit, and teleports over to the other frontrunner that Pronastust was pointing to.

“Welcome back!” AI!Elder exclaims with glee.

Tinaya looks around. This can’t be the same frontrunner. It looks similar, but it has a distinct enough design, and it’s smaller, because there appears to be a whole extra room where the closet should be. Now that she knows that these exist, she’ll have to jump to the other three to see if they hold their own secrets. Her curiosity will get the best of her eventually, but for now, she needs to deal with this situation first. Who should she tell about it? What is there to tell yet? “You maintain coherence across the frontrunners.”

“I do.”

“What about Extremus proper? Have you had access to us this whole time?”

“Not until today.”

“Are you telling me that by coming here and activating you, I let you into the main systems?”

“Of course not! What kind of security would that be? No, you’re gonna let me back in once you open that door you’ve been eying.”

She wants to argue with him, claiming that she would never do such a thing, but she has to open the door before she can even be honest with herself. There is no time like the present, so to speak. She opens it, and steps in. It looks like a clone lab, and it’s populated by one specimen. She wipes the condensation from the glass, and peers inside. It’s Waldemar Kristiansen. He’s older than the one currently on Extremus, but it’s definitely him. She does a few breathing exercises to calm herself down. Whatever this is, it’s not good, but she doesn’t have any details yet. She clears her throat. “AI!Elder...”

“Yes?” She can hear the smile in his disembodied voice.

“Report.”

“This isn’t his only clone.”

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Microstory 2535: Private Nurse

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Because of the constant use of his healing ability, we believe that Landis Tipton is essentially not capable of getting sick. To put it another way, we believe that he is constantly healing himself by drawing the miracle breath through his body for twelve hours a day. I don’t know what the threshold would be, but I did have the privilege of meeting the original Voldisil who had the healing gift, and she said that she occasionally got the flu or the cold. And she could get papercuts, and headaches when she didn’t drink enough water. She wasn’t using her ability enough for it to work on herself. Still, there’s no reason to risk it, so I remain at Landis’ side while he’s working. I take more breaks than he does, and during those times, I’m relieved by the doctor, but then I get right back to my perch, making sure that we weren’t wrong about our hypothesis. After his normal operating hours, I no longer keep eyes on him, but I’m always close by; usually in the suite next door, or maybe the hallway. I’ve never had to treat him, but I do run frequent tests. I track his vitals, and ask him questions about how he’s feeling. That’s what causes the delays in the queue, and it’s something that I had to fight for. Technically, he could probably heal three or four times as many people per day than he does, but I will not allow it. I periodically hold things up to make sure that he’s okay because he won’t stop to tell me if there’s something wrong. It sucks. It sucks for the people waiting in line, and waiting for their appointment, and waiting for their applications to go through. But Landis’ health and well-being are important too. The breath does not cure stress. It’s a condition of state, and he’s just as susceptible to it as anyone would be in his position. He holds people’s very lives in his hands, and he has to slow down, or he could burn out psychologically and emotionally. Of course, he has his private therapist to take care of that side of things, but I certainly don’t want to undermine his potential issues by hanging back. I don’t overstep my bounds, because that too would stress him out, but we’ve been working together for years now, and have grown close. He knows that I have his best interests at heart, and that I’m doing this for the Foundation; not in spite of it. They want to keep the Foundation running, even when the panacea is discovered, but I’m not so sure. I know him pretty well, and I think he’ll be ready to be done, even if he can’t admit it to himself just yet.

Microstory 2534: Phlebotomist

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People call me Landis’ personal phlebotomist, and it’s true that I’m the only one who performs that task, but the truth is that I do it for the whole staff, and even some of the patients. There are two other phlebotomists that are there to help me with other patients. People think that working for the Foundation means that you can’t get sick. They think that if something happens, he can just heal them up real quick, and then return to his normal work. He probably would do that, but we can’t have our workers getting sick just because they have that safety net. Our health insurance company, and other regulatory bodies, would lose their minds if they found out that we were being careless with our health and safety protocols. They really don’t care what it is we do here. Sick people don’t just frequent our building. That’s literally the whole reason that we exist, and like any normal medical facility, we’re expected to take precautions. I test the staff’s blood regularly, screening them for ever transmissible disease that they may have come in contact with during their work. That’s in addition to the masking, social distancing, and cleaning that we perform to prevent the spread. Landis could have operated out of a tent in the middle of a field like those lunatic religious liars, but he chose the hotel so people could keep their distances from each other. Seriously, it was part of his initial pitch. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I mean, what’s the incubation period of a given disease, and will his breath heal it if one patient contracted something from another just five minutes ago? They didn’t know the answer to that question before. Now, after research, we know that whatever is in Landis’ breath stays in the target’s body for about a week, but we still take measures to prevent that from happening. It would be irrational not to, particularly because we don’t offer second healings. Back to what I was saying, I do draw his blood too. I do it every day, and send it off to the researchers. It was very important to him that he hire someone to do this job in house instead of relying on a contractor. It’s not like it inherently prevents mishandling of his sample, but just in general, he prefers to be the one to pay his staff. We do have a couple of contract workers, and for legal reasons, they’re not allowed to live on-site. I don’t know whether that bothers them or not, but I’m glad that I get to stay here. Room service, house-keeping. It’s like I’m on vacation all the time. You can’t beat this lifestyle. It’s not why I got certified, but I don’t hate it.