Microstory 2335: Vacuus, January 31, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Father has not yet written to me. It’s fine, I’m not disappointed. I don’t know him at all, so I can’t know what I should expect out of him. I just wanted to give you an update before it happens that I’m going to be out of communication range again. It won’t be too long, but it’s out of my hands. You see, when researchers first discovered Vacuus, they thought to send probes here before they sent people. Unfortunately, they lost contact with these probes, and were never able to gather much information about the planet. They obviously decided to just send a manned-mission without enough information, and that’s because the ship they were using was self-sustaining. If, for some reason, it wasn’t possible to reach or land on the surface, it wasn’t like a death sentence. We could have been living on it this whole time. It’s still orbiting us right now, and people regularly go back and forth. I could have gotten a job up there instead. In fact, I told you that I’m the only one doing what I do, but that’s not technically true. Someone is up there right now, using their own instruments to track nearby cosmic events. They just don’t do it for the same reasons, and have other responsibilities. It’s not for safety, they’re mostly studying the effects of deep space survival as it pertains to remoteness from the host star. I kind of forget about them, because we don’t really interact. Anyway, that’s not really important. The point is that, once we arrived here, we discovered why communication with the probes stopped working. It’s because of a periodic meteoroid shower called the Valkyries, which causes a blackout. These meteoroids are very close to one another, and interconnected via weak, yet still impactfully disruptive, electromagnetic fields. It has to do with the ferromagnetic composition of them, and the occasional electrostatic charge that builds up when they scrape against one another. This can last for years, but it’s a relatively rare event, and has only happened twice since Earth sent the probes. What’s not all that rare is when one of these meteors becomes dislodged from the shower, and we end up between it and all its friends. If we’re in the right position, it’s pretty as it’s streaking across the sky, but it’s problematic too. We don’t always know when it’s going to happen, and we don’t always know when it’s going to affect us, but it too knocks out signal transmission, though for a much shorter period of time. Our astronomers have devoted most of their careers to studying these phenomena. At first they thought that the shower was falling apart, but they now believe that the stray meteoroids eventually find their way back to the shower. Earth is aware that this is going to happen, and have upgraded their protocols to account for it. So if you send a message, it will end up being stored in a nearby buffer until the relay station receives word that signal transmission has been restored. I’m sorry to spring this on you so last minute, but if you reply, I doubt that I’ll receive you for a while. Please let your father know as well, thanks.

Hopefully not for long,

Corinthia

Microstory 2334: Earth, January 22, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I beamed your contact card to dad, and he said that he’s going to write to you as soon as possible. Take that with a grain of salt, because his definition of possible might be different than yours. I would say, give it a couple of weeks, and then maybe just give up. I could talk to him again, if you wanted, but he’s really nervous. He doesn’t know if you forgive him, or hate him, or what. I have not told him anything about you. I told him that you and I were in contact now, and demanded he explain his involvement in our separation thirty-six years ago. I didn’t say anything about your job, or what your life is like on Vacuus. I did divulge that his wife, your mother, was dead. I felt like he had a right to know that, regardless of how at fault he is. Anyway, I hope that whatever happens between the two of you, it doesn’t negatively impact our relationship. I think he may be partially worried about that too. I want you to know that I won’t let him ruin our new sibling connection, and I would hope that you don’t let whatever he does or says—or doesn’t do or say—stop you from wanting to converse with me. Okay, I think I’m done with all this negativity now. You inspired me today. I actually don’t have much idea of how the platform can move from one part of the ocean to another. You’re right, it’s pretty big, so it can’t be easy. I’ve started taking some courses on it, not necessarily so I can tell you, but because I would like to understand it myself. I’m so old, I doubt that I’ll ever become an engineer, or a mechanic, or a sailor, but it doesn’t hurt to learn more stuff.

Until next time,

Condor

Microstory 2333: Vacuus, January 15, 2179

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Dear Condor,

That’s great news about the trade deal going through. I would be interested to know more about your floating dome, and how it’s navigated through the waters. It seems like something large enough to fit as many people as you seem to have in your population would move really slowly. As far as dad is concerned, you can give him my contact information. The way I see it, he has to take the first steps to building a relationship with me, not the other way around. If he never sends me a message, then so be it. But I’m not going to write the first letter, and then sit here in anticipation of a reply. Thank you for asking, it was very thoughtful of you, and of him. So yes, go ahead and tell him how to get a hold of me. I don’t know how, uhh, smart he is, but explain the light lag to him too if he doesn’t understand. That may make you laugh, but there are some older people here who don’t get how it works. Which is ridiculous, because they all volunteered for this mission, having been told how difficult it would be to call back to Earth. I mean, even if you’re only a geologist, you’re still an astronaut, and you still need a basic foundation of space science. I dunno. I was a baby when our ship launched. It was a passenger transport, unlike the ships of old, which were only for a crew. That is to say, technically, anyone could have flown on it, with no training whatsoever. That’s how I was, being too young to learn anything. Still, you would think an adult going on the mission would expect themselves to be  better prepared. Sorry, I’m rambling again. I’m just a little nervous. I just know that, after I send this message, the next one could be coming from you, or from our father. Don’t take that as hesitation, I’ve made my decision, but that’s not going to stop the anxiety. How about this? Why don’t you respond to me first, and then give him my number. That way, I can be a little more prepared. Again, he may not want to reach out at all. You never know what’s going on in someone else’s head. It just might be easier to at least have one last buffer. I would appreciate it.

Congratulations on your new immigrant friends,

Corinthia

Microstory 2332: Earth, January 7, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Yes, Happy New Year, welcome to 2179. I have some good news. The diplomatic discussions that my father was engaged in have finally proven fruitful. They’ve finalized a trade deal. We’re going to get the resources we need to stay afloat (pun intended), which is good, because we’re gonna need them to accommodate the influx of immigrants that we’ll be receiving from the land. We’re headed to Australia right now to pick them up. They didn’t build their dome right by the coastline, since it would have been susceptible to attack there, but it’s not too terribly far away. The roads that they made in the old world are still there, so the trip shouldn’t be too difficult. They have these giant vacuum sealed vehicles that can fit many dozens of people. They’re not amphibious, but we have our own solution here, so people won’t ever have to step foot out into the toxic air. We can drive our boats right up to the shore, and extend the plastic tunnels, which we’ll seal around the entrance of the cars so people can walk right on through without being exposed to the toxic air around them. Right now, we’re on our way across the ocean to reach them. It will take us a few weeks. We couldn’t head that direction until the deal was done, though, or it could have been seen as an act of aggression. For us to assume that they would inevitably agree—and to be ready to act on it immediately—would have been rude, and placed us at an unfair advantage when it comes to future talks. It would be like suggesting that they need us more than we need them. So yeah, that’s where we are. It’s unclear how involved dad and I will be during the immigration period, but we won’t be doing nothing. I may end up going on land to visit the dome there. I hope everything is going well with you in the first two weeks of the year. He needs to know whether he can contact you first, or if you’re going to reach out. Let me know what you would prefer, it’s super your decision. His personal contact card is attached to this message. You can open it, or ignore it and just tell me that you want me to send yours to him instead.

Sincerely,

Condor

Microstory 2331: Vacuus, December 31, 2178

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Dear Condor,

Happy New Year! It’s true, religious beliefs have changed over the years, though some of the traditions remain, even if people don’t understand why they’re doing them. You were kind of right, we actually do observe Christmas, though it’s a lot different than it used to be, and that has to do with the circumstances under which we live. We exchange gifts too, but only one. It’s rocks. You might think, hey, you give rocks as gifts? That sounds dumb. Well, we’re not talking just any rock. Obviously, since there is no breathable atmosphere out here, we can’t just walk outside whenever we want. If you want to pick a rock off the ground, it’s going to be this whole to do. You have to put on a suit, and you might need to climb into a rover. The farther the rock was found from the base, the more impressive it is that you managed to get all the way out there, and the more meaningful it will be for whoever you’re giving it to. Every year, the hardcore gift-givers train to lower their heart rates, and learn to control their breaths, so they can travel farther than ever before. Some try to run, and some try to sloth their way there, deluded into thinking that it’s making any significant difference in their range. If you look at a map of excursion sites, however, there’s a limit to how far anyone can go, even if they lug extra air tanks with them. Everything they try to use to gain an advantage has its drawbacks that regress them towards the mean. And if you do choose to use a rover—if only to go part of the way—it’s less impressive, and less of a big deal of a gift. I’ve never done it. Mother was as much of a homebody as me, so she didn’t make a trek, and I never learned to value it. I’m a bit too old to care. It is mostly for the younger crowd, who are indoctrinated as children. They don’t go outside themselves. An adult who is rated for surface excursions collects from nearby, and hides them around the base for kids to find, and give to their families. We actually do this twice a year. There’s another holiday called Valentine’s Day, which is for romantic partnerships, though people tend to grow out of it. That one usually involves pebbles, and kids look for them in a scavenger hunt too. Once they’re older, signs of affection typically come from spending extra money on a luxury food item from the synthesizer, or something else more substantial. Christmas is about effort, other gift-based observances are about sacrifice. Either way, it sounds like we’re even more into Christmas than people left on Earth are. We also celebrate New Year, and surely your people do as well. It’s not a religious concept as far as I know, though maybe there’s something about its history that I don’t know. Someone had to come up with the calendar, and it wasn’t after the decline of superstition. Here’s to a great 2179.

May you find the farthest rock (that’s what we say),

Corinthia

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 1, 2484

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Mateo instinctively opened up to hug his daughter, Dubravka, but quickly took a half-step back. Like Romana and Kivi, he never got the chance to raise her. Perhaps it would be inappropriate. It was certainly presumptuous. Unfortunately, he failed to think of this beforehand, leading to an awkward moment for all. Even so, she took it in stride, and stepped up to initiate the hug herself. He was still her father, and she knew that it was neither his intention nor choice to miss so much of her life.

“Gang’s all here.” It was Kivi. She managed to appear out of nowhere just at the right time, as she was known to do.

“Kivi,” Leona said, surprised. “Which one are you?”

“The all-of-me one. I remember everything. I held a gun on an uninhabitable planet once.”

Mateo hugged his eldest as well, then followed up with one for Romana. He looked around, wondering if his children from an old timeline would show up as well, but it didn’t look like it was in the cards. “Argh. Argh!” He suddenly felt a hot sensation on his hip. Something appeared to be possibly literally burning a hole in his pocket. He hopped around, and struggled to reach in to pull it out. It was his silver rendezvous card. It was even more difficult to hold it between his fingers, but after letting go, he realized that this might activate it, so he reached out with both hands, nearly catching it several times before finally failing, and ending up on Snake Island.

Dr. Hammer was waiting for him in the vestibule. “We need your help.”

“Me?”

“Not necessarily you, per se, but you’re the one I had access to. You were talking about how you have illusion powers now, but yours weren’t as good as the others, so...”

“What do you need illusioned?” he asked.

“This whole place.” She indicated the building, and then pointed behind Mateo. “Look through the telescope. Don’t touch it, it’s already pointed in the right direction.”

Mateo approached the coin-operated binocular telescope, and peered into the eyepieces, careful not to move it in the slightest. He saw a wooden boat, but had no idea how far out it was.

As if reading his mind, Dr. Hammer answered his question, “I looked up the flag they’re flying. They’re Carthaginians, and they’re currently six kilometers out, but drawing nearer. Much closer, and they may be able to see us.”

“You don’t have active camouflage for this facility?”

“Never thought we would need it. No one should be on this side of the island in this time period.”

“Woof,” Mateo said. “You’re right, I’m not good enough at illusions to protect you. We’ll need someone else. Olimpia is best at invisibility, but Angela can make holograms that last even when she walks away.”

“We’re both here,” either Angela or Marie said over comms, but probably the former.

“So are we,” Romana added.

“I’m sending down Angela to see if she can work a job that big,” Leona interrupted before anyone else could join the conversation. “Ambassador out.”

Angela appeared in the vestibule, and started to look around, but she didn’t have much to see. “I really need to get a better view. I’m going outside.”

“I cannot allow that,” Dr. Hammer said apologetically.

Angela scoffed. “I’m wearing a spacesuit. The snakes can’t get me.”

Dr. Hammer shook her head. “There are no doors. I did that for a reason.”

“I’ll be fine. We do this sort of thing all the time.” Angela took a small device from her chest compartment, and tossed it to the doctor. “This is tapped into our comms, but only has global range. We’ll need it back.” She took Mateo’s hand, and teleported them both out of there.

They stood on the beach, letting the waves crash in, and kiss their knees, though they could not feel it. Angela examined the building. It was up against the mountain, and painted natural colors, like green and brown, but it definitely stood out as an artificial structure. She would have to smooth out the right angles, and hide all the windows. She could use the mountain itself as a sort of mental template to know what it should look like. She tilted her head, and electric slid down a little to see what she was working with from slightly different perspectives. She even made a rectangle with her index fingers and thumbs, and looked through it like a movie director. “Okay, yeah.”

“Yeah, you can do it?” Mateo asked. He was some ways away now, wandering around out of boredom.

“Oh, sorry, you weren’t there for our brief discussion on the ship after Leona cut off comms. No, I mean, yeah, it’s impossible.”

“Are you sure? You’ve not even tried to do anything.”

“It’s too big,” Angela contended. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Dr. Hammer asked through comms. “Can you...combine your powers, or something?”

“No,” Ramses said, “but I have another idea. If you’ll allow me to meet you on the ground...”

“Please,” Dr. Hammer asked.

Mateo was about to jump back there when he looked down at himself. “There’s a snake wrapped around my leg.”

“Is it venomous?” Dr. Hammer questioned.

“How am I meant to know? It’s yellow, and menacing, though.”

“Okay, that’s probably the Golden Lancehead. Put your helmet on.”

“I got this,” Leona declared. She appeared before Mateo, but she wasn’t alone for long. Dozens of birds materialized on the ground around her, pecking at the sand, and hopping around, presumably looking for worms. They were mostly a bold red, with black wings, and black tails. Their beaks were black on top, and white on bottom.

Mateo couldn’t help but notice how badass the birds were, and whatever they were called, would probably make a great inspiration for a superhero persona. The snake had a very different impression of them. It immediately unwrapped itself from Mateo’s leg, and went for the flock of holograms. It was probably pretty upset that none of them seemed to be real, but no one stuck around to see its full reaction. All three of them were gone in seconds.

“...that’s for you to decide. I think it should be close, but you know these lands better than me.” Ramses was in the middle of explaining something to Dr. Hammer. He had come down with Romana.

“What are we talking about?” Leona asked.

Dr. Hammer crossed her arms. “He wants to teleport that whole Carthaginian boat away from here.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Leona determined.

“No, it’s not. You’ll disrupt the continuum,” Dr. Hammer argued.

“Oh.” Leona dismissed it by waving her hand in the general direction of the boat. “Those people believe in gods, and crap like that. They’ll just think that Poseidon was messing with them. Or saving them.”

“Uh, Neptune,” Angela corrected.

“I’ve heard it both ways,” Leona said, again dismissively.

“It’s neither,” Dr. Hammer asserted.

Leona checked her watch. “Look, Angela can’t hide your building today. Perhaps she can work through it, and cover you up in time, but not before that boat gets close enough to see it. This is our best option. We can jump the Ambassador to just underneath the boat in secret. Then we’ll make a very short jump, say, a few hundred klicks, and leave them somewhere safe. We’ll find an island of comparable characteristics, and I’m sure they’ll attribute any changes to topography to whatever god they do think would have the power to move them, or tricks of the light. Do they have a sun god?”

Dr. Hammer was shaking her head. “It’s too risky. How can you get right under them without tearing their boat apart?”

Defghij the Robot came out of the building. “Pardon the interruption, Doctor, but I’m receiving a radio message.”

“From the Vellani Ambassador?” Leona questioned.

“No,” he answered.

“Uh. Put it through,” Dr. Hammer ordered.

“Certainly.” Defghij dropped his jaw, and let the sound come out. “Hello? Hello? Can anyone here me? This is Tertius Valerius. I’m on the boat. I can see your building. I know there are time travelers here. Please respond.”

“Tertius, this is Leona Matic of the Castlebourne Sanctuary Ship Vellani Ambassador. We read you, five by five.”

“Oh, Leona, great. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Let’s talk in person,” he clarified. “Could someone please come pick me up?”

“Depends,” Leona went on. “How much influence do you have over that boat you’re on.”

“Total control,” Tertius replied.

“Tell ‘em to turn around. This island is full of deadly snakes.”

“Give me a minute.” They waited for about four minutes before he got back on the radio. “Okay, they’re turning.”

“Okay,” Leona began, preparing to execute the new, new plan. “If you can...jump into the water without any of the locals seeing you, and tread for about five minutes. Someone will come get you in secret.”

Tertius didn’t reply, but then they heard a splash. Dude was nothing if not reliable.

Mateo dropped his visor, and didn’t bother to wait the full five minutes. He let his HUD connect to the VA in orbit, which was serving as a temporary satellite. This piggy-backed on the signal that Tertius was sending, and told Mateo exactly where his target was. He teleported to the location—a couple meters under the surface—grabbed Tertius by the legs, and transported him out of there.

“Whoo!” Tertius cried, exhilarated. “Again!”

“Go get a towel,” Dr. Hammer ordered her robot before looking back at Tertius. “How did you get here?”

“Well, it should come as no surprise that I’ve made an enemy or two in the future. For the most part, what do I care? I can just erase anyone’s memory of their hatred of me. But occasionally, that doesn’t work. Some people are just resistant. This one guy, I won’t even bother to tell you his name, got on my bad side, as I got on his. I refused to work for him, and erase his enemies’ memories.” Tertius looked away. “Hm. That sounds like a band name. Enemies’ Memories,” he repeated. “Oh, thank you,” he said to Defghij for the towel. “Anyway, just as punishment, he banished me. He said that he was zoicizing me, which is totally not the right word to use in this context, because he was actually trying to send me back to my own time period. But he even screwed that up, and threw me over two hundred years off course! I anticipated this sort of thing happening at one time or another, so I hid this temporal phone in a cave near my home in Carthage.” He took it out of his pocket, and shook some of the water droplets off of it. “Sadly, by now, it’s out of power, but I knew that you built this Center all the way out here, so I talked my way onto a boat, and convinced them to come way, way south. At best, you could get me back to civilized times, when people used toilet paper. At worst, I could maybe charge this thing in an outlet? You use temporal energy, right?”

“How did you have power for a radio, but not the phone?” Romana asked.

“This uses lions,” Tertius explained, dropping the now redundant walkie-talkie on the ground. The temporal phone uses a small temporal battery, and lions are incompatible with it. I don’t know why it ran out when it was off the whole time.”

“It was probably leaking,” Ramses diagnosed.

“That was my thought,” Tertius agreed.

Mateo cleared his throat, cupped his hands together, and leaned in. “Did this man happen to be named...I dunno...Buddha?”

“That was it!” Tertius cried. “You’ve heard of him.”

“Unfortunately.”

Dr. Hammer took a breath. “Well, I’m glad it all worked out. Team Matic, if you could remain here for the day to make sure the boat does indeed head in a different direction—”

“They will,” Tertius insisted. “I literally made them think that it was their choice.”

“Just the same, I would like to take precautions. And in case it ever happens again, I would ask Angela to see if she can indeed eventually make this whole building permanently invisible for us.”

“I would be happy to,” Angela said with a polite nod.

“Uh, under one condition,” Leona said quickly before anyone tried to sign on any dotted line.

“And what might that be?” Dr. Hammer asked.

Leona stepped over, and took Romana by the shoulders, gently nudging her forward until she was front and center. “Help my stepdaughter. She’s fallen off of our pattern, and we don’t know what other consequences that’s having for her, besides the emotional distress.”

Dr. Hammer gave the girl a cursory examination. “Consider it done.”

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The Third Rail: Rock of Ages (Part I)

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Cosette DuFour is much older than she appears. When the temporal dam in her reality broke in 2399, she was on her deathbed. The doctors didn’t think that she would survive the night. A wave of temporal energy spread all over the globe, changing some people into something new, and giving them extraordinary abilities. At the eleventh hour, she was granted new life. Her body and mind were reverted to that of a newborn infant. She believes that this was no coincidence, and that time chose her specifically to absorb this kind of power. She was turning 100 at that very moment, and very well could have been breathing her last breath had the wave not miraculously saved her. It took a few days, but her memories started coming back to her, and she was able to muster up enough brainpower to age herself back up again. She wasn’t 100 years old anymore, but she wasn’t a baby either, who couldn’t string two syllables together. It was time to get back to work.

Cosette served as the longest running Ambassador-at-Large of the Global Council of Earth in what would come to be known as the Third Rail parallel reality. She was well-respected by members of competing religions, nations, and independent sociopolitical factions. That was how she made it to such an esteemed position, because the appointment-election angered the fewest number of people around the world. She retired from the job when she grew too weak and old, but after her physical rejuvenation, there was a rejuvenation in her support. The world had changed, and quickly changed again when reality quite literally collapsed, and the whole planet was shunted off to a new universe. The people overwhelmingly chose her to lead them in these difficult times. That was why she and her second-in-command were picked to represent the interests of the Third Rail population during the Rock Meetings.

Everyone thought that Carlin was in charge here, which is exactly how she liked it. She found it easier to allow others to believe that they had some control over her, and the rest of the room. She regularly employed this as a strategy in her past as a negotiator. In any good negotiation, all parties leave disappointed. But in a great negotiation, they all leave thinking that they came out on top. There was no one better in the world at making this happen than Cosette. When the realities combined during the Reconvergence, and she found out just how many people there were out there, she learned that her expertise extended above them as well. She continued to be the best of the best, and despite the fact that the Third Rail had the second smallest population of all, her people regularly won out over the opponents. They didn’t know it, though. They all thought that they had won, whatever they had negotiated, but the truth was that the Third Rail Earth held so much more power than anyone realized.

Time powers were the best thing to happen to the Third Railers, especially for the Ambassador-at-Large during her second term. Her age-shifting ability came in handy quite a bit, before the Rock, and during. Cosette sometimes needed to be taken seriously, so she turned herself into an elder, but she sometimes wanted to be underestimated, so she showed up as a teenager. Most of the time, she just wanted to feel healthy, which meant being in her mid-twenties. That’s how she is at the moment, back to where she feels more comfortable. She’s also finally back home right now, in her own personal pocket dimension that very few others have access to. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to place her head on her favorite pillow, and she certainly deserves the break.

The interdimensional intercom beeps. “Sir?”

There ain’t no rest for the wicked. Cosette lets out a frustrating sigh. Then she swings her arm over, and smashes the intercom button on the wall. “What?”

“There’s someone here to see you. It’s the representatives from the Parallel.”

“Tell ‘em to bugger off.”

“Um...you just did,” her assistant replies.

“Great, then it looks like we’re done here.” She turns over to her other side. “DuFour out.”

“They say that they have the tools necessary to access your pocket.”

“Let ‘em try,” Cosette offers. “Having the power to do something doesn’t give you the right to do it. It will still be breaking and entering, and I will be within my rights to protect my home by force. You’re in the Third Rail now, kids, and you’ll honor our laws.”

“They say—”

“Goddammit, never mind!” Cosette growls, and hops out of bed. She wraps a robe around herself, then reluctantly walks over, and out the door. “What do you want?”

“Um.” It’s the rep from the Parallel who wasn’t in the Rock Meeting. He is half of a duo who call themselves the Tanadama. They lord over their people like gods. It all sounds very sacrilege. “We were looking for the Ambassador?”

“That’s me,” Cosette explains.

“You’re not a little young?” the other guy questions. She can’t recall his name at the moment since she’s so tired and drowsy, but he was at the meeting instead, and is responsible for a profoundly huge army. 

Cosette grabs her assistant’s desk mirror. They’re right, she looks about eight or nine years old at this point. It’s only now that she realizes how big the robe feels on her. That’s the point, not for the robe, but for the bed. A king-sized mattress feels even more gigantic when she’s under four feet tall. Her body must have reyoungified itself automatically. “That’s a little embarrassing.” She transitions herself to age 24 instead. “There. Now what do you want?”

“You’ll have to come with us,” Ramses Abdulrashid claims. “You’re in the past, the Rock Meetings haven’t happened yet for the population as a whole.”

She looks over at her assistant, who confirms this, mostly with her eyes, but also a nearly imperceptible jiggle of her head. “Well, what are you gonna do about it, send me to the future?”

“That’s illegal on all worlds,” Ramses reminds her.

“Then I suppose you’re going to put me in protective custody?” Cosette asks, using air quotes. “I’ve heard many a dictator use that as an excuse to get rid of their political enemies.”

“I assure you, they are quite comfortable accommodations,” Ramses insists. “It’s important to prevent a paradox. The meeting only lasts a month. Then you’ll go back to your life. Just think of this as a long vacation.”

Cosette laughs. “Why is it I understand time better than you? The diplomatic discussions lasted a month from our perspective. We talked for about eight hours a day. We received regular input from our constituents during that time.”

“We really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Ramses urges.

“I’m trying to tell you that the talks last longer for these people than for us. The Magnolia Tree didn’t broadcast for eight hours every day. He broke it up into smaller episodes, to give people time to digest the information, and give well-thought out feedback. You’re gonna be putting us in isolation for a lot longer than a month.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ramses questions his General, or whatever the guy’s military rank is.

“I didn’t know,” Zima answers. “I suppose it makes sense. Looking back, it would have been practically impossible to sort through the public responses as quickly as they were coming in for us.”

Ramses shakes his head like there’s a bug in his hair. “It doesn’t matter. It may actually be even more vital now that you hide yourself away. Isolation is the only answer to this, again, since time travel is illegal everywhere.”

Cosette sighs. “I suppose you’re right. There’s a protocol for this. When leadership becomes unavailable, the next in line will step up.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Ramses says graciously.

“My primary assistant’s coming with me.” She faces Ayata. “You think your intern can handle the office while we’re both out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Ramses says. “What about your boss, Carlin McIver.”

Ayata can’t help but snort at the suggestion that Carlin is Cosette’s boss.

Cosette smiles at her, then looks over at the Parallelers. “Mr. McIver is not my superior. I’m his.”

“That’s not how I was to understand it,” Zima argues.

Cosette ages herself up into her eighties, and pats him on the head. “That was quite the point, sonny.” She goes down to her early forties. “Just let me go get dressed, and pack up my house.”

“You can’t take your dimensional generator with you,” Ramses tells her. “It’s a security risk.”

“Oh, I understand,” Cosette begins, “you thought I was asking. Let me say it slowly. I’m packing my house, and taking it with me. I had to spend a month in the garbage template dormitories that the Vellani Ambassador provided us. I’m not going through that again, now that I know it’s coming. I’ll be sleeping in my bed, in my house, and if you don’t want me taking it to your prison world, then I’ll just stay here. We’re not in the Parallel anymore, and you’re not a real god. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Zima holds her arm out to block Ramses from stepping up, even though the latter had no plans to do such a thing. “Could I please come in and inspect it, from a security standpoint? You have experienced security sweeps, haven’t you?”

Cosette closes her eyes, and nods her head at an angle. “I appreciate the need for caution.”

“First,” Ramses jumps in before they can leave. “We still need to know where Carlin McIver is.”

“The way I understand it, he stayed in Stoutverse.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ramses admits.

“It’s another universe, not Salmoverse, or Fort Underhill.”

“Right, I didn’t get to that point of the story yet,” Harbinger Zima says apologetically. Yeah, that’s his military rank. Harbinger. What an odd choice.

“Are you sure he never returned to the Sixth Key,” Ramses pressed.

“It’s time travel, Mr. Abdulrashid. “No, I’m not sure. He could have been gone for trillions of years, only to finally return five seconds ago. I’m not in charge of his daily routine. He operates mostly independently. I have too many other responsibilities to worry about his whereabouts.”

“We don’t have to find him,” Ramses explains. “We just need to make sure that he doesn’t create a paradox. If he’s gone, it should be fine.”

“Great,” Cosette says before leading Harbinger Zima into her pocket.

“How expansive is this?” Zima asks once they’re inside.

“The interior is roughly 300 square meters. The garden is about 150. It uses artificial grass, and doesn’t have any real trees. If you’d like, I can turn off the holographic projections, so you can see it all at once after you sweep the rooms.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he decides. He begins to go through all the rooms, looking in closets, and under beds. He’s very thorough with it, making sure there isn’t any eavesdropping equipment, or people hiding in dark corners. She follows him the whole way, making sure that he doesn’t plant his own devices, or do anything with her belongings. Finally, at the end, he asks her to take him to the back. Once they’re in the simulated outdoors, he stares at the beautiful false environment, including the fake sky above.

“It’s overcast. Is it overcast outside in this area of your Earth?”

“It’s not based on real world conditions,” she responds. “I just like the gray. I find it to be a calming presence after a long day. It feels like the clouds are protecting me, even though of course, they’re not really there at all.

He nods, and continues to enjoy the view. “May I ask, ma’am, how old are you? I only ask because you have the ability to shift your apparent age. Verters are a rare breed where I come. Most applications for age-shifting are rejected due to the sheer number of requests. I’m not sure why they don’t adapt the process to mass-producible technology.”

“I had to go on a diplomatic mission in the 2430s without an FTL ship. They put me in stasis for a couple of years, so I reckon I’m 147.”

He nods. “Me too. How did I know that? It’s like I could sense a kinship?”

“I thought you people were all thousands of years old.”

“We keep making babies. My dad chose to make a new clone 147 years ago.”

“A clone? Are you just a younger version of him?”

“I am no less a son—and an independent person—than you are a daughter to your own parents. I don’t share his memories. I think he’s just a narcissist who likes the way he looks too much.”

Cosette giggles, hopeful that she isn’t being rude and inappropriate. “Are you satisfied with the security of this home? Can I pack it up?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I didn’t notice you, during the Rock. You were just a kid, and you never spoke.”

“That was by design.”

“I must say, I prefer you like this.”

“Okay.” That was a weird thing to say.

“Is it hard?”

“Is what hard?”

“To find companionship? You can’t relate to anybody? I mean, no one else is as old as you are. I don’t mean to say that you’re old. I mean, by a lot of people’s standards where I’m from, you’re super young. Not to say that you’re too young. But, I mean, you were a teenager when we met. Which makes it a little weird. I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just a little nervous around you.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Nuadu.”

“Nuadu,” she echoes. “I was married for seventy years. They died of age-related diseases. I haven’t even thought about dating since then, even once I gained the ability to shift my age. I’ve been too busy working.”

“I see.” He nods. He’s worried that he’s crossed the line.

“I suppose I can’t rule it out.” Cosette turns around, and places a hand upon his shoulder for a few seconds. “Come on. Your god-leader must be waiting. Let’s go to prison!”

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Microstory 2330: Earth, December 24, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

Merry Christmas! Do you observe Christmas up there among the stars? Well, we don’t, for the most part. I studied it in school once, learning the traditions that people used to maintain. They would celebrate their family, and promote world peace. A lot of the things they did sound kind of arbitrary and silly to me, like cutting down trees, or exchanging gifts, but the message of togetherness sounds nice. I don’t know exactly why religion declined. I mean, I know why; because none of it is real, but I don’t know precisely how it happened. We’re just lacking in perspective, I guess, since we were born on this side of it. Anyway, we still say Merry Christmas to each other on this day, but that’s really it. People don’t really know what it means, it’s just become second nature. You can’t live somewhere far from your family, and then come home for a few days before going back. Travel just isn’t the same for us as it was in the past. Back then, if you built a life for yourself in another region, this would be an excuse to go back to visit where you came from. But now, separating yourself from your family is all but irreversible. There are those who work in some of the more dangerous corners of the planet, and send money home, but they don’t get vacation time. Only when their job ends—be it from losing it, or having made enough to quit—will they try to return to their families, but there’s no guarantee they’ll succeed. I was just wondering if people on Vacuus even acknowledge that this time of the year used to be a thing, or if you’ve even heard of it in the first place. Or...do you go all out with thick themed sweaters, hanging stockings, and seasonal hot drinks? Has there been some resurgence in popularity thanks to someone who happened to be on the ship who really wanted to bring back old traditions? Ha, is any of this making any sense to you, or did you have to search your database? Even though we don’t participate in the same sort of things that our ancestors used to when they believed in superstitions, I think some of the things they did were decent, and I regret that they’ve gone away. They thought they had it bad when their children moved out of the house, and decided to live on the other side of the country, or even in another country. They had no idea how good they had it, always being just an aircraft ride away from each other. I’m not sure that I understand whether there are other people on your mission who left loved ones behind, or if all of their interplanetary communication is strictly professional. Even if there are others, that’s still a very low number of people in this boat. No one else in the solar system has to deal with the kind of distance that we do. All I’m trying to say is, even though we never met, I miss you.

Happy holidays (they used to say this instead when members of competing religions didn’t want to offend each other),

Condor

PS: I’ve not yet asked dad about connecting you two to each other. By the time this message reaches you, however, he and I will have talked about it. I promise.

Microstory 2329: Vacuus, December 16, 2178

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Dear Condor,

It sounds like it was a pretty rough conversation with your father. I know that you were really wanting some answers, and what he said may or may not have been what you were looking for. If you’re trying to find an enemy in this situation, I hope that you can let go of your anger, and take each day one step at a time. It’s not worth the stress it puts on your heart to hold onto grudges like that. Believe me, I’ve been there. Think of it this way, if you’ve had a good relationship with your dad up until this point, he must be an okay guy. There should be no reason why you can’t forgive him for whatever he did...however he was involved. Even if the whole separation thing had been his idea instead, that was over three decades ago. But I understand that your family situation was different from mine before, and is different now, in more ways than one. In some ways, it’s been easier for me. I no longer have the opportunity to ask my mom about it, but I also don’t have the anxiety from anticipating her answers. I just hope that you two can find a way past this, and maintain your strong relationship. If I could ask you one thing, though, maybe you could serve as a sort of intermediary between the two of us? I don’t know if I’ll ever want to call him dad, but I think that he and I should probably get to know each other either way. I mean, there’s this thing that I do where I moisten my eyeballs one at a time, so it always looks like I’m winking. Normal people just blink, I don’t really know why. Other people have noticed that I do this, and think that it’s funny. There’s often a genetic component to those kinds of tics. Mom never did anything like that, so I’ve always wondered where it came from. On the other hand, if you don’t feel comfortable connecting him with me, I understand. Just let me know, because I really am good either way. I feel like this situation is more up to you. Really, no pressure. Anyway, I have to get to a meeting, so I’ll talk to you in a couple weeks.

Wink wink,

Corinthia

Microstory 2328: Earth, December 9, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

The system works! I received your canned response, telling me that you were going to wait to write back until I had a chance to speak with dad. Well, that’s what happened. He finally came home a few days ago after having been gone the longest amount of time in my life. I gave him one night to sleep off the jetlag, but then we spoke over breakfast the next late morning. We sat down at the table together, but he knew that it was coming, and neither of us ate much of anything. He admits that his wife—your mother—came to him 36 years ago with the idea to raise us separately. They were going through a divorce, and his work was going to take him across the continent anyway. She had this opportunity to be part of the first manned mission to Vacuus, and didn’t want to go without any family at all. She framed it as her idea, but my dad has always been pretty convinced that another man talked her into it. Funny thing is, this other guy ultimately failed the mission qualification tests, so he ended up not going anyway. I’ve not gotten a name yet, but I would like to find out who he is, and what happened to him.

So anyway, it sounds like it was partly a social experiment, and partly the solution to the calculus of there being two parents in need of at least one child each, and having two children to divide into the solution. He says that he doesn’t remember why she got the girl baby, and he got the boy baby, but I don’t think that part really matters. He claims that he regretted the decision immediately, but your ship had already launched. If that’s true, why didn’t he tell me about you earlier? We could have known each other since we were kids, and had some sort of relationship growing up. Yet he played into the experiment. He could have made things a little better, but chose not to. Not only did he deprive us of each other, but himself of you, and you of him. He could have known his own daughter, and now you’re an adult, but a total stranger. I also missed out on the chance to know my own mother, though you would be a better judge as to whether that’s a bad thing, or not. He was too tired to give any more details. He didn’t really paint himself as the hero, but it’s clear that he considers her the villain. Again, he did have some control. There must have been some argument that he could have made in a court of law. Your mom had to volunteer for the Vacuus mission. They weren’t begging for her to sign up. Maybe that’s not true, though, because as I said, I never had the chance to know here. Before she died, what—if anything—did she say about how this started for her? I’ll try to find out more information for us later, but I wanted to reply as quickly as possible, so you would have time to consider and process it. To be honest, it was a rather disappointing conversation. When I think back to my conversation with him, I realize that he said as little as possible without allowing me to accuse him of being totally evasive.

Let down on Earth,

Condor

Microstory 2327: Earth, November 25, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

Yeah, I think it would be a great idea to be able to send quick acknowledgements to each other after each message. It does need to be more than just an automated read receipt. My friend is a coder, and he’s written us a quick program for that, if you’re interested. It’s nothing crazy. It just integrates with the messaging application, and lets you pull from a list of canned responses. You can have one that says, got it, I’ll get back to you soon, and another that says, it will be a few days before I can respond. You can even write one that goes, I’m being attacked by a horde of sad zombie aliens from the future of a parallel dimension. I can’t believe this isn’t already a feature, but we have it now. The file is attached for you to download, or tell me no, if that’s the case. In other news, my dad is coming home soon. My next letter to you should be a recap of what we end up discussing. He’s been fumfering when I’ve managed to get him on a call, so I know that he wasn’t innocent. We’ll finally get some answers, Corinthia. I’m sure I’ll have a lot to say in that letter, so I’ll cut this one short here.

Sharpening my zombie alien weapons,

Condor

Microstory 2326: Vacuus, November 18, 2178

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Dear Condor,

I’m sorry to hear that you were having so much trouble sleeping. If you ever need to take a few days to respond, that’s okay. You’ve already extended me the same courtesy when I was gone for weeks. It would be crazy of me to not give you a little bit of extra time if you need it. I mean, if there’s nothing to say, then there’s nothing to say. When I first wrote to you, I didn’t think that you would respond in the first place, let alone that we would start conversing on any sort or regular basis. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume that you’re waiting for something interesting to happen, or that you just don’t feel like talking. Yes, I will worry about you, and wonder if something’s happened to you, but that’s just the nature of interplanetary correspondence. I spoke with an expert on this side of the void who says that the FTL communication research has stalled, despite what some might be trying to convince the public. He’s not as hopeful as people may be making it out to be. He can’t say for sure that it’s impossible, but it’s unlikely to work any time soon, if ever. For now, we’re stuck with the light lag. Back in the old days, it was not unheard of for a letter to take weeks to get from one place to another. They were riding in carriages, and directly on horses, and even in some cases, just walking on their own two feet! Can you imagine? There was no way for them to know if their messages were being received unless and until they received a reply. At least we have the option of read receipts for our digital signals. I like when that comes in. It makes me feel a little bit better, because it would know if the message had been intercepted, which of course, it hasn’t so far. What it doesn’t tell us is whether the other twin is doing okay, but maybe there’s a way for us to handle that ourselves. I suppose that we could come up with a protocol where we reply right away with a very brief acknowledgement as a sort of manual read receipt. That way, we know that the other is still alive, but can’t reply fully yet. What do you think of that idea? Please respond at faster than light speeds so I don’t have to wait too long for your input.

From the other side of darkness,

Corinthia

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 1, 2483

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After adjusting to the lights of the infirmary, Romana looked over at her father, but seemed to be focusing on her own breath. It started to look like she was trying to speak, but she was home now, and everything was going to be fine, so there was no reason to rush this.

“It’s okay. I’m here, and you’re safe. Only talk if you can,” Mateo encouraged.

She struggled to bring her lips closer together to formulate words. She didn’t look like she was in any pain, though, and the pod didn’t indicate that there was any medical issue to be worried about. She didn’t make a sound until she was ready to produce the word, fully and clearly. “Report.”

They told her what had happened, and asked if she remembered anything.

“Nothing,” Romana answered. “Ramses turned his new machine on, and then I woke up here.”

“That might be for the best,” Olimpia hoped. It didn’t appear that she was ever tortured or abused, but there was no telling how difficult it was to be trapped in Buddy’s particles. They might try to find out more information later, but for now, they were just grateful that she was back.

Romana needed physical help getting out of the pod, and then into the tub to be washed up. Olimpia graciously assisted with that. Mateo didn’t feel comfortable participating, and Romana probably preferred it this way too. While she had no apparent memory of the dark particle prison, she still looked traumatized. Perhaps the ordeal had a nuanced impact on her psyche, or maybe her mind was repressing it to protect itself. This gave Mateo an idea, to find a way to let her use his rendezvous card, so she could speak with Dr. Hammer. That was against the rules, but if it could improve his mental health, the Center might make an exception. And anyway, once he made sure that Romana was better, Mateo probably wouldn’t need the support group anymore.

He gave the two of them space, and went back to the bridge. “What’s the word with this thing? Are we in danger of another tangent?”

“Probably,” Leona replied. “But the risk can be mitigated with some careful planning.”

“Two jumps,” Ramses added. “I can probably only muster two good jumps a day, though it’s best that we spread them out by several hours. And I’m only guessing that due to our past experiences. We’ve obviously pushed the limits before, but it hasn’t always worked out, so for the sake of a successful jump, we should probably consider that the safety margin. That doesn’t mean I know what’s causing it. It could be a design flaw, an inherent limitation from the ship that the slingdrive has been retrofitted to, or it could be because of the quintessence itself. Perhaps it doesn’t like people to mess with it until it’s had time to settle down. I need more time, and more tests...again.”

“Before, when we were testing the navigation function,” Mateo began, “it was to save Romana’s life. Now we’re okay. Now we can afford to take a little time. Do what you need to do, but take the pressure off.”

Ramses nodded with a frown.

“And don’t feel bad about what happened,” Mateo continued, noticing that this was not his friend’s real concern. “Buddy is an antagonist who took advantage of an accident that you even predicted. We all knew the risks, including her. I’m not holding it against you, and I would like to see the day when you don’t hold it against yourself. Romana will be fine. She’s back now, and the tethers are holding. We’ll never lose her again. I love you, man.”

“Love you too,” Ramses replied.

“There’s something else,” Leona said, now that the serious conversation was over. “It’s about the Insulator. While he was getting us back, I was conducting my own research.” She stepped to the side to reveal the glass object sitting on the console. “As you can see, it’s missing the dome that’s supposed to go on top. Glass insulators have no moving parts, yet it’s been removed as if it could be popped off like a snap fastener. We scanned for the dome out in the black while we were at our last pitstop, but it might be lost forever.”

“Cool,” Mateo said. “I don’t care about it, though.”

“You should,” Leona insisted. “I was able to make minimal contact with the inhabitant. I can hear her, but she can’t hear me. Mateo, it’s Dubra.”

“My sister?” Romana was here, totally naked, but not worried about it.

Olimpia rushed up, and wrapped a towel around her body. “Sorry, she suddenly hopped out of the tub, and ran off.”

I could hear their conversation in their minds,” Romana explained. “If Dubra is in there, I can turn that minimal contact into a real conversation.”

“Be my guest,” Leona agreed, moving away even farther.

Romana stepped up to it, took a deep breath, then lifted her arms, apparently to prepare to touch it. Her towel fell right back off of her.

“Maybe you should get dried off and clothed,” Mateo asked.

“I got this.” Olimpia was wearing a splash tunic, which was a hydrophobic garment caregivers used to aid someone in bathing, whether as a family member, friend, or medical professional. She pulled it off of her own body, and dropped it over Romana’s, since the latter didn’t seem to be bothered by the mixed company. Now Olimpia was the one without clothes on, but that was fine.

Romana adjusted the shoulders of the tunic, then refocused on the task at hand. She placed fingers from both hands upon the Insulator. She stood there for a few minutes, occasionally showing mild signs of active listening. She nodded definitively, and separated. “Okay.”

“Okay, what? Is she all right?” Mateo asked.

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

“Is that all she said?” Leona pressed.

“No, she said quite a bit.” Romana was acting like these were perfectly complete responses.

“Such as what?” Ramses asked.

“Oh, uh...sister-sister confidentiality.”

“That’s not a thing,” Mateo argued.

“Yes, it is.” Marie was walking onto the bridge, followed by her own sister.

“I’ll just talk to her myself. How do we get her out?” Mateo questioned.

“I’ll have to build her a new substrate,” Ramses reasoned, “but I don’t have her DNA, so I can’t make her look as she did.” He consulted his watch. “And it will take me a real year.”

“Go on and get on it,” Leona said. “Just give her something temporary, and we’ll transfer her to something else later. She might know how we can acquire a sample of her DNA somewhere in the past.”

“Let Romana ask for consent first, please,” Mateo suggested.

“Yes,” Romana said. She went back to briefly speak with Dubravka. “She’s in. Something temporary is fine. It will take some effort to make her the real thing, and she wants to be involved in that. I’m so glad I won’t have to wait a whole year to meet her for real. I really don’t care for telepathy.”

Romana had to wait an entire year before she even had a chance to meet her half-sister in person. She was sixteen years old when Mateo and the team returned to the timestream. Instead of jumping forward like she was used to, she found herself stuck in realtime. She spent that year trying to stay busy by helping Hrockas to prepare for the Grand Opening. There was nothing else she could do. Ramses and Leona were the only ones with any hope of figuring out what might have gone wrong, and more importantly, how to fix it. She certainly couldn’t understand it herself. She didn’t have a whole lot in the way of a formal education. She knew what little she knew thanks to books that her family was able to procure for her over the years, but her unstable lifestyle was not conducive to studying in a classroom. She didn’t have access to Ramses’ ground lab either, or she might have tried to initiate Dubra’s download process herself.

She was depressed, and feeling left behind, but she had all year to come to terms with missing the bus, and the delay in the big family reunion. She also grew up hearing stories of Team Matic’s fantastical adventures, with their top-notch engineer and captain. Together, they could fix anything. So she was confident that they would solve the problem quickly.

“You noticed these, right?” They were back in the realspace infirmary on the Vellani Ambassador. The patient was sitting on the exam table, legs hanging off the edge. Leona was no doctor, but she had a penlight, and she knew how to point it at someone’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Romana replied. “I’ve tried to flush them out, but they’re not exactly...tangible.”

“What are you talking about?” Mateo was standing off to the side, arms crossed, and thinking about the most painful way to tear Buddy’s limbs off of his body.

“The dark particles,” Leona answered. “There are still some in there, floating around. I can’t tell exactly where; behind the cornea, maybe? Or they’re in another dimension...”

“Then figure it out!” Mateo cried.

“Stop it,” Leona instructed. “We’ve talked about your anger.”

Mateo took a deep breath. “I know it’s not your fault, I’m sorry.” He pulled the rendezvous card out of his sleeve pocket. It was red, just as anyone would expect out of someone this angry.

“What are you thinking?” his wife asked.

“I’m thinking that Dr. Hammer is not just a psychiatrist. She has diagnostic equipment that Ramses wouldn’t be able to develop, or know how to use properly. She may have even seen this before.”

“That’s not what that card is for,” she reminded him.

“My daughter’s back, I don’t need therapy anymore. I need her to be healthy.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing.”

“No,” Romana jumped in. “I know what you’re saying. But Matics are time-skippers. It’s what we do. I don’t wanna lose that.”

“I’m just making sure you understand your options,” Leona told her.

“My options,” Romana began before a pause, “are to find the man who did this to me, and make him fix it.”

Mateo shook his head. “I get the impulse. Believe me, I want to ring his neck. But Rule Number Fifteen is probably the most important one when it comes to us, so if you’re going to be a part of our team in any capacity, you will need to learn to follow it. Buddy is powerful, fragile, and whimsical. In my experience, that combination equates to sudden outbursts of excessive retaliation. His objective is to bring a fruit from the past into the future. He has the power to simply go back to the past, and pick one whenever he feels like it. He’s going to extreme lengths to accomplish something stupid and pointless. You can’t reason with someone like that, and we certainly can’t fight him. We try to handle this on our own. Locating him is a last resort.”

“Okay,” Romana agreed. “Then can someone help me get back down to the planet? I want to be there when Dubra wakes up.”

“Okay, but then we’re talking about Snake Island,” Mateo called to her as she was trying to leave.

“Whatever, just let me get this gown off!

Leona sighed. “We’re not going to Snake Island.”

“Leona...”

“We’re not going to Snake Island. We like Dr. Hammer, but we don’t know her all that well. Your own cousin became an adversary in the Third Rail. We need to be cautious, and follow the rules. Now go get your daughter, and go down to see your other daughter.”

Ramses’ ground lab was a lot bigger and better than the one he had in the pocket dimension attached to the ship. He had been wanting this forever, and finally found a place to build it. Starter nanites constructed it for him while they were gone, with the first room being dedicated to the Insulator of Life, as well as the equipment necessary to produce a new body.

Mateo peered at it, floating there in its amniotic tank. “What DNA did you end up using, since we don’t have hers. I assumed it would just be one of those public-use template things.”

Ramses was running through his tasklist before the download procedure. “Uh...don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t too terribly worried before, but now I really am. What did you do?”

“It’s fine, don’t—it’s fine.”

“Ramses Abdulrashid,” Mateo enunciated like a disappointed parent.

“Yours,” Ramses answered. “Yours and Leona’s. I mixed them together, like what would happen if you had your own kid.”

The room grew extremely tense. “Oh,” Romana said quietly and accidentally.

“Ramses. Leona and I did conceive twins. She lost them.”

“This isn’t either of them,” Ramses reasoned. “Couples have multiple kids, they don’t look the same. The DNA always combines differently.”

“Ramses,” Mateo said once more. “You can’t give my daughter that I had with Serif a body created from what might have become the daughter that Leona and I had together. It will remind her of that trauma.”

“Well, I can’t undo it.”

“Make her a new one.”

“What?”

“Make a new body.”

“Well, what am I meant to do with this one?” Ramses questioned.

“Whatever you do with it, don’t tell anyone; least of all my wife. Start over, and just use one of the templates.”

Ramses breathed deeply, and looked over at Romana as if she would somehow be able to alter the outcome of this situation. It didn’t matter how either of them felt about it. This was Mateo’s decision, and nothing was going to change it. Mateo shut his eyes and nodded. “Okay. It will be another year for us. I’ve obviously developed a method of accelerating time to expedite the maturation process, but I still don’t have it down to less than a day.”

“Sorry, kid,” Mateo said to Romana. He then looked back over at Ramses. “Get it going, and automate the process. Then focus on my other daughter. Let her jump with us. She shouldn’t have to wait a whole other year.”

Ramses got to work on the second major project, but couldn’t figure it out. The team jumped forward without her, and came back to a seventeen-year-old. Fortunately, she wasn’t alone. Now with access to the lab, she was able to initiate the download process herself, and meet Dubravka for real. They had grown quite close over the last several months.

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