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| Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3 |
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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