Hand That Rocks the Cradle
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One day, a bunch of people started fighting over the timeline, and all of
reality. They each had their own idea of what should have happened, what
should be happening, and what should happen in the future. A group of
innocents got caught up in the middle of this battle, and ended up being
forced to make the decision for them. One man reached back to the moment
that time travel was born, and prevented it from ever occurring. But this
was a paradox, because time travel was required to even make it possible for
him to attempt such a thing. To avoid the paradox, time itself simply split
into two parallel realities. The main sequence, as it was called, went on as
normal. The new one was deemed The Parallel. This implied that it was the
only concurrent reality, or at least that it was the first, but that’s not
the case, especially in a universe where first is a nonsensical
abstract concept. In the original timeline, the Parallel started out much
like its twin, but without time travelers making small beneficial changes to
the past, humanity was eventually wiped out. The team that accidentally
created it found themselves stuck, unable to fix matters in a reality where
temporal powers were never created. So they found a loophole.
The team went in search of someone who could help them, and found her on a
rogue planet in the main sequence. Kalea Okopa had the ability to give
others temporal manipulation abilities. They chose Ramses Abdulrashid to be
the one to be granted the powers necessary to correct their mistake. This is
how the Parallel became one of the most powerful forces in the universe.
Ramses and Kalea didn’t just go back to save humankind. They created a
society free from death, pain, and regret. That’s what they were going for,
anyway.
The two of them have managed to maintain pretty strong control over how the
Parallel functions, naming themselves the Tanadama as father and
mother. They are not, however, the only leaders in the local group of
galaxies. They’ve obviously had to delegate responsibilities to billions and
billions of people to manage the undecillions of those living under their
domain. For the most part, despite the ungodly numbers in this civilization,
peace remains the default setting for every star system and fleet. They want
for nothing, so they fight over nothing. But that doesn’t mean they don’t
know how to fight. The people of the Parallel have incidentally
created the most powerful military force in the whole universe. Their
advanced technology makes them practically impossible to defeat. There has
been no opposition for the last several thousand years, but it has come for
them now. Harbinger Zima commands a contingency known as the Resonant
Parallel Coalition. About 480 billion people are prepared to follow him to
their true deaths, though they likely would never have to, because as
stated, death has been all but cured. The Tanadama wish to hold onto peace,
but the people are losing faith in them, so they are losing control.
In the year 2400, the Reconvergence destroyed all of the parallel realities,
leaving the main sequence the only one left standing. Along with the
Parallel, the Third Rail, the Fourth Quadrant, and the Fifth Division were
snapped shut like a book, unable to be opened again. Anything left inside of
them when that happened was destroyed. To save lives, a mysterious
someone transported almost literally every living soul to a
completely different universe, and named it the Sixth Key. No one seemed to
know who to thank for this, but the results were not ideal. They didn’t
transport everything. Suddenly, all these realities who were once separate,
with their own separate cache of resources, have to compete with each other
in a universe fit for only one of them, if that. Tensions are mounting, and
it’s looking like war is inevitable. The Parallel’s only noteworthy
competitor should be the Fifth Division. The problem is, most of their
weapons were left in their former cosmic corner. They’re still powerful, and
they still command this room, but they’re a shadow of what they once were.
So they need to be extra careful to make sure that no one finds out how weak
they’ve become, especially not the Fifth Divisioners.
Each reality has been allowed to send two representatives to advocate for
their interests. Harbinger Zima is sitting next to one half of the Tanadama,
Kalea, and he’s getting very impatient. She’s the boss of the two of them,
but she’s not showing enough strength. She needs to let him speak. He’s been
doing well so far, biting his tongue, but he can’t take it anymore. “This is
outrageous!”
“Nuadu,” Kalea scolds. “Wait your turn.”
“No. Why are we even talking about this? There are so many more people from
our reality than anyone else’s.” He tries to start counting them off on his
fingers. “We have the most number of planets, the most number of mouths to
feed, the largest military force—”
“Debatable.” Ingrid Alvarado is here to represent the Fifth Division. It’s
true that the Parallel has more soldiers, but she commands more powerful
weapons. They were at war when all this happened, which means that almost
all of their weapons were live, and inhabited. The Parallel only built
theirs out of an abundance of caution. Nearly all of them were offline, and
tucked away, which was why they weren’t rescued from the destruction of the
realities. A few of them came through the magical portals because some
people just happened to be in the middle of training exercises, or
construction.
“Not debatable,” Nuadu argues. “You don’t know what we can do.”
“We know that every skill you have is purely theoretical. My people have
real world experience.”
“Yeah, because their number one purpose in life is to fight with each
other.” Andrei Orlov is in charge of the Fourth Quadrant. At first, his
reality was nothing more than a pocket dimension which only housed the
population of the Kansas City Metropolitan Area. Over time, other disparate
regions were banished to the same dimension until it became overloaded, and
broke away as its own reality. The regions were few and far between,
separated by a vast ocean, and have only recently made contact with each
other. Their inclusion in these discussions is fair, but not technically
useful for anyone else. There is little they need to survive, and nothing
they can contribute. Mostly, they need to be protected from the bully
realities, and have a right to advocate for themselves towards this end.
“They still are, and are dying by the day.”
“We’re in the past, remember,” Carlin McIver of the Third Rail reminded him.
His reality was also limited to only one planet, but that version of Earth
currently boasts the greatest number of people with temporal powers, which
makes them the dark horse threat of the room. They were also granted a
formidable defense contingency by someone who knew that this was going to
happen, so they’re nothing to scoff at.
“Whatever,” Andrei responded.
“That’s enough,” Marie Walton of Team Matic jumps in, hoping to keep the
peace. “General Medley, you were saying something?”
“No, I was not.” There are two Bariq Medley’s here. One is from the main
sequence proper while the other is a copy of him from the copy of the main
sequence that ended up in the Sixth Key. It has so far been very confusing,
and neither Bariq is happy about it. They need to find a way to distinguish
themselves from each other, but they can’t agree on how that would work,
because every suggestion makes it sound like one of them is more important
than the other.
“I mean the other General Medley,” Marie clarifies.
The main sequence was an interstellar civilization when the Reconvergence
fell upon them. However, only Earth was incidentally copied into the Sixth
Key. They also need a distinguishing name for that. This other Medley sighs.
“I think I was pretty much done. I’m just trying to advocate for fair
distribution. We’re very used to growing our crops ourselves, and we have
not yet harnessed the full power of our sun. We are prepared to isolate
ourselves, but would very much still like to be part of the conversation. We
know less about how the cosmos works, but we’re quick learners, and we may
have ideas that you have been blinded to from living with more information.”
“Gee, thanks for that,” Nuadu says rudely. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Nuadu!” Kalea cries. “Sit! Down!”
He sticks his tail between his legs, and does as he’s told. For now.
Kalea stands in his place. “I believe what my associate is trying to say is
that we have a lot to offer. Our people are mostly immortal. We didn’t have
very much death where we came from. My partner and I saw to that. We would
be willing to share our methods with you, but I’m afraid that we would not
be doing it for free. To make our technology work, we need first priority on
all power systems, including host stars.”
The crowd goes wild, shouting at her, and apparently at each other, for some
reason. How dare she make these demands?
“You are all so used to dying,” Kalea continues. “You don’t know how much
better it can be when you’re facing trillions and trillions of wonderful
years ahead of you. I’m trying to help, and the least you could do is give
us the literal power we need to do that. We’re not asking for control over
your civilizations.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Ingrid contends. “You’re in possession
of a commodity. It is, by most metrics, the most precious commodity around.
You offer us life. That means you own our lives. We’ll be indebted to you
forever. As long as you’re telling the truth about it, forever really is
forever; not just a lifetime.”
“And you think you should have political control instead?” Kalea questions.
“We do have the most experience with it,” Ingrid confirms. “You’re a loose
affiliation of random peace-loving hippy subcultures. We are an actual
galaxy-spanning civilization. We know how to run a tight ship.”
“You don’t even have FTL, you dumb motherfucker!” Nuadu screamed. “We can
offer that too!”
“Magnolia, please,” Marie requests vaguely.
This is a little confusing too. There’s a woman who’s nicknamed The Overseer
whose real name is Magnolia Quintana. This is not who is sitting on the
other side of the table right now. This is an actual sentient magnolia tree,
who has taken the form of a human named Tamerlane Pryce as its avatar. It
was its power that brought all of these people together for these diplomatic
discussions, if you can even call them that. The Magnolia has no personal
stake in what happens here, but it came up with the rules, and it has the
power to enforce them. The tree nods. “Take some time to cool off.” It lifts
Tamerlane’s hand, and spirits Nuadu away.
Nuadu is in hock now. It’s pretty nice for a holding cell, but he still
can’t leave, and that’s super annoying. Mateo Matic is here, reading a book.
His wife is the Captain of the ship that’s serving as the host for the
discussions. He doesn’t serve much purpose himself, which is why probably
sitting here with nothing better to do.
“Are you my jailer?”
“I’m just in this room,” Mateo answers. “I can leave, if you want.”
“Or you can let me out,” Nuadu offers, hoping that Mateo is as dumb as they
say, and equally gullible.
“I’m sure you’re in here for a reason, and anyway, I don’t have the
authority to do that. I literally can’t break the plasma barrier.”
Nuadu sits down to pout. “Likely story.”
Mateo smiles, and turns his book off before setting it on the counter next
to him. “Lemme guess, you want them to give you everything, and leave the
rest with nothing.”
“Quite the opposite,” Nuadu argues. “We’re the ones who already have
everything. All we ask is that we get to decide how it’s distributed.”
“How it’s distributed?” Mateo echoes. “Evenly.”
Nuadu shakes his head. “It’s not that cut and dry.
“Cut and dried,” Mateo corrects. “Fittingly enough, I just read that
idiom in my book. Heh. Time, right?”
Nuadu shakes his head again.
“Look,” Mateo begins, “I’ve been to your reality. I was actually there at
the beginning of it. What you might not know is that I personally
created it. With one bullet. You wouldn’t exist without me. You people have
taken the life that I bestowed upon you, and done a lot of great things. You
eradicated death, conquered war, and shredded money. You know what that
sounds like to me? A big brother. My advice? Stop acting like an entitled
child. The whole point of a post-scarcity society is that you don’t have to
fight over anything anymore. No one needs to be in charge of jack shit. This
isn’t Jupiter Ascending; it doesn’t hurt you to make someone else
immortal. It doesn’t lessen your own immortality. Just help them. The
Reality Wars that we’re all worried about; they’re exactly like any other in
histories, just on a larger scale. The only way to stop it is to remove its
causes. You want power? Help the people out of the goodness of your heart. I
promise you, they will take notice, and they will listen. You don’t have to
demand anything ahead of time. People always feel indebted from
receiving gifts. Just don’t say the quiet part out loud, and you’ll be
fine.”
Nuadu stares at this idiot of a man whose words actually sounded quite
logical, and a little devious? Perhaps he’s not been told the truth about
who Mateo Matic is. Perhaps he’s smarter than people give him credit for.
Before Nuadu has the chance to respond, he finds himself back in his seat
around the deliberation table. People barely notice that he’s returned,
except for the tree-person, who is smiling at him knowingly. Nuadu takes
some time to absorb Mateo’s advice, and process it in his strategic mind.
It’s time for a new tactic. It may not work, but the old ways haven’t been
working so far, so he might as well try something radical. He listens to
everyone else arguing for a few more minutes to catch up with what he
missed. He looks over at his superior officer, who appears to have forgiven
his outburst, probably because she knows that the tree wouldn’t bring him
back for no reason.
Okay. Let’s try this again.
Steady as a Rock
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For fifty years, the citizens of the new Sixth Key have lived in relative
peace, but always teetering on the threshold of war. The reason it’s taken
this long to come to a head is because this is about as long as most
so-called independent states have been able to manage on their own.
There are some truly independent communities, which utilize the resources at
their disposal, and require no external aid. These are mostly outposts built
deep in outerspace, which subsist on something that some people call dark
hydrogen. It’s no different than any other hydrogen, except that it’s not
supplemented by solar power. They will always have at least two fusion
reactors, using one to jumpstart the other should an issue occur, or if
there’s a need to shut one off for maintenance. So the hydrogen isn’t really
dark; it’s just kind of a nonsensical name that multiple cultures have
chosen to assign such a scenario, even across multiple realities. This kind
of situation isn’t even all that rare, but an outpost of this type is
usually rather small. Some of them only have one family, or even one
individual. There are others who need star power, or external
infrastructure, in order to keep going. They have done okay for the last
several decades, but people are sick of it being so crowded, and some are
looking to start a fight.
That’s where The Rock Meetings came in. Representatives from each collapsed
reality were convened at a neutral location. It was actually sent into the
very distant past, and placed in a time bubble that slowed time on the
inside. This way, no one could argue some imbalance in power from any one
location, according to all four dimensions of standard spacetime. It was an
important milestone in the quest for peace in the Sixth Key. Everyone
watched these discussions on a special cross-temporal broadcast network. The
community’s engagement with each other in response to the streamed
developments slowed down the march to war, and the decisions they made would
have a profound effect on the dynamics of reality once all representatives
were returned home. But it was not a magic bullet. Diplomacy is an
everlasting pursuit, and you can’t ever let your guard down.
Kalea and Nuadu have been returned to their territory, standing in the
executive conference room on Kalea’s homeworld. This was where they happened
to be when the tree god summoned them into the past for the big meeting.
They were in the middle of an internal negotiation back then, but that was
about a month ago. Unsure what’s been going on since they left, they walk
out of the room together, and enter the lobby. The guards posted there stand
up super straight out of respect. Some of them are expressing their loyalty
to Kalea, while others are secretly in favor of Nuadu’s plan to take control
of this universe through force. That’s what he used to want, anyway. He no
longer feels the way he did when the Rock Meetings first began. He’s a much
different man now. He’s still in control of the Resonant Parallel Coalition,
but it’s now going to be a defensive force for all of reality, including
those which he once called his enemy.
Kalea’s partner in the Tanadama, Ramses glides over. “You two are standing
uncomfortably close to each other. I was worried that you would be at each
other’s throats by the time I returned. I nearly went back in time so that I
would have only been gone for a second.”
“What?” Kalea questions. “That was weeks ago.”
Ramses winces. “It has not been weeks for me.” He looks at the guards, still
frozen in place. This is not a figure of speech. A guardsman on this world
is not allowed to leave their post during their entire shift, and is
literally unable to move if one of their charges is within view, except to
follow that charge’s movements. They are held in place by spatial restraints.
It sounds bad, but it’s actually easier on them. The restraints distribute
their weight evenly, and relieve them of the pressure that would otherwise
come from regular total stillness. They all basically feel like they’re
lying down in the most ergonomic bed imaginable right now. Yet they’re still
alert. “It’s not been weeks for them either,” he continues.
A nearby two-dimensional screen flips on. The tree man from the meetings
materializes in frame. “Hello. My name is Magnolia Tree. That is not a first
and last name, I’m literally a, uhh...oh, never mind. What you need to know
is that your worlds are at risk of suffering from a great war. You have
experienced a severe drop in resources. Or rather, you’re now being expected
to share the available resources with competing civilizations. I’m not here
to help with that. I’m here to introduce you to the diplomats who will be
representing you in these matters. I’m calling it The Rock...” The tree goes
on to explain what’s going on, but Kalea and Nuadu have already been through
this, so she lowers the volume.
“The meetings he’s talking about are over for us,” Kalea explains to Ramses,
but for Nuadu’s benefit. He has trouble tracking all this time travel stuff.
He’s always just wanted to serve and protect, not worry about things that
have already happened. Kalea goes on, “he broadcasts the meetings for the
people—live and interactive—though I believe he edits for content and...bad
tempers, on the fly. We’ve come to some major decisions as a result of these
talks, but when we were returned to our territories, I guess we ended up in
our subjective pasts.”
“I understand,” Ramses says. “You’ve already filmed all of the episodes, and
now the rest of us need to catch up. We have to find the other
representatives, and sequester them too.”
“Sequester us?” Nuadu questions. “Is that really necessary?”
“To avoid a paradox? Undoubtedly,” Ramses answers. “I’m not asking.” He
looks over to his partner. “You’re the only one powerful enough to stop me,
though.”
Kalea sighs. “Harbinger Zima and I were the first to show up in the neutral
zone. Hopefully that means we have some time to intercept the others before
they disrupt the spacetime continuum too much. But it may not be. It’s time
travel, so the others could have been taken years ago for all we know.”
Nuadu pulls out his handheld device. “I have a list of everyone.” He hands
it to Ramses. “I would imagine that you can ignore the delegates from the
territories outside of the Sixth Key.”
Ramses starts scrolling through the list.
Nervous, Nuadu adds, “you can ignore the notes that I wrote on each of them
too. Opposition research; you understand. I’m not proud of every first
impression I received...or made to others.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely be reading those,” he says with a smug look on his
face. There was actually an alternate version of Ramses who served as the
engineer on the Rock host ship, The Vellani Ambassador. The delegates had
little reason to interact with him much, but he was a lot nicer than this
version here, who is no less formidable than a god with an immeasurable
sense of self-worth. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely at no risk of
ever wasting the power that he wields. “Take a shoulder,” he asks of them
without looking up from the device.
The three of them teleport to the Tanadama’s private Nexus building. A Nexus
is a machine capable of transporting matter across vast distances in mere
moments. Given enough power, it could access the far reaches of the
universe, or even other universes. However, there are restrictions on
travel, some imposed by the state, and others by the mysterious secret
entities who invented the network in the first place. Nuadu doesn’t know who
these inventors are, nor whether the Tanadama have any information about
them, though there’s a strong chance of it. This particular Nexus is the
most secure of them all, and the least restricted. No one can come to this
station unless invited, but the Tanadama can go wherever the want, even if
the people on the other end don’t want them there. In fact, no one knows
where this station is located in space. Most trips are logged on both ends,
but there are ways to encrypt or erase the logs from here. Nuadu has no idea
where in the galaxy he is right now.
Kalea steps into the Nexus cavity, and looks up through the window, into the
control room. “We need immediate transport to Hockstep.”
Nuadu shudders. Hockstep is an entire planet of prisons. It’s not just a
penal colony where people are free to move about as they please. It’s
protected from outside interference, and prisoners are genuinely
locked up in prison structures. They’re separated by walls, gaps, swaths of
land, canyons, and oceans. You get sent here, you’re not going anywhere
until it’s time for your release. Visitation is facilitated by an isolated
telecommunications network, limited to a handful of highly secure
interstellar relay hubs. Like the Tanadama base of operations, no one knows
where Hockstep is, and almost no Nexus technician is authorized to send
someone there. An elite division of prison transport specialists are the
only ones with access keys, plus the Tanadama themselves...obviously.
“Come on down,” Ramses encourages.
“Is that where we’ll be living?” Nuadu asks. “It sounds like an awful
place.”
Ramses looks up at the techs. “Clarification: Hockstep W.”
“Yes, sir,” the tech confirms. “Hockstep W.”
Nuada tentatively steps down into the cavity, and looks around in fear. The
building itself isn’t scary, but he’s worried about what will be waiting for
him on the other end. He doesn’t know what Hockstep W is, or how it differs
from any other. Perhaps the planet has multiple Nexa for different
continents, or whatever.
A white light overwhelms the three of them, then fades. It’s usually orange
or red, but white is what appears when the Tanadama outpost is involved.
They have been unwilling to explain why exactly this is. Whatever the
reason, they make it to their destination, but it’s not what Nuadu expected.
Theoretically, a Nexus has to be designed to be identical to all others in
order to connect to the network properly. It’s a rule that Nexus builders
are required to follow. If they fail in the most minute of ways, it simply
won’t work, even if everything else is correct. Those in that line of
business know exactly what they’re doing, and how they’re meant to do it.
This place seems to be some kind of exception. The cavity is about twice as
deep as a normal one. The ramp that wraps around the inside of the Nexus
chamber is totally missing, leaving the stairs as the only way up to the
control room. The drum on the ceiling that actually houses all of the
faster-than-light parts is much lower to the floor. This is wrong. It’s all
wrong.
Ramses chuckles. “Trippy, isn’t it? This one is designed to be incompatible
with the rest of the network. It doesn’t even have a term sequence to punch
into the computer. We’re in possession of a unique positioning algorithm
that lets us beam directly here as a workaround, plus an authentication key
to be let in.
A woman opens a hinge door into the chamber. That’s not where the door
usually is, and the normal ones are pocket doors. The woman stands at
attention, and nods to the Tanadama. “Sirs. Awaiting your orders.”
“Gather the troops,” Kalea returns, “for a prison break protocol...handle
with care. The tech will have your assignments.”
The fugitive recovery agent—as Nuadu is guessing—begins to tap on her
wristband.
Nuadu, meanwhile, follows Ramses, who walks up to the control room, and
hands the tech Nuadu’s device. The tech sets it on the console, where it
immediately begins to sync with the local systems. The list of the other
delegates from the Rock Meeting pop up on a hologram, showing their
respective statuses and locations. Everyone has a checkmark next to their
name, as well as their specific location, except for two of them. Carlin
McIver is the primary representative from the Third Rail, and Cosette DuFour
served as his second. They both have red Xs next to their names, and no
locations, which surely means that they’re missing.
Ramses sighs. “They’re probably in a pocket dimension. They love those
things over there.” He starts to manipulate the hologram with his hands,
separating the delegate pairs accordingly. Two of the delegates don’t appear
to be very close together, so they’re kept separate from each other as well.
There ends up being five destinations, including the blind one for the
hidden delegates. “Break the team into random groups of three to find the
others,” he instructs the tech. “For anyone who doesn’t go in the field,
keep them here to facilitate dropshock orientation. Kalea will lead the
operation. I’ll be personally handling the Third Rail Earth mission.”
“And me?” Nuadu asks, wondering if Ramses even remembers that he’s here.
“You’re coming with. I’m not much of a fighter, and we may encounter
resistance.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nuadu says respectfully.
This surprises Ramses. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”
As they’re walking back out of the control room, other people wearing the
same uniform as the first woman teleport in, scattered around the room,
ready for battle. “You got lead on recovery, Kal. I have a solo assignment.”
He turns his head to face Nuadu. “I mean a duo assignment.”
“See you on the other side,” Kalea replies.
Ramses and Nuada step back into the cavity. There’s a ramp that leads into
it, but on the regular model, you don’t have to use it, because the cavity
is only one step down. He’s always wondered why these machines were designed
to be handicap accessible. It’s not that it’s stupid, but a race of
superbeings advanced enough to have come up with it should be expected to
have priorities so incommensurable that they wouldn’t think to include the
feature. Yet, they did. Unfortunately, Nuadu is used to that regular
version, which only has the one step. He trips, and almost falls on his
face, but thankfully, Ramses catches him. Nuadu clears his throat, and
decides to make a joke of it. “Gravity, right? Like a rock on a cloud.”
The recovery agents laugh, but not too hard, which is nice of them.
Ramses reaches over his head, and points at the Nexus tech as he nods once.
They’re overwhelmed by white light again, and transported to the stars.
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