The Parallel

Hand That Rocks the Cradle

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

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

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

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.