Rock of Ages
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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!”
Rock the House
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They have TV here. They’re able to watch the broadcast of their Rock
Meetings, if they so choose. Each episode is about an hour long, and one
episode streams per day. At this rate, they’re going to be stuck on this
prison world for about eight months. Fortunately for the representatives of
the five realities, they’re not in any of the prison facilities. It’s a big
planet, and an entire small continent has been devoted to witness protection
instead of incarceration. It’s a little odd, to protect people on the same
planet as the people they may need to be protected from, but it’s not a
completely wild idea. Back in the Third Rail, there was only one inhabited
planet, so witness relocation programs always worked like this. In fact,
witnesses were rarely ever moved outside of their respective countries.
There are no boats here. Any prisoner who wanted to reach a witness would
have to first break out of wherever they’re being kept, then build
themselves a raft. It would take them months to make it across the ocean,
assuming they didn’t get caught anywhere. On the other hand, if they have
access to a spaceship, it probably doesn’t matter anymore whether they have
to go to a different planet or not.
Some witnesses in the program are a little more dangerous than others, so
the continent has been further broken up into cities. The representatives
are in the most luxurious of them all, designed for VIPs, leaders under
grave threat, and in hiding, and others who need a little more
consideration. Ramses was right, the accommodations are pretty good here,
but Cosette doesn’t regret insisting on bringing her personal pocket
dimension with her. This is her home, and it’s where she feels the most
comfortable. She has installed it over the door of one of the closets in her
realspace penthouse. Ayata is the one living out there instead, serving as a
gatekeeper for visitors or attackers, but otherwise taking a vacation from
her duties as an assistant. That’s what she’s meant to be doing anyway. “Tea
and seaweed crackers? It’s a local delicacy.”
They’re by the water, about 300 meters above the surface. Each tower sits on
top of the base, which grants access to a dedicated elevator and emergency
stairwell. Only the structure at the top contains living space. The towers
are structurally connected to one another, but there is no passage between
them. You would have to go down to the first floor, and walk across the
lobby, to get to another tower. “Ayata, I brought you here so you could have
a break, not so you could keep working for me,” Cosette tries to explain for
the umpteenth time. I thought it was a pretty good excuse, since there’s
always work to be done back on Earth, so we’re always so busy. There is no
business to take care of for the time being. Just relax.”
“I don’t...like doing nothing,” Ayata admits.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Not really.”
Cosette sighs. “Do you know where that seaweed comes from?”
“The ocean?” Ayata asks in a half-question, unsure if she’s taking the full
meaning here, or not.
“That ocean right there.” Cosette points through the windows. They’re not
exactly real windows. They are viewscreens which are showing what the real
windows see from the penthouse. They would have to leave the pocket
dimension to look through them for real. “Why don’t you synthesize a sexy
bikini, go down there, and sun yourself on the beach? Maybe meet someone
new.”
“Ambassador DuFour,” Ayata scolds.
“Not to breach sexual harassment policy, but I remember wishing that I had
shown my body off more when I was your age.”
Ayata was born in the Sixth Key. She doesn’t know what the world was like
before the Reconvergence. “You can be my age if you want,” she reminds her
boss.
Cosette leans her head against the backrest, and tilts her chin to the side.
“I think I’m done age-shifting. I deal with people from the Parallel and the
Fourth Quadrant so much, and they cured aging ages ago. It’s just not really
much of an advantage anymore. Maybe it never was.”
“So which age are you going to choose? This one?”
She’s presently expressing the mid- to late thirties, which is still a bit
older than how Nuadu appears. “I think so. It’s a good middle ground. I’m
old enough to be respected, but young enough to be accessible.”
“And you’re not unattractive,” Ayata says with a smile. “Not to breach
sexual harassment policy.”
Cosette smiles back.
“This wouldn’t happen to do with a certain military man who lives next door,
would it? The one who’s always coming over to do his rounds?”
“He’s checking the perimeter,” Cosette reasons. “He’s been trained to be a
protector.”
“No, he’s been trained as a killer. Those are the kind of soldiers who rank
up to high leadership positions. He only comes over to see you.”
Cosette scoffs quietly, and shakes her head.
“How about this? How about you age yourself to seventy or eighty, and ask
him to stay for dinner. Cook him a real meal; not synthesized, and give the
room some ambiance. If he’s responsive, and engaged in conversation, he’s
interested in you as a person, not just for your looks.”
“Maybe he’ll just say no, and I won’t learn anything. It won’t even
necessarily be because of my apparent age.”
“He can’t say no,” Ayata reasons. “You’re going to cook for him to say thank
you for all he’s done. He’s on vacation, so he doesn’t have anything to do.
If he comes up with an excuse, I guess that’s your answer.”
“I haven’t cooked in a long time,” Cosette reveals.
“Well, I’ll help you. I like doing things the old way sometimes. I’ll
probably be in charge of ambiance too since your taste is a little...”
“Bland? Is that the word you’re looking for?”
“Hey, you said it.” There’s a ring at the elevator downstairs. They
look over at the security monitor to see Nuadu waiting patiently in the
lobby. Ayata smirks. “Heh, it’s kismet.”
“House, let ‘im up,” Cosette instructs. They continue to watch as the doors
open, and let Nuadu inside. He rides up to the top, walks inside, and is
about to knock on the closet door when it opens. “Nice to see you,
Harbinger.”
“Ambassador-at-Large,” he replies cordially.
“Would you like to come in for some tea and seaweed crackers?” She’s
suddenly struck with a sense of relief that she and Ayata stopped to talk
about the crackers first, before diving into them. They still look all nice
and untouched.
“I really shouldn’t stay too long,” Nuadu says apologetically. “I’m afraid I
woke up too late this morning, and I’m a little behind schedule.”
This looks like a pretty good opening. “Well, perhaps you can return this
evening for dinner? I’ve been looking for a good excuse to cook.”
“Yeah, that sounds great.” He says it with a bit too much enthusiasm, but he
knows if he tries to backpedal now, the drastic shift in tone will only make
him look even more eager. So he widens his eyes, freezes up, and waits for
Cosette to continue the conversation instead.
“Great! No pressure, but think about what you like to eat, and text me a
message later. Include your dietary restrictions, of course. Maybe within
the hour?”
“I can do that, thanks.” He looks over at Ayata. “And will the lovely Miss
Seegers be joining us?”
Ayata stammers a bit. “I have a date with the, uhh...God of the
Sea...tonight.” She smiles awkwardly. “I’m going on a walk. My boss says I
work too hard, and she’s making me take a break. Away from here.” Nice save.
Cosette hopes that her comment doesn’t make Nuadu uncomfortable. Perhaps he
missed Ayata’s emphasis on the word I. “You don’t have to if you
don’t want to,” she says to Ayata, under her breath, but obviously loud
enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“I believe that you will enjoy the beach at night,” Nuadu adds. “There are
some bioluminescent sea creatures that come out after dusk. I don’t know
what they are, but Andrei Orlov of the Fourth Quadrant likes to watch them.
Perhaps you could meet up with him.”
“Thanks, I’ll give him a call.” Ayata points over her own shoulder. “I gotta
go into the other room now.” She points at Cosette. “Unless you need
something first.”
“No, that will be all, Ayata. Thanks.”
Ayata nods reverently, then walks away.
Cosette waits until she’s gone before admitting, “I’ve been trying to get
her to slow down for a while now. We just kind of had a tiff about it. She
doesn’t really understand that she’s not here to work.”
“I get where she’s comin’ from,” Nuadu replies. “I’m still workin’.”
“But you know you don’t have to, right? The Tanadama installed automated
sentries all over the place. You passed at least two of them on your way
here from your tower.”
“I know, but I just kind of...like to see the people.”
Cosette nods. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” She points towards the
door as if he’s just about to leave.
“Yeah, I’m gonna—” He motions to the side of him.
“Right, right. You always start in the...parlor.” Her voice softens in a
gradient as the sentence goes on. She steps a little to the side so he can
do his made up job.
He does what he needs to do, inside the pocket and out, and then he leaves
to run a security sweep of the other towers. Or maybe he never does that,
and he only ever comes here. Cosette has never asked any of the others about
it, and they’ve not brought it up on their own. They don’t interact all that
much. If they didn’t grow up accustomed to the isolation of self-sufficient
living, the last week they’ve been here has given them the requisite
experience. That was evidently a major issue in the Parallel and the Fifth
Division. Avoiding congregating in large groups was easy in the former, and
in some cases, vital to survival in the latter. As the more seasoned
diplomat of them all, perhaps she ought to take it upon herself to make
changes to that. They’re going to be here for so long, they should get to
know each other better.
Night has fallen, and the hour of the date—or non-date—is quickly
approaching. Cosette is putting the finishing touches on her decorations,
which she decided to do in realspace, instead of her pocket dimension. She
didn’t end up accepting help from Ayata, save for a few minor tasks, and
some constructive criticism. If this was going to mean anything, it had to
come from Cosette, or he may as well be on a date with Ayata.
Was this a date? Would he say as much? She’s about to have her
opportunity to gauge his feelings based on his reaction to all this. The
mood lighting alone will be hard to ignore. There’s an elevator
notification. He’s early, so she’s not quite ready. Instead of wasting more
time on more matches, she uses one of the lit ones to light the rest, and it
occurs to her that this is how she should have done it the entire time, and
she’s kind of an idiot. How did people live like this in the past? She was
going for a classic, rustic feel, but it has been a lot of work. Will he
appreciate the retro look, or will he be super confused since his
civilization has just about always had robots and spaceships. Oh my God,
she’s thinking about this too much. Answer the door. Answer the door!
She races to the security panel. “Come on up!” She tries to hit the elevator
button, but she fumbles. Then she fumbles again. “Goddammit.” She finally
hits her target, then taps the intercom button again. “Okay, now! Sorry.” As
she’s watching the graphic of the elevator fly upwards, she remembers that
Ayata suggested she look like an elderly woman to see if he’s here for her,
or for her looks. Now she’s not so sure if she wants to go through with
that. He’s almost here, she has to make a decision. Will it just throw him
off? Will it be too distracting? Her age-shifting is a choice, she’ll look
like an asshole if she’s all wrinkly and gross. He’s getting closer. She’ll
have no excuse, or will she? Can she come up with some believable reason?
Can she do it in the next five seconds? Four, three, two, one.
The elevator doors open, and Nuadu steps into the penthouse looking at a 55
or 56 year old woman. He’s shocked, but maybe not bothered? He looks her up
and down. “Wow, you look gorgeous tonight.”
“Do you really think so?” Though she compromised on the aging, she’s not
come up with a plausible explanation for not being thirty at the oldest. She
ought to make herself look as hot as possible.
“Yeah, that dress is beautiful.”
“Thanks, it’s conventionally made, not synthesized.”
“I can tell. It doesn’t look...too ordered; cold. If that makes any sense.”
She smiles. “Come on in. Can I take your coat?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They have a nice dinner together. Though the food is not synthesized, as she
promised it wouldn’t be, she didn’t exactly churn her own butter either. The
penthouse came equipped with a number of advanced cooking tools and machines
which her people never invented in the Third Rail. Though it’s certainly too
early to say that the two of them are in love, it feels safe to acknowledge
that it was indeed a date. The way he was looking at her, he’s definitely
interested in something more. At one point, she gradually started aging
herself up, and he didn’t bat an eye. After they were done eating, they
retired to the sitting room for tea, at which point she caught her
reflection in a decorative mirror, and asked whether he even noticed that
she was 75 at this point. She explained that it happens on its own when
she’s not being careful, and he told her that he didn’t care. There’s
definitely something between them, they just need time to explore it.
Luckily, they have eight months for that.
Rocked Back on One’s Heels
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Today is the day. It’s the final episode of the Rock Meetings. Once it’s
over, the rest of the universe will be up-to-date on everything that
happened to the reality representatives months ago. It’s been a frustrating
experience, having to stay on a prison planet this whole time, but they’ve
not been alone. Not only did a few of them forge new bonds with each other,
across the proverbial aisle, but the whole group has stuck together. They’ve
formed a support structure which will solidify their positive diplomatic
relations moving forward, even more than the official discussions on the
Vellani Ambassador ever could. There, they were coming at it from a sense of
antagonism. Here, they’ve been free to be themselves, and just regular
people. Cosette and Nuadu’s relationship has blossomed, as have Ayata’s with
Andrei Orlov. No one’s getting married anytime soon, but things are going
well. There’s a lingering question of how these relationships will hold up
once they’re back where they belong. They’re literally from two different
worlds. Will society allow them to be happy?
They’re all in one room now, in Andrei’s penthouse, just because it happens
to be on top of the central tower of the building. If they need to meet at
all, the typically choose here, and mostly only for this reason. This time,
it’s for a watch party. It surprises them that it’s the finale, since the
discussions were technically over in the last episode. The only part that
the broadcast hasn’t shown yet are their goodbyes to each other. It was the
whole thing. Everyone on that ship was required to shake hands with, or hug,
everyone else. Which one a pair chose was at their discretion, but they had
to do something to express cordiality and gratitude. Something along these
lines had to be uttered as well, like thank you, or
I respect your position. This finalization ceremony involved not only
the handful of delegates with stake in the matter, but also the other
related representatives, the crew of the host ship, and the mediators. It
added up to 24 people in total, which resulted in 276 farewells. This alone
would have made for a boring final episode, so that’s not all that’s
happening on screen. While the farewells are going on in the background,
final thoughts from the reps have been sprinkled in, through a mix of
off-screen narration, and testimonial footage.
As the seek bar marker inches closer and closer to the end, it becomes
apparent that Cosette’s words will be the ones to conclude the series. Ellie
Underhill says one last bit about how happy she is to share her universe
with the residents of the Sixth Key, and then the video transitions to
Cosette sitting in the booth. The farewells are over, and it’s just her,
smiling regally at the camera. The Cosette from the present day who is
watching the playback doesn’t even recall what she is about to say here. “I
think what we learned from these discussions is, not that we all have
competing interests, but that our interests actually align. While each
delegate came here to represent the interests of their own people, I believe
we all realized that there is really no such thing. Each former reality was
made up of a collection of individuals within communities within subcultures
within larger cultures within worlds. No one has the right, nor the
fundamental ability, to advocate on the behalf of everyone they care about,
and only them. The only way to get anything done is to make the
determination that all peoples deserve happiness and prosperity. When
you only value what you have in comparison, or from the loss, of what others
have, you end up with nothing of use, because you’ve lost the importance of
working towards the greater good. There is nothing greater than
all-inclusivity.
“I’ve heard a lot of people, in Delegation Hall, and from the public
responses, saying that we’ve made progress, or sometimes that we’ve not made
enough. But the truth is that the latter is closer to the truth, because
we’ve not truly done anything yet. The true test will be in the
implementation of our ideas, and the consequences that come from the social
changes that we envision. It’s easy to talk about our ideals from a round
table, and through interactive polls, but far more difficult to put in the
work day in and day out. This is going to take time, and it’s an ongoing
process, which will require tweaks, revisions, and a changing of the guard.
I, for one, am excited about what comes next, but I’m not ready to call us a
success. Maybe I never will.”
No one has ever heard these words before, except whoever was involved in the
editing. As the cast and credits for this reality show roll, the delegates
nod at Cosette. Nuadu pats her on the back. She doesn’t think that it’s that
big of a deal In hindsight, she would have rather been given time to craft a
more succinct answer to the Magnolia’s last question, but what’s done is
done, and now it’s all done, and they can finally go home. Something
else is happening, though. After the playback chevron marker reaches the far
right end, it begins to spin. At first, it stays in place, rotating
forwards, but then it begins to rotate backwards while moving back to the
beginning of the seek bar. This is usually the graphic that runs when
autoplay is on, and there’s another episode. But this shouldn’t be this
case, as this is the finale. Or is it?
The Magical Memory Magnolia Tree that has taken the form of a man named
Tamerlane Pryce appears on screen. He was part of the discussions, and
responsible for recording and broadcasting them to the public, but he didn’t
make very many appearances in the show. He wasn’t too involved in the
negotiations either, since he considered himself an interested third party,
and the supervisor. This must be some kind of bonus clip. It’s only a couple
of minutes long. “That concludes season one of The Rock Talks. And now I
present to you a sneak peak...of season two.”
“What the shit?” General Medley of the Seventh Stage exclaims.
A trailer for the second season begins to play, with the Magnolia as the
narrator. “On a world...built for criminals and protected witnesses, a group
of nine diplomats will find themselves trapped together in a prison of their
own making. To protect the cosmos from a temporal paradox, they’ll sacrifice
their normal daily lives as civilization moves on without them. They’ll have
to learn to live together in paradise, unable to leave, but given all the
tools they’ll need to live safely and insulated from outside influence while
the greater population fights to protect their future from decisions made by
the delegates in the past.”
This is all intercut with b-roll—including shots of the various worlds now
crammed together in this half of the new universe—and quick out-of-context
bits of dialogue. “I know how to raise an army,” Ingrid Alvarado of the
Fifth Division says.
“You don’t know a damn thing,” General Medley says, making it look like he’s
responding to Ingrid, even though those two comments were made weeks apart,
and not even in each other’s company.
“I think I might possibly, in at least some ways, be falling for you,”
Cosette says. While Nuadu’s back is to the camera, viewers can probably
guess who she’s talking to.
More completely unfair, and highly edited, remarks are put on display for
people to make assumptions about before the tree comes back. “Drama...
Intrigue... Romance. Nothing will ever be the same. Season Two of The Rock
Talks, coming September of 2449, only on MagnoliaTV.” The last thing is a
live shot of the delegates. They’re all staring at the screen in shock.
Andrei’s second-in-command, Selma Eriksen lifts her hand up, and begins to
wave it around to make sure that—yep, this is definitely live.
Cosette stands up, and points to the invisible camera hidden somewhere by
the screen. “Turn it off, now. End the feed.”
Maybe as a coincidence, or maybe out of obedience, the trailer ends, and the
screen goes black. Ayata grabs the remote, and escapes from fullscreen.
Comments from other viewers are flooding in. Everyone wants to know what’s
going on, and whether this was planned, and if the subjects of this
docuseries consented to more scrutiny. They did not.
Cosette certainly doesn’t need her experiences on Hockstep to be
broadcast for everyone to see. It is an invasion of privacy. They were all
very personal, and she had no idea that she was being recorded. No one is
above the law, not even a magical tree.
Cosette steps away from the group, and begins to talk into the aether. “I
demand immediate audience with the Memory Magnolia. We need to talk about
this season two bullshit right this instant.” She waits, but there’s no
response. They don’t know if he’s listening to them right now, but probably.
There’s a chance that he severed the connection, or it could be that he only
turned it off for the nine of them. The rest of the universe could still be
seeing all this happen in realtime for all they know. That’s why it’s such a
violation. They have the right to know when they’re being watched, and when
they’re safe and alone. Everyone has that right. It’s inalienable. “Answer
me. Right now!” she insists.
No one else is trying the help, not because they’re apathetic to the
situation, but because they trust her to handle it for them. The tree is
mysterious and powerful. If he doesn’t want to respond, he’s not gonna
respond, no matter how many people express their outrage at this travesty.
Cosette continues to speak out, but nothing is happening.
“Maybe we should go to your pocket dimension?” Andrei suggests. He has spent
a lot of time in Cosette and Ayata’s penthouse, in order to get to know the
latter. “Do you think we’re safer there?”
“It’s not a bad guess,” Cosette replies, “but it’s probably pointless. I bet
he can see us anywhere. He lives in another dimension himself. And he’s...a
sentient tree. How do we argue with that? How do we fight it?”
“You don’t,” comes a voice from the entrance. It’s the Magnolia’s cohort,
Princess Honeypea. “You also don’t need too.”
“Explain,” Cosette urges.
“That may have looked like the Pryce Tree, but it wasn’t him,” Princess
Honeypea insisted. “We didn’t record you nine on this planet. It’s none of
our business, and we wouldn’t dare risk the security of you, and everyone
else living here. Another force is at play, and I promise to do everything
in my power to get to the bottom of it.” She’s usually quite bubbly and
delightful, but she’s very serious right now, and a bit unsettlingly stoic.
“What can we do?” Cosette asks. “How do we protect ourselves, and our pasts?
Can we get this show cancelled?”
“At the moment, what you can all do is come with me,” Princess Honeypea
offers. “Whoever is responsible for this, I assure you that they cannot
reach you in the Garden Dimension. The tree will protect you.”
Cosette looks around the room to gauge everyone’s reactions. They don’t know
what to make of this, but they seem to feel that Princess Honeypea’s idea is
the only viable option. Cosette would have to agree. She looks back. “Okay,
let’s go.”
They’re overwhelmed by technicolor lights, and spirited away to the Garden.
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