Microstory 2394: Earth, January 2, 2180

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Dear Corinthia,

I hope this message finds you well. Remember that? That’s the first thing you ever said to me. I remember reading that a year and a half ago. It’s such an old-timey thing to say, but I was immediately hooked. And then you told me who you were, and who we were to each other. I’m so grateful to you for having the courage to reach out. You really are the bravest person I know; going for it with Bray despite the obstacles, confronting Velia’s dad, just living your life the way you want. You’ve inspired me. I’m sure Velia has told you by now that I quit my job, and I’m leaving the platform. I’m actually boarding the transition boat in a couple of hours. I want to send Velia one last letter, but not until she gets back to me first. It’s going to be tight, but I think I’ll make it. I was just going to wander in Australia for a little bit, but word spread that I was on the market, and I started getting job offers. One in particular intrigued me. I won’t necessarily be doing anything very glamorous myself, but there’s a newish group of people who are trying to find a way to bring the Earth back to its former glory. They have their hands in all sorts of pies: detoxifying the atmosphere, developing plants that can withstand the noxious gases, making peak settlements more comfortable to live in. They’re even considering bolstering interplanetary travel, possibly for mass exodus efforts way in the future. It sounds like really exciting stuff, and my experience all over the world has gotten them interested in my expertise. I’m still not sure what I’ll be doing for them, but they’re calling me a consultant. They keep using that word. I think it’s vague enough for them to not worry about being clear on my role and responsibilities. I’m telling you all this, not only because I want to update you on my life, but also so you’ll understand that I may be incommunicado from my end for a while. I really just don’t know, but the Valkyries may not be the only thing standing in our way. I will always be thinking of you, and all the Vacuans, and I’ll reach out when I can. Hopefully, there will come a time soonly when you and I are both on the same frequency, so to speak. Until then, find your bliss. That’s all the advice I can really give. I wanted this letter to be epic, but that’s not really our style. We will speak to one another again. It may not be in the way that we’re used to, but this isn’t the last you hear from me. I love you more than anything. You take care of yourself.

See you on the other side,

Condor

Microstory 2391: Earth, December 20, 2179

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Dear Velia,

You only sent a list of eight movies, and I wanted to get through every single one, which is why my reply is a little late, but attached, you’ll find my thoughts on each of them. If it’s going to be a shared experience, then let’s share it. I don’t have all the time in the world, so to speak, but I’m not constantly bogged down by my responsibilities. In fact, I quit my job just today. I’m still working there, since it’s customary to give two weeks notice before you stop going into work. I just had to stop tying my identity to my father’s. I love the guy, but I’ve lived my whole life in his shadow. I moved when he moved, I say the kinds of things that he would say. He didn’t do that on purpose, and when I told him my plans to leave, he was one hundred percent supportive. He still sees me as his little baby boy sometimes, but he recognizes that I am well into adulthood, and I can make my own decisions now. They may be bad decisions—you may even call them mistakes—but it’s time that I fly the nest, and find my own way. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with myself now, but I think I’m gonna go back on land. I’ve saved up enough resource vouchers to keep myself going at least for a few months without having any official work. The dome where we brought in all those immigrants isn’t the only settlement there is on the Australian continent. Some aren’t doing so great right now, and they’re always looking for good hard-working people to help them repair their infrastructure. The platform is about to leave and head back towards the Atlantic Ocean, so now is my chance to get off. Don’t worry, though. Unlike on the ocean, there are towers that people use to stay connected. I won’t be out of communications range, and will pretty much always be able to link up to the server to check my messages, and send replies. I might have a harder time accessing entertainment, like those movies we both watched, but we’ll worry about that later. I’m more anxious about the Valkyries. My scientist friends really think that it’s going to happen any day now. The next time we speak, I may be in a very different living situation than I am now. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while now, especially since hearing from Corinthia for the first time gave me some much-needed perspective. I didn’t quite decide until yesterday, though, which is why you’re hearing about it before she does. You can tell her if you want, or I will. I appreciate the little video clip of your introduction. You’ve sent me some nice photos before, so in return here’s one of me to remember me by.

Still under your spell,

Condor

Microstory 2382: Earth, October 31, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m sure that my son has already informed you, but I was recently on a trip to Eastern Seaboard, which if you don’t know, is a city-state in the former United States of America. I was taking part in very early negotiations for future possible trade deals. The platform is still circumnavigating the continent of Australia, even though our initial required proximity period has passed. We ended up extending that another four months after some people from other Australian domes began to express interest in moving here. We currently don’t know where we’ll go after this, but it’s always good to have your options open, and it’s not like we have to float over to a trading partner in order to trade with them. That’s what jets are for. So I went out there for my work, but I was also doing something else. After investigating my own past, and reaching out to my contacts, I discovered that an old friend of ours from before the collapse of society—or, I guess it was kind of during it—was living there. I couldn’t pinpoint his exact location remotely, or find his contact information, so I decided to fly up there to look for him myself. And wouldn’t you know it, I found him. I told you that I wouldn’t send you another message until I had a solid update for you, so I hope this qualifies. I confronted Gunnar about his motivations back then after we started catching up, and felt like he was being rather evasive. He seemed to have mixed feelings about seeing me again, like he was happy, but also pretty worried. In my head, I thought for sure this was the guy. He knew something. He was part of it. He was Condor’s secret observer. As it turns out, not exactly. When we met, he was genuinely trying to be my friend. He didn’t even like sports or outdoorsy stuff either; he just figured that I did, because they were very common hobbies, and he was desperately trying to connect. The reason he approached me in the first place was because he had social anxiety, and his therapist recommended he intentionally step out of his comfort zone, and try his hand at small talk, explaining that the worst that could happen was an awkward conversation that ended quickly. I felt really bad about accusing him of something nefarious but then he admitted that he was once contacted by a mysterious someone, asking him to keep tabs on us; Condor in particular. Out of fear, he actually agreed to do it, but he fed this stranger false information. He would just straight up lie about how Condor was doing, and how his personality was developing. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, or if he should have refused entirely. He wasn’t sure if he should have told me what was going on either. He always regretted not speaking up, though, and was grateful for the opportunity recently. Except for the first one, Gunnar recorded every conversation he had with this other man, who never gave him his name. Gunnar kept these recordings all this time, so he was able to give me copies of them. I’ve put in a request to the forensics specialists to have them analyzed, and will update you again if and when they find something. We’re getting closer, Cori. We’re gonna find out who did this to you. To us.

Your distant but doting father,

Pascal

Microstory 2361: Earth, August 1, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

It’s Pascal again. Thank you for being so patient with me. It is now August 1, and communication restrictions have finally been lifted. It was such horrible timing. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, and it’s very rewarding, but it does come with downsides. I hope it’s okay that I’m writing you now. I know that your connection to your brother has only gotten stronger since my first letter, which was my last one. So if you only want me to speak when spoken to, that’s totally fine. I want you to drive this relationship, or even decide whether it is a relationship, or not. I won’t take up too much of your time until you decide, but allow me to give you a few updates on what I’ve been up to. Our deal with the Australian dome has been a great success. Since we live on the ocean, we’ve gotten pretty good at using our resources sustainably, but we still have to trade with land-based regions more than they have to trade with each other. We have less space here for such infrastructure, and we’re not equipped to handle certain crops. Everyone has vertical farming now, but so many fruits and vegetables can’t be grown in these tight, efficient environments very well. We grow tomatoes and herbs just fine. Lettuce and green beans? We got those. But we have no way of planting trees, and even if we did, they have not had enough time to grow to maturity since we were established. So many others just don’t work with the techniques that we are limited to using in the confined spaces on this boat. We can’t exactly carry tons and tons of dirt over the sea. It is for these reasons that we lack fruits like apples and peaches, sprawling plants like pumpkins and cucumbers, and roots like potatoes and carrots. In exchange for some of their food, we agreed to take a number of immigrants on board. Since we’re so new, we still have plenty of space to grow as a human population. Others are running low. The funny thing is, as helpful as it is to the Australian dome for us to take those people, it’s actually good for us too, because that is what we need. We want to establish our own nation, and to do that, we need citizens. That’s probably why it’s gone so smoothly, because we’re all winners here. All right, I’ve taken enough of your time already. Just get back to me when you can. I understand that you’re busy.

With affection,

Pascal

Microstory 2357: Earth, July 7, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

You should have received my custom read receipt that confirmed the plan for The Winfield Files, but in case you didn’t, we’re a go. They’re not the longest books in the world, but they’re not super short either. Still, I think we could each get the next one done within a couple weeks. I agree that our thoughts should be in the form of attachments. Yeah, we might have to wait for each other’s responses before moving on, so it may not be as neat as one installment per pair of letters, but I dunno. We’ll just have to wait and see how it goes. To answer your question, our relationship with the dome remains strong. Generally speaking, the immigrants aren’t having significant issues, though it’s a culture shock for many of them. In some ways, we’re different, but in others, we’re the same. It’s true that we’re mobile, but this thing is so large, and the engines are running so slowly, that you can’t really tell. The view is really the biggest difference. Still, they’ve designed it to simulate a normal dome as much as possible. We have dirt and sand and grass. Dad and I live in the platform section, instead of the dome proper, but all of the newcomers have been assigned housing outside, which I think they prefer, since it’s more like what they’re used to. Speaking of new friends, I have an idea about your neighbor. What your problem seems to be is that he doesn’t care how his actions affect others. You have to show him that you exist, and give him some reason to consider that in the future. Don’t complain about the noise, don’t yell at him. Endear yourself to him. First step is to ask him for help with something. How tall are you? If you have some artwork high up on the wall that needs to be adjusted, or a nut under your sink that needs to be tightened, ask him to do it. This especially works if he’s a man, because he wants to feel big and strong, but you can execute this trick with just about anyone. Just make sure it’s a simple task. People want to feel needed, not exploited. Once he’s done, thank him for taking the time, then invite him over for lunch, or a board game. Invite a couple other people if you feel uncomfortable being alone with him, but don’t make it a full-on party. You want him to see you as an individual, and to be reminded of his connection to you when he’s in the area, not the gathering over all. I don’t like the phrase kill them with kindness, but that’s what you’re doing here. This doesn’t work every time; some people are clueless, but my childhood bully stopped harassing me after I tried this. Give it a shot, and let me know how it goes.

Ready to start Book One,

Condor

Microstory 2356: Vacuus, June 30, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I read the description for The Winfield Files, both the book series and the show, and they look interesting to me. I’m glad that neither of us has read or watched them, so we can start this entertainment journey together. I’ve already bought them, and put them into my libraries. I’ve not started them yet, though, so we can confirm with each other first. As soon as you receive this letter, send your confirmation with your usual custom read receipt. I will not have had time to read the first book, of course, so you will be starting us off after you receive my next letter. We’ll start to coordinate each installment after that as necessary. Since it takes so terribly long for each message to cross the interplanetary void between us, I think it makes the most sense for us to read a whole book, or watch a whole season, in between letters. It will all still probably take quite a long time. One or both of us may not be able to reach the end within a week, but we can agree to hold off on continuing until we have the chance to connect about it. With 12 books and 12 seasons, it could take us quite a while to finish this whole project, but that doesn’t bother me. I think we should send our little reviews as attachments, so these letters can be about ourselves. I’m picturing this as something we do in addition to our regular correspondence, not as just a replacement for them. In that regard, how are things going with you guys and the Australia dome? Is everything still very diplomatic and peaceful? Are your new friends integrating nicely? Have they faced any issues or conflicts? I’ve run into a small conflict of my own. The first baby born on Vacuus—as opposed to Earth, or the ship—is now old enough to move out on his own, and he has been assigned to the unit right next to mine. It has historically been empty, because most of the residences are on the other side of the base. I live here, because I work here all day and all night. While there’s a lot of work going on around me during normal hours, it’s been relatively quiet, but my new neighbor does not feel the need to conform to this standard. He either doesn’t realize that I sleep where I work, or does not care. I don’t super want to talk to him about it, however, because he’s kind of a celebrity around here, and he knows it. We’ll see how it goes once the excitement from his newfound independence wears off.

Napping when I can,

Corinthia

Microstory 2343: Earth, March 25, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

It’s funny that you bring up transportation between safe zones, because that’s what we used to do before we came to this floating dome for permanent residency. For security reasons, pilots really preferred not to leave their secure cockpits, so they would hire other people to actually leave the aircraft, and help travelers load and unload. That’s what my dad would do for work, but it was more than that. I don’t remember how he got into it, because I was doing something on my own at the time, but I ended up working on the transport crafts too. I was a sort of flight attendant, but more for safety, and less for customer service. These people were fleeing very dangerous situations, so they didn’t need to be coddled and doted on, they just needed to know how to use their seatbelts, and where the emergency hazmat suits were. Anyway, for dad, it wasn’t as easy as climbing down the steps, and ushering people inside. We primarily dealt with families, the individual members of which often disagreed about leaving their homes, or where they should go. You have to remember, these were the early days of the poisoning of the atmosphere. It didn’t just all happen at once. A lot of safe zones were still open areas, rather than airtight domes. And a lot of the not-so-safe zones were still technically habitable, leading many to believe that the air would one day be cleaned up. They were wrong, but not crazy for holding out hope. No one knew how bad things would get. Few could have known. The ones that did were either very intelligent and observant, but few and far between, or responsible for destroying the environment themselves, and deliberately withholding pertinent information. Either way, the general population wasn’t hearing it. The bulk of dad’s job was convincing people that where they were living was no longer healthy enough for them, and they had to move somewhere else. The answer to where kept changing, and the number and size of the safezones kept shrinking, but we kept working. Because of his naturally diplomatic personality, and because he continued to develop his skills in this area, he was ultimately selected for the position he has now in this dome. It was still a very nascent development back then, having only recently achieved its vacuum seal, and they were in need of population growth. By then, transportation was big business. It had become easier to persuade people to move, so the qualifications for the job were now less rigorous. So others could do it who couldn’t before, and there were so many more aircraft that could be used for this. In the past, jets just had doors that led right to the fuselage. Now we need both an airlock, and a decontamination chamber. Older craft were retrofitted with these additions, but newer ones have been designed with these necessities. I’m getting a little off-topic, but yes, transportation is no joke. And to answer your question, I can indeed see the coast of Australia from our cabin, but only from my dad’s room. Mine’s on the other side. Now, if we were traveling clockwise...

Also in a vacuum,

Condor

Microstory 2342: Vacuus, March 18, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Ha, you’re welcome for the ultra-capacitors. Yes, I invented them single-handedly when I was nineteen years old. I’m a god here. Hopefully that makes up for missing your last 36 birthdays! Speaking of which, ours is coming up soon. What do you typically do to celebrate? Mother and I would always spend the day together, but we didn’t have any specific traditions that we held to. There’s not a lot of different forms of recreation, and nothing that you could consider special. The best I have ever been able to really do is take the day off, and kind of relax all day while someone fills in for me. I suppose that part won’t necessarily change, even though mom’s gone. I really wish that you and I could do something together, or at least communicate in real time. Maybe we could agree to do the same thing at the same time, when the day comes. On second thought, that’s not a great idea, because then you’re limited to staring at rocks, or just hooking up to a virtual simulation. I dunno, I’m starting to get on another emotional ramble. Let’s move on. That’s interesting about the Australian coast, and the condition that you stay there for a period of time. Australia is a big place. Do you have to stay near the dome you were trading with, or is the whole continent fair game? If it’s the second one, then this stipulation feels a bit arbitrary. Maybe they have a reason that makes sense when you hear it. Can you see land outside your window where your stateroom is, or can you really not tell any difference during your daily life? I hope that your other trading partners don’t have any issue with you being so far away all this time, but surely you have other means of transport. No, I know that you do, because your father didn’t have to wait until your platform made it back to where he was to get back on board, or you would have said something along those lines. That sounds like a fascinating job to me, to go all over the world, transporting people between the safe zones peppered in all over the globe, but very dangerous, like the field workers on Vacuus. I’m honestly glad that you don’t do that.

Cheers mate,

Corinthia

Microstory 2341: Earth, March 11, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Ultra-capacitors, really? That was you? We use those here for everything. It was a breakthrough in technology, which has allowed us to harness the power of lightning, just like you do, but has had numerous other applications through advancements in miniaturization. Back in the olden days, it would take minutes, or even hours, to charge a small device. Now it takes seconds. I just place my phone on the charging pad, and it’s at 100% by the time I can take my watch off to charge it next. Some people even have these gun-like chargers where you simply point and shoot at what you want charged. They’re developing persistent charge technology as well, but that’s a few years away, and would take a lot of retrofitting for preexisting infrastructure. It’s mostly the backend that’s slowing us down on that, though. We need a constant, reliable source of energy generation, which lightning strikes do not provide. It’s particularly hard to develop such things on a moving platform on the water. They never told us that these inventions ultimately came from off-world. I hope that it’s in the literature somewhere—and I’m just ignorant as an individual—not that they’re intentionally hiding the truth from us to allow someone else to take credit. To answer your sort of question, we’re not back out to sea just yet, but definitely by the time you read my letter, we will be. All of our new friends are now safely inside the dome, but we’re still docked because they’re still making sure that everyone who came won’t change their mind, and everyone who chose not to come hasn’t changed theirs. We have the luxury of being able to go wherever we want most of the time, but that’s not going to be the case for the near future. Part of the negotiations involve us staying close to the Australian coast for at least the next six months. We can still move around, which we do to maintain safety and security, but we can’t stray too far. I believe that that’s what slowed the talks down overall. We also move around to trade and interact with other land partners, but that won’t be possible until our time is up. I personally don’t see us staying a minute past our negotiated duration, because we want to maintain positive relations with other regions, though many are projecting that we’ll be here for a full year. We’ll have to wait and see. Speaking of the future, we’re probably a couple months out from reaching Bowen Orbital Spaceport. You and I will be the closest we’ve ever been since we started talking. After a quick car ride, I could be stepping onto a shuttle, headed your way, haha.

Thanks for the electricity,

Condor

Microstory 2339: Earth, February 24, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Here’s a little bit of bad news. We’ve reached our destination to begin welcoming the new immigrants from their overcrowded dome. They’re not here quite yet, because we couldn’t have them waiting for us in limbo until we hit the shore, but they’re on their way as I’m writing this. That’s not the bad news, though. A consequence of this situation is that my dad won’t be able to send or receive any letters for a while. It’s a security thing, since he knows so much information about our new allies. Obviously, I know that he would never abuse his power, or put the population at risk, and no one seriously thinks that he would, but the moratorium is a necessary precaution just the same. I’m still okay. Even though I work in the office, I’m not privy to enough of the data, and am not considered a threat to security. I don’t know if you were hoping to hear from him again. I’m sure he’ll reach out once more when he’s allowed to, but we don’t know how long it will take. Such is the life of a diplomat. The good news is, of course, that we’re finally here in beautiful Australia. It took us a lot longer than we wanted, but as you’ve suspected, the platform doesn’t move all that fast. Plus, there were some tropical storms that we had to detour around. That reminds me, we have not talked about the strange weather we have here thanks to our toxic air that didn’t exist when we were young. The toxic cocktail in our atmosphere makes these events really dangerous. We end up with some bizarre localized particle densities and temperature fluctuations, which make the weather—not entirely unpredictable—but less so than it was just a couple decades ago. As you would imagine, they’re really bad for your health too, even after they’ve dissipated, more so than the air in the area is when it’s just at its regular level of toxicity. Fortunately, we knew what we were up against while we were on our way here, but the environment can change on a dime these days, and we may not be so lucky on our way back out into the open water. We typically stick to very specific regions and routes when we don’t have anywhere particular to be, like we are right now. I know that your atmosphere isn’t breathable, but with a celestial body as large as Vacuus is, you must experience weather of some kind. Could you tell me about that? Do you have emergency protocols, like lockdowns, or escapes into a basement? I guess I don’t even know where your habitat was built, if it’s in a lava tube, or a crater, or what.

Hoping you stay in range forever,

Condor

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 2, 2398

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One of the first things that Bridgette learned about her father was that he was after two interrelated things. He wanted to collect unusual people, and special objects with unusual properties. Based on what she was able to gather from a distance, he didn’t accidentally see something he wasn’t supposed to, or get read into an organization already involved in this stuff. He was obsessed with the occult his entire life, and it took him half of it to get anywhere with his investigations. Aliens, vampires, cryptids, superheroes, and time travelers. He didn’t know for a fact whether any of these things existed, but he was convinced that one of them had to, or one of the many others in a long list of fictional possibilities. Was there a secret society of five people who ran the whole world from the shadows? Did immortals travel the world with swords, cutting each other’s heads off? It had to be something, and he had to find it, and find it he did.

Once Leona realized that Winona’s father, Senator Honeycutt had figured out the secret of reality, she called it The Masquerade. But this suggested that there was some kind of organized system to all this, like the Archipelago from Sense8, or the chaotic network of salmon and choosing ones from the main sequence. It doesn’t seem to be like that here. Leona Reaver, Delaney and Andile; even Alt!Mateo; none of them has ever found anyone like them. If there are other time travelers here, they’re scattered throughout the world. They may even be separated by time, up to billions of years. There is no network, no I know a guy thing going on here. At least that’s what they have believed this whole time. Even Marie, in all her dealings as a covert agent with the U.S. government, hasn’t found evidence of such a thing. Until perhaps now.

They call him The Dealer, and the only thing Bridgette had about him in her notes is that he moves around a lot, and if you want to do business with him, you’re going to need a referral. It took three days of calling and texting for Marie to procure one from Bridgette’s initial contact, but here she is in Mount Zeil in the Northern Territory. Like Lebanon, Kansas in the main reality—or Gothenburg in this one—for the United States, it’s the center of Australia. It also happens to be around 270 kilometers from Uluru, which is on Mateo’s list of important temporal locations to check out.

Marie ducks down to clear the top of the entrance. All kinds of knick knacks, tchotchkes, trinkets, and baubles sit on the shelves along the wall. What she would guess to be a massive aboriginal mask sits in the corner. The man behind it probably thinks that she doesn’t see him, and expects her to look around on her own while he watches to get an idea of what kind of person she is. She examines a few items, but there is nothing of interest to her, except for one thing. “Nothing in this shack is of any real value,” she begins, taking the black hat from its shelf, and raising it up. “...save for this.” She places it upon her head, faces the mask in the corner, and extends her arms to the side to present the new her. She’s transformed herself to look like a famous actor that anyone in the world would recognize.

The Dealer knocks the mask away from himself, and stands up. “You got it to work. How did you do that?”

“Let’s just say...I keep hydrated.” The Health-slash-Death waters are still technically in her system, and can allow her to tap into the temporal energy necessary to make the McIver hat work. It’s not enough to teleport, but this thing has its own power. Marie studies his face for a few seconds, and then transforms herself again, now to become a mirror image of him.

He slowly slinks towards her to get a better look. “Brilliant.”

She removes the hat to return to her true visage, and sets it back down. “Where did you get it, and where did you get the Insulator of Life?”

He gingerly sets the hat upon his own head, and frowns when he looks in a nearby beauty mirror to find that it still doesn’t work for him. It is unclear how he knew beforehand what it was supposed to do, or that it was supposed to do anything at all. Now he studies her face. “How well do you know history?”

“Not as well as someone my age should. Why?”

“I was born in 1991, right smack dab in the middle of the bloodiest battle of World War II. My mother was a soldier, who’s unit leader didn’t give a crap that she was nine months pregnant with me. She still had hands, which meant that she could still hold a gun. He was pissed when she went into labor, partially because of her, but also because the rest of her unit came together to protect her, instead of pushing forward with whatever mission they were on. When my cries rang out to the sky, it is said that everyone on both sides stopped shooting simultaneously...and they wept. The war ended that day, because of me. My first act in this world was potentially saving millions.”

“That’s...a haunting story.”

The Dealer smiles. “This isn’t about me, or my mother. It’s about the unit leader. You see, he wasn’t from around here, and when I say around here, I mean—”

“He was from another reality.”

This surprises him, but then he remembers just a minute ago when she activated the McIver hat without giving it a second thought. “That’s what he told me on his deathbed, and also that he was my real father, though I guessed as much when I heard we shared a first name. I don’t know why he didn’t raise me, or why he didn’t have the instinct to protect his baby mama during the war. I know that she wasn’t raped, though. They were in love at one time, to a certain degree. Anyway, he died right in front of me before he could say much more, but just before his last breath, he gave me a key to a safe deposit box. I found the glass insulator thing in there, and a few clues to other objects. Do you wanna know how old he was?” It was rhetorical. “I couldn’t get the exact date he was born, but it was somewhere in the neighborhood of over 500 years ago. It’s all because of that little green object that doesn’t even give off any energy readings. As far as I can tell, it’s nothing but glass.”

“You’re being surprisingly forthcoming with all this,” Marie notes.

“I have to be. Someone needs to keep going. Someone needs to find the truth about this world, and I won’t be able to do it for very much longer.” He reaches up to his hair, and pulls it all off. He’s completely bald underneath. “Shortly after he passed, World War III began, which I believe to have been the worst. Biological weapons gave an estimated three million people cancer. I only survived because of the insulator.”

“Why did you give it away? You know you have to stay close for it to work.”

“I’m tired,” he explains. “I’m done. That’s why he gave it away, and I’m sure whoever Bridgette gave it to will also only last a few centuries.”

She nods, respecting his position. “I’m Marie. What’s your name?”

“Lawson Junior. I was apparently named after my father, and he was named after his mother, Laura Gardner.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 21, 2106

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About an hour into the Gilbert’s lesson on time manipulation, Mateo got an idea. They didn’t have to stuff every lesson into one day if Serkan was there. He could prevent Mateo and Leona from jumping into the future. That would give him an entire year to learn how to beat The Cleanser during what Gilbert decided to refer to as Tribulation by Combat. When they went over to Horace and Serkan’s place to ask for help, Serkan refused. He said that he would better serve the cause during the actual battle. Apparently, however, he would not be able to do that if he were stuck on Tribulation Island for an entire year. Only then did Mateo question the fact that Serkan was there in the first place. They were on a completely different planet, God knows how far from Earth. How did he get there at all if he was not capable of experiencing teleportation or time travel? Neither he nor Horace were willing to answer, saying only that it was complicated, so Mateo went back to his regular studies, hoping to be able to get through everything in just the one day he had.

Gilbert taught him as much as he could about the theory of temporal manipulation. They couldn’t actually manipulate time in any way, but Mateo still learned at least the basics of all different kinds of time manipulation. Uluru battles had a few ground rules. You could teleport to another point on Ayers Rock, but you couldn’t teleport away, and avoid fighting altogether. Obviously, you couldn’t jump through time either, because that too would defeat the purpose of the exercise. Similarly, a past or future version of yourself couldn’t show up and provide you with assistance; Bill and Ted-style. However, if you knew how to quantum duplicate yourself, then that was perfectly all right. They were all acutely aware that the Cleanser would have an insurmountable advantage over him. Not only did he have all kinds of experience with temporal manipulation, but he was also just generally more violent. If Uluru chose to remove temporal powers instead of copying them to Mateo, the Cleanser was still more likely to win. He wanted it more, and he would be willing to do anything to win. Mateo worried most about the consequences of the battle; win or lose. Horace coached him psychologically, reminding him that it didn’t matter what would happen at the end of the fight. That did not change the fact that the duel was going to happen, or the fact that Mateo would have to fight as hard as he could.

“Okay, it’ll happen any minute now,” Gilbert said. “He might remotely apport you away from the island, or ferry you to Autralia himself, I’m not sure. He might bring in spectators and supporters, but I can’t promise that.”

“Any last words?” Mateo asked his group of friends, knowing that it was he who should be thinking of something poetic and moving, or at least interesting.

“Just remember that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If he tries to ripple you apart, you can defend yourself by straightening out your time field. If he tries to merge your body with a lamppost, then...just ripple the lamppost.”

“Okay.” Mateo turned to Horace.

“Kick him in the balls.”

Everyone looked at him with a sense of superiority, especially Leona.

Horace looked back, not sure why they thought that was the wrong thing to say. “Nobody said all attacks had to be time-based. Zeferino has balls, and if you kick ‘em, it’ll hurt. So kick ‘em.”

Couldn’t argue with that logic. “Leona?”

“Come home safe.”

He nodded.

“But end this first,” she added.

He nodded again. He was about to ask for advice from his mother, but upon spinning around, the scene changed.

He was in a dry desert, and could see for miles. The ground was rocky and reddish. Uluru, a.k.a. Ayers Rock. The man, Uluru was walking towards him from the distance. Kayetan Glaston was walking with him. Several meters away, the Cleanser appeared from thin air. He was looking around to get his bearings too, which made it fairly clear that he had not arrived on his own accord.

“What’s he doing here?” Mateo asked, indicating Kayetan.

“You mean me?” Kayetan asked back. “I’ve been asked to dress this place up a bit.”

“With what?”

Kayetan lifted his arms up above his head, then he separated them to form an imaginary circle down to his sides. As he did so, the replica of the Colosseum appeared on top of Ayers Rock. That looked like it was the easy part, because then he really prepared himself. He closed his eyes and took in several deep breaths. He lifted his arms again, hands in fists. He then drew them back down under his shoulders like he was pulling himself up on an imaginary bar. Unlike his previous merges, which really only involved splicing together two places, many were brought together. Tens of thousands of people appeared along the seats of the amphitheatre. Those closest to him—semi-permanent residents of Tribulation Island, including Leona—were watching from the emperor box.

“Oh my God,” the Cleanser said. I thought this was just gonna be a kicker.”

“I want everyone to see this,” Uluru said. “They need to know the consequences of their actions.”

“I didn’t even know this many people were salmon and choosers,” Mateo admitted.

“They’re not all human,” the Cleanser explained. And they’re not all from this time period. Kayetan here must have siphoned off power from someone else in order to accomplish this.”

“A lot of that was just me,” Kayetan said with a bow. Then he tipped over and fell to his face.

“Let him sleep it off,” Uluru said. “Ellie,” he called out.

A young woman appeared from behind a pillar, not as if waiting for her cue, but more like she had gotten distracted and forgot to follow him. “Is it time?”

“Yes,” Uluru replied. “Do you have your script?”

“I do.” She cleared her throat before looking out to the crowd. When she reopened her mouth, the sound was different. It spread across space much more broadly. It was like she was using a microphone networked with a series of speakers. Everyone in the Colosseum could hear her. She was explaining to them the situation, and why they were all brought there; all things that Mateo already knew, so he focused on his goal. He needed to win. That was it. He didn’t know how he could win, only that he couldn’t let the Cleanser gain the upperhand. He had to constantly find ways of maintaining control of the situation. Dear God, this was gonna be impossible.

After she was done with her speech, she walked off, and Uluru signaled up to someone in the emperor box. A little kid threw an imaginary life preserver ring and pulled Uluru up to him through the air. Man, people had some funny ways of exploiting the spacetime continuum. Uluru gave the go ahead and the battle royale could finally begin.

Both Mateo and the Cleanser just stood there. They didn’t even do that thing where they circled each other and exchanged disdainful remarks. Ellie spoke to them using her magic microphone voice, “we literally have all the time in the world! No one is gonna make you start, but you can’t leave until this is resolved!”

The Cleanser casually tossed a time ripple towards Mateo, who deflected it with some new kind of mirror he had unwittingly apported from wherever it once was. Yeah, he had time powers now. They didn’t make him feel any different. It wasn’t like a higher level of energy was surging through his body. All he could do was try things out and hope that they helped. The Cleanser merged Mateo’s body with a flame from some other point in spacetime, setting his clothes on fire. Mateo countered it by apporting a bucket of water over his head.

“You’re a natural.”

“Finally good at somethin’, eh?” Mateo answered.

“Hashtag-selfburn,” the Cleanser said. He then teleported right behind Mateo. “But try this out.” He tapped Mateo on the shoulder.

A flood of memories returned to Mateo’s brain. He could remember a plethora of alternate realities. He now understood why it so often seemed like the Cleanser could read his mind. Actually, he would regularly physically torture him for his thoughts. Once he had the information he needed, he would send his own mind back into the past and stop himself from doing it so that Mateo would never remember. Blending his brain now was meant to be a big blow, but it wasn’t. He was used to emotional trauma, and was able to bury that shit deep down inside. He shook his body and composed himself. It was over, and he was fine.

“Very good, but you can still only react. I can start things. I’ll always be the instigator, and at some point, I’ll send something your way that you won’t be able to defend against.”

“Oh, you want creativity?” Mateo asked rhetorically. “Here ya go.” He apported a pile of seeds into his own hand and throw them at the Cleanser’s feet.

“I’m impressed.” He wasn’t impressed, so his guard was down.

“Just wait.” Mateo waved his hand towards the scattered seeds and adjusted the speed of time, but only for them. They all broke apart at once and sprouted up into giant red oaks. He could hear the crowd gasp, and some of them cheer.

The Cleanser fell down from one of the trees, his body was blood and mangled, but still alive. Mateo didn’t know whether he was trying to kill him or not, but he certainly wasn’t proud of it. The body twitched and reassembled itself like Future!Leona had after her heart was ripped out. Mateo could have ended it right there, but couldn’t bring himself to it. He had killed before, but the Rogue and Hitler were different. They were different in that he now knew that they were wrong. Murder was murder, and that just wasn’t him. Or at least, it wasn’t the kind of person he wanted to be.

“Just...forfeit, Zef. Let it go. Neither of us has to die. We could just go our separate ways.”

The Cleanser got back up and turned an imaginary wheel that tipped the grove of trees over and replaced it with the original top of Ayers rock. “I’m not done with you yet!” He apported two handguns and started shooting towards his target. Mateo effortlessly slowed time for the bullets long enough to step out of their way. The Cleanser threw those first firearms to the ground and tried a shotgun, but Mateo just stopped the shot in place and reversed course, sending them all back towards the Cleanser, who teleported away from the line of fire. He then tried using a rocket launcher, but Mateo opened a fractal portal and spirited it away to outerspace. Maybe the Cleanser didn’t have an advantage. Maybe Mateo was just as good as a fighter. Maybe he had a chance.

Angry and frustrated, the Cleanser formed pretend binoculars with his fingers and started to scan the crowd. Realizing that they weren’t actually pretend, Mateo did the same and generated a set of magical binocular lenses with his very own hands, trying to find what the Cleanser was seeing, but it was too late. The Cleanser sighed. “Good enough.” He snapped his fingers and apported The Navigator’s Compass of Disturbance. He rubbed his fingers along the side of it, which somehow made Mateo realize that he was doing that to calibrate it. He then quickly spun around and found his next target. He snapped the fingers in his other hand and summoned the Sword of Assimilation. “Dodge this, asshole.”

But Mateo couldn’t dodge it. He tried to slow time, but all he was able to do was alter his perception of it. He could only watch helplessly as the sword came hurtling towards him like an arrow. The sword was a unique object, and avoiding its wrath was far easier said than done. But then something else happened. From the side, he could see a man running towards him as well. No, it wasn’t a man. It was two men, the second being carried by the first. As they drew nearer, Mateo realized that one of them was Serkan. He was being pulled along by a mysterious masked man, dressed all in black. The man plotted an intercept course, ultimately leaving Serkan behind as he ran out from the sword’s path. Time restarted, the blade started flying at a normal rate, and everyone watched in horror as it plunged itself into Serkan’s stomach.

“No!” Horace screamed from the emperor’s box loud enough for Mateo to hear, even without Ellie’s microphone voice. He jumped onto the wall and tried to come down for his husband, but was unable to. An invisible barrier was preventing him from passing through; it was probably designed to avoid anyone from helping the time duelers.

Uluru stoically waved Horace down, but didn’t work very hard to actually make it happen. He didn’t really care. As Mateo was cradling Serkan’s head in his lap, both Leona and Gilbert found themselves able to freely hop out of the box and down to the battleground. They were apparently special enough to be exempt from such rules. Savior Xearea Voss teleported in as well and tore something away from the Cleanser’s neck.

“No!” the Cleanser yelled. “They tricked me! I didn’t mean to! He wasn’t supposed to die, I was trying to kill Mateo. I didn’t break the contract! I didn’t break the contract!”

As she passed by, Leona kicked the Cleanser in the balls, probably only partly so that he couldn’t try anything else.

“I love you,” Serkan struggled to say to the speedster who had carried him into the amphitheatre. “Tell him too,” he said, clearly referring to Horace. He closed his eyes one final time and died. The speedster ran away in a flash.

The Cleanser desperately snapped his fingers towards Xearea while cupping his damaged genitals with the other hand, but nothing was happening.

Xearea shook her head. “Your contract has been broken. The powers are done with you. You’re on your own.”

Gilbert approached her and held out his hand. “Give it here, love.” When she didn’t budge, he said, “come on. It has to be done. I’ll do it. Mateo shouldn’t have to, and Horace can’t.”

“What is that thing?” Mateo asked.

“The Hundemarke,” Gilbert explained as he was ceremoniously donning himself with it. “There’s no coming back from this.” He picked up one of the handguns the Cleanser had used, and shot him. One in the head, two in the chest, Zeferino Preston was finally dead.

Suddenly, and right on time, Aura and Samsonite’s daughter from a different timeline teleported in. Mateo hadn’t seen his sister in years, and didn’t think he ever would again, because she should have been erased when Mateo went back and changed the timeline. She retrieved the Sword of Assimilation from the ground next to Serkan’s body and walked over towards the Cleanser’s.

“Aquila. What are you doing?”

“Falling on my sword. Sort of.” With no warning, she stabbed herself in the stomach and fell back on top of the Cleanser. Seconds later, both his and her body disappeared. Was he still alive?

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 20, 2105

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“You met Juan Ponce de León!” Leona screamed like an anime fangirl. “I’m named after him, did you know that? Did I ever tell you that?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Aw, man, what was he like?”

“Like a guy. Like a normal guy. He didn’t even act like he was from the fourteenth century. He spoke Modern English.”

“Fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. How did you survive high school?”

“Kinda like this,” Mateo said, and then he froze, because the fact was that he barely did survive high school, and in fact, didn’t know how.

“I wish he would have stuck around so that I could meet him,” she said forlornly. Then she became more excited. “Oh, but you need to meet Horace’s husband, Serkan.”

“He’s finally here?”

“Well, we’re finally here. Actually, I met him last year. He was waiting for us in 2104 . He couldn’t travel through time with his daughter.”

“That means you’ve been waiting for me for a year?”

“What? No, that was just yesterday for me.”

“If he can stop people from using their time powers, then you should be free of our pattern.”

“Oh, well, I obviously didn’t want to leave you behind, so we made sure he was far enough away from us. He has a limited range.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I believe I just answered that. I’m not going to have the discussion again where I explain that I’m never going to leave you again. Not even time and space can keep us apart. You understand?”

“I do, yes, I just want you to be safe.”

“When I’m with you, I’m safe. And that is that.”

“Okay.”

Mateo and Leona left the house and walked over to Horace and Serkan’s place. Gilbert was already there, helping put the final touches on Horace’s world famous quiche.

“Mister Matic, you’re finally gonna get a chance to try this,” Horace said.

“I can’t wait.”

“I promise not to try to kill you guys afterwards. Not this time. Maybe in the next reality.”

A dark-skinned man who could only have been the man of the hour wiped his hands on a towel and presented one for Mateo. “Don’t mind him. Even being around me doesn’t stop him from remembering the alternate timeline. Hi, I’m Serkan Demir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You as well. I hear you’re gonna save our lives.”

He looked almost, but not quite, bashful. “That’s the plan. But for now, do you think you could do me a favor and set the table? I have to go out and find my daughter.”

“Not a problem.”

The five of them, along with Paige, had a lovely breakfast together in a nice little dining room. Everyone already knew pretty much everything about him, and each other, so only he needed to get to know them better. As Cleanser would have it, the special running apparel that he had worn during the 16 Blocks Tribulation had originally belonged to Serkan. He was a locally famous racer in the 2020s who participated in this fascinating competition known as City Frenzy. Teenagers would race across the city, using not only speed, but also parkour and and gymnastics. They didn’t have the same starting points, nor the same finish lines. Apparently, Serkan had won a few times, and it was during one of these races when he literally fell into the world of choosers and salmon.

Serkan was known as a chosen one, a special and incredibly rare breed of temporal manipulators. They were akin to salmon, but instead of being controlled by the powers that be, they were created by choosing ones. He didn’t know which chooser had made him what he was, but whoever it was had made no obvious effort to actually control his actions. He was always, at least seemingly, free to make his own choices. He said, however, that he had this feeling that he had been created for a very specific purpose. In fact, he had never needed to bother with any sort of anti-aging techniques, or physiological upgrades. His rate of aging had been slower than usual since he first became a chosen one.

“If you’re a good person,” Mateo began, “and you’ve only ever done good things, then I suspect I know who your choosing one is.”

“Who might that be?” Leona asked, not convinced.

“Well, I’ve only ever met one good chooser. There are those who are rather neutral, like Dave, or even decent, like Baudin. But I’ve only seen the one who has ever actively tried to help.”

“Meliora,” Leona said, because they could read each other’s minds. That didn’t mean she completely agreed with his hypothesis.

“Ah,” Gilbert said, shaking his head. “It can’t be her. Choosers only get one...um, chosen one. She already created Lincoln Rutherford.”

“The Gravedigger mentioned him once I think,” Mateo said. “I didn’t know he was all that special. Who is he?”

“He’s helped you quite a bit, actually,” Horace said, wiping his lips with a napkin. “In the other timeline, he was a powerful opposing force for every time I tried to hurt you. He gave your new physicist friend your bag after you jumped to the future in the middle of a train ride, so there would be no evidence that you were ever on it. He took care of your mother and her family in California, and sent you the address to their location so you could save them.”

“Why would he do these things? We’ve never met.”

“It was less about helping you, and more about stopping me. He was one of my prison guards in the other other timeline.”

“Ya know, if you had tried to say all this seven years ago, I would have been confused as hell. But it makes perfect sense. And I guess now it makes sense that people often call her Meliora Rutherford Delaney-Reaver.”

“Exactly, Horace agreed while Leona shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the mention of her name...and her daughter. It was only then that he realized how much in common he had with Meliora, and how much in common Leona had with his own mother, Aura. Both children erased themselves from the timeline, and both mothers had no recollection of a child they had made with a man they had never been with in this timeline.

There was a knock on the door before Mateo could ask more questions. Serkan jumped up to open it. The rest of them could hear inaudible voices, and then he returned with a visitor.

“No!” Gilbert cried.

“Peacemaker,” Horace muttered, technically under his breath, but loud enough for all to hear, including the newcomer.

“We’re not doing this,” Gilbert insisted, providing the oblivious rest of them with no context.

“This will resolve their issues once and for all,” the visitor said, maintaining the vagueness of the conversation.

“He is not ready, Uluru.” Gilbert countered.

“I was waiting for them to come to me on their own,” Uluru said. “Their issues have spread far and wide, and the rest of the choosers are fed up. This is happening.”

“They’re fed up with what?” Mateo asked. “Who is not ready for what?”

“You,” Gilbert began to explain. “You and The Cleanser, Zeferino Preston. You’ve been fighting for too long, so Uluru here has called upon you to resolve your differences in one final battle.”

“A battle?” Leona questioned.

“A literal battle,” Horace jumped in. It’s not a game, or a tribulation. This is physical combat. Sometimes to the death, but that’s not a rule.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mateo said with a smile of exasperation. “There’s no way I can best him, not with all his power.”

“Ayer’s Rock is a special place,” Gilbert continued. “It will put you on equal footing. Either his powers will be removed, or you will temporarily receive everything he has for yourself.”

“I tried to take control of Uluru in the other timeline, but that facility I held you and Gilbert in was as close as I could get.” Horace still seemed upset about it, even though he was a changed man. Mateo tried to imagine him having control over a location powerful enough to remove or bestow time powers. That would not have been good.

“If I do this, the tribulations end?” Mateo asked.

“If you win, he will not be able to harm you ever again. A younger version of him cannot hurt you in the future, and if you allow him to survive, he will not be able to go back in time and hurt a younger version of you. The decision is final. I don’t have to say that this rule applies to you as well, if you lose. I imagine you have no interest in that anyway. I feel the need to note, however, that this is not—”

“I’m in,” Mateo interrupted.

“—optional,” Uluru finished anyway.

“Mateo,” Leona began. “I know this seems like a good idea, but is it? How amazing would that be, for it all to end in one final boss fight. But that’s not how life works. We shouldn’t be playing into his game mentality. We should be trying to escape.”

“This will escape it,” Mateo said. “One way or the other. I know it sounds stupid, but like the man said, he ain’t asking. Just look at it like any other tribulation. This is our life now, ‘member?”

“I ‘member,” she answered.

“I suppose we’ll have to get far enough away from Serkan so you can teleport me there,” Mateo said to Uluru.

“This isn’t going to happen until tomorrow,” Gilbert said while standing up. He placed his hand on Mateo’s shoulder like an overprotective father before his son’s first high school party. “Right?” He gave Uluru a formidable death stare.

Uluru was not happy with Gilbert’s one condition, but also did not look up to a battle of his own. “I suppose I can accommodate this. One year.”

“Come on,” Gilbert said, wrapping his arm all around Mateo’s back. “I have less than a day to teach you everything I know about time duels.”

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