Microstory 2040: Wisconsin

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My fathers’ bad luck continued as they were trying to fly from Alaska to New Jersey. They were supposed to make a stop in Chicago, which is where my papa used to live, but that’s not what happened. On their way on the first plane, another passenger got really drunk, and started misbehaving. He was causing problems for everyone, and being really rude, so the pilot had no choice but to land the plane at a different airport to let him off. They even had to have the police waiting for him there. The closest one was this little airport called Southern Wisconsin Regional Airport. It wasn’t really built for planes like that, so it took them a long time to get through all the stuff with the police, and start trying to fly again. By the time they were ready, they couldn’t leave anyway, because of a snowstorm that had formed over Canada. If that guy had just not gotten drunk, they would have arrived in New Jersey on time. Honestly, it’s kind of scary for me to think about, though. They had to spend one night in Wisconsin until the storm passed, and then they were able to fly again. By the time they made it to New Jersey, though, the child they were going to adopt had already gone to another family. They were too late. They would have to wait a few months longer. They had to wait for me. I, for one, am glad that they did.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 13, 2398

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Everest disappeared shortly after their conversation, which was probably one of the major reasons he cut it so short in the first place. He acted like he saw it coming. He lasted much longer than Erlendr and the old man in the pocket dimension, though, suggesting some level of control that one can wield over the process if they know to do so. It’s hard to tell how much Everest does or doesn’t know, but there is no guarantee the next error they encounter will be just as strong-willed. To be honest, it’s been so long, Mateo forgot about that whole thing. He’s the cause of their banishment from this realm, meaning he is still the worst person for the job. If they want to pursue this endeavor further, someone is going to have to come back down from the AOC so Alyssa doesn’t have to shoulder the burden alone. Marie has tentatively agreed, but she’s finishing some work up there at the moment, so she definitely won’t be returning today.

It has ended up being a good thing, because a certain prisoner of the federal government has asked to see her, and Mateo doesn’t want her to deal with that. He’s on his way to visit Fairpoint Panders himself. He tried to escape into Canada after he took a bunch of people hostage, and tried to kill Marie. Normally, the Canadian courts would handle the trial, since that’s where he was when he was caught, and the crime went down in Palmeria, but the Canadians don’t want to touch it, plus all non-Palmerian victims were Usonian citizens. This was likely disappointing news to Fairpoint as the Canadian judicial system is known for being highly respectful to prisoner’s rights.

Mateo sits down on the good side of the glass, cleans the phone with a disinfecting wipe, and puts it to his ear. Fairpoint doesn’t have any wipes on his side, because this isn’t Canada. “I can only see one visitor at a time, and I’m only given thirty minute sessions, so say whatever you wanna say, then leave, so I can speak with Marie.”

“I’m not here to warn you about how you’ll treat Marie. She’s just straight up not coming. You’re dealing with me today, and only me.”

“You’re not on my approved list. They shouldn’t have even let you in the building,” Fairpoint spits.

“I work with SD6,” Mateo reasons. “I can get into any building I want.”

“I want to talk to Marie.” He’s desperately trying to keep his temper in check, because he knows they’ll yank his visitation time if he gets too riled up. He’s rattled...flustered even. He has spent the last month in his cell, planning every word he wants to say, preparing contingencies for every possible response out of her. This is wrong. It’s all wrong. Mateo’s ruined it, and Mateo couldn’t be happier.

“She’s not coming. She never will. Over the years, we’ve had a lot of enemies—”

“I’ll tell them about the baby.”

“What?”

“She was going to have a baby, but now it’s gone, which I know was something she wanted, so either she’s incredibly lucky, or she figured out how to get a secret abortion. Not even her position within the government could get her out of this, so you tell her that if she wants me to keep quiet, she’ll come here and give me thirty minutes!”

Mateo is foaming at the mouth. He takes out his phone, which a normal visitor would not be allowed to keep. He keeps staring at Fairpoint as he’s dialing Winona. “On second thought, I’ll take that transfer. I want him moved to the black site immediately.”

Microstory 1829: First, Youngest, Alone, and Female

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Until recently, I was the youngest person to have gone to space. I’m still the youngest to have landed on the moon. In 1966, I was working as a test pilot for the Canadian Air Force, having racked up thousands of hours of flight time, and apparently impressing the Usonian government with my skills. At the time, only three nations were engaged in space flight, and Canada was not one of them, but the Usonian Space Department was looking to show the world that they were inclusive. They reached out to us to help realize humanity’s dream of reaching the moon within a year. By then, the primary crew of astronauts were already picked, and all of them Usonian. I was part of the B-team, so I would only be called up if something went wrong. Something did go wrong, and they needed me to pilot the craft. No one ever thought that I would go on the mission, so I didn’t receive quite as much training as I probably should have, but I was confident in my competence, and ready to do my country proud. I still wasn’t meant to set foot on the moon. Three people made the trip to lunar orbit in 1967, but only two were intended to go down. Someone had to stay up and keep the module running while the landing party did their thing. Unfortunately, something else went wrong. The USD wanted the crew to be inexperienced in space. A few people had already been to Earthan orbit a few times, but they wanted this new mission to start with fresh faces. No one had really done any studies until then regarding the psychological effects of being in outer space for long periods of time, trapped in a tin can, with so little stimulation. This was the longest mission yet, and the most difficult. Our commander couldn’t handle the pressure. He had a breakdown which threatened the safety and continuation of the mission.

The lander pilot wanted to go down on his own. There was a contingency for this, and the USD was prepared to agree to this decision. The problem was that our commander was exhibiting erratic behavior, and I was not qualified to help him through it. The two of them knew each other. They understood each other. And the lander pilot was the only one who could make sure the commander didn’t jeopardize the lives of all three of us without realizing what he was doing. If he landed, and the commander did something to sabotage the module while he was gone, all three of us would die. Because of all of this, the USD decided to abort, and bring everyone back home, but the other pilot wasn’t happy with this decision. We went all the way out there, spent millions of dollars, and inspired millions of people to reach for greatness. Someone had to be the first to land on the surface of the moon, goddammit, and if it couldn’t be him, there was only one option left. Me. The USD wouldn’t hear of it. Back then, it wasn’t illegal to be a woman, or anything, but many people who were huddled around their TVs and radios—and some in the control room—didn’t want the history books to record that a female Canadian achieved this milestone, especially not alone. He didn’t listen. While he protected the commander from himself, I climbed into the lander by myself, detached from the module, and flew down to my destiny. I planted both feet on that gray regolith at the same time, and spoke some of the most famous words in history, “I stand here, lighter than ever, smiling at the Earth in the distance, not as a Canadian...not as a woman...not as a pilot. Today I represent the world, and the spirit of humankind. I am not the first explorer, and I cannot wait to watch the next ones lead us further into the future.”

Microstory 1027: Howard

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Have you ever noticed that we write addresses backwards? If I want to send a letter to my friend at 123 Main Street, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, I make it harder for the mail service to deliver by writing it out like that. We should start with the general, and become more specific from there. The first person at the post office only cares about which country it’s going to. They see Spain, they throw it in the Spain bin. They see Canada, they throw it in the Canada bin. Once it gets to Canada, the next person only cares about which Province it goes to, so put that on the next line. Next person after that only cares about the city, and the next which post office, which means it’s only the last one who cares about which specific building, or unit, it’s meant for. I had this dream that we would completely revamp our delivery system, to make it make more sense. Now, I don’t really know how it works. Maybe I was always wrong, and no worker has any problem hunting for the line that matters most to them. Or maybe the entire address is relevant to everyone who sees it. I just thought there was a better way, but Viola helped me get over it. It’s an insane idea to change something that’s been so ingrained in our way of life for centuries, but she never treated me poorly for it. She gently explained to me that the problem with the way we write addresses has less to do with the order, and more to do with the spacing. The system would work just as well top to bottom, if only we separated the geographical regions more clearly. Anyway, this was really just one carefully explained example of these ideas I have in my head that normal people don’t think about. I obsess over small inconveniences and inefficiencies that most people gloss right over. There are better ways we could be doing things, but in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter much. Viola taught me that, but didn’t let on she was doing it. She taught me that life is not so much pointless as it is too complicated. A lot of good has come from humanity’s advances over the last few centuries, but some have made things worse. Why do we have health insurance? It’s an unnecessary step towards healthcare. We came up with these ways of treating maladies and other medical conditions, and then we muddied it up with a bunch of erroneous programs that do nothing but cause mess. I was getting so bogged down with trying to make this life more efficient, that my life itself was inefficient. Viola helped me shed what she called the extra from my life. Minimalism is key. That’s not to say I’m going to go live in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, and drink milk straight from the udder. But I’m also not going to play by all of society’s rules. My life is going to be simple, and fulfilling, and I owe that to Viola’s ageless wisdom.

Microstory 923: Manchester Orchestra and Others

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When I was in eighth grade, I found one of my sister’s CDs, and decided it to play it. It was a band called The Offspring, and they immediately became my favorite. Not long after, my birthday came up, and I was surprised by two tickets for a concert, which included Fenix TX, and Sum 41 as openers. I didn’t like them, because they were taking up time I felt I should have used to hear the music I came for. I later warmed up to Sum 41, but I never listened to that other one. As you might have ascertained, this was my first rock concert. My father went with me, presumably to protect me, which I need. I was a tiny little thing with undiagnosed autism, and I don’t think I would have been able to handle the mosh pit. And I think that because I only lasted long enough to hear one song from The Offspring before I couldn’t take any more of the jostling. The bouncer—who was really cool, and gave me a bottle of water, and a genuine Offspring guitar pick—lifted us both over the barrier, and let us walk around to the back to finish the show. I loved it, though I wish I had learned more the songs. I’m not sure in what capacity Napster existed back then, but we almost certainly didn’t have it yet. Acquiring music was a difficult process that required thought. And money. Flash forward six or seven years, and The Offspring are toppled as my favorite in an upset by contender Muse. They only lasted for a few years before a stray tweet led me to this Vancouver-based group called Mother Mother. I even spent about $800 on a trip to a film festival in the middle of nowhere Ontario to see them live. I wasn’t meant to spend that much, but the cheaper rental car company required a credit card, which I did not have, because I only ever buy things when I have the money for it in my account. Seriously, I once owned a car, and even though I made payments, I could have technically bought the whole thing in cash. Anyway, jump once more to 2017 when my radio station introduces me to Manchester Orchestra, which changed my favorite band list for a third time. I guess liking bands with the letters “M” and “O” is just my M.O. I do like lots other music, too. Here’s a quick list (in no particular order): Imagine Dragons, ABBA, Eminem, Vanessa Hudgens, AWOLNATION, Carla Sendino, Alt-J, Caroline Rose (even her country-rock album), Joywave, Selena Gomez, Misterwives, Brie Larson, Dredg, and almost any disco. My tastes are pretty eclectic, and I still love all my former favorites. I wonder whether there will be a fifth favorite, and what that is.

Microstory 880: Lights Out

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You do not know my name, for even if we once met, no recollection of me survived what happened. I was hiking in the Amazon rainforests, just because I had the money, and wanted the experience. I’ve climbed great mountains, swum in freezing waters, and seen all four corners of the Earth. It took a great deal of effort to get to this point in my life, but it was something I always wanted. I have little technical expertise myself, but I can spot talent from a lightyear away, while wearing a blindfold. I managed to befriend a nerd I went to high school with. I could just tell he was destined for great things. He got all his homework done on time, and aced his tests, but never seemed to pay any attention to the instructors. He just wrote furiously in his notebooks, and when we grew older, he started typing on a little keyboard attached to an even smaller screen. He wasn’t taking notes, which was what those little computers were designed for. He was writing code, and even though I didn’t understand it, I knew it would become something important. As it turned out, it was the software side of the framework of the early internet. Everything you do online today, and the way you do it, was at least partially based on his vision. And I found him first; together we built what people today would call a startup. Then when it was all finished, we sold it to the Canadian government, and went our separate ways. Until the incident, we would email each other on a regular basis, and were on excellent terms—which you probably didn’t expect from this story—but I have not seen the man in person in probably a decade. He used his half of the deal to fund more technological breakthroughs, and I started to travel.

Everyone wants to find a way to make as much money as possible, doing the least amount of work, in the shortest amount of time, and in this I succeeded immensely. I don’t want to brag, but I had it planned out well, and I followed through perfectly. This. Is. The. Life. And the last thing I did with that life was to bring about the greatest change this world had ever known, and I’m not talking about the time I helped invent the internet. I am not writing this, and you are not reading it, because this story cannot be told. In my final moments, I entered an uncharted cave, which was just one of many in the region. I found a small puddle of water on the floor, and in my reckless bravery, I sipped at it until it was gone. I immediately felt a disquieting stir, but it was not until later that night, after I had left the cave, that things really started to change. Millions of tiny lights began fluttering inside of me, trying to get out. Instead of going up through my mouth, they decided to tear through my skin; one by one, two by two, and so on, at an accelerated rate. It hurt at first, but then I became numb to it, for now I was more ethereal light than I was man. As the last of the lights escaped, I saw a flash of all of time and space in this universe, including the introduction of a new species, called the bladapods. I was giving birth to the first of these creature right now, and after the last light floated to the trees to continue their development, I stopped existing. While no one will ever know what I did, I live on...in them.

Overwritten: Lima (Part V)

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A year after the whole train debacle, Reaver asked me to do the same thing again. He said that the program ran perfectly, and that I should only have this one more mysterious assignment. I knew that he was trying to kill Mateo by knocking a train into him upon his return to the timeline, but I didn’t know how to fix it. Brian had a brilliant idea for it, though. He—oh my God, it’s so crazy—he strung up bed sheets across the tracks after the last stop before the bridge. He tied them loosely enough to safely be pulled right off by the oncoming train, but bright and colorful enough to be noticed so that the train would be delayed long enough for the conductor to get out and try to figure out what the hell was going on. And it almost worked. Brian watched from the trees as a good samaritan removed the sheets not long before the train’s arrival. If he had tried to tie them back up, he would have probably been caught. Instead, he hopped in his car and sped off towards the bridge, hoping to possibly save Mateo in the nick of time. He ended up not having to. Apparently someone time traveled onto the tracks just before the train collided with him and spirited both him and Leona away. We weren’t the only ones looking out. And just how widespread was this time travel thing?

I continued to be a good little security officer for Horace Reaver for the better part of a decade before he asked me to do anything else untoward. He never seemed to suspect that I was against him. I got the distinct impression that he now thought focusing on the success of his conglomerate was what was going to get Leona to fall in love with him again. It obviously wasn’t working, and then the unthinkable happened, from Reaver’s perspective. Leona disappeared one day, never to be seen again by anyone but me and my surveillance equipment. She began to return to the timeline only once a year, at the same time as Mateo Matic. I’m not sure why she became one of us, but Brian assumed it was an indication that some mysterious entity was controlling all of this. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to contact these theoretical people, or if I should avoid them at all costs.

In the year 2031, Reaver asks me to keep watch over a trio of people he’s kidnapped. Leona becoming a time traveler really set him off, and he was no longer even pretending to be a good person. He was turning into the man I remembered from the other timeline. I was changing history, but I wasn’t making it better. We were in a warehouse on the edge of San Diego. It was abandoned and falling apart. Most of the letters for the climate control company sign had fallen off, leaving only LIMA remaining. I take a look around when I arrive, first trying my best to ignore the hostages. I inspect every nook and cranny, as it were, for any hidden cameras or spies. Nothing and no one. We’re alone. I move over to the captives and attempt to unlock their chains, but no such luck. Reaver didn’t leave any keys.

I do not recognize the other two, but the boy is Leona’s brother. “What are you doing?” little Theo asks me.

“I’m trying to free you,” I say. Isn’t it obvious?

“Why would you do that?” the man asks.

“I’m not interested in what Horace Reaver wants,” I answer. “I’ve been trying to stop him for decades.”

“What do you know of him?”

I take a risk. “He’s a time traveler, just like Mateo and Leona. In an alternate timeline, he killed a lot of people. I’m trying to stop him from doing that again.”

“How do you know about Mateo and Leona?” the woman asks defensively.

“He’s been sending me out to spy on them. He didn’t tell me why, but it wasn’t hard to put the facts together.” I quit trying to force the chains off of them. “To what end did he kidnap you three?”

“Just to get us out of the way,” the man says. “Mateo is his real target.”

“He’s holding you ransom?” I ask, giving them a bottle of water from my pack.

“I heard him talking on the phone,” Theo says. “He has no intention of helping our family find us. It’s just a trap. We would have been left to die here if not for you.”

I look at my watch. It’s nearly midnight. “The two of them will be back soon. Where are they going to appear?”

They hesitate.

“Look, my guess is that Reaver already knows, but I don’t. So you can either trust me, or you can let them die. I can help. Please.”

Theo breaks down. “They’ll jump into the timestream in Huntsville, Ontario. There’s a motel not far from there where Reaver left instructions for him to get to us. But like I said, it’s a trap. Reaver is using that just to kidnap them next.”

I take some time to process the information. I could try to warn them through the motel, but who knows what they know? Does Reaver own them? Are they evil spies? There’s no way to know, but it’s possible, and this time, I’m not just being paranoid. I can trust no one. I need to find a way to protect Mateo and Leona without Reaver knowing about it. “How exactly is Mateo getting these instructions?”

“Reaver emailed information to the concierge, or whatever. I think they’re just supposed to hand it off to them.”

“It was his mistake doing all this in front of you.” I pull out my phone and start typing up a new document before looking up the email address of the motel.

“What are you going to do?” The woman is not convinced that I’m on their side.

“Leona Delaney is an incredibly intelligent woman. I’m betting if I leave her a clue, she’ll follow it and do the right thing. All we need to do is make it look like they ignored Reaver’s instructions because they don’t believe him.”

“What does that mean?” Theo asks.

“I’m amending whatever information Reaver emailed the motel with the directions to this warehouse. If I’m right about Leona, they’ll find their way here on their own. It’s the quickest way to alter the timeline without Reaver knowing why, because I can’t straight up tell them that you’re safe. We don’t know who Reaver has posted at the motel. We just have to hope they believe he’s changed his mind slightly.”

“What?”

“Just...trust me,” I say. “I know it’s confusing.” I send off the email so that the motel can add it to the packet left for Mateo, then turn back to the other three. “You look hungry. I’ll go get you some food if you promise me one thing.”

The man eyes me suspiciously. “Promise you what?”

“You cannot tell Mateo or Leona that I was here. I have to stay in character. When they get here, I’ll be out of sight. Just let them free you and leave me out of it.”

“They’ll wonder why Horace Reaver gave them this address.”

“And they’ll never know the truth. You got that? I cannot continue helping them if they know I’m there. I can’t risk Reaver finding out about me, and the fewer people that know I’m a mole, the more effective I am.”

“Okay,” the woman says authentically. “We understand.”

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Crossed Off: Isolate (Part VII)

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Starla and Alec arrived at Marissa’s house just before dinner time. Things were a bit awkward at first, so Mrs. Mendegale decided to make things more awkward by starting the conversation. “So, Miss Wakefield, I am pleased to finally have proof that Marissa’s penpal isn’t a forty-year-old man in his mom’s basement.”

Alec nearly spit out his food.

“Mother!” Marissa chastised.

“Don’t insult the company, dear,” Mr. Fanchild complained to his wife.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” Mrs. Mendegale insisted.

Alec nodded and spoke before finishing his green bean, “that’s what I’ve been trying to convince my friends.” He squinted and jabbed his fork towards her. “You and I understand each other, Mrs. Mendegale.”

She smiled, and for a few minutes, the only noise heard was the sound of silver on porcelain.

Starla caught Mr. Fanchild eyeing her wheelchair a few times, unable to resist his curiosity, but also unable to voice it. “I have a rare degenerative disease,” she volunteered. “They haven’t even had time to name it after someone yet. The full name is something I can’t pronounce, but that’ll probably change to Wakefield Syndrome in a few years.”

“I’m sorry, I was staring.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she told him genuinely. “The disease operates with a bottom-up structure. It started in my toes and has worked its way up to my waist. Eventually, it will reach my neck and I’ll be fully locked in. The doctors aren’t sure whether I’ll even be able to move my eyeballs or eyelids.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, but this time for a different reason.

“Starla, Alec, and I are going to meet some friends at the skating park,” Marissa said, changing the subject. “We’ll need to leave soon.”

“I wish you wouldn’t go there,” Mrs. Mendegale said. “It’s far too dangerous. And what about her wheelchair?”

“Well, it will roll down the ramp a lot better than my feet do, so I think she’ll be all right.”

“That’s not funny.”

“So is your face.”

Mrs. Mendegale closed her eyes and sighed before looking to Alec, the only other adult in the room besides her husband. “She learned how to think for herself last week, and we haven’t figured out how to reset her to her factory settings.”

She gave her mother a playful grimace as the only reply.

Marissa pushed Starla down the sidewalk while Alec meandered in the street nearby. “I’m not sure if I’m up for a large crowd tonight,” Starla admitted. “Do you think there will be a lot of people at the skate park tonight?”

“We’re not going to the skate park. We’re going to The Dust Fountain.”

“No one goes there,” Alec said. “Why are we?”

“I have a present for you.”

“And what might that be?”

“Well,” she began, “Tristan found that superhero league in Missouri, and Sendoa met that cloner guy in France, I figured it was time for me to contribute.”

“You don’t mean...”

“I do. I too found someone else with superpowers.” Marissa reached down to give Starla a hug around her neck. “It would seem that you’re all coming together like a jigsaw puzzle. I say that it’s meant to be.”

“Marissa,” Starla whined. “I came here to isolate myself from these people.”

“She’s not a these people. She’s my best friend.”

“Therasia?” Alec guessed.

“That’s right.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about her before?” Starla asked.

“You asked me to keep your secret, and she asked me to keep hers. But you’re here now, and I’ll be the last to admit that death comes for us all, but I kind of feel like you should meet her before you stop being able to speak. Don’t wanna be morbid or anything.”

Alec looked like he was planning an escape route.

“It’s fine,” Starla said to calm him down. “She’s right. I’m not going to be myself for much longer. I have very little to lose. Maybe René was wrong. Maybe I’m the one person who doesn’t have to fear people finding out about abilities. What’s the worst they could do to me?”

Alec moved over and stopped the wheelchair by the armrests. “I can think of a thing or two, and I’m not the psychopath. Imagine what they could come up with?”

“If I do imagine that, am I not one of the psychopaths?”

“Starla,” he said in his fatherly voice.

“You can leave,” she said.

“Like hell,” he said, releasing her.

They came up on the Dust Fountain, an ancient relic of a time when the local government was attempting to revitalize the area decades ago. The commissioning of the large fountain nearly bankrupted them. If not for a rich man dying during his travels west who fell in love with the town and bequested his fortune to it, the fountain could have been all that remained. Instead, it was left almost perfectly alone; a kind of holy ground to act as a reminder of what might have been. It was never cleaned or maintained, and was only allowed visitors on rare spiritual occasions, but still it remained standing tall. Through rain and wind, it never crumbled, and no one really knew why. “Won’t we get caught here?” Alec asked as they approached. “I assume people walk by all the time.”

“Sure, if we’re above ground,” Marissa agreed. “But we’re going downstairs.”

After they had finished lifting Starla’s chair into the fountain, Marissa took a water bottle out of her purse and stuffed it inside the mouth of the large horse statue. “Therasia’s cousin discovered this,” she went on as the water drained from the bottle. “Rain can’t reach it accidentally, but some kind of catch is released when it fills up with enough water.” Once the bottle had been emptied, the entire statue twisted and revealed a winding ramp. “She’s hoping to use this as her superhero lair some day. No one else is aware of its existence, as far as we can tell.”

“Oh, my God,” Starla said. “This is amazing!”

“It’s like it was designed for you. You would think they’d have built it with stairs.” She took control of the wheelchair and headed down backwards, keeping Starla from rolling too quickly. “We have to hurry. Once the water drains all the way, the statue closes back up on its own.”

“This is brilliant,” Alec admired.

“Be prepared to say that again.”

They reached the bottom of the ramp and found themselves in the lair’s antechamber. Lit torches lined the wall, yet it was unrealistically cold. A girl walked in from a door on the other side of the room. She outstretched her arm while she was still a good distance from them, as if to shake their hands. “You must be Alec and Starla.” A large flame slowly grew from her hand and crackled softly. “My name is Therasia Jarvi. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

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Crossed Off: Confidentiality Agreement (Part VI)

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Once Kathleen had all of the information, she put on her game face and took charge. She ordered Tristan to go fill the car up with gas so that Alec could take a shower, then she started packing Starla’s clothes for her. Reading Kathleen into the situation was probably the best decision she ever made. She had become instantly protective of Starla. She zipped up the suitcase and carried it over to the door, looking outside to find that her brother had not yet returned. “Who is the closest geographically of your confidants?”

“Well, that would be Marissa in Winnipeg, Manitoba,” Starla answered. “Why?”

She looked at her watch as Tristan was pulling up. “You can trust these people, right?”

“Well, yeah, I can. But Marissa is even younger than me. I’ve become friends with her parents, but it took some time and convincing.”

“I hope it was enough. You should go up there, as long as the people from Hudson aren’t aware of her.”

“They’re not, but I’m not so sure about this. I mean, that man told me to stay away from people I don’t already know.”

“You barely know them. You’ve not met this woman who knows languages, and who knows who else they’re bringing?”

“Don’t you trust Denton?”

“No. It’s not like we’re married or anything.”

Starla had no argument, but still wasn’t sure this was enough to run off. She was just getting comfortable in Kansas City. She wasn’t being stalked by the government, or some other shadowy organization. She just wasn’t certain about a small group of normal people who hadn’t given her reason to fear them.

Kathleen could sense her persistent hesitation. “Tristan found this guy and his people in the area, right?”

“Yes.”

“If for nothing else, you should put some kilometers between you and them. Like, maybe around 1300. If one of them is worried about the others, then we should be worried about them too.”

“That makes sense.”

She looked at her watch as Tristan was walking up the steps. “I’m sure Alec is almost out of the shower. It’ll take you about seven hours to get there, so Tristan and I will help you get into the car now.”

“Thanks for this, Kathleen.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re family.”

After asking Marissa's parents for permission to visit her in person, Starla received a sort of telepathic call from another of her confidants, Sendoa Michel who lived near the edge of Bayonne. He had just gotten back home from a day of looking for work and was trying to relax on his balcony. Hey, Starla. How’s it going?

Not the best. I’m closing ranks, and going to see Marissa. You haven’t told anyone else about us, right?

Of course not, he replied. Tell me what happened.

Well, what happened with you?

We’ll get to that later.

Both Tristan and I found other people with abilities. One of them told me that I should basically not trust anyone else for the rest of my life.

That sounds kind of harsh, but I can’t say that I’m totally against it.

Are you surprised that I’m not alone?

He shrugged his shoulders. It would be a grand statistical anomaly if you were the only one.

Starla agreed. Did you need me for something?

Well, I have been having this strange feeling about a meeting that’s coming up. It’s a super secret job offer of some kind. I’m not supposed to tell anyone that it’s even happening, and you telling me that you’ve just discovered others like you has only got me worried more.

Why would it worry you? Besides it being so mysterious? she added.

I don’t think it has anything to do with you, but when they contacted me, it just reminded me of when you and I first met, and when I first met Alec. Ya know, just the way they talked.

I don’t understand.

The job is in Usonia, Starla. It’s a factory in the middle of nowhere in a place called Brazil, Indiana. Hell they want with a guy like me? I hear the owner is originally from Spain, but his hometown is over an hour and a half away. I’m concerned that he may know about you.

Maybe you’re just suspicious of everyone you meet, like I’m becoming now.

Yeah, maybe.

Do you want me to stay for the meeting? Starla asked.

If you’re not busy.

I’m just riding with Alec. Here, say hi. Starla pulled Sendoa all the way into her body. “Hi, Alec, it’s Sendoa.”

“Nice to meet you, Sendoa. Are you one of Starla’s multiple personalities?”

“What?!” Sendoa yelled from Starla’s body.

“I’m kidding,” Alec said with a laugh. “We’ve all become so uptight and serious. Let’s try to get back to the joy of life.”

Sendoa didn’t reply.

“Never mind. Go back to whatever you two were talking about. I’m just the driver.”

“Right...” Starla and Sendoa went back to France together. That was weird, he said.

We are all really stressed out, she explained.

There was a knock on the door.

You’re meeting here? she asked.

Yes, just another weird thing. Stay here with me, but don’t say anything.

I won’t, I promise.

Sendoa opened the door and let two men inside. They introduced themselves as Kip and Alonso Silva.

“I’m sorry to overstep, but I’m not sure what this is about,” Sendoa admitted after offering them drinks and a place to sit.

“Honestly,” Kip said, “I’m not sure about this either. But Mister Silva here thinks that you could help us.”

“Don’t be rude.” He turned to Sendoa. “A friend I knew in secondary school has mentioned you before,” Alonso said. “She told us how you cared for her in college, and kept her secret about how she grew up with Amadesin parents.”

“I am known to be a confidant of sorts, yes.”

Starla accidentally took control of Sendoa’s body when she laughed, which meant that, from the visitor’s perspectives, he was the one laughing. Sendoa took control back and coughed apologetically. “Sorry about that. I have many secrets.”

“We’re counting on that. And we’re hoping you could keep one more.” Alonso gave his associate the floor, “Kip?”

Still hesitant, Kip went into his pitch. “We are in need of further employees at our factory. One of our managers is leaving us because her wife got a job on the other side of the country. You see, Mister Michel, we have an extremely low number of employees. Most of production is...automated. We simply must retain at least eleven people in management, or we fall apart. It takes a very long time for us to hire someone new under normal circumstances, but we do not have a lot of time. We would need you to start right away, and we need to be able to trust you from this day on.”

Alonso continued the pitch, “I remembered our mutual friend talking about you, and knew that you were our best option for our confidentiality requirements.”

“Look,” Sendoa began, “I actually know what it’s like to work somewhere that required confidentiality. I won’t even tell you about it. That’s how reliable I am. I assure you that, whatever it is, I can and will keep trade secrets from the outside. I could leave the job later with bad blood, and I still wouldn’t tell anyone what I know. You most certainly can trust me.”

Alonso looked to Kip who gave a nod of approval, clearly still worried that they weren’t able to process him the way that they were used to. “Okay, then I suppose it’s time for me to show you,” Alonso said, standing up.

“Show me what?”

“Please do not freak out,” Kip urged him.

Alonso pulled a hair out of his own head and blew on it. A confused Sendoa lost track of it as it drifted away, but soon it showed itself more clearly. A gray light shone from the floor and expanded until revealing a door out of which Alonso’s clone came out and shook Sendoa’s hand.

Tristan had been right about René’s people, and Starla had been right about there being people with special abilities that didn’t have anything to do with just having a better brain. He’s even more amazing than I am, she said through their psychic connection.

“This is the secret you would have to keep,” Kip told him. “This is why we have so few employees. Most of the work is done by guys like our friend here.”

Sendoa smiled widely. “When do I start?”

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