Microstory 1684: The Squadron

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The last time I talked about this universe, I kind of made it seem like the war that the natives started against the Ochivari was simple and quick. They lured a ship back to their version of Earth, attacked it, won, and stole it. Of course, the process was a lot more complicated than that, and actually took quite a bit of time. The human confederates that the native Earthans captured were surprisingly resilient to interrogation. This was because they were conditioned not to fear pain, but to enjoy it. It was more than this, though. These ones were young enough to have received advanced medical treatments, which actually scrambled the pain and pleasure centers of their brains. The natives didn’t physically torture them, but they did try to make their stay uncomfortable, by keeping them in small cells, and forcing them to sleep on stone floors. They didn’t starve them, but they fed them very little, and they played loud music while they were trying to sleep. The confederates enjoyed much of this, though, so they realized they had to come up with a new strategy. They put each of them in deeper isolation. Soundproof rooms with no sources of light, and no human interaction, was worse than torture for these people, because it was boring. Still, they didn’t crack immediately. It took months for them to beg to be shown even one ray of sunshine. At this point, they would tell the natives anything they wanted to know. All this time, the world’s various governments were holding a sort of competition-recruitment program. Each nation was expected to supply one of the top experts in their fields. Some countries gave their best engineers, while others their best fighters, etc. They then trained what they called The Squadron to work together, and prepare to fight their common enemy.

By the time the Squadron was ready, so were the confederates, to give up the information necessary to start this war. They contacted the Ochivari for rescue, requesting a whole ship to come for them, but when that ship came, the joint military was waiting for them. Now, this wasn’t the Squadron. Their job had not yet begun. Regular soldiers could handle this mission. All they needed to do first was to get that vessel, and figure out how to use it. They did their best to not damage the ship in the battle, and not kill too many of the Ochivari, but losses were suffered on both sides. To open a portal massive enough to accommodate the ship, a certain number of Ochivari had to be sacrificed, but when the homefront battle was over, that number was not high enough. They would have to breed more. But would such offspring not be innocent? This ethics debate only further delayed the realization of their hopes to start a war. It delayed it for years, all the while, the Squadron, and the rest of the military servicemen across the world, continued to train. They never knew whether the Ochivari would eventually send another ship to investigate what went wrong with the first one. Time travel was confusing. No more Ochivari came through, and by the time they figured out the ethics, the new Ochivari were all considered adults. Not all of them were bad, but enough of them were. These were sacrificed so that the Squadron could go off and attack the Ochivari staging area in Efilverse. The good ones, meanwhile, stayed behind, and were mostly successfully integrated into Earthan society, where they learned to value life, and reject their ancestors’ crusade against nearly all civilization. The Squadron didn’t win, but they never expected to. All they hoped to do was inspire a revolution. They did.

Microstory 1631: Confederates

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In the early days of the Ochivari’s crusade—from their perspective—finding out whether a planet was suited for sterilization was a difficult task. They had spaceships, but transporting these to other universes was problematic. Each individual, with exceptions, will be born with the ability to travel the bulkverse, but they can only transport so much mass. A ship requires a lot of sacrifices, extremely precise timing, and can only happen on the surface of a world with a breathable atmosphere. Basically what they do is gather a bunch of Ochivari who they are willing to let die, and they will all die. While only half of them need to die to open the portal, the destructive force of sending a ship through it will kill the other half as well. The ship, meanwhile, has to essentially fly towards the planet’s surface, and risk simply crashing into it. Many have indeed crashed while trying to figure out this timing. Even a portal large enough to accommodate something so massive will evaporate quickly, so it’s not like they can open one, and wait for the ship to be ready. Once the vessel does manage to get through a portal, and begin exploring the new universe, gathering information takes a lot of finesse. They have to watch any given planet from afar, hoping to understand their history, and predict their future, well enough to determine if they should let them live, or not. They’ve tried to infiltrate the native population, but most people in the bulkverse are human, and not enough cosmetic surgery can make an Ochivar look human. So they walk around in hoods, and hope that no one notices them. They often do, and it causes problems. Fortunately for them, infiltration got easier when they found a group of humans willing to help.

In one universe, the human population of a version of Earth was intentionally primitive. Their technology progressed just as it usually does, but they halted it, and went backwards, in order to protect both themselves, and their environment. Progress seemed to be creating more problems than it solved, including an untenable barrage of wars. The survivors of these wars collectively decided that it was not worth it. Their main drive to come up with new inventions was to make life easier, and even prolong life, but if fighting over resources killed too many people, then it didn’t really make much sense. Without modern medicine, and other life-supporting advancements, the death rate went back to where it was before the world wars. So too did the infant mortality rate. Now, normally, a species such as human will compensate for this decline by increasing the birthrate. They may not even be conscious of it, but a couple will have more children, knowing that some will die. That’s not what happened here. Parents will have relatively few children, and if all of them die, and they can’t pass on their legacy, then so be it. They will die themselves when it’s time—which could happen rather soon without the proper medical treatments—and their bloodline will just end. By the time the Ochivari found them, the population was at about a billion, leaving them well spread out across the globe, and impacting their environment to a minimal degree. Within two centuries, they would have probably become extinct, and they were perfectly content with this. So they understood the logic behind antinatalism, and were eager to help the Ochivari in their cause. They were a lot better at infiltrating other human planets, which led to better intelligence, which honestly, actually probably saved a few worlds from being unduly sterilized when they didn’t truly fit the parameters.

Microstory 827: Worst of Both Worlds

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The world is severely overpopulated, and our leaders have decided that the best way to combat this is death. We’ve tried incentivizing people to have fewer children, but that didn’t work. We tried punishing them for having too many children, and that made things a little better, but we still didn’t have enough resources to sustain everyone. We executed all of our criminals whose offenses suggested the chances of recidivism were above some established threshold. That helped for many years, but then things started getting bad again. Military conflict, blight, pollution. There are only so many safe places to live, only so much room in them, and only so much food to feed everyone. A mysterious collective, known only as The Universe—by their claim that they speak for the needs of the cosmos itself—has come up with the most recent resolution. All other remedies have merely staved off our demise, but they believe this will fix the world, and usher in an era of peace of prosperity. Many just hope it lasts long enough for us to migrate to other planets, or come up with other technological solutions. According to them, in all of history, only one thing has helped cleanse the world of the weakest was war, and so a new one was artificially generated to recreate this scenario. You don’t get to pick side; instead The Universe chooses for you. You’re either provided an allotment of all of the planet’s current resources, including weapons, or you’re given nothing. It is the former’s responsibility to rid the world of those who have been chosen to die. These crusaders are assigned targets, and must complete their missions within some specified timeframe. If they fail, they themselves become targets, and must submit to death. Of course, most of the chased don’t submit so easily, because they have no real motivation to do so. They now have nothing to lose, and will do anything they can to stay alive. Due to a clerical error, however, I was chosen both as crusader, and chased. I tried to get this situation resolved, but they said my only hope of surviving was to accept missions, as any other crusader, as well as try to stop others from killing me. If I refused, I would be stripped of my status, and simply become another chased. This put me in an interesting position; one the Universe clearly did not think through. Armed with the resources of a crusader, but the heart of a chased, I formed a rebellion against the status quo. We started fighting back, and stealing the crusader’s weapons, medicine, and food. But we did not have to do this alone. Just because someone was chosen as crusader, didn’t mean they enjoyed the life, so many of them have joined our cause. Change is coming to this world once again. And I am the spearhead.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 2, 2056

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Another day, another year. There was nothing particularly different about the second of May in 2056, but it felt like a new beginning. They were finished with the whole Horace Reaver debacle, but due to the laws of time travel, there was no guarantee that he would never return in some way. Mateo had already dealt with Reaver’s bomb in the 32nd century, but he was only there due to a glitch. What would things look like when he actually landed in that time period during his regular pattern? Would the world have changed? How many times? For the better? Worse? Leona told him that they would not find out for nearly three years, from their perspective.

The two of them had been so busy with their problems, that they were falling behind on the news of the times. Rainforests are disappearing, fires are increasing, and the whole planet is getting hotter. Traveling anywhere in the world is as easy as driving to work was in Mateo’s time. Computers have gotten smaller. Babies as foretold in Jamiroquai’s Virtual Insanity were a real thing now, designed perfectly by their rich “parents”. As the mooninite population increases, Earth’s population stabilizes, and scientists are beginning to move out to what’s called the asteroid belt. And soon, The Beatles will be in public domain.

“So, about the same?” Mateo asked, jokingly.

“Yes,” Samsonite replied. “Same same but different.”

“Any plans to go out in a spaceship?”

“No, why?”

“The Head Guard said we’ll be going through space soon.”

“I don’t know anything about that. Mayhaps he was referring to another few decades.”

“Mayhaps.”

“What are you two talking about?” Leona asked, coming into the room. They were living back in Topeka. Due to climate change, many people had migrated to the area, but many more were searching for better conditions towards Canada. Housing prices were relatively low, so they were all living together in a nice multi-family home.

“The long and winding road,” Samsonite explained.

“That I can relate to,” she said.

“What are we going to do this year?” Mateo asked.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve not had a job.”

“The Delegator could appear at any moment and give us one, especially since we’re talking about it.”

They all stared at the opposite wall for a few beats. No portal. Good for now.

“Let’s just all have a nice brunch together and see where life takes us.” And that’s exactly what they did. They had brunch, and then they had lunch, then a snack, and then dinner. It was a day of food. They didn’t talk about the choosing ones, or being salmon. They didn’t discuss global issues, or the future. They just talked. About the celebrities of the day, many of them children of the celebrities Mateo and Leona used to follow. They told jokes and made up stories. While Theo was in the middle of a fascinating anecdote about shrinking fish, Mateo disappeared from the table.

He looked to the sky and found two moons gazing back at him through twilight. He was standing on the edge of a gigantic canyon, probably larger than that other one. An ocean threatened to pour into it from behind him. A few aliens enjoyed the evening on the beach. He felt a little heavier, which Leona said might be expected on a different planet. Great. Next time, Mateo resolved, they would have to have a plan of action. It would seem that as long as they kept busy, they were pretty much left alone. But if they ever grew too comfortable, they would be ripped away and thrown into some new adventure. Rule Number Ten, stay active.

“Do you recognize me?” a man asked. It was The Cleanser. Figures.

“I do. I don’t understand how you’re still alive.”

“The timeline where I died was erased when your pattern was disrupted.”

“But how do you remember that?”

“Choosers always remember.”

“Why do you go against the others?”

“They’re children.”

“Literally, or is there more to it than that?”

“As you know, the child of two salmon will be taken from their family and raised by a certain someone. This someone doesn’t do a very good job, and that child will grow up as, not only a choosing one, but...” he trailed off, looking for the words, “but also as kind of a dick.”

“What makes you different?”

“I fell through the cracks.” He shrugged. “It happens. I was raised different, and so I have a different perspective.”

“Who are your parents?”

He smiled. “Too soon.”

Mateo lowered himself to the ground. He was doing it because it was difficult to stand under his own weight, but he also hoped to give the impression that he wasn’t scared out of his mind at the moment. “You want my help for your...crusade.”

“You’re very perceptive. I’ve not heard this about you.”

“I’ve gotten smarter. My—” he stopped himself, remembering what happened last time they were faced with an enemy. “You stay the hell away from Leona.”

The Cleanser held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I got no beef with her. I’m not in love with her from another timeline, or some creepy nonsense like that. I’m just here to talk.”

“You’re here hoping to indoctrinate me.”

“I killed Horace, and all those guards.”

“You’re not doing a great job so far,” Mateo amended his previous statement.

“I feel bad about it. I felt worse than I thought I would; not about Reaver, mind you, but the others.”

“Go back and stop yourself.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I’ve decided to change tactics. It’ll be a lot harder, but I think we can accomplish something...together.”

“Unless you’re telling me that you’re going to stop killing, we’re already done.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I’m trying to put an end to all this; all this suffering.”

“Your problem is with the choosing ones, so why kill salmon along the way? What did we ever do?”

“You were given bad information. Don’t blame The Delegator. He was one of the first of us, and something went seriously wrong with his brain. I’m not sure what, but his mind is all jumbled. That’s why they made him middle management.”

“What’s the good information?”

“There is no difference between salmon and choosers. We’re more like a subspecies of humans. The only reason we seem to be more powerful is because someone, long ago, decided that Generation Two salmon were pure, and so they were given control of their powers, while other people’s powers were suppressed. Not everyone can travel through time, and salmon are just the ones being batted around like a cat toy.”

“Are you saying that I could will myself to control my pattern? I could go back to 2014?” Mateo was suspicious, but hopeful.

The Cleanser paced a little, trying to figure out how to dumb things down for Mateo. “Right now you’re a prisoner. You could walk through the door...but you need the key. The chooser who is in charge of you has that key. So yes, you could go back to 2014, but you would have to steal the key from your captor.”

“In other words, I would have to kill them.”

“Yeah, but first you would have to find out who it was. And ya know they’re...intentionally hiding themselves from you.”

“But we have encountered choosers before. My half-sister, Reaver’s daughter,” Mateo listed.

“Right, but they’re not the ones in charge of you.”

“But they’re in charge of someone, and I could theoretically relay that information to that salmon.”

He laughed, “assuming you could somehow find out who they’re in charge of, you would still need to find a way out of their proverbial jail cell. And then they would have to break you out of yours. If we were being literal, this would be simple. But it’s nigh impossible. There’s no actual cell, and no actual key.”

Mateo nodded, mostly to himself. “So you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“I’m not. You are.”

“There’s a chance,” Mateo whispered.

“I’m going to be contacting you again in a few years.”

“Whose few years?”

“In a few days,” he clarified.

“Are you going to tell me your name first?”

“No.”

Mateo jumped back to the dinner table on Earth, at the exact moment he had left. No one so much as noticed. He decided to keep the detour to himself.

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Microstory 49*: Excerpt from Crusade

“All right, basic plex mechanics; the astral planes are full of matter. They’re full of matter because they exist in compressed space. Now, the lower the dimension, the more compressed it is, which is why traveling across a single planet is exponentially faster than flying between stars. Why is it faster, you ask? Why is more compression better? Well, you see, it all has to do with gravity. Gravity holds us in place. It attaches things together. People to planets, planets to suns, suns together, moving around a galaxy. It’s all about attraction. But thanks to a little human ingenuity, we have ways of subverting that gravity. But we can’t subvert it if it’s not there, or there’s not enough, which is why faster-than-light travel within empty space is all but impossible. These compressed astral planes, however, change all that.

“Once an astral collimator transmits a vessel into a tunnel inside astral space, we use our gravity manipulators to counteract the effects of the gravity from the proverbial astral walls and slide right through. The better we are able to manipulate the gravity, the faster we go. But it’s not instant. It’s never instant. Enter, astral snappers. Though still not instant, they get you about as close as you’re ever gonna get. They form a wedge of astral space, thereby increasing their gravitational pull which we then reverse from one direction and harness from the other to use to our advantage. In other words, the snappers temporarily close the tunnel behind us and in front of us, giving us more to work with. What does this mean, you ask? It means we go faster; much faster. Again, not instant, but pretty damn close. Instead of hours, we could potentially reach another planet in a matter of minutes.

“This, my friends, is what solidifies our status as the most powerful group of people in the galaxy.”