Microstory 2322: Vacuus, October 18, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Condor,

I’m back online. Whew, that took longer than we expected/hoped. Home Day—which I forgot to tell you is what we call the triennial holiday that we observe to celebrate coming out of survival mode after landing on this world—was two days ago. The IT team had some major issues while they were trying to upgrade the hardware. I don’t know much about what they were dealing with, since that’s not my department. All I know is that my systems always get changed over at the end, because I still need to be on the lookout for radiation issues. Our servers were down for almost a month, which we’ve never had to endure before. Again, it didn’t really affect me, except that I wasn’t able to converse with you, so that was annoying. A lot of people had it a lot worse, though. They didn’t plan to have to stop their work for so long. Everybody was happy to have a vacation, but at some point, they wanted to get back to their jobs. That’s their purpose in life, to contribute to scientific advancement, and make a name for themselves. It was too dangerous to leave the habitat most of the time, because everything would have to be done manually, and most of the safety redundancies were gone. So people got a little bit of cabin fever. We even had a lockdown for two days, because they were testing the lockdown protocols, but couldn’t figure out how to get it turned off. I guess it was good that they learned from their mistakes before there was a real emergency. No one was able to leave their designated area for that entire time. Fortunately, I don’t really leave my room anymore anyway, now that our mom is dead. I sleep and work in the same compartment, and I’m all stocked up. Not everyone lives like that. Since I’ve never been able to leave my workstation unmanned for extended periods of time, I have special permission to store an expanded cache of rations. As long as the plumbing, electricity, and ventilation keep working, I reckon I could remain in my quarters for at least two months. It might even be longer with the carbon scrubber that I don’t use, and since I have this packet of seeds that I don’t bother with. Other people like to grow their own plants, but I prefer the prepackaged stuff. Gardening just isn’t my thing, but I could do it if I had no choice. Okay, sorry, I’m rambling again. Let me know how you’ve been. Surely our dad has been able to make contact again by now.

Back from radio silence,

Corinthia

Microstory 2321: Vacuus, September 26, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Condor,

Thank you for the sentiment regarding my job. I’m okay whether it’s important or not. It gives me something to do, and besides, it’s not like I have to sit and stare at the alarm for hours on end. There are other tasks, like making sure communications are running smoothly. I mean the communications between various outposts on Vacuus, not to other planets. It would give me a lot more freedom if I had full access to those systems. I would probably know more about Earth than you! Speaking of interplanetary communications, I should have said earlier that they’re going to be down for the next couple of weeks or so. They’re overhauling the entire system, which is something they do every three Earthan years. We’re still on your schedule, which I’m sure you’ve noticed since I’m dating these messages according to your calendar. That’s not just for your benefit. There are certainly no local periodic astronomical phenomena to base anything off of. Anyway, back to the explanation about the systems. Obviously, they update the software about once per month to make it faster, more efficient, and just better overall. But at the end of what they call a Research Cycle, they also upgrade the hardware, because those software updates stop being enough to keep up with advancing technologies, and operational needs. We have all sorts of anniversaries here. The day we launched, the day we landed, the day the first baby was born on Vacuus. One of these “anniversaries” only happens every three years, because we were on this planet for that long before people finally felt like we weren’t just trying to survive, but actively starting to conduct stable daily research as true Vacuans. I dunno, it seems kind of arbitrary to me. No one day marked the end of survival mode, and the beginning of thriving mode, but it’s a pretty big deal. It doesn’t actually happen until the end of October, but that’s when we celebrate it, so they always want the big overhaul to be finished by then. I definitely won’t be able to send you any messages, but it’s a two-way street as far as the transceiver goes, so your messages to me won’t come through either, and in fact, may not even be waiting on a server somewhere for me to read later. I may not ever be able to read a message that tried to come through during the upgrades. If you do try to send something—as people used to say in the olden days—it could get lost in the mail. I’ll hit you back when systems are up and running again. I apologize for not warning you about this sooner. I just forgot about it, because I have to do so much to prepare as part of my job, and I’ve never spoken to anyone who doesn’t already know everything about it.

Until we can talk again,

Corinthia

Microstory 2320: Earth, September 19, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Corinthia,

That actually sounds like a great job to have. It may not be as glamorous as field work, but you’re gonna outlive all your peers, which is good for me, because now we have more time to get to know each other. I’m in a bit of a different situation. My work is boring, but not because there’s nothing to do; it’s just really terrible. I am our father’s assistant, but only when he’s here. When he’s not, I report to his boss. He’s not a bad guy, but he gives me these tedious tasks that don’t really need to get done. I swear, he asked me to file a batch of documents last year that I just refiled last week according to case number instead of tracking number. For an explanation, while these two numbers are different, they only ever refer to the same thing. One case will always have one tracking tag, and one tag will only have one case attached to it. It doesn’t matter anyway, because everything is electronic, and these are just for backup! That is merely one example, and I won’t bore you with any more. Suffice to say that I would take your job over mine any day. You may never have encountered an issue yet, but it’s quite important, and if something does come up, you could be instrumental in saving lives. Mine is pointless, and utterly redundant. As far as the pictures go, you don’t have to do anything you can’t afford, or don’t want to spend money on. I really mean that. I’ll send you one photo of my place, but you don’t have to send anything back at all. I’m happy just to read your words. I don’t know if I really thanked you for reaching out. A lesser person would have suppressed their emotions about it, or at least waited until they could wrap their minds around it. I want you to know how brave you are for speaking up, and giving us this opportunity. Attached is an image of my quarters, from as far back as I could step, so it would get as much in frame as possible. What you’re not seeing is the shared lav around the corner, and the closet that isn’t deep enough for a coat. I don’t want to complain, though. As I’ve said, I know how fortunate I am to have any of this.

Wishing you were here,

Condor

Microstory 2319: Vacuus, September 12, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Condor,

It’s okay, I don’t mind about the extra message. And yes, I would love to send you photos. I have to limit them, though, and I would ask you to do the same. Excessive data costs money. Each resident is allotted one message per week (to send), which is perfect for the two of us, but only if they’re text only. Again, I don’t want to worry you, I can afford it. Message quotas are transferable, so I can probably snag one from someone else. The other younger people don’t know anyone on Earth, so they don’t use theirs at all, but I don’t want to do that too much. So basically, what I’m saying in the most roundabout way is that I’ll step back, and send you one photo of my quarters. You can send as many as you want. Received messages do have limitations, but it goes by the day, and it only counts if I open it, so I can just wait to view them one at a time. Unless it’s a video. Those are mad expensive, whether they’re opened or not. I’m not even sure we could manage to get a video message through between the two of us. The leaders restrict it pretty heavily. The compression alone takes a ton of energy. We can’t have solar power here, and the fusion reactor is, of course, dedicated primarily to life support and field research. Which reminds me, I never told you what I do for work, or asked you about you. That might sound like a non sequitur, but field researchers are the rock stars of the land. It’s a coveted position, but it’s also the most dangerous. Nearly all deaths are caused by field accidents. It even outweighs death from age-related disease. I never wanted to do anything like that, and not because it’s dangerous, but because of how arrogant and self-absorbed they all are. Gee, I hope no one here reads these messages before they go out. Anyway, I am only a solar flare monitor. You might be asking, “Corinthia, I thought you couldn’t even use solar power all the way out there.” EXACTLY! Sunlight has little effect on us at this distance, but energetic particles still do pose a risk. Even though you’re much closer, Earth is protected by a much stronger magnetosphere. If the sun decides to stretch its legs in our direction, it could have serious consequences for our equipment. Nothing’s ever happened since I’ve had the post, but it’s not an impossibility. The great thing about it is that I just sit here all day, and do whatever I want. The bad thing is that I’m the only one in the position, so I don’t get any time off. When it’s time for bed, I turn up the alert volume so it can wake me up. Again, though, it hasn’t ever happened, so it’s kind of a non-job, really. What about you?

Bored on Vacuus,

Corinthia

Microstory 2318: Earth, September 4, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Corinthia,

I hate that you were so anxious about my reply. It definitely didn’t help that you had to wait a whole week. Damn this blasted light lag! Rest assured now, though, if you keep talking to me, I’ll keep talking back. By the way, I do realize that I sent two messages by the time you could respond to the first one. I’ll try to be better about that in the future. It’s just that I had an update, and I was too excited to wait, so I didn’t really think about it. I don’t know anyone else in space, so every message I’ve ever tried to send has arrived at its destination almost immediately. I hear that researchers are currently trying to figure out how to send superluminal signals, but I don’t know how close they are to realizing that dream, and either way, people like us will probably be stuck with regular radios for the foreseeable future. It would be really cool, though—wouldn’t it—If we could talk to each other as if we were in the same room together? Surely it’s a pretty big priority. We’re not the only two people having this problem. You said that you don’t know much about Earth, but do you know about any of the other colonies? A lot of the rest of the solar system has been colonized by now too. I believe that they were already developing these other bases when your ship was launched, though we were babies, so maybe no one has thought to bring it up to you since then. I remember asking our dad once if we could move to one of the outpost worlds, and if any of them would be better, but he says that life isn’t any easier anywhere else. That makes sense, and now that you’ve described how hard it is in the habitats, I fully believe it. Earth was perfect for us, and fixing it wouldn’t be any more difficult than starting somewhere new. I guess there are no good places left. But we find little pockets of happiness where we can. Because of my father’s respectable position with the dome’s leadership, we’re afforded a larger private cabin. I won’t send any photos now, if you don’t want to send your own, but perhaps we can swap? I would sure like to get a better idea of where you are. Who knows? They might be strikingly similar. Let me know what you can do.

Sorry about the extra message,

Condor

Microstory 2317: Vacuus, August 28, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Condor,

Thank you so much for writing me back. I had so much anxiety, wondering if you would get my message, and if you did, if you want to have anything to do with me. I’m sorry to hear about your world. We don’t know anything about that all the way out here. Well, I don’t at least. I’ve recently learned that I was kept in the dark about my whole family history, so they could be keeping other things from me, for all I know. So it sounds like we’re in the same boat in some respects, trapped with limited movement, in a hostile environment. The difference is that people here are trying to make the world a better place, and it sounds like a bunch of greedy corporations ruined yours on purpose. The last we heard—or I heard, anyway—it was pretty much a paradise. I have a holo-window on my wall. I can change it to anything I want on a whim, but I’ve always kept it on The Blue Marble. It’s the first full-disc image of Earth, and it’s over 200 years old. It’s not the best quality, but I think it’s perfect, because it represents humanity’s ambition, and the spirit of exploration. Plus, it’s nice to pretend that I have a nice view, even though my quarters are on the interior side. As much as I struggle living here, I know that just flying tens of billions of kilometers to this spot is an achievement that proves that we can do great things. We can be better than the atmosphere poisoners. I have faith that things will get better one day, for both you and me, on our respective worlds. I’ve asked about going to Earth many times, long before I knew anything about you, but it’s always been impossible. This was planned as a one-way mission. We’re supposed to die here. Some already have. We don’t have the resources or manpower to engineer a return trip, and I’m sure that the people in charge don’t want that, because then probably too many people would volunteer. I’m rambling, sorry, but that’s just who I am. I’m not sure if I was born this way, or if it has more to do with how I grew up. People here are always so preoccupied with their work. If you want to be seen, you have to be loud, and you kind of have to say it quickly before they get bored, and start to ignore you. Thanks again for responding! Hope to hear from you again in a week!

Love,

Corinthia

Microstory 2316: Earth, August 23, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Corinthia,

My father had to extend his diplomatic mission, which happens all the time—he had already extended it twice before this—but he calls every time, so I was able to confront him about his involvement in our separation. I would have preferred to speak with him in person, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, because there’s no telling how long this will take. We really need that food and the medical supplies, and they just can’t come to an agreement with our neighbors. I believe that he will make every effort to return as soon as possible, though, as delaying a real talk will only give me more time to hear the truth from you instead. He would have rather gotten ahead of the narrative, but of course, we both know that he had every opportunity to fess up, and never did. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to find anyone who may have known our parents back then, but he and I came to this habitat alone a year ago. So far, no one here has been of much help. I did meet a rather old woman who believes that such awful practices were not unheard of four decades ago, and there’s apparently precedent that goes back even further. Back in the early days of space exploration, there were two famous sets of twins who were studied for comparison. One would go up into space, while the other stayed on the ground. That’s how they learned that low gravity changed the immune system, and even genes. There were other twin studies throughout history, such as when one turned out to be really intelligent, and the other not so much. This old woman thinks that these experiments became more ethical over time, but started to backslide as governments lost control of society, and corporations started being able to make up their own rules. It’s hard to know for sure what I can trust about what this woman says, though, as she’s made some more outrageous claims, like that aliens walk among us, or that she once met an immortal mystic man who was born in the nineteenth century. Anyway, I’m quite curious to know more about how Vacuus works. I know that it’s quite dangerous to live on an airless world, but what does that do to people? What kind of laws do you have? Would you call them fair and reasonable? I should think that a mission that included a kidnapped baby would be rife with corruption and amorality, but I truly hope that things have changed since then, and you at least feel safe and happy with the people around you. Write back when you can.

Love (I hope it’s okay to say that),

Condor Sloane

Microstory 2315: Earth, August 21, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Corinthia,

I was so pleased to hear from you, I had to write back to you right away. Unfortunately, my father is out of town at the moment, and unreachable. As soon as he gets back online, I’ll write again with a full report on his involvement in this unforgivable betrayal. I don’t want to dismiss your struggles on Vacuus, but things are not all that great here either. I don’t know what kind of updates you receive from Earth, but it has become a harsh and uninviting place in its own right. The air has become poisoned with a cocktail of chemicals created by a number of competing corporations in their attempt to monopolize the world’s food supply. Some were trying to develop perfect environments for their own crops, while others were attacking their competitors, or they were hedging their bets, and doing both. This has left us with a toxic atmosphere that could take decades to clear up, and that’s only assuming the corporations don’t push on, and make things worse. I live in a giant floating dome on the ocean, which is both sealed off from the noxious fumes, and isolated from the Corporate Wars, which have been raging for 18 years now. That is why father is away at the moment. He and the ambassador are trying to negotiate a trade deal with a nearby land dome. They are running out of space, but we are running out of resources. We’re relatively new, and healthy, but I have not always lived here, and I have seen how bad things can get on the outside. So, sister, I’m not so sure that I should count myself the lucky one. We would both die by opening our respective doors, but at least no one did it to you on purpose. Even so, with all that I have been through over the course of the 36 years that you and I have been alive, I know that I am more fortunate than most people here. There are those who do not even have access to one of the domes. They found pockets of technically survivable air in the deepest corners of the planet, so they don’t die in a matter of hours, but their lifespans are quite short when compared to ours. On a personal note, I would like to thank you for reaching out to me. I never would have known that you existed. Father is not the kind of person who would confess something like that, even on his deathbed. He will be taking a number of grudges and secrets to his grave. Again, I’ll write again once I learn more from him. There also might be others here who know what happened, and exactly why.

Your other half,

Condor Sloane

Microstory 2314: Vacuus, August 14, 2178

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Condor,

I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Corinthia Sloane. No, the fact that we share a surname is not a coincidence. I spent so much time crafting this message, because I didn’t want to shock you, but there is simply no delicate way to phrase it, and no best position in the paragraph to place it, except perhaps not in the first or last sentence. The truth is that you are my long-lost twin. Our parents separated us at birth. I am not certain of precisely why they did this. Perhaps you could ask our father. Tell him hello for me, or screw you, depending on what his explanation is. From what I could gather, they did it as some kind of experiment on nature versus nurture. Again, I’m not entirely sure how they thought this would be an interesting comparison. I’m a girl, born and raised, and I was told that you were at least born a boy, so we’re obviously not identical. What exactly were they testing for, and how did they account for the inherent differences in our physiology? Did they report back to each other regularly? Sadly, I am no longer able to ask our mother further questions. She confessed to me the truth on her deathbed, and has since passed on to whatever hell is somehow worse than this place. To clarify, I live on Vacuus. If you’ve never heard of it. It’s a distant planet in the solar system, taking nearly 42,000 years to orbit the barycenter! I’ve seen photos of the sky from your world, and am so jealous. From here, the sun does not appear as a dominating disc, illuminating all the lands, but a single point of light in the distance. It’s barely distinguishable from the other stars on the firmament. The surface of this planet is uninhabitable, as you would guess. It was the last one that humanity ever discovered, and it took them a very long time to figure out how. It is a cold, heartless place, where we live in stale, recycled air. It’s a wonder that we’ve survived this long, but it could all go up in an instant with a single breach in the walls. I’m exaggerating, but it is pretty dangerous and stressful here. I don’t know what your life is like, but for now, I would count myself lucky if I were you, that you were not chosen as the astronaut baby. I hope this news does not distress you too much. I only found out about you yesterday, and reached out as soon as I was able to sneak into the server room to mine for your contact information. If you are not my twin brother, Condor, please forward this message to him, or at least reply back that I have the wrong address. If you are Condor, please return as quickly as possible as I eagerly await your response. This far out, it takes light about a week to travel back and forth.

Excited to hear from you,

Corinthia Sloane

Microstory 2313: Earth, January 1, 2025

< > Table of Contents

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

Dear Readers,

Let me tell you a story. Roughly ten years ago, the scientific community began to take seriously the hypothesis that a Planet 9 existed somewhere beyond the orbit of Neptune. For centuries prior to that, nonscientific theories popularized the dream of a Planet X, but these were largely based on speculation, and a poor understanding of the data. It was only recently that any evidence legitimately supported the idea of a solar model that proposed such a wild explanation for this missing mass. Ten years from now, advances in astronomical observation technology will prove that a celestial body of significant mass does indeed exist, and that it is currently orbiting the sun about 1200 astronomical units away from us. About 108 years later, fusion rockets will be efficient and powerful enough to deploy a manned mission to the newly discovered celestial body, which they had since named Vacuus. Probes had been sent prior to this, at higher velocities due to lighter equipment, and no concern for life support, but they were all lost. No one could tell why, but their hearts were full of wonder, and the right candidates volunteered for what many called a suicide mission. Eighteen years later, the ship arrived at its destination, and began to unravel the mysteries of this cold, distant world. One of the passengers was a young woman whose mother brought her along when she was a baby. Corinthia Sloane always felt that something was missing in her life, and everything fell into place when she learned what everyone she had ever known had been keeping from her this whole time. She had a twin brother who she had never met. But the real problem was...she might never even have the chance now. The following letters comprise their initial correspondences, each one taking around a week to reach its destination, given the time lag imposed by vast interplanetary distances.

Yours fictionally,

Nick Fisherman III