Showing posts with label Westfall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Westfall. Show all posts

Sunday, September 1, 2024

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 11, 2463

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Carlin McIver knocked on the door, and waited patiently. Kineret opened it, even though she knew that he was on the other side. She looked him up and down as if she hadn’t seen him before. Then she sighed, and looked behind her where her boss was working. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Have you?” he prodded.
“I’m steadfast in my convictions.”
Carlin peeked over her shoulder at the Primus. “Or is that just what you would have her believe?” Kineret didn’t believe in using the Westfall boy as a bioweapon any more than he did, but this was what the world government was trying to do, and she had to fall in line. As influential as she was in her position, she wasn’t a god. He was only hoping that she would eventually openly admit her disapproval, so it would at least be on the record.
“Did you need something, Carlin? Because if you’re not going to change your mind about sending one of the sick Ochivari to their homeworld, the Primus has nothing to say to you.”
“When was the last time you even had an Ochivar as prisoner?”
“It’s true, it’s been slow, but we’ve never gone longer than eight months without a new incursion. We’ll get a new test subject soon. I’m hoping that you see reason. We have a saying where I’m from, all’s fair in love and war.”
“That it’s poetic does not make it true. Where I’m from, we call that an aphoroid, not an aphorism.”
“Goodbye, Carlin.”
“Madam McArthur, Madam McArthur!” a man in uniform yelled from down the hallway. He was running towards them.
“Slow down, soldier. State your business.” She was being protective of Naraschone.
The soldier caught his breath. “We found ‘im. The weapon.”
“Where was he, an oceanic island?” Dutch Haines, a.k.a. The Dragonfly Slayer. He was the carrier of a disease that seemed to only affect Ochivari. They wanted to send him to the aliens’ homeworld to wipe them all out, but some people believed that to be a war crime, including Ramses Abdulrashid, who decided to put a stop to their hopes and dreams by abducting Dutch, and hiding him somewhere. Since Ramses only existed in the timestream once a year, even if they had the means of extricating the information from his brain, they would only ever have twenty-four hours to get it done. For two years now, all available resources had been funneled into the manual search. They had evidently finally been successful in that mission.
“No, he was living in a cave above the arctic circle. He was actually only about forty kilometers from the nearest settlement. He was apparently quite comfortable there, albeit alone.”
“Is he on his way here?” Kineret asked
“Yes, by chopper.”
She looked at her watch. “Team Matic comes back in three days. We have two to make this happen if we don’t want further interference. Divert them to the Ochivari prison. The Primus and I will meet them halfway.” She looked back at Carlin. “You’re coming with.”
“Oh, no thank you,” Carlin said.
Kineret just darted her eyes to the soldier, who knew what that meant. He took Carlin by the shoulders, and escorted him away.
A half hour later, all three of them were in Carlin’s jet, along with Primus Mihajlović, as well as a small strike team, and of course, the pilot. He didn’t love them using this for a mission that he did not agree with, but it didn’t really belong to him, and anyway, that wasn’t the problem here. They were likely planning to coerce him into transporting Dutch to the Ochivari home universe, and he was worried what their methods would be. This was a civilized society, with laws and everything, but they didn’t all make a whole lot of sense. For instance, a prisoner of war could only be held for a certain amount of time before they were legally entitled to a return trip home, but the laws determining what the prison could do to them within that time frame were a lot less clear cut. Did Carlin qualify as a war prisoner, or were they just going to call him a guest, and in that case, were there any laws dictating their treatment of guests? Were there other loopholes? And what about Dutch’s rights? Did he have any, or was he nothing more than a walking, talking, Sunday chillin’ weapon of genocidal proportions?
They arrived in the Subarctic North, and landed by the prison. Dutch was already there, taking a nap in something called the VIP room. Carlin was dragged in there too, which served to wake the former up. “Hey, dude.”
“You been doin’ okay?” Carlin asked.
“Same as it ever was.”
“That can’t possibly be true.”
He just shrugged. Dutch was a carefree guy who once worked at a plant nursery, and seemed to take everything that happened to him in stride. Surely there was a limit to that. Surely dying in a strange universe after spreading a deadly disease to upwards of billions of aliens would be enough to wipe that kind smile off his face. Once the Ochivari realized what was happening to them, and that Dutch was responsible, were they just going to let bygones be bygones? Probably not.
“You know this isn’t right, right?”
Dutch shrugged again. “They need me to go to that universe and kill all those funky-lookin’ people. They need you to send me there. Way I see it, we just keep refusin’, no matter what they do to us, their plans ain’t happenin’.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Carlin lamented.
Dutch stood up, and opened his arms up. “Come on. Come on,” he urged quietly.
Wanting to keep this oddball on his side, Carlin approached, and accepted the hug. It was actually kind of nice.
“With this warm embrace, I donate to you...half of my confidence.” He pulled his chest away, but kept his hands on Carlin’s shoulders. “It’ll grow to full-size before too long, like a lone lobe of a liver.”
Carlin unwillingly released a chuckle, and looked away as he struggled to tamp down his own smile. “Man, is that how livers work?”
Dutch nodded with a wider smile. “Yeah.”
Carlin breathed deeply, and separated fully from Dutch to pace the room a little. “There’s a way to put an end to all of this. I could just send you home. I don’t know about you, but it sounds like the safest place for you. Do you want that?”
“I don’t know that that would be a good idea. The government is aware of your power. Why would they put us in a room together, knowing what you’re capable of? Seems sloppy to me.”
Carlin looked over at the door. “You’re right. Sloppy, or...part of a plan.”
“Have they experimented on you? Maybe they have a way of overriding the navigation, or just suppressing your powers altogether.”
“Yeah, that’s...that’s certainly possible. This whole situation is fishy.”
“I’m willing to try if you are.”
“It’s too risky. You can’t go within two meters of an Ochivar without making them sick. By the time you can run away, the damage will have already been done.” Carlin shook his head disappointedly. “They’re playing mind games with us. They know we can’t try without being absolutely certain. We’re in this room together either because they have indeed screwed with my powers without me realizing it, or because they knew we would be worried about the possibility, and end up stuck. Either way, it’s hopeless.” He had a way of finding out the truth, but it wasn’t a peaceful solution, and it would burn a pretty big bridge. Plus, a lot of things would have to go right for him to even be in a position to gather the truth. He didn’t want to threaten Naraschone’s life anyway. He didn’t agree with her, but he wasn’t about to take her hostage for it.
Kineret stepped into the room. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah, it was locked,” Carlin reasoned.
“Right, but you could have sent him home.”
“Or is that what you wanted all along?” Carlin questioned.
Kineret didn’t understand why that should be so nefarious. “Yes, we figured you would want to do that.”
“Did you mess with my power somehow?”
“We would have no clue how to go about that. We took blood samples from you years ago. The power isn’t in your blood, it’s in your brain, and I think you would remember if you had had brain surgery.”
“Would I?” Carlin pressed.
Kineret exhaled, annoyed and tired. “Your powers are fine. We don’t need him anymore. Elder came up with a new plan. All we required were more blood samples from him. His job is done now.”
“Blood samples for what?” Dutch asked.
“The virus,” Kineret began. “We’ve abandoned our plans to attack the homeworld. We’ve decided that our only concern is our world. So we will be distributing it to our people, and our people alone. It won’t end the war, but it’ll get us out of it. And I guess that’ll just have to be good enough.”
“You’re gonna spread a virus to the whole planet? You don’t see a problem with that?” Carlin asked her.
“Obviously I do, but Elder is confident that it will not mutate into something that can harm humans as well.”
“Oh, right. Elder Caverness, the security guard with no background in epidemiology. Glad you got your top people on it.”
“I swear,” Dutch said, “I never donated any of my confidence to Elder.”
Kineret winced, having no clue what that meant. “Send this man home. This will be your room alone, and you’ll only be given rations for one person. Your job for the government is done as well. You’ll be permitted to leave when Team Matic does, if they should ever come back with a way to travel freely.” She unceremoniously left the room.
Carlin tried to open the door, but it was locked again.
“We can try to share the rations,” Dutch suggested.
“No, she’s right. There’s no way they could have messed with my power. I’m from another universe, it’s not that easy. Very few people in my universe are called metachoosers because they can do things like that, and they’re always on the run because of it. If any rando scientist could figure it out on their own, that wouldn’t be such a problem.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone with these people,” Dutch said sadly.
“I’ll be fine. I should have sent all three of you home when you first got here. I was under the impression that you were here for good reason, but...well, I suppose that’s still true. I guess I just never thought it would be for a distasteful reason.”
“There’s a parable from my world. A man was late for dinner after he was working in the fields,” Dutch began to recite. “When he did return, the dog had eaten his portion while the family was asleep. So he returned to the fields, and picked some vegetables to eat instead. That night, a storm rolled over the lands, and destroyed the fields. And the farmer, he, uhh...well. Hold on. A farmer went home for dinner, and the dog. The dog... What was the dog doing? There—there was a war. And the farmer’s son...”
“Dutch?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I get it.”
“Okay.”
Carlin didn’t get it, but Dutch was never going to get to the end of this story. It was time for him to go. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Carlin relapsed him back to his universe, or at least he attempted it. It was unclear whether he ever made it at all, because seconds later, Dutch walked through the door. Westfall brought him here, so this was where Westfall wanted him to be. There was no getting around that. They still didn’t know who was the mysterious force running the show, but there was probably no overriding that kind of power.
Kineret and the government believed them, and allowed them to stay in the VIP room together, one portion of rations each. A few days later, Ramses and Olimpia came back. They were not happy about what the Primus had decided to do. Ramses looked over the data as best he could, but he was no epidemiologist either. He understood how profoundly unpredictable the variables were, though. Just because Elder thought he knew how the virus worked, didn’t mean he was right, or that things wouldn’t change in the future. Just the very idea of a difference between the future and the past had to be thrown out the window. They may not see the consequences for centuries. The people of Stoutverse may never know the damage they caused. But Ramses knew one thing, Elder’s plan didn’t work the way he wanted it to. Humans were going to die. That was how the multiverse worked.
Ramses also wasn’t down with the whole VIP room in the prison thing, so he swiftly teleported them out of there, and placed them somewhere safe. While not particularly luxurious, they had everything they needed on the island, including one important thing. If Dutch was ever going to find his way back to his universe, it likely required constant access to a door.

Sunday, May 19, 2024

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 27, 2448

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Once Ramses was safe and sound in the Garden Dimension with the rest of the team, the Horticulturalists decided that it was time to kick everyone out. Even though the Memory Magnolia had apparently made its own decision about sending Marie to rescue their last remaining member, she was the one who partook in the fruit in the first place. She made that decision, and these were the consequences of it. Everyone else was being kicked out just for being associated with her, and they had no problem with this, because they needed to stay together, and as pleasant as the garden was, it was time to get back to work. Before they left, they warned the Horticulturalists that Bronach Oaksent and the Exin Empire were seemingly trying to get into the garden themselves. Nothing else made sense to explain why Ramses blowing a hole through the hull of Ex-42 would send them down the river towards the Magnolia conflux. If they wanted to protect their specimens from those who would truly harm it, they needed to seriously rethink their defensive strategies.
The Team was now back on Earth. They asked to be returned to the Vellani Ambassador, which was parked and invisible in the Goldilocks Corridor, but no one in the garden was capable of accommodating them. Whatever was indeed responsible for this detour in the first place was located at that end of it. They could try to investigate it themselves, whether the Horticulturalists wanted them to or not, but first, they had to figure out how to get back there. Their first thought was to seek help from Team Keshida on the Jameela Jamil, which could get them to that region of space in under five hours, but they didn’t respond directly. A voicemail message from an apparent quantum autoresponder informed Leona that the JJ was on a mission in the Miridir Galaxy, which was where Dardius was located. Quantum communication allowed FTL signals to reach vast distances, but the technology still had its limits. If they were in Andromeda XXI, they were too far away to talk to in realtime, and once they did receive the message, it would take them a month to return to help, assuming they weren’t too busy there to return at all. They were surely that far away for good reason.
Leona popped her lips several times. “Welp, back to the Nexus?”
“Yeah, the Nexus seems like the right call,” Mateo agreed.
Everyone else seemed amenable, so they teleported to the Pacific Ocean Nexus, directly inside the building, which was still neutrally buoyant just under the surface. “Venus Opsocor, are you there?”
No one responded.
“Venus, can you hear me?” Leona reiterated.
 Still no response.
“You two on the outs?” Ramses asked.
“I’m sure she’s a very busy superintelligent god,” Leona presumed. She walked up the steps, and tried to enter the control room, but the door was locked. She tried to just teleport to the other side of it, but it didn’t work either. Venus was icing her out. She must have wanted her to stay here for some reason. She let out a frustrated sigh, and banged on the door before turning around to go back down the stairs.
A man opened it from the control room, bleary eyed, and trying to block the lights from hitting him. “Can I help you? It’s a little early.”
“Do you live here?” Leona questioned.
“Yeah,” he answered, like he had every right. He blinked a lot, and looked around. “Wait, do I? Where the hell am I? Why am I inside?” He jerked his head around to look back into the control room. “Where is my apartment? Who are you people? What did you do to me!”
“Please try to relax, sir. We did nothing to you. We did not expect to find you here. What is the last thing you remember?”
“Uh, I fell asleep on the couch. My couch, in my home. Now I’m suddenly here. I could have sworn that when I heard you banging, I woke up on my couch too. It was here a second ago. Could someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m going to ask you a few questions, sir, and they may sound weird, but trust me, they’re important. Just answer them honestly. We are not going to harm you, or use anything against you. We’re here to help. What year is it?”
“It’s 2024, dumbass.”
“Sir.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t assume that you’re the bad guy here. I’ve seen this move a million times. A group of people wake up in a cube, or on an island, or a weird building in the woods with a giant window-slash-mirror, where monsters watch you for fun. Or it’s a torture chamber, or a shower stall, or a spaceship, or a lobby in heaven—”
“Sir,” Leona had to repeat yet again. “You’re talking about the You Wake Up in a Room trope. I don’t think that’s really what’s happening. We came here on purpose, we just didn’t expect to find anyone else, and there is a way out. Let’s keep going. We know the year. Where is your apartment? What city?”
“Silver Shade. Silver Shade, Kansas.”
Leona nodded. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s in Mineral County,” the man added.
There was no such place as Mineral County as far as she knew. “I should have asked this before, what’s your name, friend?”
“Baylor. Baylor Alexanderson.”
Leona proceeded to introduce herself, and the rest of the team.
“Those are some interesting names you got there,” Baylor mused. “Do you have any more questions for me, or are we gonna be able to get out of here?”
Leona consulted her watch, even though she had already looked at it as soon as they left the Garden Dimension. “I have some bad news, Baylor, it’s not 2024. It’s 2448, and given the fact that you’re from a city and county that doesn’t exist here, I can only assume that you’re in the wrong world. Given your description of answering what you thought to be your own door, my guess is that you went through the Westfall, though it’s not supposed to take you somewhere this altered. You’re supposed to think that you’re still on the same world. At least that’s how it was explained to me.”
Baylor stared at her for a moment. “What the shit are you goin’ on about?”
“I know it’s disorienting, but I’m still going to do all I can to help you, if Venus would just kindly respond to me!” she increased the volume of her voice, as she looked up towards the Nexus drum. She could never quite tell where Venus’ voice was ever coming from, but it always sounded like it was from above. “Hello?”
“Wait, is this one of those—wadya call it—Voldisil things?” Baylor asked. “Are you a fabled Voldisil?”
“I’ve never heard of that either,” Leona admitted.
“I don’t believe in ‘em,” Baylor explained. “They say that this kid out east can heal people, but I don’t put stock into such rumors. I’m sure it’s all a big hoax. I mean, he charges rich people a ton of money, and then he gives his poor patients some of that money, in addition to healing them? Does that sound right to you?”
“I don’t know, sir, that’s not my world, as I said.”
“Well, if I’ve been sent through the dimensional planes, or whatever, how do I get back? Tell me what to do.”
“You could...try to...close the door?” Leona suggested. She didn’t know how it worked, or whether it could ever be undone.
“Is that a question?”
“I’m not an expert.”
Baylor sighed, tipped an imaginary hat at her, and then closed the door.
She tried to open it again right  away, and was able to this time. Baylor was nowhere to be seen, and the lights inside the control room were starting to come on. “Guys, I think it worked. Or it sent him somewhere totally different.”
I’m here, Leona,” Venus’ voice answered.
“Venus, how long ago did I ask for you?”
It has currently been eight point seven seconds.
“L-O-L.” Mateo laughed at the coincidence.
“It’s been longer than that for me,” Leona told her. “We’ve been interacting with a man we believe to have come through Westfall.”
I did not register his appearance, but that’s the one thing that could have interfered with my temporal association, and my response,” Venus said.
“That’s okay, I think he’s back home. We were wondering if you could do the same for us. We left our ship in the Goldilocks Corridor, around a planet called Ex-659. Have you heard of that? It’s about 16,000 light years away.”
I never have,” Venus answered.
“There may or may not be a working Nexus on a planet called Ex-371. You and I spoke while I was there sixteen years ago.”
I have no recollection of that. Either my memory was purged, or it has not happened to me yet.”
“Okay.” Leona thought about it. “Can you take us to the Dardius Nexus? I have the term sequence.”
I’m afraid that the Dardius Nexus is presently offline at this point in history.
“That’s disturbing.” Leona took a deep breath, and centered herself. “Then we have one last option. Could you please send us to the Nucleus?”
“Captain, that’s not safe,” Marie warned.
“It’s the only place I know that can travel such distances, unless you can put us in touch with one of the Al-Amins?”
Marie put her tail between her legs.
“Venus?” Leona went on.
I have heard of that,” Venus said. “I can send you there, but there is no Nexus there in 2448, so you will not necessarily be in control of where you go next.
“We rarely are,” Leona responded.
Step into the cavity, please.
“We appreciate your support,” Leona said genuinely as she was taking up the rear.
The light rained down from above, and dispatched them to purported the center of the universe. They did not exit to another Nexus, as Venus had explained. They were in the same expansive room that Marie had come to while she was searching for Angela, which they both confirmed. It was mostly empty now. A man started to jog over when he noticed them, but then he suddenly stopped, and continued more slowly. “You came here on purpose,” he said to them, almost accusatorily.
“Yes, it’s only a pit stop,” Leona answered. “We’re trying to get to the Goldilocks Corridor.”
“I’m afraid we don’t take requests here,” he tried to explain. “My name is Intake Coordinator Pontus Flagger. Our only job here is to keep you healthy, fed, and comfortable, until the universe decides where to put you.”
“The universe doesn’t decide anything,” Leona argued. “There must be someone in charge, even if it’s an intelligence beyond our comprehension.”
“Like I said, the universe,” Pontus repeated, as if they were talking about the exact same thing.
Leona sighed. “Have you recorded any patterns? What kind of people come here, where they go, where they’re standing when it happens; that sort of thing.”
“No pattern detected,” Pontus said apologetically. “We’ve been looking for one.”
“How long have you been measuring?” Leona asked.
He acted like that was an impossible question to answer.
“Right. Time.” She looked over at her crew, who were waiting patiently for her guidance. “So, you got a suite for us, or something?”
“Right this way, sir.” Pontus spun around, and began to walk away.
“That won’t be necessary,” came an electronic voice behind all of them. His identity was being masked by an actual mask, as well as a sound distorter. He wasn’t alone either. Thousands of black-clothed stormtrooper types were standing behind him, all pointing their space rifles at the crew. They looked exactly the same, in the same positions, as if there was only one of them, and he had copy-pasted himself over and over again. Maybe that was the truth.
“Funny, I didn’t hear you come in,” Leona said.
“Um, they didn’t,” Pontus replied. “We have alarms for mass arrivals.”
Leona nodded, and lifted a hand. She sent a ripple of light towards the crowd, using her own holo-powers to disrupt and fade the image of the holographic army.
“Shit,” the only enemy there said. He reached over to his wrist, and switched off the ruse. Leona wasn’t quite right. There were actually still two of them, rather than only the one. “I need to regain the higher ground.” He shot Leona right in the chest.
The thing about these special suits being bulletproof was that they prevented most projectiles and energy blasts from piercing the layers. They couldn’t protect the wearer from everything, but they were extremely advanced, and Ramses had already bolstered their strength with a little bit of tinkering. And anyway, Leona fell to her back, and slid across the floor, because the concussive force was still strong, and she wasn’t magnetizing her boots at the time, not that that would have been the safer option.
“You are all now conscripted into the Resonant Parallel Coalition, whether you like it or not,” the shooter demanded in his weird little voice.
Leona stood back up, almost entirely unhurt, and arched her back to get the kinks out. She looked back with the confidence befitting a captain of her calibre. “Oh, no thank you.”

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Microstory 2089: To Break Me Out

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I made a mistake. I left a hard copy of my map, and other pertinent information regarding the mysterious slew of missing persons, in my attic room at my landlord’s house. She found it, and called the cops on me. They say that I’m a danger to myself, and possibly to others. I was able to stop today’s disappearance by destroying the Westfall portal, but I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow if I can’t get myself the hell out of here. They’ve locked me in this all white room. It’s not padded, but we all know that they think I’m mentally unstable. Fortunately, they never found my emergency social box in my special underpocket. It’s a USB stick-sized computer with a small screen that only works through voice transcription. It takes a really long time to make sure that neither I nor the device has made any mistakes. It has two buttons. One opens up transcription, while the other accepts other commands, like punctuation, and moving the cursor. A wheel on the side scrolls through the text and menu items for file management. Forgive me if I ended up missing something. I bought this at the internet cafe a long time ago. Posting here is a secondary function of the device, but it was mostly invented for protection. If you’re mugged, and they take your regular phone, this will allow you to make a call, or send a text message without all the proverbial bells and whistles. I don’t need to send a message to anyone, though, because everyone I thought I could trust has turned against me. I just need to get my story out, and maybe one of my readers can do something about this total misunderstanding. I’m not crazy. I really am from another universe, and I really do need to stop others from accidentally being spirited away from it. Please, you have to break me out. I’ll do anything; pay anything, even if I have to do it in installments. I don’t belong in this room!

Wednesday, February 21, 2024

Microstory 2088: Ill Keep Fighting

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I didn’t go into work today, and I didn’t ask for anyone to fill in for me. I just have so many lives to save, I couldn’t think about anything else. Here’s a summary: I saved someone’s life yesterday. I don’t know who it would have been, but I finally broke the pattern. A missing person a day, but I stopped it. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again, though, or my work would be over. The pattern can easily start over again, which is why I had to do the same thing today at the next location in the pattern. Fortunately, now I know what must be done. I have the prior missing persons plotted on a map, which is how I noticed that they always disappear in a spiral formation, which means it’s relatively easy to predict where the next disappearance will happen. It’s a not insignificantly sized radius, but I don’t have to worry about staking out the whole thing. All I have to do is find the epicenter. As soon as I step into it, the portal to the interversal conduit is ripped apart. My current theory is that I’m contaminated. The bulk doesn’t like me anymore. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve traveled to so many worlds already, or because I used to have superpowers, or maybe because Westfall decided that I should be here, and I’m not allowed to leave. It doesn’t really matter, but I put a bad taste in the mouth of the cosmos, which now gives me the power to destroy portals. I’m a pathogen, and it’s immune to me now. This is good for this situation, because that way no one else can accidentally fall into it.

After I did the same thing today that I did yesterday, I went back to the neighborhood from yesterday. I started knocking on doors, showed them the pictures of a few people who have already gone missing because of all of this, and asked them if they knew where their loved ones were. Like I said, there’s no way to know who it might have been taken if it turns out I failed. A lot of people slammed the door in my face, but that’s okay. They don’t have to tell me. Even the possibility that someone they care about has gone missing will force them to check. If any of them had come up short on their respective headcounts, I would have heard about it by now. Nothing has been reported, which means that I’m succeeding. All I have to do is keep doing what I’m doing with the portals. Even if I have to do it forever, I won’t have to keep canvassing, because I’ll eventually be confident that I’m successfully putting a stop to the disappearances. My boss called, but I didn’t pick up. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to my real job. I’ll scavenge for food in dumpsters if that’s the only way I have to survive. This is all my fault, and I can’t take any breaks. I’m the only hope that these innocent people have. I’m not much of a cartographer, nor any sort of artist, but I’m working on a way to upload the future disappearance locations, so you can share it with everyone you know in the area. Ill keep fighting, but it would be even safer if people just stayed away from the danger zones entirely anyway. It’s just like when the bomb squad is called in to disarm the bomb, it’s not like they stop evacuating the building, right? Well, this is a bomb, just like any other, except it only ever claims one victim. I’m trying to bring that number down to zero in the future, but I could use some help.

Tuesday, February 20, 2024

Microstory 2087: Into the Epicenter

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I went to the place where I knew someone was going to disappear mysteriously, and immediately started getting a weird feeling. The more I walked, the stranger I felt. I eventually passed out of the blast radius, and had to turn around. Through a little trial and error, I was able to determine the center of everything. There was nothing there but empty space in the middle of an alleyway, and I didn’t think that someone would necessarily disappear from that exact spot. They would have to be incredibly unlucky to happen to pass over it at the perfect moment. It was going to happen, though, and I was the only one who could stop it. I realized after standing there for a few minutes, keeping my head on a swivel to see if anyone else was in the area, that I had already felt this before. It’s what I felt when I first came to this universe. The incident was being replicated, one person at a time. This could either mean that they were going to Havenverse, which is where I last was before this world, or somewhere else entirely. This was Westfall. I mentioned that in an earlier post. It’s one of the things that takes people back and forth through the bulk. Most people don’t even realize that anything has happened, because they end up on a version of Earth sufficiently similar to their own. I have no clue how often this occurs, or in what universes, but this seems excessive. There always seems to be a purpose to it. The person who’s taken has something to accomplish in the next world over, even if they don’t understand it. It’s unlikely that this need perfectly matches up with the spiral I noticed on the map. No, I did this. I have caused Westfall to malfunction, and as I was saying, I have to stop it. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped into the epicenter, where I felt a rush of energy sweep upwards from my feet, and dissipate in the air above me. The strange feeling that’s indicative of Westfall went away with it. I think I destroyed the interversal conduit just by stepping into it. If there’s a way to escape, it could be through one of these, or it could be that I’m the only one in the world who can’t access these conduits. I don’t know, but there have been no new reports of any missing persons today. It may take some time for a loved one to realize it, but I have high hopes that I fixed it. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again tomorrow, though, so I’m going to do the same at the next spot. This is going to become tedious and tiresome, but it’s my responsibility.

Thursday, January 18, 2024

Microstory 2064: Naïve and Trusting

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software
I had a phone call with a guy who claimed to also be from another universe, and it was pretty interesting. Out of respect for his privacy, I’m not going to tell you his real name. He hasn’t consented to me talking about him. Though, I think he would kind of be okay with it. How can I put this? He’s the opposite of a conspiracy theorist? He isn’t paranoid about the government, or anything like that. He’s very naïve and trusting, which is why he responded to my ad in the first place. As it turns out, he’s been looking out for any message like mine, which is why he receives the Kansas City Post even though he lives in Chicago, among reportedly tons of others. Surprisingly enough, I’m not one hundred percent certain that he’s not also from another universe. Have you ever heard of the Mandela Effect? Of course you haven’t. You’re too boring to come up with psychology terms like that. Basically it refers to a phenomenon where people believe something is true that is not, like maybe that a particular mascot has always worn a hat, when in fact, the hat never existed. Maybe you remember a character from an old TV show having a brother, when what you’re probably thinking of is an episode where he pretends to be a neighbor’s brother so they can get a discount at the arcade. I just made those up, but you get what I mean. That’s essentially what may or not be happening with my new Chicago friend. He wasn’t talking about all these crazy differences from where he supposedly grew up. There are lots of little differences, like street names, and the biggest companies in the world. All of these can be attributed to poor memory, or more severe mental health issues, but they could also mean he came through Westfall, and for some reason, is aware that it happened. I will need to speak with him more to get a better understanding of what he’s been dealing with. No valid conclusion yet.

Sunday, February 5, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 32,398

Asier doesn’t come to retrieve Mateo after the next break from realtime. The stasis pod hatch opens on its own ten thousand years later, so Mateo steps out to head for the master sitting room. It’s empty, which he takes as an opportunity. Looking around to make sure that no one is spying on him, he creeps over to the globe, and opens it up. It’s empty too; the Omega Gyroscope has been removed from it.
“She knew she couldn’t trust you,” Bhulan reveals.
Mateo closes it back up without looking at her. “I just wanted to see it again.”
“Uhuh,” she says, not believing him. “It’s hers, you know. As long as the Gyroscope is in use, the user can do whatever they want with it, and no one can take it from them until the current objective has been fulfilled, or they give it freely.”
“It can’t be stolen, got it.” He steps away from it and sighs.
“I can be convinced not to tell her you came straight here to steal it.”
“I wasn’t stealing it, I was just going to borrow it.”
“For what purpose?”
“To get back to my family.”
Bhulan chuckles. “That thing can’t do that for you. I mean, technically it can, but not on its own. People seem to think that its power is limitless, but it’s not. It can alter the physical laws of the world that it is in. It can’t turn you into a bird, and it can’t send you forward in time. At best, it would give you the option of jumping through time, but you would have to figure out how to actually accomplish that on your own.”
“What if I asked it to alter the world so that psychically-powered wormholes capable of time travel open up when conceived up by someone who wants one?”
She smiles. “That’s creative, but you’re not psychic enough. It doesn’t alter people, I mean, not really. Like I said, it can’t turn you into a bird.”
“No birds, no psychics. Understood.”
“Anyway, we’re having a pool party today, if you wanna come. We can print you a swimsuit. I bet you’ve never worn one that fits perfectly.”
It seems weird to have a pool party with five people, three of which are related, but he follows her anyway. They’re in the short course pool today, instead of the Olympic-size one, and it is packed full of party-goers. Who the hell are these people? “Are they holograms, androids...?”
“Oh no, they’re real,” she claims. “Have you ever heard of Westfall?”
“So, they don’t even know where they are?”
“They think that this is a rich community’s disaster bunker.”
“Isn’t that what it actually is anyway?” Mateo suggests.
She just rolls her eyes. The three of them aren’t rich in the traditional sense, but they command all of this real estate, and all power is concentrated in them. They’re rich.
“Did you ask for them to come here?” he asks. “Spit it out,” he encourages when she hesitates to respond.
“It’s the Gyroscope. This is a glitch. Tamerlane thinks it has something to do with its user. He was actually the first Westfall victim to show up, and he just never left. Without them, there would be nothing to do here. Most of the time, when we’re not in stasis, it’s because alarms have reported that someone is here who shouldn’t be. One of us is then tasked with leaving the stasis chamber, and containing the intruder.”
“That’s why Danica is so freaked out, because the whole point is to prevent all this scifi stuff from being able to happen in this reality.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“But intruders like this don’t happen in the other realities, right?”
“Not to this annoying degree, no.” She gestures towards the kids laughing and screaming in the water, thinking they’re pulling one over on a wealthy snob.
“Maybe it’s wrong to think of it as a glitch. Maybe it’s more of a consequence. The Gyroscope is like a vacuum, sucking up all temporal energy, and pushing it away from the world, but that opens tears in whatever separates this universe from others. Things are supposed to go out only, but occasionally, something comes the wrong direction through these tears. I mean, maybe it’s even the temporal energy itself that’s doing it. If you were trying to suck out all the carbon, it would be fine, but what you’re doing is taking power away from us, and giving it to them, which they then use to sneak in.”
Bhulan slowly turns her face away from him in thought. “Hmm.”
“I don’t sound like an idiot?”
“Usually, yes, but that was surprisingly...not entirely ridiculous. What we need to do is move the temporal energy out of the world, and put it somewhere where we can contain it, where it can’t affect anyone. Like a...pocket dimension?”
“Or how about Durus?” Mateo offers. He’s not doing it to be nice. Durus is a rogue planet that is not very far away from Earth in celestial terms, and if he and his friends can get back to the AOC, it won’t take them long to make the journey. From there, the smart team members will surely be able to come up with a way out of the Third Rail, with virtually limitless power at their disposal.
“No, there are too many people there. Well, not in this reality, of course, but in others, and that would put them at risk of accidentally crossing over. One errant portal, and the system breaks down.”
That’s okay, it doesn’t have to be Durus. As long as Mateo knows where it is, they can get to it four and a half billion years from now. By then, these people will have tossed it to the back of their minds so they can focus on other issues. Once this new plan works, they’ll stop worrying about it, which will allow Mateo’s team to exploit it. “I suppose Dardius is out.” He doesn’t want them choosing it, because it’s too far away from here. The AOC can’t make it in a reasonable amount of time.
“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna do that.” She looks over at him. “In fact, we wouldn’t want it to be anywhere where there are people. That includes you. You’re trying to trick me into telling you where we’ll end up sending the temporal energy.”
“I don’t understand the problem,” Mateo argues. “You want us to leave the Third Rail, we want to leave the Third Rail. To me, that sounds like our objectives are aligned, but you keep acting like I’m the frickin’ enemy.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Yeah, it’s way complicated, and I’m just a big ol’ dum-dum who couldn’t find his arms with his hands. Well, if I’m no longer needed, I think I’ll go take a nap. I haven’t slept in a long time, because the time jumps give me a huge case of FOMO.”
“Mateo...”
“No, it’s okay, I understand. Good luck with your little power vacuum.” Holy crap, power vacuum? Is it really that obvious? Did he just help himself realize where they end up dumping the temporal energy?