The Advancement of Mateo Matic: February 8, 2399

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Roeland’s little outburst alerted the authorities to his presence at the quarantine hotel. They ran over right quick to place him in his own quarantine, which will only partially overlap Leona and Tarboda’s. It isn’t until late the next night that they’re able to reconnect in the post-transition lobby. “Mr. Roeland. Do you have time to talk?”

“I do if you have time to tell me what this is.” He pulls his shirt away to show the timonite stain again.

“We’re not sure how it works, or really why. My husband was infected with that—that’s not really the right word, he wasn’t infected. It started out as a rock, and he somehow...absorbed its power. It’s what fueled his ability to teleport to orbit, and install something I now call a leechcraft on a preexisting satellite. The leechcraft was designed to scan the entire surface of the Earth, looking for time travelers. Well, it was only meant to find a specific person, but we think it found everyone, including you and...”

“Go on. Including me, and who?”

“And whoever you’re living with on Vulcan Point.”

“I told you, I’m not living with anyone. I’m alone. Your scanner is wrong. And you’ve still not explained why this thing is on my shoulder.”

“It must have gotten on the scanner, and then got transferred to you during the scanning process. It was entirely unintentional, but as long as you don’t step within proximity of my husband, you’ll be fine.”

“What happens if I do get too close to him?”

“It would transport you to another universe. There you would find all sorts of objects that were randomly dropped there from the multiverse.”

“How do I prevent this from happening accidentally? What if we end up sitting next to each other in a couple of bathroom stalls without realizing it?”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why not?”

“He’s dead.” She doesn’t believe that, but all evidence points to it, and admitting her true feelings undermines her argument that Roeland is safe, so she’s not going to mention it.

He nods. He’s old, and has seen death, so likely he no longer feels the need to pretend to be butthurt over the death of a complete stranger, like most people do. He’s more honestly indifferent. “So you have one too?

“A timonite stain? I don’t.”

“Why not. Were you not on Earth when it was scanned?”

“No, I was, but...” That’s a good question.

He turtles his head out when she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“You’re right. Why weren’t we also marked? We found eleven errors, but that number was in addition to the people we already knew about, so we disregarded them.” That’s a good goddamn question.

“This kind of implies that it actually was intentional,” Roeland points out. “Who’s the we in this scenario? Who helped you build the thing?”

“No. Ramses would never do something like that.”

“Ramses Abdulrashid? He’s one of us?”

“He’s a time traveler, but he doesn’t have a power or pattern. Or rather, he does have a pattern now, but he wasn’t born that way. He turned himself into it. How do you know him?”

“I don’t know him personally, only by reputation. In my timeline, he was a famous engineer for the Freemarketers in the early 23rd century. Legend has it, he defied them, and defected to the mainstream. They consider him the first domino to fall. The movement did not last long after that.”

“That’s a wholly inaccurate story. The truth is he didn’t defect to the mainstream, he defected to us. How you would have heard about it at all, but not known that part, is bizarre, especially since a great deal of Freemarketers were reportedly killed in an interstellar ship cataclysm, but were rescued by Dardius.”

“Then you and I are from different timelines, because the Ramses Abdulrashid that I learned about in school went on to become an activist for the post-scarcity lifestyle, focusing on educating and rehabilitating the most violent of antiestablishment insurrectionists. He refused most life extension advancements, considering him unworthy of immortality since he rejected handouts prior to his epiphany, so he eventually died. I don’t recall the details of his life; I was born in the 24th.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely different.”

“Is he here? I would not mind meeting him, even if it is an alternate version.”

Leona is staring into space. “No, he’s lost, I can’t find him.”

“Can’t your satellite scanner do it?”

“He designed the thing. I’m sure he has a way to shield himself from it.”

This piques Roeland’s interest even more than the news about Ramses. “Really? How would one go about doing that?”

“Are you hoping to keep us from finding the other ping that we’ve detected on Vulcan Point?” Leona guesses.

“I’m telling you, there is something wrong with it. I live alone. I chose that spot because it’s beautiful and remote.”

She takes out her handheld device, and shows him the data. “My satellite scans every ninety minutes. Whoever was there with you during the first pass is still on the island. See? This is you, this is me, and that is the other person.”

“I don’t know what to tell ya. If there’s another time traveler in the area, maybe it’s, like, a rabbit who unwittingly ate some—what did you call it?—timonite, and ended up there. It’s not a human. I would know. It’s a very tiny island.”

Leona shakes her head. He is showing all signs of lying, through macro and microexpressions alike. If she knew him prior to this, she might be able to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he could be keeping Alyssa prisoner. She could be trying to get away as they speak. It would be irresponsible of Leona to just walk away without investigating. If the other error is fine, she’ll leave without further questions, and try to forget it ever happened, but until then, she is getting on that damn island. It’s up to her to find Alyssa. She’s the only one who can. No one else is capable, and no one else cares. Ramses made that quite clear when he abandoned them. Roeland is looking at her with puppy dog eyes, so she can’t just keep arguing with him about it. “Okay, I believe you.”

“Good. Are ya hungry? I found the quarantine food to be no bueno. Perhaps you and your bodyguard would like to join me for a late night snack. I know a great place.”

She laughs. “He’s not my bodyguard. If anything, I’m his.”

Microstory 1159: Anchor Nielsen

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Anchor Nielsen was a fairly powerful mage remnant. He could open windows to other points in time and space, and witness events on the other side. The good news was that he could do this in secret, so that people didn’t know he was watching. The bad news was that he couldn’t interact with them, and he certainly couldn’t travel through. They were windows; not portals. The phallocratic Republic recruited him when he was a teenager, to work for covert operations. They would have him spy on suspects, and report back to them. But Anchor was not a normal man, and though he felt he had no choice but to help, he didn’t want to give them everything. He insisted that he use his power in solitude. No one else was allowed to see what he saw, and if he didn’t want them knowing about something he saw, he reserved the right to simply not disclose it. Most of the men of the time were indoctrinated into believing, not that women were inferior, but that they couldn’t be trusted. His father raised him a little differently; he taught him to love. Anchor loved his mother, and his younger sister, and he couldn’t imagine not trusting them. So if he could trust those two, what exactly was stopping him from trusting other women? Nothing. The government wanted him to report on what they called rebellious female activity, but he adamantly refused. He would help catch murderers, rapists, and thieves, but he couldn’t let his abilities be used to oppress innocent people even more. This got to be so irritating for his superiors that they ultimately let him go, and he transitioned to a new life. He went back to school, and stayed there for a good long while, until he was educated enough to be a professor himself.

He ended up teaching Earth Studies, and he was the absolute best at it, because no one else possessed his insight. He could watch events unfold back on the homeworld through his windows, whereas there was otherwise no communication between Earth and Durus. They started calling him Professor Pane, because I guess they thought they were being clever, or something. His beliefs grew even stronger from these experiences, for the equality he saw there was always prosperous at its best. The Earthans weren’t perfect, but discrimination always caused problems, while love, acceptance, and at the very least, tolerance, made people happier. If it could be done on Earth, then it could be done on Durus, and he needed to continue pushing his agenda. His influence was limited, but he had one thing going for him; he could not be fired from his job. He was just too knowledgeable on Earthan culture to be replaced, and this gave him an excellent platform to spread his dissenting views to impressionable young minds. The institution, and the government, allowed him to do this, as long as he didn’t actively recruit people into some kind of rebel faction. He agreed to these terms, and followed through, because he didn’t need to recruit. His words were the truth, so he would have that on his side, and he could change the world more as a teacher than as a fighter. He never quit, and never let up. When Hokusai Gimura landed on Earth as the first visitor in many years, she ushered in a time of great change. The phallocracy was dismantled, and a real democratic republic began to form. However, she could not have made any real difference without the tireless and continuous efforts Anchor made throughout his life. No one would have changed their minds just because this one woman saved everybody’s asses once. They were already questioning the things they had been taught by the establishment, and she was just another step up. He lived long enough to see these developments, and died a hero.

Microstory 922: The Spread of Truth

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A part of me was surprised by King Dumpster’s upset victory in the presidential race, while the cynical part of me was not surprised at all. I had lived 29 years of my life by then, and had already met a lot of assholes. Sure, the election was a wakeup call for how bad it really is, but I could always see it. Here’s the deal, though. We’re on the cusp of great change; not just a blue wave, or even a simple revolution, but of a sudden jump in progress, and an actual dawn of justice. While politicians cater to lobbyists, and hicks who don’t even vote for their own self-interests count the broken down cars on their lawns, bunches of smart people are solving all our problems. They’re developing artificial intelligence, coming up with responses to climate change, formulating life-saving medicines, and much more. Soon, everyone will have enough food to eat, and a sturdy shelter in which to eat it. We won’t have to work as much anymore, and the topic of war will be limited to history discussions. But none of this can happen without the support of the rest of us. You see, at the same time that Ferguson, Charlottesville, Brexit, and Donald Trump illuminated what we’re fighting against, it equally showed us who we can trust. These shockingly divisive issues created a naughty and nice list for most of us. I know who of my social media friends voted for the wrong candidate, but I also know who made the right choice. These debacles forced everyone to take a stand, on whichever side that may be. It’s easier to fight an enemy when you know who they are. So we’re going to take up our Captain America shields, and defend the truth, without sacrificing our integrity. And we’re going to win. They may think they have God on their side, but their God is also an asshole, and his power relies on our belief in, and submission to, his wrath. I’ve looked into the future, and I don’t see any red hats. I just see love and truth.

Microstory 904: Loud Nonvoting Activists

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Months ago, I was enjoying a vacation with my family when news broke of the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. I was horrified, of course, but also struck by how well-spoken many of the survivors were about what had happened. This wasn’t the first school shooting, nor was it the last, not even that month. We have been forced to surrender to the fact that school violence is just the way it is, but these students decided that that was not acceptable. I suddenly found myself awe-inspired by a handful of teenagers, many of whom were not yet old enough to vote in this country. We have always enjoyed a healthy dose of nonvoting activists, but these kids were taking it to the extreme, and I’m proud to call them my heroes. Old people have long complained of how annoying “kids these days are” and how they’re so much better. Well here’s a news flash. This planet is in shambles right now. The reason there are so many more disaster movies than there used to be is because we can see ourselves falling to all that. And you know whose fault that is? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the millennials, who are only now reaching positions of power. You need us, and the generation after us, because we’re the ones who are gonna clean up all this shit you’ve let build up. Several weeks ago, I found myself at a town hall meeting in Kansas City, Kansas, hosted by a couple organizations, one being March for Our Lives. The panel was composed exclusively of high school and college-aged people, and they were more eloquent than anyone in the so-called “GOP” could ever hope to be. They certainly made their point better than I am right now. So if you want to know more about what we need to do to change the world, I recommend you start paying attention to the loud nonvoting, and first-time voting, activists.