Microstory 2496: Spydome Network

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This is one of those long-term domes, where you can’t quite get the full experience unless you immerse yourself in the setting, and really forget about your old life. You have to shed your past, and become your character, or you’re playing someone else’s game. The premise is that you are a member of a spy agency in one of eleven nations. Your task is to complete missions for your agency, according to whatever your superiors demand of you. Like I said, this is long-term, so you won’t just instantly become a spy. You will start as a trainee, and work your way up. Or you won’t. There’s every chance that you’ll fail. You have to pass the physical and written exams. I’m pretty sure that they’re easier to take than the real ones on Earth, but I’ve never been a real spy before, so I don’t really know. How well you do is entirely up to your own, natural skills. There is no way to know how far any other player gets, because we’re not technically meant to out ourselves to each other, but my boss may be another visitor. I really don’t know. It really doesn’t matter. What you do is up to you as well. Even though you have superiors, you are not a robot, and you are capable of making your own decisions. If you just wanna lounge about your apartment all day everyday, you’ll probably get fired for that, but you won’t get killed. Unless you’ve done enough spying to put you in danger. You’ll probably only get killed if you go out in the field, or as I was saying, if you’re attacked at home by an enemy. Each nation exists under its own dome, and its backstory is as rich and complex as they are in real life. The relationships between these fictional countries are complicated, and ever-changing. If you were to leave and come back 100 years from now, I’m sure alliances will have shifted. One of them might have been blown up in a nuclear war; I dunno. I couldn’t tell you exactly how far the program will let you take this, but it seems like a pretty decent free-for-all. Each might be one of the eleven most heavily populated domes on the planet, as most don’t need to feel quite as lived in as somewhere in the network. But here, you can go anywhere within your bounds, and if you secure a passport to another country, you can go there too. It’s a really interesting experience, and I’ve only been doing it for about a year and a half at this point. Obviously, I’m writing this anonymously, because there’s no reason a competing agency couldn’t use this information against my own. The android intelligences might not understand where a visitor spy got their intel if it came from an out-of-universe source, but they might act on it anyway. There’s a lot you can learn about the countries, and international affairs, from the comfort of your tablet using the prospectus, but to really grasp what it’s like to live here, you’ll have to sign up, and integrate yourself into this new society. You choose your own adventure. I don’t know the psychological ramifications of starting a new life that could potentially be as long as a standard lifetime, but perhaps that’s part of what they’re studying here. I’m sure the results will be fascinating.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 27, 2509

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Boyd managed to convince the group to stay one more day so he could shore things up with his people. It wasn’t that tall of an order, and they figured it was the least they could do. This was some kind of alternate version of Castlebourne, and once they were gone, what would become of it? Would Pacey make an effort to keep it running, or would these AI androids just start to degrade and wither away? Ethics demanded them to do what they could while they were still around to try.

Come midnight central, everyone jumped forward to the future, including Romana and Boyd. They immediately made their way back down to the vactrain, and navigated it to Castledome. Unlike last time, nothing went wrong, and they actually reached their intended destination. It wasn’t flooded or on fire. They just stepped out, and waited for Octavia to find what she was looking for. The way she was feeling around on the tiles of the train station made it seem like a platform nine and three-quarters type of situation. If there was a way to cross back and forth between these two versions of Castlebourne, it couldn’t be something that any rando could stumble upon accidentally. She couldn’t seem to find the right tile, though, so she started tapping on every one of them one by one. Perhaps the special sequence was different on either side.

While they were waiting, Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia wandered over to the other side of the ring, and fully into the dome. Mateo hoped to have a personal conversation about their relationship, but Leona tilted her head clear down to her shoulder, struck by something surprising. “What is it?” he asked.

She kept staring at the castle in the distance. Finally, she said, “it’s a mirror.”

“What’s a mirror, honey?” Olimpia asked.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it in any of the other domes. Look at the castle. It’s flipped.” Leona pointed. “That spire should be on the other side.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

Leona’s eyes widened. She powerwalked right back through the ring, and into the station where Octavia was still trying to find the secret entrance. She went over to the opposite wall, and tapped the tiles in the same order that Octavia had when she made her first attempt.

The tube sealed up, and they heard the rush of wind indicating the train that they had taken here was now gone. Then the weird part happened. With more rushing wind, the two halves of the vacuum tube separated from each other, split down the middle where the doors once met. As a cloud of gas filled the space left behind, a second set of doors materialized, identical to the first. They then opened, triggering the rematerialization of the tube as well. Inside the pod—which was much smaller than the usual train car—was Pacey, standing there as cool as an autumn day.

“Can we go?” Mateo asked Pacey.

Pacey smirked. “I dunno. Can they?” he posed to Octavia.

She separated herself from the group, and stepped closer to Pacey, but did not step into the vacpod. “I think we’ve made our main point, but they’re not done learning.”

“Ah, crap. Really?” Mateo questioned. “Friends become enemies? What the hell did we ever do to you?”

Octavia smirked now too. “It’s not about friends becoming enemies, Matt. It’s about enemies becoming friends.” She nodded ever so slightly towards Boyd.

Mateo turned his head towards Boyd quite dramatically. “This whole thing has been about this guy?”

“You need him,” Pacey explained. “Bronach is too powerful to defeat without someone equally powerful.”

“But him?” Mateo pressed. “I mean...maybe Arcadia, or something.”

“Arcadia is not that big of a deal,” Octavia contended. “She gets most of her power by conscripting others, and keeping them behind the proverbial curtain, so it looks like it’s all her. Boyd operates on his own.”

“That’s the problem,” Leona countered. “He’s not a team player.”

“I know hundreds of homo floresiensis bots who would beg to differ,” Pacey reasoned.

“I was being tested too,” Boyd realized.

“Did it teach him to stop being such a pervert?” Mateo asked.

“Oh,” Octavia said dismissively. “Your daughter’s hot. Stop acting like everyone should pretend that they don’t see that. Plus, she’s well into adulthood. She just aged, like two years, right before your eyes. She makes her own choices.”

“Paige would never do this,” Leona said. “Who are you?”

“I am Paige,” Octavia insisted. “I’m just one who’s been through some shit. You’ve led multiple lives. You know what I’m talking about. I did this for you, so you could end it. Soon enough, the Exin Army is going to find their way to Castlebourne, and everything that Team Kadiar worked for will be wiped out in an afternoon, along with millions of totally unsuspecting visitors from Earth, and the rest of the stellar neighborhood. You can’t stop their advance, but you can end the Oaksent regime. The empire is a mess of factions, not because they disagree with each other, but because it’s designed to be compartmentalized. Use that to your advantage. Confuse them, and neutralize them.” She took a breath, and glanced around at the station. “This world is a playground. Some of the domes that we mirrored from the original are dumb, like Heavendome. Others are for relaxation, like Raindome, so you can take your breaks there. The rest are training facilities. That crystal goes both ways. Instead of putting someone else on your pattern, it can take you off. Stay here, keep practicing. Prepare yourselves for the Ex Wars. The train will still be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

“I don’t like to be tricked,” Ramses said to her.

“A necessary component of the lesson,” Octavia claimed.

“A faulty one,” Ramses argued. “We didn’t go looking for Boyd because we wanted him on our team. We went there because your boyfriend told us that we had to. So what’s the real lesson? That you’re the powerful ones here? If that’s true, then okay, but...I’m not sure how that would help us end a war.”

Octavia and Pacey seemed decidedly stumped. “However flawed our plan might have been,” Pacey said, “he’s here now, and I don’t see you ringing his neck.”

Ramses winced. “Well, we can be civil; we’re not savage animals.”

“That’s all it is?” Octavia asked. “You don’t see any good in him, even now?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ramses replied.

“All right, all right, all right. Your pitch is over,” Leona determined. She turned to address the team. “We’re gonna vote on what we wanna do. Will we stay here and train?” she asked with airquotes. “Or will we get our powers and patterns back, and go back out to do whatever we want in normal space?” She looked over her shoulder at Pacey. “Including everything we need to use our tandem slingdrives.”

Pacey shrugged his shoulders, closed his eyes, and nodded.

Leona went on, “all in favor of staying here for an indeterminate amount of time?”

No one raised their hands.

“All in favor of leaving this place behind with our respective toolboxes.”

Everyone raised their hands, except one.

“Boyd, are you abstaining?” Leona asked him.

He’s surprised that she even said his name. “I get a vote?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yeah, I—I wanna go. I don’t need to stay any longer.”

“Okay, cool.” Leona clapped her hands. She bent over to take the crystal out of her bag, then held it out between herself and Pacey. “I don’t care how this thing works. Just undo what you did. Put us back the way we belong.”

Neither Pacey nor Octavia made a move.

“Are you still holding onto our agency?” Leona questioned.

“No,” Pacey said, disappointed. “But it can’t be done here. Turning off the crystal is fairly simple, though not necessarily obvious. It holds a tremendous amount of temporal energy. You need to block that energy. What do you know blocks that?”

“Lemons?” Olimpia suggested.

A few of them kind of laughed.

Pacey smiled. “She’s right. Dunking it in a bowl of citrus juice would do it. But if you want to exercise some control over what it does—and you don’t want an explosion—you need the harmonic equivalent to citrus.”

“The sound of lemons?” Olimpia pressed.

“Yeah, in a way. Boyd knows what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”

They all looked at Boyd who was a little awkward about it. “There was music involved in one scenario when I was trying to find a way to transport the Buddha’s hand citron to the future. It’s hard to explain, but they converted the genome sequence to sound, and that allowed it to be...it doesn’t matter. All DNA can be translated to music. You just need to pick a reasonable method, and be consistent with it. There are multiple methods, though. Dave had to find the right one for—Pacey, do you want us to use the same method, or what?”

“That’s up to you to decide,” Pacey answered.

“Does that mean that any method will do,” Angela pressed, “or is this another challenge?”

“That’s up to you to decide,” Pacey repeated.

“Great. Boyd, you’ll be our expert,” Leona said. “These two are no help.”

Boyd scoffed. “I wasn’t actually involved in generating the music,” Boyd started to clarify. “I was the boss. Making someone else figure it out for me was part of the thrill. I just heard the highlights afterwards. Which is how I know that playing the entire piece from start to finish will take something like two years.”

“You mean...two days?” Marie asked with a smile.

“Let’s just get back to the real world, and then we’ll make a plan,” Mateo suggested. “There’s nothing for us here.” He then looked directly at Pacey, and added, “if you wouldn’t mind...”

Pacey obliged, stepping out of the vacpod, and off to the side.

“Are you two, like, a thing?” Mateo went on while everyone else was stepping into the pod.

Pacey and Octavia exchanged a look. “Just because we work together, and have the same goals, doesn’t mean we’re hooking up.”

“That’s why I asked,” Mateo retorted. “Because I didn’t know the answer. Don’t be so defensive. You’re the antagonists in this situation, you know that, right? If someone were to write this tale down in a history textbook with any semblance of accuracy, the students would not be rooting for you. Whether the ends justify the means or not, most people don’t like dirty means.” Amidst their silence, he deftly stepped backwards into the pod too. “Just remember that the next time you come across someone you think needs to be taught a lesson.” The doors closed with perfect timing, sending them away and home. Hopefully, that is.

The pod stopped, and the doors reopened. A blackness came flooding in. Dark particles immediately swarmed all around them. Now that Octavia no longer needed Mateo’s protection, he redirected it. He wrapped his arms around Boyd’s body, and endowed him with his EmergentSuit nanites. Everyone else was able to just activate their own suits. They couldn’t talk, though—not in this world. They had to rely on their long histories with each other, and their empathic connections. The other six huddled around Mateo and Boyd. They engaged their tandem slingdrives, and dispatched them all to real, normal space.

Mateo fell straight to the floor, coughing uncontrollably. It felt like the dark particles had entered his body, which didn’t sound possible. According to Ramses, they were just neutrinos, which couldn’t interact with regular matter. Whatever was causing it, he couldn’t stop it, and neither could anyone else. He just kept coughing and coughing until he either passed out or died. He couldn’t tell which.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 26, 2508

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Romana was sitting on the floor, hovering over her father, when he woke up. He turned over to the side, and started to cough. The others were waking up at the same time, recovering in their own ways. Fortunately, no one was dead, not even Octavia. A robot was lifting her up, though, and carrying her away. “She’ll be all right,” Romana assured him. “There’s a medpod in that room.”

“You’ve been alone all year again?” Mateo asked her.

“I did it on purpose,” Romana explained. “Why would we waste time looking for this man one year at a time, when I could spend days and days on the search?”

“Did it work?” Mateo asked.

“It did,” she answered with a sigh. “He doesn’t wanna leave, so I’m hoping you’ll talk some sense into him. But...I don’t wanna lie to you. Something happened. I’m not especially proud of it, but even though I was pretending to be a sixteen-year-old in Underberg, I’m actually much older than that. I don’t know why Pacey aged me down, but you need to understand that I’m an adult, and I make my own choices.”

“You slept with him...” Mateo guessed. “With Buddy.”

“He’s very kind to me.”

“I bet he is.”

“That’s not fair. I just told you, I’m an adult. He didn’t trick me. Don’t take away my agency.”

“I’m not, but Romana, he’s not a good guy. Being nice to you doesn’t absolve him of his past sins.”

“And what sins are these?” Romana questioned. “How many people has he killed?”

“That’s not the point.”

How many have you killed?”

Mateo didn’t respond to this.

Romana went on, “you two don’t see eye to eye, and I know he hasn’t been particularly pleasant to be around, but if you add up all the bad things he’s done, they’re really not all that bad. In the end, you two are enemies because you don’t get along. I’m sure before you became a time traveler, you interacted with plenty of people like that, and it didn’t make you believe that they didn’t deserve love.”

“Is that true?” Mateo sat up. “Are you in love?”

“No, of course not. I’m just saying...”

“That you’re acting like a rebellious teen,” Mateo interrupted as if that was what she was gonna say. “Are you sure you’re older than sixteen?”

“You are not my father. You didn’t raise me. Silenus did.”

“That’s comforting.”

She ignored that rude comment. “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life. You never have. I know it’s not your fault that you weren’t around, but you can’t honestly expect me to listen to everything you say as if you have some kind of control over my choices. I’m being honest with you, because I don’t want to lie to someone I respect and care about. But don’t you sit there and belittle me as if I’m nothing more than an extension of your own personality. I will take you to Boyd, but you are not to harm him. You are not even allowed to yell at him. I am insisting on that, and I will keep us on this rock forever if you defy me in this regard.”

“That’s enough!” Leona interjected. “You don’t talk to your father like that. I don’t care how old you are, or who raised you. Boyd probably has ten years on you, and that’s assuming he hasn’t used time magicks to reyoungify himself, or he could be much older.”

“You were fifteen when you met your now-husband!” Romana shouted back.

“And he didn’t have any feelings for me until much later. Don’t turn this around on us. Boyd—if that’s what we’re calling him—is not good for you, full stop. When we first encountered him, he insisted that we call him Buddha. That’s incredibly offensive, and tells you everything you need to know about him. Just because he may not be as bad as some of the other antagonists we’ve met, like Zeferino, Arcadia, or even Pacey, doesn’t mean you made the right choice.”

“You’re friends with Arcadia now. You made friends with nearly everyone you’ve gone up against. What are we even talking about here? All I’m asking is that you give him a chance to improve himself, and prove himself; not just give up on him outright. Forgiveness doesn’t have a quota!”

“All right!” Olimpia interjects this time. “Mateo, Leona, you’re not going to attack Boyd when we find him. Romana, you may be older than you look, but you have a long ways to go. This situation is incredibly weird, what with our experiences in Underberg, and other domes. We can’t trust our own memories. Some of them are entirely fake, and their associated feelings may be a little less genuine than they seem. So I think we all need to take a beat, and focus on what matters. We are not living in a soap opera. We’re dealing with real problems here, trying to escape some weird, alternate universe. We can’t do that until we get what we came here for. The interpersonal relationship drama can wait.”

Mateo, Leona, and Romana quietly conceded. Ramses, Angela, and Marie silently agreed, having successfully stayed out of the fight.

“Okay,” Olimpia continued, proud of herself, and relieved that her argument worked. “It won’t take long for Octavia to recover. In the meantime, where is Boyd? Did he get hurt in the explosion?”

“He’s fine, he wasn’t even here,” Romana answered. “He’s in the Fostean sector at this point, living on a simulated jarl world.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Mateo said.

“Single-occupancy planet,” Leona explained. “A one-percenter in that culture will have so much money that they can afford to own an entire celestial body. They will live there alone, or with their family, supported by a small army of slaves called Arkeizen. These supposed subhumans will be known as thralls so long as they are in service to the elite. It’s not a heartwarming story.”

“Why would he be there?”

“To be clear, the thralls aren’t real slaves,” Romana said. “As I said, which you obviously already know, it’s a simulation, so they’re just robots.”

“It’s still gross,” Olimpia said to her. “I gotta admit, that’s a point against him.”

Romana smirked. “Just wait until you see it, okay?”

“Fine,” Leona decided. “Let’s take a vactrain this time. I don’t want this happening again, so we’ll stay out of canon as much as possible.”

“It’s not gonna happen again,” Romana contended. “Like the flooding of Atlantis, the destruction of this planet was canonical. It happened during the Sixth Shell.”

“Either way, let’s keep it real.” Leona led the way down the corridor.

Octavia was stepping out of the medical bay. She had missed a lot, and didn’t know where they were going, but she followed them anyway.

They got on the train, and had it deliver them to Jarldome. There were 200 levels here, most of which were 200 meters high, but with the holographic skies above each one, they felt endless. Boyd was on the topmost level, with a bunch of slaves. The team expected to find him lounging on a mountain of pillows, being fawned over and doted upon by these Arkeizen. It didn’t seem to be that way. The robots made to look like a hominid cousin were milling about an impressive little town. When they walked through, the Arkeizen smiled and waved. They didn’t look oppressed or abused. They were working, however, so no valid conclusion. On the far end of the main street, they finally found Boyd. A group of people were evidently in the middle of building a house, and he was helping. He was physically helping carry a wooden beam, and set it in place.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there. How long have you been watching us?”

“We just arrived,” Romana answered him.

“Well, welcome to Citrus City!” Boyd said. “Would you like the tour?”

“We’d like to get out of here,” Mateo responded.

Boyd frowned. “There’s so much work to do.”

“None of this is real,” Ramses told him. “It’s a simulation. You know that, right?”

“Of course I am,” Boyd said dismissively. “You think it’s that easy to erase my memories?”

“Either you’re delusional,” Mateo began. Romana gave him the stink eye, so he switched tactics. “I mean, if that’s true, then were you aware of our true histories while you were living in Underberg?”

“I guess not. But I broke out of it. I’m fine. I’m happy, living here, teaching these people how to fend for themselves.”

“They’re robots,” Ramses added.

“Shh!” Boyd whispered loudly. “They don’t know that.”

Mateo sighed angrily, and looked over at his daughter. “You did this. You told him to put on this show to make it look like he was freeing a whole peoples. You think that’s gonna work? You think I’m gonna start liking him now?”

“Sir,” Boyd jumped in. “Romana came to me two weeks ago. I’ve been working on this town for months. This isn’t just for show. I know that I have made mistakes in the past, but I don’t agree with slavery. Jesus. That’s the point of this dome, you know? It’s a test; will a visitor let their thralls do what they’ve been indoctrinated to do, or make changes that go against the history of the Fostean culture from the fictional stories? That’s the question, will you play into it, or do the right thing, even when it doesn’t matter? Because like you said, they’re robots.”

Mateo crossed his arms disapprovingly, but didn’t have anything more to say.

Leona pulled the magical technicolored crystal from her bag, and presented it to Boyd. She jerked it away when he reached for it. “This will place you on our pattern. Truthfully, Pacey did not reveal whether it was permanent or not. I believe that you will have less of a chance to get into trouble if you only exist for one day out of the year, though, so I’m hoping that you take the risk. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for us to get back to where we belong, but I don’t want you running around on your own anymore.” She glanced over at Romana. “I certainly don’t want you to be doing that with my daughter. Frolicking on the jarl worlds, freeing slaves together.” She grimaced, and looked over at the Walton twins. She wasn’t trying to say that freeing slaves was bad. “You know what I mean.” She went on, “touching this crystal will go a long way to earning our trust, but it’s not a cure-all. And either way, it has to be your choice.”

Without hesitation, Boyd took hold of the crystal. The colors swirled around inside, presumably transferring Leona’s pattern into his qualium realm. “Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

Suddenly, they heard a noise in the sky. A flying craft of some kind was headed right for them, so far up in the air that it couldn’t be real. The holographic image grew larger and larger though until it was as large as it would be if it were right above the invisible ceiling. Something changed as the hologram gave way to a tangible object, presumably having been dropped down through a recess. This real, physical shuttle continued to fly towards them until it landed right in the street. A bunch of humans with guns filed out of it.

The leader of the newcomers looked around at the Arkeizen. It was unclear whether he could tell that they were free, and no longer enslaved thralls. He zeroed in on Boyd. “Sir, are you okay? Our sensors picked up unauthorized entry to your planet.”

“They’re friends,” Boyd said. “We need no help here.”

The leader stepped closer so he could lower his voice. “Listen, if you need help, you don’t have to be afraid of them anymore.”

“I’m not being coerced,” Boyd tried to say. “Everything’s fine. You can go.”

The leader nodded. He walked past Boyd, and as he was adjusting his pants, got a better look at the community. He turned back around to address Boyd again. “How are your thralls doin’? You’ve been here a while. Do you need a top-up?” A top-up of slaves?

“No. My numbers are steady.”

The guy was surprised. “Not one death?”

Boyd shook his head.

“Interesting. “Very interesting. Say, you wouldn’t be...treating them like people, would you?”

“And if I were, is that against the law?”

The man shrugged. “No, of course not. They’re your thralls, you can do whatever you want to them. It’s just a little unusual. I’d hate to think that they were influencing your behavior in some way. You know, we get a bad batch sometimes. One of them is sick in the head—starts thinkin’ that he’s special, or valuable—and that can infect the whole group. And sometimes...their owner gets infected too.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Marie said. “Suits on!”

Mateo took Octavia in a hug again, and commanded his nanites to wrap themselves around her. Angela and Marie, meanwhile, started taking out their anger for their father out on these robo-slavers. They stole their guns from them, and shot each in the head. The slavers shot back, careful not to hit Boyd, but not caring about anyone else’s life. The Arkeizen ran and hid behind various structures while Leona, Ramses, Olimpia, and Romana protected the stragglers. It was over quickly. All of the bad robots were dead and on the ground.

“What happens when we leave?” Leona asked after the dust had settled, and the suits were no longer necessary. “Is another shuttle gonna be triggered later to come down and try to put a stop to all this antislavery wokeness?”

Boyd chuckled. “This isn’t my first single-occupancy planet. They always show up as a sort of final test, to see how you’ll react. I’ve always just talked my way out of it, but I guess this works too.”

“Great,” Leona decided. “Then pack up your shit. It’s time to go.”

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Microstory 2309: Going to Peter Out

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There’s really nothing going on today. Buying a house involves a bunch of boring stuff that I don’t want to tell you about any more than you want to hear it. Selling one isn’t any more interesting. I had no idea that my life was headed in this direction. I’m only 18, and I’m already living alone. When I first started working at the nursery, I didn’t know what my career would be. I figured that it would be something in the medical field, but I wasn’t aware of all my options at the time. When I read the job description for Lifecare Assistant, I knew that that’s what I wanted to do, and I never changed my mind. I only stopped working because I became so involved in my first patient’s life, and then it all snowballed, and now here I am. Is this what I want to do now instead...nothing? I think I need to go back to work. I need to do something important every day. I saw Nick struggling to find purpose once he got all this money, but now I realize that he had it the whole time with his writing. He was just keeping it a secret from everyone. He wasn’t just lounging about. I can’t do that either. I need to contribute to the world, and not just through the charitable donations that I’m maintaining. Those handle themselves. I’m going to call the agency first thing tomorrow morning to see about getting back in rotation. It’s a national agency, by the way, so don’t think this means you know where I’m moving to. I’m sure a lot of you were hoping that—if it had to end—this blog would go out in a blaze of glory. But it looks like it’s just going to peter out. I think that’s okay.

Microstory 2236: Stop Sending Me Messages

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We’re running into the same problem with the FBI that we had with the jail. No one has my contact information, so they’re reaching out to the only entity that they know is already in contact with me. They had to hire a temp to sift through all the letters and emails. It may actually be a team, I don’t really know. But I’m sure it’s a stressful job, because it includes death threats. Well, in truth, I don’t know that there are any death threats, because if true, part of the temp’s job would be to filter them out, so I don’t have to see them. But let’s face it, there are. No one should be sending anything like that, but I don’t really want anything anyway; good or bad. I don’t want your love letters, propositions, or proposals. I don’t want you to publish a book about my life, or cast me in a romcom. I won’t go on a date with you, or father your child, or give you my blood. It’s not a healing elixir; we know as much. Just stop. Not too long ago, Kelly suggested that we might consider hiring a publicist to handle all this stuff. They have the infrastructure and hiring practices to handle this sort of thing, not that I want anyone to have to deal with this stuff. I would rather it just stop altogether. Back in my younger days, I wished that I would be famous, and I guess I always knew that it came with drawbacks, but knowing about them, and experiencing them, are two different things. So please just calm down. As I’ve tried to explain, my blood cannot heal you. Doctors have been studying it for weeks—even longer than that when you consider the fact that I was a former immortal before I even came to your world. That’s the thing about your universe, it dampens my abilities, which is of course, what opens me up to all those death threats. God, I just can’t get away from the strife. Please just stop sending me messages. I’m sorry, but I’m not reading most of them. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, but I can tell you that it will be on my terms. The more you beg me to follow your lead, or listen to your ideas, the more I’m going to pull away. That’s just who I am. If you really wanna stay in the loop, simply read my website and socials. Personal connection isn’t a thing; not with me. I have all the friends I need.

Microstory 2235: Constant Federal Supervision

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This is Nick. The FBI has developed a way for me to write my posts, and have them published on my website without actually having to access the internet myself, and risk giving away my current location. I’ve been asked not to place myself in that risk in other ways, such as describing where we’re living, or anything, but other than that, I don’t have to run anything by them. There’s no approval process here. It’s just me, printing a copy of what I want to say, and sending it to the agent who has access to the right web accounts. I will tell you that I’m granted brief, monitored, and heavily secured access to the internet to make sure it looks the way I want it, but other than that, we entertain ourselves with physical media, like books and DVDs. They’re not that interesting to me, but the other two don’t seem to have any issues with it. I’m getting back into writing, because I think this world needs more compelling stories, so that takes up a lot of my time. God knows there’s nothing else to do stuck in this safehouse at 221B Baker Street in foggy Londontown. Ha! Fooled you! That is a reference from my homeworld. It’s not really where we are, you chumps. Anyway, my new stories have given me an idea of how I might get back to my friends, but it’s going to take help from viewers like you. I’ll have the details later—I just remembered this cosmic trick yesterday—but basically, if I put on a production of a particular stage musical, there’s a chance that a universe-hopper will come and get me out of here. I know that sounds bizarre and random, but it does make sense once you know the full story. Again, these are only the early stages. I’m still in protective custody, so if I want to take it one step at a time—which I should—carving a new life out for myself without the need for constant federal supervision would be the first one. So don’t ask me when auditions are. It’s not time yet. There’s a strong chance that it wouldn’t even work. Joseph is very...critical of people’s interpretations. I’ll give you more information at a later date if I decide to move forward with this plan.

Microstory 2234: Apologies for the Interruption

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[Apologies for the interruption. This is Halya Perugia, current Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We are developing protocols which will allow Mister Fisherman and Miss Serna to continue contributing to their social media presence. This is an unprecedented situation here, but we feel that it is necessary for the public good that their website remains active. This is in no way an endorsement of their words or actions by the United States government, or the FBI. Their message is not our concern. It is our responsibility to keep them safe, and part of that mandate is allowing them to reassure the public that they are exactly where they need to be. Mister Fisherman and Miss Serna will make occasional—and highly secure—public appearances to reinforce the cooperative nature of our new professional partnership. We will not be simply hiding them away. The US government and this agency will take every threat to their safety, and the national security of this country, seriously, and will take any action necessary to ensure the domestic tranquility of this nation. We appreciate your patience while we work through our new protocols to allow the frequently visiting, and ever-growing, audience of Mister Fisherman’s website to continue to be part of a centuries-long global conversation that ensures governmental transparency, social justice, and public advancement. Thank you for your time.]

Microstory 2086: And Even Chaotic

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I have been trying to figure out, not only where my co-worker went, but also where everyone else has gone. One person has mysteriously disappeared from Kansas City every day for the last month and a half. None of them showed signs of wanting to go somewhere before their disappearance, they leave no trace behind, and the authorities have not categorized any of them as suspicious. One thing they seem to have in common is that their respective friends and family aren’t extremely surprised by the development. The cops eventually stop investigating entirely, because none of them is a child, or someone else at high risk, like a dementia patient. They’re all self-sufficient adults who have been known to be a little bit flaky and unpredictable. They also come from different jurisdictions, so no one but me has any hope of seeing any of this as a pattern. In some of the stories I was writing before I disappeared from my own world, I came up with this organization called the Kansas City Metro Corps. It’s a police agency that operates in all of Kansas City, even across state lines, which to my knowledge, is not something that exists in the real world. There are federal agents, of course, but no one that can carry out investigations regularly between only two states. They might do it occasionally, but in that case, two different departments will have to liaise with each other, which can be complicated, disorganized, and even chaotic. They don’t have anything like the KC Metro Corps on this Earth, so no one is talking to each other, or seeing the connections.

I have been doing my own investigating, and I’ve come to a startling discovery that made me throw up in the middle of my shift. Don’t worry, I made it to the bathroom in time, because I was already in the break room, but I don’t know if I can live with myself anymore. It’s me. I’m the cause. I don’t know how I’m doing it, but it’s definitely me. Tracing the disappearances have been difficult, because no one witnessed anything strange happening, so their true locations aren’t so cut and dried, which is why I didn’t see it before. But if I add myself to the map along with all the others, and adjust for people’s hypothetical movement after the last person to see them loses sight of them, then I am at the epicenter. Every disappearance happens from that point, and has continued outwards in a spiral formation. The pattern would be beautiful if it weren’t so sickening. They all happen early in the morning, which makes sense, because that’s when I first arrived on this world. So I’ve already missed today. I’ve not heard anything yet, but I’m sure whatever mysterious force is causing this has struck again, and I have an idea of where. I can’t save that person, or anyone else we lost before, at least I might not be able to, I don’t know. But I know that there’s a chance for me to save whoever is meant to go missing tomorrow. I’m taking the day off, which is something that I didn’t want to do this early on at my job, but I don’t think I have any other choice. I’ve asked the high school girl to fill in for me, since it’s Teacher Planning Day. I’m going to the store today to gear up. I don’t know what I’ll be going up against.

Starstruck: The Price of Doing Business (Part VII)

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Mirage stared at Honey for a moment. “You understand that I’m not human, right? I’m not going to die. When Lilac comes back into the timestream, I’ll be waiting.”

Honey shook her head, and sighed. “Your friend is not where you think she is.”

Mirage frowned, and darted her gaze back over to Ashlock, who held his hands up defensively. “Hey, I sent her to 2180, I promise.”

“He did,” Honey agreed. “My guy tracked her there, and sent her somewhere else. Don’t worry, she’s safe. All you need to do is hand me the stone, just as you promised.”

“Your prices are too high,” Mirage argued. “I took my business elsewhere. As a customer, I have the right to do that. You do not have a monopoly on time travel.”

“That may be,” Honey replied. “Why don’t you call the time police, and see what they say about it, hmm?” Time police didn’t exist. The closest equivalent was a prison that housed people who exposed the existence of time travelers to the general public. That was the only crime they cared about.

“I’m going to find her,” Mirage assured Honey. “The only question is whether I kill you to do it, or not.”

“I think you’ll find that my husband and I are more difficult to kill than we look.”

Mirage was more than willing to test that claim, and that was the problem. She was created to be a killer, but she transcended that when a man of good heart taught her how to overcome her own programming. What would he do in this situation? He wouldn’t kill them, she knew that much, and he wouldn’t approve of her doing it either. He would find a way, and not because he was any smarter than his opponent, but because he had friends. He always won, because he always had friends. It was his greatest strength. “You’re never getting this homestone.”

“Then you’re never getting home,” Honey spit right back.

Mirage turned to walk down the concourse in the opposite direction.

“Wheh,” Honey exclaimed. She looked down at the buzzer. “That there pager’s yourn. You go more than ten meters from it, or leave realtime with it, you’re gonna start to feel a lot of pain. Even your kind can feel pain. We may look dumb, but we’re in the business of knowing things. Do not underestimate us. Even if you can take the agony, can your friend? She’ll feel it too from where she is.”

Mirage grabbed the pager. “I’m going down there, though.”

“That’s quite all right,” Honey told her. “You know where to find me when you’re ready to talk again.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashlock said.

“It’s fine, Ashlock. Go home and get sober.” She walked down to the post office.

Obviously, this was unlike any regular post office. This was here to send messages across time and space. Only The Courier had any power here, and he could go anywhere he wanted. He was so powerful, in fact, that while Mirage was in the Gallery dimension, she could detect that he existed, but could gather no information about him. He wasn’t a choosing one, but a salmon, which meant that he answered to the mysterious powers that be, though there was reportedly some leeway with that. “Hi. Dropping off, or picking up?” He spoke in a genuinely polite voice, unlike the Travel Agents.

“Mr. Patton, do you do read receipts?” Mirage asked him.

“Ah, I believe I know where you’re going with this. You’re looking for someone.” Apparently, he was smart too.

“She’s been taken.”

“I see. Well, normally, no, but I will make an exception if I can verify your relationship. Do you have an undoctored photo of yourself with the recipient?”

“I do not. We just met.” She could synthesize one, and he probably wouldn’t be able to tell that it was fake, but she wanted to be honest. She needed him on her side.

“Then, I’m afraid—”

“Wait, yes, I do.” She was being an idiot. All of her conversations were being recorded. She switched her eyes to output mode, and projected a hologram of them eating lunch together at Allen and Richard’s restaurant. Well, Lilac was eating anyway.

“You two look happy,” Ennis noted.

“Please, I have to find her. I don’t know how I’m going to get to her while I’m lugging this thing around, but...” She showed him the pager.

“Oh, I can take care of that.” He took the pager from her briefly, and flipped it over. He mouthed the serial number on it, then handed it back, and stepped through a door. While he was gone, the pager started to blink lights, vibrate, and play a little melody. As he was walking back out, the melody stopped. A few seconds later, the buzzing stopped as well, but the lights kept going. “There. Your waiting period is over. Now you can do whatever you want with it. Give it back, destroy it...”

Mirage crushed it to death with her bare hand. “Why could you do that?”

“That’s my partner, Susan’s technology. We just loan it out to the Travel Agents.”

“You are as kind of a man as I’ve been told. Though, it seems out of character for you to include a pain feature in such a thing.”

Ennis was taken aback. “There’s no pain. No, if you go too far from it, it will just follow you, and if you travel too far with it, its activation will send you back to the agency. All I did was reroute it to Susan’s control block. Jesus, is that what they told you, that it would hurt? We may need to reassess our business relationship with them.”

“They really want this homestone.” She showed that to him as well.

“I suppose I understand the appeal, but it’s no excuse for their behavior.”

“So, will you help us reunite, me and Lilac?”

“Well, if what you say is true, that she’s been taken by someone, I’m worried than any message I attempt to send will simply be intercepted. My birds have been killed by those who did not like the messages we delivered.”

“Then can you just...take me to her? I know you have that ability. You deliver large and heavy packages, don’t you?”

“I never take anything organic,” Ennis said apologetically. “That is a rule I refuse to bend, and I will not explain why.”

Mirage cut into her lower arm, and peeled back the artificial skin that housed her non-organic android parts. The skin was alive, but she only used it to better blend in with regular people. “That’ll be fine.”

“I was wondering how you crushed that pager so easily.”

“Plus, my film projector eyes.”

“I thought that they were just advanced contact lenses.”  He inhaled deeply, and held it in for a long time. “Okay, I guess you are a walking exception, though I imagine you’re from a time when such a body is not surprising. I don’t want a bunch of other robots asking me for rides, so I would kindly ask you to not tell anyone how you got to where I’ll be delivering you.”

“I have no problem with that. I’ll erase it from my own memory, just to be safe.”

He smiled excitedly. “That’s cool.” He squinted as he was framing Mirage’s body with his hands.

She smiled, and crouched down to wrap her arms around her shins. “I can get pretty small, and I’m lighter than the androids you see in movies.”

“I never ask a lady her weight,” he quipped before he went over to the backroom to retrieve the appropriate box. He assembled it, and then she crawled inside. Yeah, there was plenty of room.

“You have enough to find her? It has to be when and where she went just after I last saw her ten or fifteen minutes ago.”

“I got you covered.” Ennis flipped the lids over, and taped them up. “And now I got you covered,” he joked. “But also, you’re about to not be covered. My non-organic rule is not just something I choose not to do. The way I move through time, it just doesn’t work. Your skin will...come off, like a damaged Terminator.”

“That’s fine. It’s inert,” Mirage explained.

“All right. Let me calculate the route, and then we’ll be on our way.”

She felt the box being lifted and carried away, and while it didn’t hurt, she also felt her skin shed off of her as she passed through the time vortex.

Moments later, the movement stopped. “What’s this?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Package for Lilac,” Ennis announced.

“I’ll sign for it,” the voice responded.

“No need to sign. Just be careful when you open it,” Ennis warned.

Before the man could start slicing through the tape, Mirage punched through the lid, and took hold of his throat. “Where’s Lilac?”

Eyes bulging, he turned them to point to her right.

“Mirage?” Lilac asked. “Is that you?”

“Losing my skin was the price of doing business,” Mirage explained. “I’ll be able to grow it back eventually.”

“I see. Well, I’m fine,” Lilac said “You can let him go.”

“What are we going to do with him then?” Mirage asked, still not letting go.

Lilac shrugged. “Let him leave. We’re where we need to be. I’ve been waiting for you for the last couple of days.”

Mirage gently set the man back down. “You better do what she says before I decide to override her decision. I don’t ever wanna see you again in my whole life, which should be about...forever.”

As he was running away, he waved his arm in front of him to create a black hole in the ground, which he jumped into, letting the hole close back up above him.

“He must be related to The Overseer.” Mirage emulated a sigh. “What year is it?”

“It’s 2183,” Lilac answered. “He jumped us a few years into the future to hide.”

Mirage nodded, and looked up and to the right to access her memory archives of the timeline. “Its 2183,” she echoed. “I know where to go. There ought to be a ship here that has everything we need, but I’m not entirely sure what it’s been through so far, because my knowledge of this time period may be quite literally outdated. It’s called The Elizabeth Warren, and no one else should need it at the moment. It’s not that fast, but it has stasis technology, and I could retrofit it. How would you like to see your son again?”

Lilac sighed too, but for real. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

Mirage took her by the hand, and teleported them both to Panama.

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Starstruck: Back to the Future (Part VI)

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Mirage swam over to Lilac, who was scared and nervous, but not panicking yet. She hitched a ride when Niobe used the homestone to go from somewhere in the Goldilocks Corridor, back to her home on Verdemus. This couldn’t be Verdemus, because there were too many people, and too many houses by the shore, and also, Niobe was nowhere to be found. “Lilac. My name is Mirage. I’m going to explain everything, but first, you should know that both Niobe and your son, Aristotle are perfectly safe. They’re fine, and I’m going to get you back to them, okay?”

“Okay. Where are we?”

“Topeka, Kansas, 2036.”

“Niobe has never been to Topeka, Kansas, 2036.”

“I know. This is my homestone destination. For some reason, you were unable to exit the stone, so I activated it myself, hoping to get you out with a new trip. Think of it like rebooting a computer to clear out the memory.”

“Hey, are you two all right?” A dude in a tank top was standing on the edge of his boat, holding a paddle, apparently ready to pull them in if need be. It was April, so not a great time for swimming, but the day was rather warm.

“We’re cool, dawg!” Mirage replied.

He winced, but respected their personal bubbles.

“So, that could have deleted my file?” Lilac assumed. “It could have killed me?”

“Yes, I took a risk. It was probably fifty-fifty, but know this too, there is already a Lilac on Verdemus in 2341. She’s taking care of the kids. She either has not left to ultimately become you in her future, or she never will, because we’re in a new timeline.”

“Right. I don’t know much about how this stuff works, but I tried not to think about Past!Lilac. I just wanted to see my son again.”

“You will. It will take us 300 years to get there, but I will return you to him.”

“We should start by getting out of the water. I suppose it’s a coincidence, and that Maqsud Al-Amin isn’t here too?”

“No, sorry, it’s a coincidence.” Maqsud Al-Amin, also known as The Trotter, was capable of traveling profoundly vast distances from planet to planet. He found it easier to accomplish the task by starting in a sufficiently voluminous body of water. Sherwood Lake would do. Mirage didn’t know whether Lilac simply knew this about him, or if she had some other reason to suspect that he might be involved. She chose not to push it.

Lilac started to breaststroke towards the shore. “He’s Aristotle’s father.”

Oh, interesting. How come Mirage didn’t know this? She was losing her edge. Too much of the timeline must have changed since she left the Gallery Dimension to become a real girl. She would have to make peace with that.

They climbed out of the lake, and shook off a little. Some other people tried to hand them towels, but they were just going to air dry. They walked with each other up the road until they were hidden enough from view for Mirage to teleport them both away from here.

They landed in the middle of the concourse of the Salmon Civic Center, which was a secret hidden section of a building that only time travelers had access to. There was a bank, a post office, and even a weekend club, among other things. If you were a time traveler in need of help in the 21st century or later, and The Constant was inaccessible, for whatever reason, the SCC was the place to go. It existed on a secret subterranean floor underneath a strip mall on The Plaza. A man power walked up to them. “Good morning. My name is Konstantin Orlov. Do you require any immediate medical attention?”

Mirage looked over at Lilac, who replied with, “I’m fine.”

When Kostantin switched his gaze to Mirage, she replied, “I’m an android.”

“I see. Well, I’m here to help you navigate the Center, or try to help you with anything else you may need. Right now, it’s 11:24 Central Standard Time on April 13, 2036, in Kansas City, Missouri, United States of America, Earth. Have you ever been to the 2030s before?”

Mirage pointed. “I have, she hasn’t.”

“Do you have any questions about the current level of technology or cultural dynamics?”

“I’ve studied the history,” Lilac said dismissively.

“Great!” Kostantin exclaimed. “What is the specific nature of your visit today?”

“We need to get to the future,” Mirage began to explain. “Do you have any available time travelers, or access to stasis pods?”

He tilted his head to the side. “We do have a few pods, but they are currently in use. Unfortunately, we have been limited to only those few by, uhh...certain powerful forces. We are working on securing authorization for more, but I couldn’t tell you when that may happen. In the meantime, have you tried The Constant?”

“I would rather not involve The Concierge in this.” The Constant was like the Salmon Civic Center, but it was highly exclusive, and a hell of a lot older. Anyone who knew the SCC was here could get in, unless specifically banned. Even if you had once enjoyed the amenities and security of The Constant, you were not necessarily allowed to return. The rules were impossible to know. You just had to try, and hope for the best, but Mirage didn’t want to even try unless they had no other choice.

“I understand.” He had this polite customer service representative thing down. “In that case, you might want to speak with the Travel Agents. They will take down your information, and try to connect you with someone who might be able to jump you into the future. I must warn you, not everyone is met with a favorable transaction. Payment is often cost-prohibitive for people.” In the world of time travelers, cost was a far more complicated concept. They almost never dealt in such petty trivialities as fiat currency, or even precious gems or metals. It was sometimes a favor that the provider couldn’t do for themselves, and sometimes a sacrifice that didn’t technically need to be done, but the point was for the customer to lose something. For instance, if you loved your beautiful long hair, they may ask you to cut it all off. They didn’t need your hair, but if you really wanted their help, you had to be willing to part with it. Others just gave away their services for free, but when the Travel Agents were in play, there could be a middleman fee anyway.

“Thank you very much for your help, Kostya.” Mirage turned and led Lilac to the back corner. The Travel Agency was empty, except for an old man who was either sleeping or dead on the bench against the wall. Lilac rang the bell. A thirtysomething man in a blue sweater vest came up from the back with a Stepford smile. “Hello. I’m Romeo. My wife, Honey is finishing up something in the back. How can I help you?”

Honey and Romeo. Wow, okay. “I’m Mirage and Lilac. We came here from 2341 Verdemus. We need to return there to the exact same moment.”

“Okay, was that your first time traveling through time?” Romeo asked. “Perhaps you could find a homestone.”

“A homestone is how we got here,” Lilac answered before Mirage could stop her.

Romeo smirked. “Get out here, please, Honey!”

“What did I do?” Lilac whispered to Mirage.

“It’ll be okay. You just started the negotiation too high.”

“Negotiation?”

A woman who just looked like the feminine version of Romeo came around the corner. “What is it, dear? Oh, customers. I should have put my face on.”

“It’s fine,” Mirage assured her.

“Honey...” Romeo began, building anticipation. “They have a homestone.”

“Oh my, isn’t that wonderful? We just so happened to be in the market for one of those. Do you happen to have more than one?”

“Only the one,” Mirage replied a bit too hastily, which wasn’t necessary, since it was the truth.

“I’m afraid our rates are too high for only one stone. If you had another, we could talk about sending you where you need to go. Which would be where?”

“Verdemus in 2341,” Mirage repeated.

“I’ve never heard of a Verdemus. Is that a musical artist?” A common joke for this crowd, though not in so many words.

“Ya know what, don’t worry about it. Just get us to anytime on Earth in the 22nd century, and we’ll make our way to our final destination on our own.” That far in the future, they will have no problem finding stasis pods, or a ship. Hell, she could engineer her own ship and pod using the technology available in that time period.

“I’m afraid that that doesn’t change our rates. We’ll need one homestone per traveler. Two travelers, two—”

“We get it.” Mirage emulated a sigh. “One stone, one traveler. Get my friend here to this exact spot on November 22, 2260. I’ll go the long way ‘round, and meet up with her. Deal?”

The couple exchanged looks. They really wanted more than one homestone, but the only way for Mirage to procure a second one would be if the Travel Agents found them a time traveler, which would render the quest stupid and pointless, and they knew it. They nodded at each other simultaneously, then Romeo went on. “Give us a few hours to find the right traveler for your needs. You may wait over there, or go explore the Center.” He handed Lilac a buzz coaster while Honey started flipping through a rolling index of contacts. “Richard and Allen’s restaurant is open as well. I especially recommend the hadrosaurus burgers. I know what you’re thinking, but all dinosaur meat is lab-grown, and ethically sourced from still-living specimens in the appropriate prehistoric period.”

“Thanks.” Mirage didn’t eat, and Lilac wasn’t going to eat that.

“It’s Sunday, so the Salmonday Club is still open, though the portal to the Facsimile is closed.

“Thank you very much.”

“Oh, wait. Payment first.”

“No,” Mirage insisted. “Find us a ride first. If they charge for their services as well, we may need to reassess.”

“Very well.” They weren’t happy about this either, but they wanted the business.

The two of them left, and went over to the restaurant. Lilac was indeed hungry. This place was open all day and all night. It was actually technically two restaurants. A public-facing version was located on the other side of the barrier, and up a flight of stairs, between the Civic Center and the rest of the world. Regular people ate there all the time, and had no idea that they could be just meters away from a bunch of time travelers eating the same food. Or maybe they were eating different foods. The regular side served the standard fare. This side served literally anything, from anywhere in time and space, including apparently lab-grown dinosaurs.

“Mirage and Lilac?” a man behind them asked as they were sitting at their table, having finished eating a long time ago.

“Can we help you?”

“Garen Ashlock. A seer sent me here to find the Oasis and the Flower.”

Mirage was surprised, and she wasn’t easily surprised. “And you riddled that out to our real names?”

“I know who you are,” he clarified. “Do you need my help getting somewhen?”

Mirage looked behind him at the Travel Agency. “They didn’t call you?”

Ashlock looked over his shoulder. “Those creepos? No, they’re way overpriced.”

“We made a deal,” Lilac pointed out. “If we go with him instead, is that gonna cause us problems?”

Mirage scoffed. “I would like to see them make good on any consequences. Mister Ashlock, if you would be willing to get us both to at least 2260, we would be grateful.” That was the year humanity figured out how to travel at maximum relativistic speeds. The reframe engine was invented nearly fifteen years earlier, but the majority of civilization did not so much as know about it, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Lilac only had so much time in her life.

“Ooo. Unfortch, that’s too far,” Ashlock lamented. “My seer didn’t say anything about that. Why would they imply I needed to help you when I’m unable?”

“What’s your limit?

He grimaced. “It’s complicated. I don’t have a limit in terms of a solid number. It’s this complex algorithm involving my current state of health, including my age, how much I slept last night, how much I drank last night...”

“Give us a ballpark,” Mirage interrupted.

“Today feels like a gross day. That’s 144.”

“That will be far enough,” Mirage decided. “At that point, We’ll have everything we’ll need available to take us the rest of the way,” she explained to Lilac. “I could eventually make a stasis pod these days too, but closer is better, for safety and security. It would take me longer to procure the materials.”

Mirage and Lilac stood next to each other while Ashlock stood before them. He waved his hands around each other like an airbender, and then pushed his temporal energy forwards. Lilac’s body shrank to an infinitesimal point as it was thrown backwards. “Okay,” Mirage said. “Me next.”

“Uhh...that was supposed to be for the both of you,” he said quite nervously. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Honey walked over in her clackity high heels, sporting her eerie smile, and speaking with her fake politeness. “You entered into a verbal contract. You’re staying here until I get my homestone. Then you’ll go where I say you go...and by whose hand.”

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