The Third Rail: Rock the House (Part II)

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They have TV here. They’re able to watch the broadcast of their Rock Meetings, if they so choose. Each episode is about an hour long, and one episode streams per day. At this rate, they’re going to be stuck on this prison world for about eight months. Fortunately for the representatives of the five realities, they’re not in any of the prison facilities. It’s a big planet, and an entire small continent has been devoted to witness protection instead of incarceration. It’s a little odd, to protect people on the same planet as the people they may need to be protected from, but it’s not a completely wild idea. Back in the Third Rail, there was only one inhabited planet, so witness relocation programs always worked like this. In fact, witnesses were rarely ever moved outside of their respective countries. There are no boats here. Any prisoner who wanted to reach a witness would have to first break out of wherever they’re being kept, then build themselves a raft. It would take them months to make it across the ocean, assuming they didn’t get caught anywhere. On the other hand, if they have access to a spaceship, it probably doesn’t matter anymore whether they have to go to a different planet or not.

Some witnesses in the program are a little more dangerous than others, so the continent has been further broken up into cities. The representatives are in the most luxurious of them all, designed for VIPs, leaders under grave threat, and in hiding, and others who need a little more consideration. Ramses was right, the accommodations are pretty good here, but Cosette doesn’t regret insisting on bringing her personal pocket dimension with her. This is her home, and it’s where she feels the most comfortable. She has installed it over the door of one of the closets in her realspace penthouse. Ayata is the one living out there instead, serving as a gatekeeper for visitors or attackers, but otherwise taking a vacation from her duties as an assistant. That’s what she’s meant to be doing anyway. “Tea and seaweed crackers? It’s a local delicacy.”

They’re by the water, about 300 meters above the surface. Each tower sits on top of the base, which grants access to a dedicated elevator and emergency stairwell. Only the structure at the top contains living space. The towers are structurally connected to one another, but there is no passage between them. You would have to go down to the first floor, and walk across the lobby, to get to another tower. “Ayata, I brought you here so you could have a break, not so you could keep working for me,” Cosette tries to explain for the umpteenth time. I thought it was a pretty good excuse, since there’s always work to be done back on Earth, so we’re always so busy. There is no business to take care of for the time being. Just relax.”

“I don’t...like doing nothing,” Ayata admits.

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Not really.”

Cosette sighs. “Do you know where that seaweed comes from?”

“The ocean?” Ayata asks in a half-question, unsure if she’s taking the full meaning here, or not.

“That ocean right there.” Cosette points through the windows. They’re not exactly real windows. They are viewscreens which are showing what the real windows see from the penthouse. They would have to leave the pocket dimension to look through them for real. “Why don’t you synthesize a sexy bikini, go down there, and sun yourself on the beach? Maybe meet someone new.”

“Ambassador DuFour,” Ayata scolds.

“Not to breach sexual harassment policy, but I remember wishing that I had shown my body off more when I was your age.”

Ayata was born in the Sixth Key. She doesn’t know what the world was like before the Reconvergence. “You can be my age if you want,” she reminds her boss.

Cosette leans her head against the backrest, and tilts her chin to the side. “I think I’m done age-shifting. I deal with people from the Parallel and the Fourth Quadrant so much, and they cured aging ages ago. It’s just not really much of an advantage anymore. Maybe it never was.”

“So which age are you going to choose? This one?”

She’s presently expressing the mid- to late thirties, which is still a bit older than how Nuadu appears. “I think so. It’s a good middle ground. I’m old enough to be respected, but young enough to be accessible.”

“And you’re not unattractive,” Ayata says with a smile. “Not to breach sexual harassment policy.”

Cosette smiles back.

“This wouldn’t happen to do with a certain military man who lives next door, would it? The one who’s always coming over to do his rounds?”

“He’s checking the perimeter,” Cosette reasons. “He’s been trained to be a protector.”

“No, he’s been trained as a killer. Those are the kind of soldiers who rank up to high leadership positions. He only comes over to see you.”

Cosette scoffs quietly, and shakes her head.

“How about this? How about you age yourself to seventy or eighty, and ask him to stay for dinner. Cook him a real meal; not synthesized, and give the room some ambiance. If he’s responsive, and engaged in conversation, he’s interested in you as a person, not just for your looks.”

“Maybe he’ll just say no, and I won’t learn anything. It won’t even necessarily be because of my apparent age.”

“He can’t say no,” Ayata reasons. “You’re going to cook for him to say thank you for all he’s done. He’s on vacation, so he doesn’t have anything to do. If he comes up with an excuse, I guess that’s your answer.”

“I haven’t cooked in a long time,” Cosette reveals.

“Well, I’ll help you. I like doing things the old way sometimes. I’ll probably be in charge of ambiance too since your taste is a little...”

“Bland? Is that the word you’re looking for?”

“Hey, you said it.” There’s a ring at the elevator downstairs. They look over at the security monitor to see Nuadu waiting patiently in the lobby. Ayata smirks. “Heh, it’s kismet.”

“House, let ‘im up,” Cosette instructs. They continue to watch as the doors open, and let Nuadu inside. He rides up to the top, walks inside, and is about to knock on the closet door when it opens. “Nice to see you, Harbinger.”

“Ambassador-at-Large,” he replies cordially.

“Would you like to come in for some tea and seaweed crackers?” She’s suddenly struck with a sense of relief that she and Ayata stopped to talk about the crackers first, before diving into them. They still look all nice and untouched.

“I really shouldn’t stay too long,” Nuadu says apologetically. “I’m afraid I woke up too late this morning, and I’m a little behind schedule.”

This looks like a pretty good opening. “Well, perhaps you can return this evening for dinner? I’ve been looking for a good excuse to cook.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” He says it with a bit too much enthusiasm, but he knows if he tries to backpedal now, the drastic shift in tone will only make him look even more eager. So he widens his eyes, freezes up, and waits for Cosette to continue the conversation instead.

“Great! No pressure, but think about what you like to eat, and text me a message later. Include your dietary restrictions, of course. Maybe within the hour?”

“I can do that, thanks.” He looks over at Ayata. “And will the lovely Miss Seegers be joining us?”

Ayata stammers a bit. “I have a date with the, uhh...God of the Sea...tonight.” She smiles awkwardly. “I’m going on a walk. My boss says I work too hard, and she’s making me take a break. Away from here.” Nice save.

Cosette hopes that her comment doesn’t make Nuadu uncomfortable. Perhaps he missed Ayata’s emphasis on the word I. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says to Ayata, under her breath, but obviously loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“I believe that you will enjoy the beach at night,” Nuadu adds. “There are some bioluminescent sea creatures that come out after dusk. I don’t know what they are, but Andrei Orlov of the Fourth Quadrant likes to watch them. Perhaps you could meet up with him.”

“Thanks, I’ll give him a call.” Ayata points over her own shoulder. “I gotta go into the other room now.” She points at Cosette. “Unless you need something first.”

“No, that will be all, Ayata. Thanks.”

Ayata nods reverently, then walks away.

Cosette waits until she’s gone before admitting, “I’ve been trying to get her to slow down for a while now. We just kind of had a tiff about it. She doesn’t really understand that she’s not here to work.”

“I get where she’s comin’ from,” Nuadu replies. “I’m still workin’.”

“But you know you don’t have to, right? The Tanadama installed automated sentries all over the place. You passed at least two of them on your way here from your tower.”

“I know, but I just kind of...like to see the people.”

Cosette nods. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” She points towards the door as if he’s just about to leave.

“Yeah, I’m gonna—” He motions to the side of him.

“Right, right. You always start in the...parlor.” Her voice softens in a gradient as the sentence goes on. She steps a little to the side so he can do his made up job.

He does what he needs to do, inside the pocket and out, and then he leaves to run a security sweep of the other towers. Or maybe he never does that, and he only ever comes here. Cosette has never asked any of the others about it, and they’ve not brought it up on their own. They don’t interact all that much. If they didn’t grow up accustomed to the isolation of self-sufficient living, the last week they’ve been here has given them the requisite experience. That was evidently a major issue in the Parallel and the Fifth Division. Avoiding congregating in large groups was easy in the former, and in some cases, vital to survival in the latter. As the more seasoned diplomat of them all, perhaps she ought to take it upon herself to make changes to that. They’re going to be here for so long, they should get to know each other better.

Night has fallen, and the hour of the date—or non-date—is quickly approaching. Cosette is putting the finishing touches on her decorations, which she decided to do in realspace, instead of her pocket dimension. She didn’t end up accepting help from Ayata, save for a few minor tasks, and some constructive criticism. If this was going to mean anything, it had to come from Cosette, or he may as well be on a date with Ayata. Was this a date? Would he say as much? She’s about to have her opportunity to gauge his feelings based on his reaction to all this. The mood lighting alone will be hard to ignore. There’s an elevator notification. He’s early, so she’s not quite ready. Instead of wasting more time on more matches, she uses one of the lit ones to light the rest, and it occurs to her that this is how she should have done it the entire time, and she’s kind of an idiot. How did people live like this in the past? She was going for a classic, rustic feel, but it has been a lot of work. Will he appreciate the retro look, or will he be super confused since his civilization has just about always had robots and spaceships. Oh my God, she’s thinking about this too much. Answer the door. Answer the door!

She races to the security panel. “Come on up!” She tries to hit the elevator button, but she fumbles. Then she fumbles again. “Goddammit.” She finally hits her target, then taps the intercom button again. “Okay, now! Sorry.” As she’s watching the graphic of the elevator fly upwards, she remembers that Ayata suggested she look like an elderly woman to see if he’s here for her, or for her looks. Now she’s not so sure if she wants to go through with that. He’s almost here, she has to make a decision. Will it just throw him off? Will it be too distracting? Her age-shifting is a choice, she’ll look like an asshole if she’s all wrinkly and gross. He’s getting closer. She’ll have no excuse, or will she? Can she come up with some believable reason? Can she do it in the next five seconds? Four, three, two, one.

The elevator doors open, and Nuadu steps into the penthouse looking at a 55 or 56 year old woman. He’s shocked, but maybe not bothered? He looks her up and down. “Wow, you look gorgeous tonight.”

“Do you really think so?” Though she compromised on the aging, she’s not come up with a plausible explanation for not being thirty at the oldest. She ought to make herself look as hot as possible.

“Yeah, that dress is beautiful.”

“Thanks, it’s conventionally made, not synthesized.”

“I can tell. It doesn’t look...too ordered; cold. If that makes any sense.”

She smiles. “Come on in. Can I take your coat?”

“Yes, thank you.”

They have a nice dinner together. Though the food is not synthesized, as she promised it wouldn’t be, she didn’t exactly churn her own butter either. The penthouse came equipped with a number of advanced cooking tools and machines which her people never invented in the Third Rail. Though it’s certainly too early to say that the two of them are in love, it feels safe to acknowledge that it was indeed a date. The way he was looking at her, he’s definitely interested in something more. At one point, she gradually started aging herself up, and he didn’t bat an eye. After they were done eating, they retired to the sitting room for tea, at which point she caught her reflection in a decorative mirror, and asked whether he even noticed that she was 75 at this point. She explained that it happens on its own when she’s not being careful, and he told her that he didn’t care. There’s definitely something between them, they just need time to explore it. Luckily, they have eight months for that.

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The Third Rail: Rock of Ages (Part I)

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Cosette DuFour is much older than she appears. When the temporal dam in her reality broke in 2399, she was on her deathbed. The doctors didn’t think that she would survive the night. A wave of temporal energy spread all over the globe, changing some people into something new, and giving them extraordinary abilities. At the eleventh hour, she was granted new life. Her body and mind were reverted to that of a newborn infant. She believes that this was no coincidence, and that time chose her specifically to absorb this kind of power. She was turning 100 at that very moment, and very well could have been breathing her last breath had the wave not miraculously saved her. It took a few days, but her memories started coming back to her, and she was able to muster up enough brainpower to age herself back up again. She wasn’t 100 years old anymore, but she wasn’t a baby either, who couldn’t string two syllables together. It was time to get back to work.

Cosette served as the longest running Ambassador-at-Large of the Global Council of Earth in what would come to be known as the Third Rail parallel reality. She was well-respected by members of competing religions, nations, and independent sociopolitical factions. That was how she made it to such an esteemed position, because the appointment-election angered the fewest number of people around the world. She retired from the job when she grew too weak and old, but after her physical rejuvenation, there was a rejuvenation in her support. The world had changed, and quickly changed again when reality quite literally collapsed, and the whole planet was shunted off to a new universe. The people overwhelmingly chose her to lead them in these difficult times. That was why she and her second-in-command were picked to represent the interests of the Third Rail population during the Rock Meetings.

Everyone thought that Carlin was in charge here, which is exactly how she liked it. She found it easier to allow others to believe that they had some control over her, and the rest of the room. She regularly employed this as a strategy in her past as a negotiator. In any good negotiation, all parties leave disappointed. But in a great negotiation, they all leave thinking that they came out on top. There was no one better in the world at making this happen than Cosette. When the realities combined during the Reconvergence, and she found out just how many people there were out there, she learned that her expertise extended above them as well. She continued to be the best of the best, and despite the fact that the Third Rail had the second smallest population of all, her people regularly won out over the opponents. They didn’t know it, though. They all thought that they had won, whatever they had negotiated, but the truth was that the Third Rail Earth held so much more power than anyone realized.

Time powers were the best thing to happen to the Third Railers, especially for the Ambassador-at-Large during her second term. Her age-shifting ability came in handy quite a bit, before the Rock, and during. Cosette sometimes needed to be taken seriously, so she turned herself into an elder, but she sometimes wanted to be underestimated, so she showed up as a teenager. Most of the time, she just wanted to feel healthy, which meant being in her mid-twenties. That’s how she is at the moment, back to where she feels more comfortable. She’s also finally back home right now, in her own personal pocket dimension that very few others have access to. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to place her head on her favorite pillow, and she certainly deserves the break.

The interdimensional intercom beeps. “Sir?”

There ain’t no rest for the wicked. Cosette lets out a frustrating sigh. Then she swings her arm over, and smashes the intercom button on the wall. “What?”

“There’s someone here to see you. It’s the representatives from the Parallel.”

“Tell ‘em to bugger off.”

“Um...you just did,” her assistant replies.

“Great, then it looks like we’re done here.” She turns over to her other side. “DuFour out.”

“They say that they have the tools necessary to access your pocket.”

“Let ‘em try,” Cosette offers. “Having the power to do something doesn’t give you the right to do it. It will still be breaking and entering, and I will be within my rights to protect my home by force. You’re in the Third Rail now, kids, and you’ll honor our laws.”

“They say—”

“Goddammit, never mind!” Cosette growls, and hops out of bed. She wraps a robe around herself, then reluctantly walks over, and out the door. “What do you want?”

“Um.” It’s the rep from the Parallel who wasn’t in the Rock Meeting. He is half of a duo who call themselves the Tanadama. They lord over their people like gods. It all sounds very sacrilege. “We were looking for the Ambassador?”

“That’s me,” Cosette explains.

“You’re not a little young?” the other guy questions. She can’t recall his name at the moment since she’s so tired and drowsy, but he was at the meeting instead, and is responsible for a profoundly huge army. 

Cosette grabs her assistant’s desk mirror. They’re right, she looks about eight or nine years old at this point. It’s only now that she realizes how big the robe feels on her. That’s the point, not for the robe, but for the bed. A king-sized mattress feels even more gigantic when she’s under four feet tall. Her body must have reyoungified itself automatically. “That’s a little embarrassing.” She transitions herself to age 24 instead. “There. Now what do you want?”

“You’ll have to come with us,” Ramses Abdulrashid claims. “You’re in the past, the Rock Meetings haven’t happened yet for the population as a whole.”

She looks over at her assistant, who confirms this, mostly with her eyes, but also a nearly imperceptible jiggle of her head. “Well, what are you gonna do about it, send me to the future?”

“That’s illegal on all worlds,” Ramses reminds her.

“Then I suppose you’re going to put me in protective custody?” Cosette asks, using air quotes. “I’ve heard many a dictator use that as an excuse to get rid of their political enemies.”

“I assure you, they are quite comfortable accommodations,” Ramses insists. “It’s important to prevent a paradox. The meeting only lasts a month. Then you’ll go back to your life. Just think of this as a long vacation.”

Cosette laughs. “Why is it I understand time better than you? The diplomatic discussions lasted a month from our perspective. We talked for about eight hours a day. We received regular input from our constituents during that time.”

“We really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Ramses urges.

“I’m trying to tell you that the talks last longer for these people than for us. The Magnolia Tree didn’t broadcast for eight hours every day. He broke it up into smaller episodes, to give people time to digest the information, and give well-thought out feedback. You’re gonna be putting us in isolation for a lot longer than a month.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ramses questions his General, or whatever the guy’s military rank is.

“I didn’t know,” Zima answers. “I suppose it makes sense. Looking back, it would have been practically impossible to sort through the public responses as quickly as they were coming in for us.”

Ramses shakes his head like there’s a bug in his hair. “It doesn’t matter. It may actually be even more vital now that you hide yourself away. Isolation is the only answer to this, again, since time travel is illegal everywhere.”

Cosette sighs. “I suppose you’re right. There’s a protocol for this. When leadership becomes unavailable, the next in line will step up.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Ramses says graciously.

“My primary assistant’s coming with me.” She faces Ayata. “You think your intern can handle the office while we’re both out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Ramses says. “What about your boss, Carlin McIver.”

Ayata can’t help but snort at the suggestion that Carlin is Cosette’s boss.

Cosette smiles at her, then looks over at the Parallelers. “Mr. McIver is not my superior. I’m his.”

“That’s not how I was to understand it,” Zima argues.

Cosette ages herself up into her eighties, and pats him on the head. “That was quite the point, sonny.” She goes down to her early forties. “Just let me go get dressed, and pack up my house.”

“You can’t take your dimensional generator with you,” Ramses tells her. “It’s a security risk.”

“Oh, I understand,” Cosette begins, “you thought I was asking. Let me say it slowly. I’m packing my house, and taking it with me. I had to spend a month in the garbage template dormitories that the Vellani Ambassador provided us. I’m not going through that again, now that I know it’s coming. I’ll be sleeping in my bed, in my house, and if you don’t want me taking it to your prison world, then I’ll just stay here. We’re not in the Parallel anymore, and you’re not a real god. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Zima holds her arm out to block Ramses from stepping up, even though the latter had no plans to do such a thing. “Could I please come in and inspect it, from a security standpoint? You have experienced security sweeps, haven’t you?”

Cosette closes her eyes, and nods her head at an angle. “I appreciate the need for caution.”

“First,” Ramses jumps in before they can leave. “We still need to know where Carlin McIver is.”

“The way I understand it, he stayed in Stoutverse.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ramses admits.

“It’s another universe, not Salmoverse, or Fort Underhill.”

“Right, I didn’t get to that point of the story yet,” Harbinger Zima says apologetically. Yeah, that’s his military rank. Harbinger. What an odd choice.

“Are you sure he never returned to the Sixth Key,” Ramses pressed.

“It’s time travel, Mr. Abdulrashid. “No, I’m not sure. He could have been gone for trillions of years, only to finally return five seconds ago. I’m not in charge of his daily routine. He operates mostly independently. I have too many other responsibilities to worry about his whereabouts.”

“We don’t have to find him,” Ramses explains. “We just need to make sure that he doesn’t create a paradox. If he’s gone, it should be fine.”

“Great,” Cosette says before leading Harbinger Zima into her pocket.

“How expansive is this?” Zima asks once they’re inside.

“The interior is roughly 300 square meters. The garden is about 150. It uses artificial grass, and doesn’t have any real trees. If you’d like, I can turn off the holographic projections, so you can see it all at once after you sweep the rooms.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he decides. He begins to go through all the rooms, looking in closets, and under beds. He’s very thorough with it, making sure there isn’t any eavesdropping equipment, or people hiding in dark corners. She follows him the whole way, making sure that he doesn’t plant his own devices, or do anything with her belongings. Finally, at the end, he asks her to take him to the back. Once they’re in the simulated outdoors, he stares at the beautiful false environment, including the fake sky above.

“It’s overcast. Is it overcast outside in this area of your Earth?”

“It’s not based on real world conditions,” she responds. “I just like the gray. I find it to be a calming presence after a long day. It feels like the clouds are protecting me, even though of course, they’re not really there at all.

He nods, and continues to enjoy the view. “May I ask, ma’am, how old are you? I only ask because you have the ability to shift your apparent age. Verters are a rare breed where I come. Most applications for age-shifting are rejected due to the sheer number of requests. I’m not sure why they don’t adapt the process to mass-producible technology.”

“I had to go on a diplomatic mission in the 2430s without an FTL ship. They put me in stasis for a couple of years, so I reckon I’m 147.”

He nods. “Me too. How did I know that? It’s like I could sense a kinship?”

“I thought you people were all thousands of years old.”

“We keep making babies. My dad chose to make a new clone 147 years ago.”

“A clone? Are you just a younger version of him?”

“I am no less a son—and an independent person—than you are a daughter to your own parents. I don’t share his memories. I think he’s just a narcissist who likes the way he looks too much.”

Cosette giggles, hopeful that she isn’t being rude and inappropriate. “Are you satisfied with the security of this home? Can I pack it up?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I didn’t notice you, during the Rock. You were just a kid, and you never spoke.”

“That was by design.”

“I must say, I prefer you like this.”

“Okay.” That was a weird thing to say.

“Is it hard?”

“Is what hard?”

“To find companionship? You can’t relate to anybody? I mean, no one else is as old as you are. I don’t mean to say that you’re old. I mean, by a lot of people’s standards where I’m from, you’re super young. Not to say that you’re too young. But, I mean, you were a teenager when we met. Which makes it a little weird. I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just a little nervous around you.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Nuadu.”

“Nuadu,” she echoes. “I was married for seventy years. They died of age-related diseases. I haven’t even thought about dating since then, even once I gained the ability to shift my age. I’ve been too busy working.”

“I see.” He nods. He’s worried that he’s crossed the line.

“I suppose I can’t rule it out.” Cosette turns around, and places a hand upon his shoulder for a few seconds. “Come on. Your god-leader must be waiting. Let’s go to prison!”

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Starstruck: When Antistars Align (Part II)

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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software

They couldn’t see anything, but they could feel it. The inertial dampeners could only do so much to protect them from the shaking ship. Mirage ran over to release an emergency crash cocoon for Belahkay, since he was in the most danger from all this mayhem. It wasn’t long before it was all over, though. The Iman Vellani’s EM shield managed to protect them from the massive matter-antimatter annihilation that was supposedly going on all around them. Maybe they overestimated how bad it was going to be. It would certainly explain how it was at all possible for them to survive. They were drifting through space aimlessly, but apparently safe now, so they raised the viewport shutters to get a look at what had happened.

Belahkay tried to say something, but was muffled by his cocoon.

Mirage lifted her palm in front his his face. She tapped her index finger and thumb together. Then she tapped her middle and index fingers together. She continued down the line to show him how to escape from the bubble. He mirrored the steps, successfully deflating the bubble. “What were you trying to say?” she asked.

“How do I get out of this thing?”

Mirage smiled, and went back to the console. “Preliminary readings coming in. We’re definitely not in Toliman space anymore. The stars are all wrong.”

“Could we be in the wrong time period?” Sharice asked. She looked over at her mother to see if she was wearing her umbilical cord necklace, which she would need if she wanted to travel through time.

Brooke guessed at her inquiry. She slipped her thumb underneath the chain, and pulled out the pendant to show her that time travel was a possible explanation.

“Impossible,” Mirage said. “The stars are too wrong for even that. They’re too far away. I mean, we could still be in the wrong period, but we’re nowhere near the stellar neighborhood anymore, that’s for sure.” She stopped, and looked up for answers on the ceiling. “Topdown.” Project Topdown is a special endeavor that Earth created in order to map and understand this local region of the universe. Two arrays of eleven telescopes each were sent off into the voids on either side of the Milky Way. They each had their own mandates, but combined, they should be able to tell the entire story of the galaxy, and beyond. It was launched from the Gatewood Collective about ten years ago. The data wasn’t accessible by most people yet, especially since there wouldn’t be much information to pick from at this time, but the relevant time travelers were given VIP early access. She shook her head. “We’re farther than even they can see.” She sighed. “Let me try to find Sagittarius A-star.” She kept fiddling with the instruments.

“Hey, guys?” Belahkay was looking through a side viewport, trying to get a better angle on what he was seeing.

Sharice was the only one to take notice. “What is it?”

“Hell. If I. Know.” He stepped back to let her see.

“Holy crap that thing is big.”

“Yeah, I see it now. Or rather them.” Mirage had gotten control of attitude for the most part, but they were still drifting. The profoundly gargantuan megastructure was now visible through the forward ports as well. “I’m scanning it too. Three nested rings. We’re on a trajectory to crash into one of them in the next couple of days, assuming they don’t start moving, which I believe they are supposed to. They look like an aerotrim.”

“What are they?” Brooke asked.

“A threat.” Mirage turned away from the controls. “I found our black hole. I know where we are. We’re around seventeen thousand light years from Toliman, on the top edge of the galaxy, looking down at the spirals from the void.” She waved her hand towards the floor, and made it disappear behind a hologram. There it was, the galaxy from a short distance. “This shouldn’t be here. We’re in trouble.”

“What makes this a threat, knowing where we are?” Belahkay asked.

“We’re too far from civilization to be seeing signs of civilization,” Mirage began to explain, “especially of this magnitude. I don’t know the purpose of these rings, but they’re designed to generate a massive electromagnetic field, and there’s something very familiar about the data from my scans.”

Sharice stepped over to the console to look over the data herself. After a few minutes, she figured something out. “Antimatter. It’s a giant antimatter containment field. And by giant, I mean the size of a star.”

“Oh my God,” Mirage said. “It was a star. It was an antistar.”

“I thought those were just a myth,” Belahkay said.

“We never really knew. From the outside, they look like regular stars, or we assumed they would. Even these days, scientists haven’t figured out how to tell for sure that they’re looking at an antistar, and it’s not particularly an area of interest for me. I can tell you that, due to their very nature, they would have to be like this, distant from anything else. So not only did someone come all the way out here long before they ought to be, they found the first confirmed antistar in the universe, and engineered a way to contain it. I sure would like to determine who the hell they are.”

“What was its connection to Toliman?” Sharice questioned. “That’s obviously why it’s been destroyed, because there was some kind of link, which became unstable, and led to their mutual annihilation.”

“We did this,” Brooke noted. “We destabilized the link. I don’t know why it was there in the first place, but we set off a few of our own antimatter bombs, and these are the consequences.”

“We don’t have enough information yet,” Mirage said to her dismissively. “The connection to Toliman might somehow be natural, in which case, sorry, our bad. If it was created by the builders of this megastructure, on the other hand, it would be their bad. What did they need with a random orange dwarf thousands of light years away, so close to Earth, and what gave them the right to it?”

Belahkay shrugged. “Let’s ask.”

“Ask who?” Brooke asked.

He pointed. “Them.”

A capital ship was heading right for them from the direction of the nearest containment ring. As it approached, a swarm of smaller ships broke off, and fell into an envelope formation. Mirage zoomed in to get a better look at them. They looked like flying police cruisers, complete with the red and blue flashing lights on the roof. All four of them looked at each other incredulously.

Mirage opened a drawer in the back of the bridge, and pulled out a stylish harness vest. “Take off your top.” Once Belahkay complied, she fitted the vest over his head. “Let me know if you ever want to upgrade your substrate. Until then, this vest mimics some of our most important features, like increased strength, durability, and a little speed. It also has limited teleportation capabilities.”

Belahkay intuitively pulled on the chest straps to tighten them up, and tight they became. He screeched in pain as a surge of energy rippled through his body. It only lasted for a few seconds, though, and he felt all right again.

“Oh, yeah, it’s gonna hurt a little bit,” Mirage added.

Belahkay rolled his eyes, and struggled to put his shirt back on. “Thanks.”

Sharice helped him secure his clothes over his new superhero suit, and then started to gently massage his shoulders.

The flying police held their position around the Vellani. Once the main ship was closer, a call came in on an open channel. “Unidentified foreign vessel. Please respond.”

Mirage snapped her fingers. “This is Captain Mirage Matic of the Stateless Private Vessel Iman Vellani, go ahead.”

“Please prepare to be boarded. You may make it easier on yourselves by extending an airlock, but it is not wholly necessary.”

“Boarding us will not be necessary either,” Mirage replied to the voice. “I know where we can talk.” She started to do some finger tuts that no one else in the room understood. The last movement featured her fingers tightly pressed against their respective thumbs, and slowly drawn away from their opposites like ripping a piece of paper in half. A section of the Vellani separated itself from the rest of the ship simultaneously, and started to float away. “Teleport into it,” she said to the crew only.

“Better not test your new power in the vacuum of space,” Sharice said to Belahkay after Mirage and Brooke were gone. She took him by the hand, and transported him.

Once they were all on the separated section, Mirage did some more finger tuts. The rest of the Vellani disappeared.

“Is it invisible, or did you teleport it away?”

“Both,” Mirage answered. She snapped her fingers again. “You may dock with my Ambassador Detachment,” she explained. “If you’ll send us your boarding specifications first, I can modify my airlock to accommodate for its unfamiliar dimensions.”

The voice waited to respond. “Very well, but we are not happy about it. We are starting these discussions on a bad egg. You will not be retaining the advantage.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Mirage closed the channel. “What do eggs have to do with anything?”

“Since when were you a Matic?” Brooke asked Mirage accusatorily.

“It felt like I needed a surname, and his was the first I came up with. Mateo and I were very close once. Like, real close.” A long time ago, in an old timeline, Mirage was created with the directive to kill a man by the name of Mateo Matic. He managed to stop her, and she managed to stop herself. She transcended her programming, and they became friends. In a desperate play to save her life shortly thereafter, he literally swallowed some of her composite nanites. It obviously worked, which was how she was still alive today. Brooke and Sharice were not cognizant of this particular story, and Belahkay didn’t know who they were talking about.

“Gross,” Brooke said. She was partially raised by Mateo’s future wife, Leona, and still thought of her as a mother figure.

The visitors docked with the Vellani Ambassador, and came in hot with a police contingency. A man stood amongst them who was clearly in charge. He was one of only two people with a face. The other looked like his lackey. Everyone else was wearing an opaque helmet. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” Mirage asked.

“I am Ex-10. Are you the ones who destroyed the Red Heart of Exis?”

Mirage looked over through the nearest viewport. “Probably.”

“Why?”

“We didn’t do it on purpose. Have you ever heard of Alpha Centauri B?”

The leader guy’s lackey tapped on a tablet. “Origin plus 4.”

“That was our counterstar,” Ex-10 said cryptically.

Mirage emulated clearing her throat. “It wasn’t your anything. It belonged to the stellar neighborhood.”

“We are vonearthans, same as you. We had ever right to channel baryonic particles through the portal at will.”

“You are not vonearthans,” Mirage argued. “You couldn’t be. How did you come to be this far out?”

“Human ingenuity, and the visionary leadership of our Emperor, the Great Bronach Oaksent.” He stood there proudly, clearly under the impression that the crew of the Vellani should bow in fright at the sound of his magnificent name.

“Who?” Mirage questioned jokingly, doing her best impression of Djimon Hounsou’s Korath.

Ex-10 came this close to growling at her.

“I suppose you’ll want to kill us now,” Sharice guessed.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” Brooke warned.

“Oh, as if they needed my help getting there.”

“Silence!” Ex-10 ordered. “You cannot die yet. You must replace what you broke.”

“I’m sorry to tell you, Toliman collided with your antistar through the portal that you created. Those there stars are gone. Destroyed. Kaput. Annihilated.”

“We are aware of how matter-antimatter reactions work. My father’s father’s father’s father was responsible for building the Hearth Rings.” He looked up at the rings in reverence. “We found a suitable replacement. It was going to be our backup Heart, but thanks to you, our plans must be expedited. You will serve the Exin Empire in that capacity until the job is done. If your lifetimes are too short for the job, accommodations will be made to extend your lives.”

“How long did these take to be built?”

“Roughly four hundred years,” he answered.

“Pshaw,” Mirage laughed. “I can do it in two hundred. Hell, hundo-fitty.”

Ex-10 narrowed his eyes at her ominously. “I will hold you to that. But you might want to think about the fact that it will take us roughly 33 years just to get there.” He jerked his head to signal to his men that they could file back out of the room. “We will send you the details, including the coordinates to the new antistar that needs to be protected. Any attempt to diverge from the path will be met with excruciating pain, but not death. You will not be allowed to die until we’re done with you.”

Mirage nodded like that was nothing more than a word of caution, instead of what it really was, which was a major threat.

They waited for the boarders to leave before speaking again. “We’re going to surrender to their demands?” Brooke questioned.

“Just look at them,” Sharice reasoned. “If the way they look and act doesn’t scream bad guys, I don’t know what does. That man had a number, not a name.”

“They’re right,” Mirage explained. “We’re responsible for what happened to their antistar. Besides, I’m a follower of Leona’s Rules for Time Travel. Rule Number Fifteen, don’t antagonize the antagonist.”

“I don’t want to be stuck here for a hundred and fifty years,” Belahkay admitted.

“Don’t worry,” Sharice assured him. “She pulled that number out of her ass.”

Mirage looked over her shoulder at her own ass as if Sharice meant her comment literally. “I don’t know who these people are, or how they came to be here, but there are things I know about the future which no one can escape. When the time comes, the antistar containment rings we build will change hands swiftly anyway. Besides, I like a challenge. As for you, Belahkay, we won’t be doing anything by hand anyway. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, because the robots are the ones who will be doing the actual heavy lifting. You won’t have to do a single thing yourself.”

A nearby console beeped. Brooke stepped over to look at it. “Directions to the new antistar. It’s about 23,000 light years away, deeper into the void.”

Mirage nodded. “Yeah, that’ll take around 33 years with a reframe engine at maximum speed. These people must have access to such tech as well. I find that concerning considering that it was just invented recently. They didn’t even offer us a ride, which means they either know we have one as well, or they presume we do. Either one is bad. I don’t like them being able to scan my ship, and I don’t like the possible ubiquity of the technology.”

“So, what do we do?” Belahkay asked. “What can I do? I’ll be an old man in 33 years. I wanted to have an adventure, not sit on a ship for most of the rest of my life.”

“There’s plenty to do,” Mirage explained. “Don’t worry about aging. We can place your body in stasis, and your mind in a surrogate substrate. Or you can just be in stasis. We can all go dormant for stretches of downtime. We’ll play it by ear.”

“Hold on,” Brooke jumped in. “We’ve not even decided if we should really be doing this. The Vellani can turn invisible and teleport. There must be a way to escape without any hope of them pursuing us.”

“Again,” Mirage began, “we don’t know what kind of technology they have. How about we try to gather more information first? We have a few decades to change our minds. Let’s reconnect the detachment, and start heading that way. Sound fair?”

< > Entire Story

The Pryce of Heaven: Crisis Averted (Part IV)

< > Entire Story

Missy and Tetra are able to watch Téa and the many, many versions of Jupiter Fury rampage through the afterlife simulation, like it’s a movie. Even though none of this stuff is real, it does take code to generate. Every time they crash a car into a hotel lobby, or dump a literal ton of sugar into a swimming pool, it alters the code, and the system can detect that. These changes are happening all the time, because people are driving around, and they’re adding sugar to their tea, but the wackier these code changes there are, and the more they happen in succession, the more likely it is that the system will flag it as aberrant. In many simulation worlds, the laws of physics are different, and they’re specifically being used to simulate conditions that could not possibly exist in the real world. They allow users to journey to the center of a star, or have two sets of vocal cords. The main simulation, however, is modeled after the true laws of physics. They too can be changed, as long as you’re at the right level, but unfortunately, none of the Jupiters has these privileges.

Precisely because there are so many of them, Tamerlane Pryce deliberately capped all of them at Level 7 Elite. Still, this allows them to make unlimited requests for whatever they want, however absurd, as long as they follow that particular world’s restrictions. So when one Jupiter asked for one thousand airplanes that are all flying towards a single point simultaneously, they figured Pryce would take notice. He didn’t. One Jupiter requested a tank four times the size of a normal one, while a different Jupiter asked for a one alpaca that bites people incessantly, and another that bites the first one, but Pryce still did not come. The requests just kept being crazier and crazier, or more to the point, more intrusive to the harmony of the main simulation. But nothing works, until December 14, 2134 gets the bright idea to ask for a few fairly simple things. “Can I get a coke? No, a water. No, a lamp. No, a cat. Can I get a spaceship? No, one huge Junior Mint. No, a coke.” It works. Pryce finally shows up.

“Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding! You said the magic words.”

“That was all it took?” December 14, 2134 asks.

“I assume you know it’s a reference,” Pryce says. “Anyone who asks for those specific things, in that specific order, and does so unironically, is awarded audience with me. So. What would you like to discuss?”

“There!” Missy declares. “Pryce is definitely in the simulation, and distracted by the Jupiters. Téa is back in full lurker mode. Hopefully Pryce can’t see her either.”

“Great,” the still living version of Jupiter says. “This doesn’t mean there aren’t other defenses, but now you should be able to get to the brain. That’s where it’s possible to control the whole body, I know it.”

“That’s what I was thinking too,” Missy agrees. “I don’t really know Hogarth Pudeyonavic, but that’s what makes the most sense.”

“Can we survive there?” Tetra asks. “You said some parts are completely uninhabitable.”

“That’s true,” Missy confirms, “but Pryce is still an organic human. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about him, it’s that he doesn’t wanna be a mech. He needs to be able to control the matrioshka body, so wherever exactly that is, it has to be habitable.”

“Still, we need a way to actually get up there from the ass,” Tetra reminds her.

“I’ve been multitasking,” Missy tells her. “I know enough about the section we’re in. They installed teleporter pads at strategic locations. We’ll have to make a few jumps up the torso, but it will get us to the brain eventually.”

“I hope Téa and my duplicates can distract Pryce for that long,” Jupiter muses.

“We’re tired of living in the simulation,” December 14, 2134 tells Pryce.

“Okay, cool,” Pryce says. “I’ll just delete your code. Give me a second...” He starts tapping on his virtual tablet.

“No. We want to be promoted to Level 11.”

Pryce chuckles. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I asked?”

“I like to be unpredictable, and giving you what you desire simply because you asked is certainly something I would do, just to keep people from tracking a pattern to my decisions. But I’m not going to do it. And here’s why. Her.” He gestures towards Téa.

Téa thought she was invisible, but maybe not to him.

“Her who?” December 14, 2134 questions. He’s not just being protective of her. He legitimately can’t see her himself anymore.

Pryce reaches above Téa’s head, and simulates pulling down a zipper, which serves to take Téa out of lurker mode, and exposes her to the rest of the simulation. “Her.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Do to you?” Pryce asks, offended. “I’m not going to do anything to you. You are my honored guest; the first I’ve ever had. No one’s ever been able to hack my simulation before, mostly because they don’t know it exists. And there’s something you have to understand about that, I have no control over the living. I am Hades, relegated to the afterlife. Even though you’re in here, you’re still alive, and I can’t touch you. Your friends, who are still outside the simulation, in their bodies? I can’t stop them from doing whatever they want either. The Glisnians and I made an arrangement. I’m allowed to use their processors to run my simulation. I don’t have control over the whole thing, though. I never have. You people make a lot of assumptions.”

“The Glisnians are still here?”

“Of course! You think I stole it from them? How would I have accomplished that?”

“That’s far enough.” A woman was waiting for them in the teleporter room. They were now at the shoulder of the matrioshka body, but it took some time to get there.

“We’re not here to hurt anybody,” Tetra assures her. “We can free you, though. We can take Pryce out of power.”

“You believe that Tamerlane Pryce is in power here,” the woman gathers.

“He’s not?” Tetra asks.

“Far from it,” she begins. “We allot him processing power, but his simulation is but a small part of what we do here.”

“What do you do here?”

“Don’t be rude,” Missy whispers. “First of all, let us do introductions. I am Melissa Atterberry. This is my associate, Tetra Turner, and this is our other associate, Téa Stendahl. Her consciousness is presently in the simulation.”

“I am Avalhana. I am responsible for communing with non-Glisnian vonearthans. I must ask, are you choosing ones?”

“The two of us are,” Tetra replies. “She is what we call a salmon. It’s—”

Avalhana waves her words away. “We are aware of what it means. To answer your question, we experiment with time here. That is why we are so close to Sagittarius A*. You appear to be manipulating the speed of time on your own.”

“I’m doing that,” Missy clarifies.

“Fascinating. Which is why I should stop speaking to you. As choosing ones, you are obligated to instead speak with my associate, the Afflicted Ambassador.”

“Very well,” Tetra says tentatively.

“Please step off of the pad, so that we may bring her to our location.”

As soon as they step away, the pad activates. Hogarth Pudeyonavic herself appears before them. She looks around. “Are we in standard realtime now?”

“You are inside my bubble,” Missy confirms.

“Excellent,” Hogarth says. “I’ve always found it uncomfortable, being in the black hole, watching the rest of the galaxy move on without us.”

Avalhana unceremoniously leaves the room, but once she crosses out of Missy’s bubble, they watch her going at a normal rate. This means that she’s actually traveling at an incredibly high speed, which is highly incredible.

“What year is it?” Hogarth asks.

“Twenty-one thirty-four,” Missy answers.

“What brings you here?”

“We have friends in the simulation,” Tetra says.

“Which one?”

“Multiple ones,” Missy explains. “Sanaa Karimi, Ellie Underhill, one Angela Walton, Jeremy Bearimy, and a Lowell Benton. We think he’s been shelved, though.”

“No, I don’t mean which friends; which simulation?”

“The afterlife sim,” Tetra elucidates. “If that’s not specific enough either, it’s the one that Tamerlane Pryce is running.”

Hogarth nods. “I see. You want them resurrected.”

“We do.”

“That is not the agreement we have with him,” Hogarth explains. “He can do whatever he wants with it. No one is entitled to resurrection.”

“You don’t have to break your agreement,” Missy promises her. “We’ll rescue them, and leave you out of it.”

“That will not be necessary.” Téa is awake. She rubs all over her face, like she’s showering. Then she stands up, careful to not let the VR cap fall from her head. “I will release your friends.”

“You will?” Tetra is confused.

“Forgive me. My name is Tamerlane Pryce. I am borrowing your friend’s body. Don’t worry, she consented. I needed to speak with you, and my own body is thousands of light years from here.”

“It is? Where?”

“You don’t need to know that,” Pryce replies. “The point is that this is my only option. If I resurrect a few people, I avoid a terrible, terrible outcome; a crisis, you might call it. I’m willing to part with them to save the whole simulation. It’s very important to me.”

“How do you know about this supposed crisis?” Missy presses.

“I ran a simulation. If I push back, you push back harder, and a lot of people get hurt. I don’t want that, because then you’ll never know that I’m not evil. I’m sick of people thinking that about me. I saved tens of billions of lives. Me! I did that! I did that alone! Stop treating me like the villain!” He takes a deep breath, and composes himself. “Sorry. It’s just been very difficult lately. You and your friends are more trouble than you’re worth. They murdered a prisoner, let another escape, and they keep changing my precious code. So I will take you to The Cervix, and we will be done with this.”

“Um. The Cervix?”

“That’s where he creates people’s clones,” Hogarth decides to explain. “It’s a symbolic gesture, which we conceded, because...I don’t really remember why. I guess I just didn’t want to argue.”

“Babies aren’t made in the cervix,” Tetra argues.

“Well, I didn’t design the matrioshka body with a womb structure, so this is the closest thing. There’s no vagina either, but that’s what he calls the Earth Nexus, which is where the resurrected come out.”

They all look at Pryce. “Oh, don’t judge me. Most partial organics here live in the breast sections; because they need nourishment. I’m not the only one respecting the symbology of shape.”

Hogarth chooses to move on. “The Cervix is no longer linked to the matrioshka body, and is located far enough away from A* that it doesn’t experience time dilation. You’ll be able to drop your bubble.”

“This seems too easy,” Tetra notes. “We’ve been through a lot to get here, and our predecessors went through more before we were even brought in. There’s something you’re not telling us.”

“There’s a lot I’m not telling you,” Pryce admits. “But it’s nothing you need to know, and you don’t have to worry. You’re getting your friends back, and there’s no secret motivation behind this. There is no conspiracy, just take the win.”

“That’s exactly what someone behind a conspiracy would say,” Missy contends.

“It’s also what someone who isn’t would say,” Pryce snaps back. “If I’m lying you’ll suffer, but if I’m telling you the truth, you have ten seconds to accept it, or you’ll really suffer. So again, take the win, and let me go back to work. This has taken up too much of my life already. I just want it to be over.”

Tetra sighs. “We’ll take it. How do we get there?”

“We have a Nexus too,” Hogarth answers.

At that, Téa’s body falls to the floor. She wakes up five seconds later as Missy and Tetra are holding her in their arms. “It’s me. I’m back.”

“Did he hurt you?” Tetra asks her.

“No, everything’s fine. I’m fine. I saw our friends, including Lowell. He was shelved, but Pryce let him out. He’ll be coming back with the rest.”

“I don’t like this.” Missy shakes her head slowly. “I don’t trust him.”

“It’s our only choice,” Téa says. “We have to assume we’re getting what he promised. Take it one step at a time. Trust, but verify.”

Hogarth sets them back on the teleporter pad, and continues the series of long-range jumps, until they’re all the way at the neck, which is where the Nexus is located. They take that to the Cervix, where all their friends have already been placed in clone bodies. It’s a pretty quick turnaround, but they decide to accept that as truth as well.

Missy, Tetra, Jeremy, Sanaa, and Angela step back into the Nexus, and prepare to return to Earth, but the other three stay outside. “I can’t go with you,” Téa tells them. “I have to get back to Tribulation Island in The Parallel. That’s where I’m meant to be.”

“How are you going to get there?”

“I’m on my way,” Jupiter tells them through the Cassidy cuffs. “I will make sure she gets where she’s goin’.”

“Ellie, are you going with her?”

“No,” Ellie responds. “I’m going to the matrioshka body. The simulation is mine, and I’m ready to take ownership of it.”

“I’ll go with her,” Lowell reveals, “and help. I don’t have my powers anymore. As far as I know, you are all sin-free. I need to do something positive with my life now.”

“I would love the company,” Ellie tells him with a polite nod.

“I’ll wait with Téa,” Missy decides, stepping out of the Nexus. “She shouldn’t have to be alone, and I feel like I’m supposed to be on Tribulation Island too.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank you now,” Sanaa says to her. “Which I did, and it’s done, and now we can go. Boot it up, baby!”

“No hug?” Missy asks.

“No hug,” Sanaa says. “I just don’t ever wanna see your face ever again.”

“I’ve been told that can be arranged,” Missy agrees.

They say their thank yous and goodbyes, and then the Earth-bounders leave, hoping to find their friends, or at least wherever they belong.

Ellie and Lowell then step back in, and prepare to return to the matrioshka body, but now outside of the afterlife simulation. “Should we formulate a plan?” Lowell asks.

“I’ve never found that necessary,” Ellie answers him with an evil smile.

They disappear.

“Welp,” Missy says. “According to my calculations, Jupiter is about sixteen thousand light years from us at the moment. If he flies here with the reframe engine at full speed, it will take him around twenty-two years to arrive.”

“I’m gonna be kind of old,” Téa points out.

“Fortunately, I can help with that. My bubbles can slow down time as well as speed it up.”

“Okay,” Téa nods in understanding. Go ahead and do it.”

Missy grins. “I already have.”

Just then, Jupiter opens the door from the outside, and hangs onto the handle. “Y’all need a ride?”

< > Entire Story