The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 24, 2506

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The door was still open, but Octavia was now on the other side. She looked pretty upset and scared. “Come in! Come in!” she screamed. Mateo heard something behind him too, so he looked over his shoulder. Goddammit, another goddamn monster horde was coming after him. Was this ever going to end? Yeah, right now. He shuffled in through the door, and helped Octavia close it. They could hear the booms as the monsters pounded on it, trying to get through. “I thought they couldn’t cross the perimeter.”

“Rules have changed,” Octavia explained. “I think seeing me walk through this door last year broke something in them. Imagine waking up one day and realizing that you were in a simulation.”

“That literally happened to me, like, a few days ago.”

“Oh. So you know.”

“You’ve been here for the whole year?”

“Yeah,” she answered. They weren’t outside of the dome, per se, but now inside of an antechamber. The border wasn’t a single two dimensional wall, but a complete ring. If they were on the real Castlebourne, this plaza would be used for intake, maintenance, and other meta-purposes. “There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, and I’ve been using this time to find your friends.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been easy,” Octavia went on as she was leading him down the corridor. “Obviously, they disappeared last year when you did, so they weren’t anywhere. I couldn’t just command drones to fly around and search for them. Optical cameras aren’t actually all that common. Security and logging systems rely predominantly on other sensors. I had to sift through this past data, looking for anomalies. I believe that I’ve pinpointed them to six domes. Now that you’re all back, we can find out for sure through those few optical cameras on scouting drones. I wanna show you something else first. One of the domes is different. It flagged something that I don’t recognize, and unlike the others, this anomaly appears to have been there during the whole interim year.”

“Oh, no.” Mateo knew what this was. Still, he followed her into a room full of monitors. She pulled up the feed that she was talking about, and confirmed his suspicions. It was Boyd Maestri, a.k.a. Buddha Maestri, a.k.a. Buddy. “Yeah, he’s...I know him.”

“Are you gonna break him out too?”

“I don’t see why I would. Where is this? Is that water, or is there something wrong with the feed?”

“Apparently, it’s Atlantis, so yes, it’s underwater. But it’s not consumed by water; it’s under a dome. But a smooth dome, rather than a geodesic one like they usually are.”

He sighed. “He looks like he’s doing fine, and doesn’t need to be rescued. He’s another bad guy...sort of.”

“Okay, well, he’s alone, so either one of these other domes is doubled up, or I missed one.”

Mateo nodded. “Pacey did say that not all of us would be alone. I thought he was referring to me, which was confirmed when you showed up, but hopefully there are others.”

They sat there for a few minutes, watching the drones hunt for the anomalies in realtime, instead of just old data. They found them. Ramses was in a snowy hell. Leona was in a museum, Angela on a river, and Marie in an old timey settlement of some kind. Oh, Dome for Pioneers, it said that right there at the bottom. Olimpia and Romana were thankfully together, and Pacey couldn’t have picked a better place than a cloud paradise. It was called Heavendome.

“I assume you wanna start with Leona?”

“She looks fine,” Mateo noted. “She’s just looking at the artifacts. Let’s get Ramses out first. It’s literally called Tundradome.”

“I postulate that the vactrain network is just like that door in that you have administrative access to it. I have not been able to leave, not that I had anywhere to go anyway.”

“You could have gone to The Bowl, and commandeered a ship.”

“I don’t know that that exists here. Like I said, this isn’t the real Castlebourne. We may not be in regular space.”

“Still, I appreciate you sticking around. You’re a good friend.” They hugged.

They took the circle line first to get to the vactrain station. It was a series of sealed tubes almost fully underground, which could take passengers anywhere in the world. There were hubs scattered around the globe, where these vactrains switched tracks when necessary, but some tracks had direct routes to each other, just based on proximity. The one between Bloodbourne and Tundradome was one of these connections. Ten minutes later, they were at their destination. According to the drone keeping watch over Ramses, he wasn’t too far from the station, but it was still going to be a little bit of a walk. Mateo and Octavia grabbed parkas from the locker room, and started to put them on, as well as the boots, scarved, and caps.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird, that Pacey hasn’t done anything to try to stop us?” Paige asked.

“He told us that he didn’t want to mess with our memories too much, or make every choice for us. My theory is that he believes in some level of freewill, and freedom in general. We used our ingenuity to break out of our prison, and break into others, and he likely respects that. He doesn’t have to be our enemy, and he knows that. Or, his purview is limited, and he straight up doesn’t know that we’re here. In case that’s the explanation, let’s be careful and quick.”

They also found snowmobiles near the entrance to the tundra environment, so they drove right out to Ramses’ location, got him on board without a single word, and drove back. That really was easy. “Do you remember who you are?” Mateo asked once they were back inside.

“I remember everything,” Ramses answered.

“Me too.”

“I don’t have any powers, though, which is why I almost died out there.”

“You would be surprised. I materialized a solid knife made out of light in my hand.”

“Good for you,” Ramses murmured.

Mateo laughed. “Let’s get you warmed up. They had hot chocolate in the Bloodbourne intake plaza. I’m guessing that this one does too. It must.”

“Let’s just go,” Ramses requested. “I assume you know where the others are.”

“Leona’s closest,” Octavia answered, “but we will have to go through a conjunction.”

It took longer to get to her than it did to get to Ramses, but they still had plenty of time before next year stole them. She was less than enthusiastic about leaving. She owed her resistance to the fact that she had no clue who they were.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” she demanded to know.

“Leona, it’s me!”

“I don’t know you, I don’t know Leona.”

“Claudia’s in trouble,” Octavia said, randomly maybe?

“What?”

“She’s hurt, and you know, if she dies, this place dies.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s, umm...on a river,” Ramses improvised.

“Yeah, she was looking for the Rod of Moses.” Octavia cleared her throat, hoping that would work. “The snake bit her.”

“Why is she out in the field?” Leona lamented. “She’s always doing that, still thinks she’s an agent. Wait, the Staff of Moses should be in the religious power aisle.”

“Yeah, it was stolen,” Mateo said, hoping that she would find this believable.”

Leona growled. “Walter’s son.”

“Yeah, we think it was him.” Even Octavia didn’t know enough about whatever this place was all about, but this was working.

“Okay, let’s go.” Leona started to move, but then stopped. “Wait. I still don’t know who you people are.”

“We’re from...Warehouse 14,” Octavia lied. “So...better not ask any questions.”

Leona was still not convinced, so Mateo decided to take a gamble. He held his hand up between them. A holographic daisy sprouted from his palm, and then bloomed to full glory.

She regarded it with all-consuming interest. She didn’t think of anything else but this one light-based flower. She slowly lifted her gaze up to her husband’s face. “Mateo?”

“Are you starting to remember?”

“Yeah.” She looked away to consider it. “Yeah, I remember everything.”

“Triggers,” Ramses realized. “We all need triggers.”

“What was yours?” Mateo asked him.

“The cold,” he said. “My fictional persona was programmed to like the cold. I do not. And that became quite apparent within about three microseconds of being there.”

“Oh, Mateo, I almost lost you.” Leona wrapped her arms around Mateo’s neck to hug, and then kiss, him. She hugged Ramses too. “Paige! You’re here!”

“Octavia.”

Leona held up an index finger. “Got it.” There was a brief pause. “Where are the others? On a river, or was that just a lie to get me to go with you?”

“Angela is the one on the river,” Ramses replied. “It’s on the other side of the planet. The others are more over there too, but in different domes.”

“Which ones?” Leona pressed.

“Dome for Pioneers and Heavendome. Olimpia and Romana are sharing that one.”

“Let’s go to Dome for Pioneers first,” Leona suggested, “even if it’s farther away. It sounds terrible.”

“Hasn’t Marie done that kind of work before?” Olimpia asked as they were starting to leave the warehouse. “She lived in the 1800s.”

“Her father was quite wealthy,” Leona explained. “He literally had slaves do that work instead.”

“Oh.”

They went to Dome for Pioneers first. Marie was even more resistant to leave. They kept trying, but could not figure out her trigger. Nothing they said about her past—her real life—made her remember anything true about herself. As far as she was concerned, she had been born in a cabin twenty miles from here, walked with her family on the Oregon Trail when she was three and four years old, and had lived in this settlement ever since. She wouldn’t budge, and they didn’t want to force her. Not only was she becoming more and more frightened of them the more they insisted, the androids who were programmed to believe that they were other settlers were getting upset too, and very protective of her. Okay, at least they weren’t going to hurt her. The humans switched back to the original plan, and went to see Angela.

Angela was much more open to the idea that none of this was her real life, though she still didn’t want to leave. The way this dome worked was that an upper lake was the source of water to a river, which fed into a lower lake before being evaporated up, and rained back down. It might not have been as conventionally coveted as the Christo-centric interpretation of the afterlife, but it was still gorgeous and pleasant. Still, she said that she felt she could trust them, so she walked through the exit, and got on the vactrain. They then went back to Dome for Pioneers, where the Walton twins served as each other’s trigger. Now they only had one more place to go to collect the whole set. If Angela’s reluctance was any indication, it could be the hardest. Who in their right mind would ever want to leave heaven?

“Oh my God, this place is so boring!” Olimpia complained.

“You have a way out?” Romana asked. “Let’s go!”

“Do you remember us?” Mateo asked them.

“No. What? Why would we remember you? I don’t care who you are. If you have an exit, then point me to it. ¡Ándale!” Olimpia exclaimed.

“Seconded!” Romana agreed.

“Okay, great,” Ramses determined.

They started to walk back towards the elevator, but then Marie stopped them. “Wait, where are we going? Which dome is safe and preferable, or somehow beneficial?”

“Oh,” Mateo said, realizing that they hadn’t actually thought that far ahead yet. “Octavia, how did you get here in the first place?”

The group all looked at her, so she started to recoil a little. “It was a train. I found a line that looked like it didn’t go anywhere. Unlike the others, I think it was interdimensional. I ended up back where I was, but everything was different.”

“Where is this line?” Leona asked her. “You can’t access it from just anywhere?”

Octavia was still nervous. She shifted her focus from person to person. “Castledome. You have to go to Castledome.”

“Which is probably where Pacey is,” Romana lamented.

“It’s where he was,” Octavia agreed. He found me right quick, and took me to Bloodbourne.”

Mateo placed a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what I said with the car, that you had me to help you. That’s still true, but you now you also have them.” He indicated the group. “Castledome won’t be a problem.”

“No,” Leona concurred. “Let’s go.”

They took the vactrain back to the other side of the world, not speaking too much during the ride, but catching each other up a little. Mateo was able to trigger his daughter by recounting the story of when they first met, and Olimpia with a passionate kiss. They now all had a lot of memories that they didn’t have before, including their true pasts, their fabricated lives in Underburg, and the new ones from their respective domes since being separated. Something went wrong with navigation, which sent them on a detour away from Castledome. They ended up in Power Crystal Factor. Leona and Ramses tried to reroute them, but the controls were locked out. Someone wanted them here, almost certainly Pacey. With no other reasonable choice, they stepped off the train, crossed the ring, and walked through the main doors.

Pacey was waiting for them on the main floor. The name was fitting. He was surrounded by crystals of all shapes and colors, forming in their little growth chambers. They were sparkly, beautiful, and a little mesmerizing. Pacey still stole focus, though. He didn’t look mad, and definitely not surprised. He spoke first. “I’ll allow you to leave, but under one condition.”

“What’s that?” Leona asked, stepping forward, and resuming her role as their leader.

Pacey smirked. “All members of your party must be present at the reservation time. We do not seat partial parties.”

“Ah, shit,” Mateo said. “You’re gonna make us go get ‘im.”

“I’m gonna make you go get ‘im,” Pacey confirmed.

Mateo sighed. “And then we can go?”

“And then you can try to figure out how to leave,” Pacey corrected. “Whether you can actually do so is entirely up to you.”

“So that’s a no, you won’t let us.”

“I won’t actively stop you,” Pacey said. “But I won’t help you.”

“Well, at least we know he’s in Atlantis,” Octavia said encouragingly.

“He’s not necessarily there anymore,” Pacey countered. “The Recursiverse Immersive Experience takes the immersive part very seriously. It’s the largest dome network on the planet. It may take you a while, and you won’t have access to any tracking systems, or navigational data. But you might wanna take this.” He pulled one of the nearby crystals out of its slot, and offered it to them.

“What’s this?” Leona asked. It was totally clear while Pacey was holding it, but then it started to change to multiple colors once Leona took hold of it.

“You don’t know?” Pacey asked. “Ramses?”

“Never seen one like it,” Ramses said. “It’s technicolored, though, which is interesting.

Pacey nodded once with the corner of his lips turned down, but not in frown. “You’ll figure it out.” He ushered them back out to the train station.

“We’ll go to Atlantis first, and start on his trail from there,” Mateo suggested. “We’ll get it done faster than you think.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Pacey said as Team Matic was filing into the train car. “Good luck,” he added just before the doors closed.

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Microstory 2437: Warehouse Dome

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This is a big planet, and it needs a lot of stuff. But you don’t just make all the stuff you need, put it where you need it, and walk away. Some stuff gets consumed, while others get worn out. Plus, they’re always expanding, so stuff needs to be added to these new environments. They build the stuff ahead of time, and store it away. I don’t know how many warehouses there are, but there are at least thirteen, and this is one of them. Picture a warehouse with concrete floors, tall shelves, and a bunch of random artifacts. Now multiply that by who knows how much. That’s Warehouse Dome. I have no idea what all these things are for. I’m guessing that there were more appropriate goods in a section that I didn’t see, like dayfruit growers and vactrain seat upholstery. In the area where I was, I saw a set of humming golf clubs, a whole shelf of glass insulators, and a giant vat of purple goo. Tell me what that’s all about. The people I saw there sure wouldn’t. I immediately felt totally accosted by them, like I wasn’t doing my job, or something. I was apparently in the wrong place, and was supposed to be in a different aisle doing inventory? Those idiots thought that I worked there. It didn’t even seem like they expected any visitors in the first place. Like, there was no tour or orientation, not even anyone who seemed to be in charge. They were just really secretive and weird. I was probably not meant to be there at all, but if that’s the case, why did they even let me in in the first place? Can you just go anywhere? Can you go to any dome you want, no matter how much of a threat you are? I heard of one where they keep all the water. Can you just pour some poison into it without even sneaking around, or breaking in? Whatever, it was boring. I perused the objects—like the self-typing old-timey typewriter, and a mirror that had some creepy little girl in it—for a little bit, but then I left. Lock your doors, or put up a sign, or something. Don’t just leave me hanging like that. I don’t see this as my fault. By the way, the above is my name for it. They just called it Warehouse 13. I didn’t bother finding out if the first twelve were just as weird. Then again, maybe the prospectus is broken. It was listed as an adventure dome, despite clearly being logistical, so I don’t even know.

Microstory 1769: Pointed Pyxis

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Folks, there’s no doubt about it, this is the biggest find in archaeological history. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I’ve had it checked by a dozen of my colleagues, and we all agree on the results. This box before you dates back 16,000 years. It calls into question everything we know about pre-literary history. It breaks the laws of physics, and quite honestly, it’s driving me insane. I’m not here to talk about the science we used to date this artifact. You can read our paper at your leisure. Today, I’m going to be showing you the artwork on the box, and explaining just how impossible it is, just in case some of you aren’t surprised by it on your own. Now, we call this object a pointed pyxis, and the first of them rose up in Greek culture during the eleventh century BCE, which is a full 13,000 years after the artifact was made. That alone would be astonishing, to learn that people were making certain styles of art so much earlier than we once believed. That’s not the exciting part. If that was all there was, I suppose we could have just assumed it was a coincidence. Again, still remarkable, but not too crazy. Let me zoom in. In the first hexagon is a woolly mammoth. Nothing weird there; they weren’t extinct back then. But if you look closer, you’ll see that it’s not alone. There’s a human riding on top of it, and as far as we know, people never did that. We hunted and co-existed with them, but we did not domesticate them. Or maybe we did. In the next hexagon—and by the way, I’m not sure what to call this shape; curved hexagons on a sort of pointed cylinder—there is what appears to be a bird. This is not the kind of avian you would expect to find on something from this time period, or from any time period in human history. The pterosaur went extinct 66 million years ago, and was never seen by man. It’s possible the artist uncovered fossilized records, but unlikely they were intact enough for them to so accurately depict it’s living form. That’s your first clue to time travel, but not your last.

This appears to be an illustration of a crucifixion, which didn’t start happening until about the 6th century BCE. This is a sea-faring vessel, of a design which the vikings used in the tenth century CE. This writing is Cuneiform, this is Kaqchikel, this is Cyrillic, and these are Neolithic Chinese characters. Over here is the number pi to 12 decimal places...converted to binary. Here’s the hex code for gunmetal gray, but we had to figure that out, because it’s written in a language that we have never seen before. Right next to it is a photorealistic picture of a cannon in said color. There’s a mushroom cloud, there’s the logo for a car company, and look at this and tell me it doesn’t look exactly like TV’s James Van Der Beek. I could go on and on, but you get the picture. Our best guess is that this is the work of some kind of time traveler, but why would they paint all this on a pointed pyxis? What was the purpose of the container at the time? We’ve tested the inside as well, of course, and found absolutely no residue; not even the paint they used on the outside. No dirt, no microbes, no nothing. We’ve even exposed it to modern air, and while we take every precaution to protect against contamination, at least a little always gets in. We don’t operate inside of a vacuum. I’m presenting this to you, because you are the brightest minds this planet has to offer. We’ve decided to crowdsource the mystery, but we’re not ready to reveal it to the world at large yet. If any of you can explain any aspect of this incredible fine, we encourage you to sign up for some time to examine it. Thank you very much.

Microstory 1645: Omegaverse

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The Omegaverse Earth was totally normal and boring in the beginning. It didn’t even have its own name until a particular object from another universe randomly appeared, and started making changes. It’s called the Omega Gyroscope, and it has the power to do just about anything. It can’t alter multiversal physics, but it can change the proper physics of whatever universe it happens to be in at the time, but only while using the original proper physics as a foundation. Needless to say, it’s incredibly dangerous, and probably best left unused. A not so great person was in pursuit of the Omega Gyroscope, and in order to protect it, this person’s opponent threw it into a portal, hoping to pass it off to someone he knew he could trust. Unfortunately, the portal closed just as the gyroscope was crossing the threshold, which trapped it in the outer bulkverse. It floated around aimlessly for an infinite amount of time, before making its way to the brane that would come to be named for it. Of course, you wouldn’t know how powerful or dangerous the thing was if you looked at it. It’s just this dinky little thing that was never designed to do what it does. It was a regular toy that became imbued with its power afterwards. So it’s not like a cabal of scientists had to get together to study the thing once it was discovered. A random underemployed man on an urban hike after his four hour shift stumbled upon it, and sold it at a pawn shop for a few bucks. It changed hands several times over the years; other pawn shops, attics, storage compartments, an antiques store, and finally a museum. The curator still didn’t know that it had magical powers, but she felt compelled to put it on display, and make up a story about its history. The museum was struggling, you see, and she just needed to get people back in the doors for the real artifacts.

Her plan did not work for the majority of the population, but the Omega Gyroscope has a passive power that only certain people can detect. Some people are just more in tune with their universe. They are not full witches, and probably never will be, but they do have a greater sense of the interconnectedness of reality. When they encounter something as profound as the Omega Gyroscope, they know it. They don’t necessarily know why they feel what they feel, or what it means, but it will most likely leave them with the urge to take ownership over it. The curator’s lie was so good that the gyroscope was heavily secured in its display case, so they couldn’t just steal it, and run away. They conscripted a would-be cop to steal it for them. He had a reputation for doing anything short of murder for the right price, for not asking questions, and for getting the job done quickly and efficiently. This job went south when his former best friend, and current rival, went after him, and foiled the plot. He didn’t get the chance to haul the criminal off to jail, though. The Omega Gyroscope—after all this time—finally reactivated. It turned back time, and changed everything about how the world would develop from there. What followed was a series of adventures, precipitated by persistent use of the gyroscope. Different people kept getting their hands on it, figuring out how it worked, and rewriting reality to their whims, if only subconsciously. One of these alterations resulted in the worst damage to a planet in any local group universe. This forced the Ochivari to forgo the sterility virus, and engage in total warfare. These humans had to die, and in the most violent way possible. But they underestimated their enemy.

Microstory 1104: Hall Voss

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Lots of people with special temporal powers or patterns are given nicknames, based either on what they could do, or what they did with what they could do. Hall Voss possessed two nicknames, however. He was both The Navigator, and The Collector, but there was a good reason for that. There were actually two of him. He was just a regular ol’ time traveler, who generally operated across a single timeline, but he also had a penchant for history, and decided to do something about all those artifacts that were lost to history, for one reason or another. He would jump up and down the timestream, rescuing objects with important historical value—from fires, and looting, and other disasters—and donate them to a time museum, which was run by The Historian. Something he learned along the way was that one of his grandsons, and one of his granddaughters, were destined to become notable temporal manipulators as well. Camden was The Centurion, who lived around the turn of the 22nd century, but worked for an intelligence cooperative at the turn of the 21st century. His sister, Xearea was one of the last Saviors of Earth, which was a special class of teleporter, who zipped all over the globe, saving lives. Unfortunately, simply having discovered this truth about his family’s future was enough to prevent it from coming to pass. Xearea was erased from the future, and Camden from both the future, and the past. Such is oft the price of time travel. He had to fix this. So he went back in time, and met up with his younger self. He sought the aid of a choosing one with the power to manipulate people’s memories, who used this gift to place a permanent block on the younger Hall’s mind. He would not be able to learn anything about the future or past that could, in knowing, prevent it from actually happening. This set the timeline right once more, and restored the lives of his grandchildren, but it came at its own price. This older version of Hall was stuck in a separate reality, and could never return, even if he wanted to. So now there are two. The ignorant version—the one that will one day have children—is so ignorant, that he does not even recognize his alternate self. As The Collector, he works with The Navigator all the time, but interprets his face as someone entirely different. If someone were to try and convince him that he has a double, he will never be able to see it, since his mind has been permanently blind to it. But this is all okay, because together, they save history on a regular basis.

Microstory 888: A Letter Home

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Hey, honey, I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you when we finally get back. I’m having a lot of fun here, but I wish you could have come with us. This trinary system is more interesting than we thought. We went to this one world that you are not going to believe. The scientists gave us this long-winded explanation that I couldn’t follow. She said something about the temperature of the planet, and the composition of the atmosphere. She hypothesized that the ocean didn’t form like this exactly naturally, but somehow transformed from fermentation brought upon by evolutionary fascinating microorganisms that she can only postulate exist. She wanted to stay and study the phenomenon more, but it was a pretty hostile environment, and we weren’t really equipped for a long term survey. Besides, there weren’t any resources, so it wasn’t like we would have gotten much out of it. She was allowed to take a few samples back to the ship, though, so maybe we’ll learn a thing or two about how the universe works. I wanted to take a few samples of my own, because I think it’s cool that that we found an ocean made of alcohol, but the captain ordered us to stay away from it. I imagine she’s worried I’m going to try and drink it, which would be outrageous, but I understand where she’s coming from. So we moved on. The next planet we came to—the one we’re still orbiting right now—showed unusually specific signs of civilization. We found no ruins, nor any ancient artifacts. There weren’t any petrified specimens, or bones. We only know that someone must have been there at some point, whether it was that species’ home planet, or not. We only found a single structure on the entire surface, or underneath at a depth of fifty kilometers, so we guessed it served as some alien outpost at one point. The rest of it appeared to be completely untouched by anything beyond some weird plantlife. There were computers and other instruments in the structure. They allowed us to not only control the weather, but also the composition of the atmosphere. We turned up the oxygen to help us breathe a little easier, but there is still so much to learn. Oh my God. Oh my God, sweetie, that’s it. How did we not think of this before? We need to move these machines over to the alcohol ocean planet. That’s the one with an atmosphere that needs to be adjusted. Okay, I gotta go, but I’ll send you another message tomorrow. Love you, don’t cheat on me!

The Departure of Hokusai Gimura: Chapter One

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The first thing I do after secretly leaving Analion Tower—which is in about the same state it was in the other reality—is return to the bus station and retrieve the money that The Repairman procured for me. The one benefit of living in that corrupted reality Yatchiko created was that I was a whole person, with an identity, and resources. I even had a girlfriend with immense time powers whose help I could use right now, but I have no idea how to contact her. Her phone number no longer works, which I discovered after borrowing a phone from a kind stranger. I still have my phone with me, but it only works with public WiFi, because my original wireless carrier has never heard of me. The only thing I was able to keep with me from the corrupted reality was my face. Melantha—or Meliora, as it were—used to give me deaging therapy, which somehow transferred over to the true reality.

After resting for a night in a seedy motel, I walk to a seedy car dealership, where they don’t ask many questions, and buy a crappy car. I drive the crappy car to the crappy part of the city where people do whatever they can just to get by. I’ve retained my memories of being a Kansas City police officer, and a corporate fraud investigator, in the corrupted reality. While most of that never actually happened, I still have knowledge of how this city works. When you’re a cop looking for really bad people, sometimes you have to let the not so terribly bad people keep living their lives, and doing their jobs. I never really had a problem with that since I don’t agree with every law anyway. I struck a deal with a couple who specialize in generating false identities for people. As my confidential informants, they would keep their ears to the ground for any nefarious activity. In return, I would let them keep helping people escape their old lives. Most of their clients were abused wives, and street gang members who wanted to get out of the life. They charged a lot less for their services than they could, and never helped violent criminals evade the law. All I can hope is they still exist in this reality.

“You smell like a cop,” the cliché of a freelance security guard says when I try to enter the forger couple’s den.

“I was a cop, and I left this operation running because I appreciated what they were doing. It was my job to stop gang violence, and they contributed to that cause. I don’t think they ever knew about me, but I wanted to extend my gratitude...and ask for a favor.”

He lifts his head to alter his perception of me.

I take a thousand dollars out of my pocket. “I just wanna talk. You can pat me down, if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary,” says someone from a dark corner. A young man steps into the light and offers me his hand. “Nice to meet you, detective. My parents spoke highly of you.”

“They did?” That’s impossible, I never actually worked for the KCPD, at least not as a detective.

“Yes, of course. In the corrupted reality, that is,” he says. “Follow me.” He turns around and walks back into the darkness.

As I’m following, his personal guard casually plucks the cash from my hand, which is fine.

“Who are you?” I ask him once we’re in his office. “How do you know about the corrupted reality? Do you remember it?”

He points to a mirror on the other side of the room. “That allows me to speak with my dead parents. Yesterday, they start talking about contradictions in their own memories, acting like they’ve lived lives that never happened. I figured it out.”

“You have a Mirror of Erised?” I ask, referring to an object in the Harry Potter franchise.

He grins. “Where do you think Rowling got the idea?”

“So you know who I am?” I ask, getting the subject back on track.

“Detective Kallias Bran, not really. Was the corruption centered on you?”

“It was.”

He nods. “But you broke through it?”

Trusting him, I take the Incorruptible Astrolabe from my bag and show it to him.

He dons a pair of his own steampunk goggles, and adjusts the magnifiers. “Very interesting. Got anything else?”

“Yeah, I do,” I say, guarded. “Questions.”

“That’s all right, I’m not in the business of stealing from people.”

“What are you in the business of?”

He takes a breath. “My name is The Forger. I help time travelers assimilate into their new environments.”

“You’re a time traveler?”

“I’ve traveled, but by aid of others . I can’t do it myself, this is my time period.”

“So you can help me create an identity.”

“You had an identity during the corruption, but now now?”

“The reality was created in order to give me that identity, which was stolen from me when my city disappeared from time.”

He’s taken aback by this. “A whole city?”

“Gradually. Eventually.”

“Holy shit, I need to talk to The Historian about that.”

“First, could you make me a real boy?”

Still preoccupied with the mystery of Springfield, Kansas, he steps over to the multi-function printer and punches a few buttons. It starts spitting papers out of one tray, and then a full passport from the booklet tray. He then moves over to the ATM. “Are you staying in 2017?”

“Yes, but I don’t need any money. The Repairman took care of that for me.”

“Oh, you met him? Kind of a weirdo, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s good people, though.” He pushes a few ATM buttons. A few cards fall out, which he hands to me. “He always hands out cash, so you’ll need at least one bank account, and a line of credit.”

I take the cards from him, which are completely blank, except for the chip, and the magnetic bar. “Which bank?”

“You choose. “The cards will fill in themselves once you decide which issuers they’re from. I recommend staying away from Gregorios, though. They’re even more corrupt than regular banks.”

“Ah, man, this is amazing. Thank you for all you’re help. How much do I owe you?”

He laughs and taps on the ATM a few times. “I don’t need your money. Just tell me what kind of life you would have led had you not lived in this mysteriously disappearing city. The documents that printed were just the initial ones. You’ll still need a history.”

I sit down with him and discuss what I’ve been though. I make a few things up, but most of it is just my real past, conflated to Kansas City, instead of Springfield. He prints out two copies of each document, and keeps virtual copies in a magical network that apparently disseminates them to time and space. He’s not just giving me papers to show people as needed. He’s actually somehow rewriting history to reflect my presence in it. I ask him whether he’s met Yatchiko Ishimaru, who could do something similar, but he just says he stays away from all those people, as most salmon and choosers do. Whatever those are. The Children of Springfield, as I’ve decided to call them, are a special class of temporal manipulators that no one wants to talk about, according to the Forger.

He collates all the documents, handing one set to me in a manilla folder, and placing the other in a large envelope. He then steps over to a mailbox, opens it once before closing it, then lifts the red signal flag. He stands there for a few moments, playing with his phone, while I review my new information.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, through which a twentysomething guy walks when the Forger announces that it’s open. He’s wearing traditional courier garb, complete with shorts, and a flimsy hat. I can see burn scars peaking out on the side of his face. “Detective!” he cries upon seeing me.

“Do I know you?” I ask. He does look familiar, but I can’t quite recall.

“Ennis. Ennis Patton. You helped me and my family move.”

I look at my folder. “Wow, these papers work fast.”

“What?” Ennis asks. “This was years ago, in Springfield.”

“You remember Springfield?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah, I’m from there. Born and raised, like you. Though...I suppose not anymore.”

“You’re a time traveler,” I guess. That must be why he remembers a city that no longer exists.

He smiles proudly. “The Courier, at your service.” He flicks the brim of his hat. I never got a chance to thank you. You got us out. Had we stayed in our neighborhood one more day, we’d have been toast.”

That’s it. I used to go around finding ways of moving people out of the houses that were about to be swallowed up by the ravages of broken time. I do remember him now. “Ennis Patton. You were the one...” I trail off, not wanting to be insensitive.

“Who got blown up in that package bomb?” he finished my sentence. “That was me.”

“They could never explain that, how three houses in a row exploded at once. That’s not how blast radii work, but I guess it had to do with time travel.”

He nods. “That’s exactly right.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be. That block disappeared soon thereafter. It was another several years before our new street went with it. I don’t think we would have believed you had that package not blown up. It was after that that I started having some weird time experiences, like the Purple Rose Lane pocket dimension. And now my parents are safe in Wichita, and I have a job that I love.”

“Speaking of your job,” the Forger jumps in, “I need you to get the Detective’s new documents to The Archivist so he can update his file.”

“I have a file?” I ask.

“Everybody has a file,” Ennis explains. He takes my identity package from the Forger and stuffs them into his delivery bag.

“Well, I’m glad things ended up okay,” I say to him. “It still shouldn’t have been so...painful.”

“These scars haven’t exactly been a hit with the ladies and gentlemen,” Ennis says, lifting his shirt to reveal them to be much worse on his back, “but they’re mine now, and I accept that.”

“Still,” the Forger begins, “Doctor Hammer could probably do something about them.”

“Thanks,” Ennis says. “I’ll consider it. Right now, though, I have deliveries to make. It was nice seeing you again, Detective Bran.” He tips his hat and turns to leave back through the bathroom door.

“You as well,” I say before he vanishes.

“Well, you’re all set up,” the Forger says with finality. “Unless there’s anything else I can do for you.”

“No, you’ve been a great help.” I take the Astrolabe back out of my bag and set it on his table. “Put this somewhere safe for me. You’re obviously familiar with the time traveler underground. I wouldn’t know the first thing about hiding a magical object, and I certainly don’t want to keep looking at it.”

“Will do,” he says quietly.

I exit to use my identity to buy a really nice condo at the Ponce de Leon through my new bank accounts. There’s no reason I can’t be comfortable while I’m looking for where Hokusai ran off to.

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The Mystery of Springfield, Kansas: Chapter Five

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As I’m brushing my teeth, I start to feel like things are not quite right. Everything looks familiar; the house, the dog watching me patiently from the floor, my neighbor’s car parked on the street outside—but I can’t remember the first time I saw these things. I know that I must have, because dogs don’t just appear out of nowhere, but I can’t ignore my instinct either. Or maybe I can, and maybe I should. I finish up in there, give my girlfriend a kiss, and leave for work. I’ve been retired from KCPD for a few years, and life couldn’t be better. I didn’t hate being a detective, but I prefer the work I do now. There’s a lot less risk, and a whole lot less death. I’m still using the skills I learned from my days on the force, but now I just investigate corporate malfeasance. Don’t get me wrong, those people can be ruthless, but at least they’re not trying to shoot me. Well, mostly. There was that one time.

I’ve just started working for a new client; this company called Snowglobe Collective that is basically in the business of acquiring other businesses. They send me out to their potential acquisitions to look for any problems that might arise. To be honest, they’re not too terribly concerned with whether the other companies are breaking the law, only whether it could become a problem for them later. I don’t feel great about covering these things up, but I don’t work for the city anymore, I work for Snowglobe, and I’ll do whatever they ask, as long as it doesn’t put me or mine in danger. So far, it’s worked out perfectly. I’ve not found any reason to contact the authorities anyway. The biggest crimes going down in these companies is an unusually high amount of pen theft.

The day is boring as I’m mostly just filling out paperwork. There’s gotta be a paper trail for everything, and that takes a lot of my time. I decide to cut out early, though, and head back home. Melantha is waiting for me in the kitchen. She’s not cooking us dinner, because she’s terrible at it. I don’t even know why we have a kitchen, other than the fact that she likes to read while sitting on the granite countertop, which is why I’ll probably ask her to marry me before too long. “How was your day?” I ask.

“It’s okay. Construction on the hotel is going a little slow, but I’m confident it’ll pick up.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” I say, casually lifting her up to carry her to the livingroom couch. “Have you settled on a name yet?”

She kind of gives me this faux bashful smirk. “I’m thinking...The Sanctuary.”

“That’s...why?”

She shrugs. “Why not?”

“Will it be for runaways?”

She shrugs again. “Maybe.”

“Mel, is this gonna be a magic hotel?”

“Why, whatever do you mean?”

I roll my eyes and smile back, then I walk over to the food summoner. “What would you like?”

“I’ve eaten recently. Get whatever you want.”

“L-O-L,” I spell, “thanks.” I turn the dials on the summoner to power up the machine. The hum settles, indicating that it’s ready for me. I ask for lasagna from Italy, French bread from France, and Japanese sushi. It’s not the most cohesive meal, but if we’re going to have a magical machine that creates literally anything I want, why waste it on something normal, right? “Rawhide,” I say at the end.

“Expanding our horizons, are we?” Melantha asks.

“Yep,” I joke, tossing the bone to our dog, The Duke of Hay. We named him that because we adopted him from a farm, where he slept on hay, and also because his barks sound like he’s saying hey. 12/10 he’s a real person trapped in a dog body.

As I’m chowing down on my own meal, next to The Duke, Melantha puts her book down and looks at me.

“Uh-oh, what’s this?”

“This,” she begins, “has been fun, but I think it’s time you get back to work.”

I look at my bare wrist. “Work hours are over.”

“Not that work. You have to go back to Analion Towers. Bitch lied to you, the Incorruptible Astrolabe is there.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What’s an astrolabe?”

“Okay, I know you don’t remember what reality is meant to look like, but you know what an astrolabe is, right?”

I shake my head slightly but quickly, waiting for her to explain herself.

“Okay, it doesn’t matter, because the Incorruptible Astrolabe is another magical object, like the summoner, or the Escher Knob. But it can do its own thing, and you may need it to get reality back to how it was.”

“I’m...so lost, Melantha.”

“My name’s not Melantha, it’s Meliora. I inserted myself into this corruption to protect you from further harm, but it’s time to end it.”

“You’re saying this isn’t real?”

“Oh, it’s real...it’s very real. It’s just not right. Reality was corrupted.”

It’s true that I’ve been feeling a little off today, and I’ve even been questioning my reality. But everyone goes through things like that; crises of faith, existential crises, mid-life crises. I don’t look it, but I’m over fifty years old by now, so I’m certainly due for that last one. Still, I trust Melantha...or whatever her real name is, so I have to believe her. Or maybe I don’t, and maybe I shouldn’t.

“You still don’t believe me, that’s okay.” She stands up. “I’ll just give you your Christmas present early.”

“What is it?”

She walks over to the summoner. “Item One-eight-nine-one. Codewords Emily Lake.” She reaches in a retrieves a small box. “I don’t know why Yatchiko let you keep the knob and the flashlight, but I know why she didn’t let you keep these.” She lifts the lid, revealing a pair of steampunk goggles.

“I feel like I’ve seen those before.”

“You have...in the true reality.”

I just sit there staring at them.

“Are you gonna put ‘em on, or not?”

I exhale and take them out of the box. I then put them on my face and look around. Everything is wrong. The house is not supposed to be there, nor is Melantha, nor even the Duke of Hay. I still can’t remember what my life is supposed to be like, nor do I no longer see these apparent corruptions, but they do look clearly fictional to me. I don’t know what it is, or how to describe it, but the corruptions are illuminated, and sort of twisted ad and scratched out. I dunno. I can just tell that it’s wrong, but what I can’t see is why I should change it. “I love my life.” I remove the goggles.

“What?”

“I love you. I love The Duke of Hay. I love this house, our badass summoner that no one in the world has, even sometimes my job. Why would I throw that away?”

“Because you have a responsibility.”

“What responsibility? I don’t know what you mean. All I have is my work, and my family.”

“No, you have so much more than that.” She retrieved the Rothko Torch from the hall closet. “Look at this.” She turned it on and pointed it at the television screen, which suddenly began playing the news dated two days from now.

“Authorities are in the midst of investigating the tragedy at Analion Tower. Early reports indicate that the deaths were accidental. As of now, all business is halted, with no word as to whether the organization will continue operating, here or anywhere else.”

Melantha turned off the flashlight. This is happening tomorrow. You have to get into the building and secure the Astrolabe during the confusion.

“Melantha,” I begin to protest.

“There’s no arguing this. You used the HG Goggles, you know this has to be fixed, and the only way you do that is with that Astrolabe. I would fix it myself, but I’m pouring all my power into shrouding the Sanctuary from prying eyes until I get it up and running with all the right wards.”

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“I’m not dying. I’m real too, I’m just not your girlfriend.”

I don’t say anything.

“Kallias, I’m not your girlfriend. If you don’t this for me, I’m still leaving. You can’t keep me here by protecting your corruption.”

“What about The Duke?”

She looked down at the dog, who was looking back up at her with his puppy dog eyes, as if he knew. “He’ll go to a farm to chase squirrels.”

“Screw you.”

“Bran, get this done now. Stop whining, and do your goddamn job.”

The next day, I reluctantly get in my car with all my fancy time gadgets, and drive over to Analion Tower. By the time I arrive, the place is in disarray as the deaths have already happened. I don’t know who exactly has died, but I was never here to stop it. I’m just here for the Astrolabe. A group of firefighters are at the door, apparently trying to get in, but are being stopped by some power-hungry rent-a-cop. I recognize one of the firefighters, but I guess not really, because none of this is real.

“My ear are burning,” I say after my firefighter friend, Garsea mentions something about the nearest police cruiser.

“This doesn’t concern you, Bran,” he replies. “You’re not a cop anymore. And didn’t you used to be older?”

Melantha would often something special to lower my age slightly. I never knew how it worked, I just let her do it. Though I guess, that never happened. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” I explain.

“He’s locked the door,” Garsea says. “We can’t get in, and do not have clearance to break in. That doesn’t mean there’s anything to investigate here.” It’s true that Snowglobe was considering acquiring Analion at one point, but that was looking less and less likely as the scandal regarding their defective products persisted.

“You don’t need clearance. I know this building. It’s special.” It was designed as a cylicone, which I’m suddenly now remembering, because I think I’ve actually been here before. I take the Escher Knob out of my bag.

“What the hell is that thing?” Garsea asked, almost disgusted, because it would certainly look like I’m not taking this seriously.

“It’s the Escher Knob,” I tell him cryptically. “It’ll get us in.”

“This isn’t one of your crazy theories, Bran. This building is actually real.” While I was still on the force, I would often run into temporal discrepancies that couldn’t be explained. In fact, as far as my memory of this reality goes, that’s how Melantha and I met. She had explanations for all those strange things. But it wasn’t enough to save my reputation as the guy who believed in ghosts and aliens.

“Yes...and no,” I joke. Then I place the Escher Knob on the door, letting it transport Garsea and I to the other side of it.

“Oh my God, how the hell did we end up inside?”

“I brought the lobby to us. Go on and get to work so they can lift the lockdown and get these people back home safe. And you...”

The lobby guard has a frightened look on his face. “H—how’d you do that? You were there...and now you’re here.”

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask, gaslighting him. “Just get the hell out of my way so I can finish this once and for all.” I literally push him out of the way and walk through a lobby that looks more like a hotel ballroom. I head for the freight elevator, which is the only one working after a deadly incident with one of the others. I turn the Rothko torch on and point it at the buttons. Out of apparent superstition, this building was designed without a thirteenth floor. Normally I would assume that meant the people on the fourteenth were just lying to themselves, but I see here that it’s not true. The flashlight reveals an extra button that can’t be seen with the naked eye. I press it and head for a secret story I’m obviously not supposed to know about.

The elevators open to a single room, in the middle of which is this metallic round thing that’s probably an astrolabe, but I forgot to search online what that is. Nothing happens when I shine the flashlight on it, and it doesn’t look any different through the HG Goggles, as Melantha called them. As soon as I pick it up, however, my memories return. I’m suddenly standing in a slightly different position, wearing different clothes. I can remember losing Escher Bradley, and Rothko Ladhiffe, and then all of Springfield, Kansas. I can remember my life as a detective in Springfield, and I can remember it being torn away from me in an instant when I lost my identity. I remember meeting Hokusai Gimura, and going to the knife dimension, and skipping several months of time. And I remember my need to find the Incorruptible Astrolabe. Lastly, I remember what I’m supposed to do with it. I need to find those missing people, including Hokusai. That’s my next investigation. Find her, find everyone.

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