Microstory 2351: Earth, May 25, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m glad that you have friends, even if you’re not the absolute closest to them as you could possibly be. I envy you, actually. A bunch of people attended our party, but they were almost all my dad’s friends. I haven’t really connected with too many people here. There’s one guy who I was really glad could make it, so I wouldn’t be left alone in the corner. Dad always talks shop at these things. Every time he attends an event, he promises himself that he’s just going to socialize, and not discuss his work, but he always ends up failing. I really prefer to leave my work at work, so I stay out of the little circles that he forms with others. People really like him, because he usually has fairly interesting things to say (from their perspective) but he doesn’t hog all the attention either. He makes sure that others are heard. He’s really good at knowing when someone wants to speak, but is too afraid to interrupt, and will in fact interrupt other people to give the quieter ones their chances. I wish I could be more like him in this regard, always charming and fascinating. Then again, I don’t think I would like to have an audience all the time. The guy I was telling you about is pretty cool, but he works the night shift at the water treatment plant, so we don’t find many opportunities to hang out. Plus, he has a family that he needs to spend that extra time with. His wife was there too, and I like her, but they talked mostly about their children. I don’t mind it, but there’s nothing that I can contribute to the conversation since I don’t have any of my own. Part of my inability to connect is due to my lifestyle and experiences. I spent so much time meeting people that I would probably never see again after the end of the trip. I would occasionally see someone I knew before for a second move, but then I would leave again. My mind grew very accustomed to that, and hasn’t really felt at home here, even though I’m pretty sure that I’ll die here one day. There I go again, being all depressing. It makes it sound like I hated the party, but it’s not true. I had a lot of fun, and I’m glad that we were looking at Libra at the same time, just for the symbolism of that moment.

Trying to feel at home,

Condor

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 252,398

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Curtis and Cheyenne have known each other for eight years now, which Mateo is finding surreal, because he’s awake even less than they are. Though, he shouldn’t think it’s that weird, since skipping time has been his life for awhile now. The two lovebirds met tens of thousands of years ago, but since they have so much time on their hands, they have spent some of it keeping track of actual time. In fact, that eight year figure doesn’t even account for the time that one of them was out of stasis without the other. A normal couple would count all the time they were geographically apart from each other, so all told, it’s longer than that. There aren’t a whole lot of options for partnerships here. Between relatives and external relationships, neither Curtis nor Cheyenne has a large pool to choose from. So they worked really hard to test their relationship with each other to make sure that it was real, and not just a last man on Earth type of situation. After all that, they have decided that they really do care for each other, and exclusively so, even if there were billions of others around. They want to get married, but the problem is that no one here is qualified to officiate the ceremony, or sign the papers.

“We don’t need a big ceremony, though,” Cheyenne says. “Are you sure that no one vested that power in you?”

“Certain,” Danica replies. “It’s the responsibility of someone else in our world.”

“Well...could you contact that person?” Curtis requests.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how,” Danica apologizes.

“I know how.” Bhulan steps forward.

“You do?” Danica question.

“Not her; me,” Bhulan says, confusingly. “This is Aquila.” Oh, right.

“Oh.” Danica nods. “You know how to contact The Officiant?”

“Yeah, I know a lot of things,” Aquila replies.

“I’m not sure that she can come to this reality,” Danica says, worried.

“She can go anywhere,” Aquila claims. At least that is the assumption. Perhaps they should come up with some way of knowing which one is talking. One of them could always be wearing sunglasses, or be holding the talking stick. “Trust me.”

“Okay. We have nothing else to do for the next 4,000 years, so let’s plan a wedding. And by let’s, I mean anyone else, because that is not my strong suit. Really, you don’t want me involved. I can set up chairs, or fold announcements, but...”

“We don’t need much,” Cheyenne says. “We can’t invite anyone else, and don’t really want to.”

Curtis is confused. “Wait, we talked about this,” he says to her in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, and I don’t think they’re gonna be able to swing it,” she replies in a more hushed tone.

They continue to argue softer and softer until no one else can here.

“Aquila, do you know if the Officiant would be able to transport people here, like her family?” Curtis asks.

“I doubt it, but you can ask. You can’t have the wedding today, she’ll want to meet you first, and then give you time.”

“Great. Call her.”

“I have to do it alone,” Aquila explains. “That includes you,” she says to her own shoulder, likely as a way of communicating with her brainmate, Bhulan. “I’ll go dormant, like we practiced,” she then says, suggesting that this is Bhulan speaking now. Yeah, a good talking stick would really help. “Just remember to wake me up.”

Aquila goes off to do whatever she needs to do to make contact with the Officiant. By the time she walks back into the room, the woman herself has arrived. A bookcase in the master sitting room disappears, and is replaced with the door to the Officiant’s office. She steps out. “Who are the lucky two?”

Curtis and Cheyenne step forward.

“Come with me so we can talk. This could be the first of many, or the last.” As they’re stepping up to the door, she looks at the rest of the group. “I need someone to join us as witness.”

Bhulan raises her hand.

“Only one witness, please,” the Officiant clarifies. “How about you, sir?”

“Me?” Mateo questions, looking behind him to see if she means it.

“Yes, you’ve gone through this before, you know what to expect. It could help.”

“We didn’t have a witness at mine and Leona’s meeting.”

The Officiant scowls. “I made a lot of concessions for that marriage. How is it going, by the way?”

“It’s been better,” Mateo replies. “I miss her.”

“Well, come on, then. Your friends need you.”

He wouldn’t feel comfortable calling either of them friends. Curtis is from a timeline that Mateo doesn’t remember, and he’s only ever met Future!Cheyenne. But still, if they need someone to be there, he can’t say no.

Once they’re all seated, she begins. “Why don’t I let you start and drive the conversation? What are your biggest concerns regarding this event?”

“Well,” Cheyenne says, looking over to make sure that Curtis doesn’t want to say something first. “Neither of us wants a big wedding, but I was hoping my family could be there. He thought it would be okay to ask if you could retrieve them for us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the Officiant replies. “Guest lists are beyond my purview. We in the business call it scope creep, and it’s caused some issues in past ceremonies. I can, however, perform the ceremony whenever, and wherever, you like. We can wait until you return to your family. Is that a possibility?”

“Not for a long time,” Curtis responds. “But we’re anxious to get to it.”

“Even if we did go back,” Cheyenne says, “people would hear about it, and ask a lot of questions. Who’s this guy? Where did he come from? Why wasn’t I invited? We don’t just want to keep it small, we don’t want excluded people to know about it.”

That’s an interesting take that Mateo and Leona might have tried in another life. There were some people at their wedding that they would not have chosen to invite. They didn’t get the chance to discuss before it was forced upon them. They probably would have split the difference, where all their loved ones could attend, but not the entire multiverse. Maybe they should consider a do-over. It’s certainly possible.

“Snap out of it,” the Officiant instructs with a literal snap of her fingers. “Today is about them. We can discuss your own situation at a later date.”

“Sorry, yes, of course,” Mateo says. He doesn’t remember her being psychic.

The Officiant nods. “Now. What else would you like to discuss?”

“The most important aspect of any wedding ceremony...flower arrangements,” Curtis jokes.

Microstory 1857: Bad One

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I moved to a new school for fifth grade. My family didn’t move homes, but the district built a brand new primary school, and the zones had to be redrawn, meaning kids were pulled from the surrounding areas who hadn’t been studying together until now. Looking back, I don’t know how my new teacher could not know about our situation ahead of time, but I remember sitting in that classroom—nervous as all hell—and becoming the center of attention without ever wanting to. I’ve never liked crowds, and I don’t like people to stare at me. I feel more comfortable with a small group of friends, so I was already feeling rather uncomfortable, because all of those friends were still at my old school. There I was in the back corner, looking around for any clue as to who might become my friend, when I heard my name being called. Estera Nowicki. I acknowledged my attendance at the same time as another girl. We each turned our head to look at the other. She kindly explained that hers was the name that was called, and I had to explain that that was my name. The teacher looked down at the sheet. There were two of us, which she had apparently assumed to be some kind of typographical error. That was a little funny, but the names weren’t exactly rare. We had a laugh, and then one classmate suggested that one of us go by our middle name, which I said was Aleksandra. The other Estera scoffed. That was her middle name too, I had to be lying. I don’t know how I could have known as much about her without social media to look it up, like some kind of private detective, but she was convinced. It took some questions to the main office to confirm that yes, there were two Estera Aleksandra Nowickis in the same class.

Something had to be done to avoid the confusion. I mean, some of the kids were already confused, and there was probably nothing we could do about that. One boy suggested that we were long lost sisters, which was obviously dumb, because that would mean that our shared parents gave their sororal twins the same exact first and middle names, and then gave one of us away to a couple with the same surname. It was a coincidence, but again, we couldn’t move on without making sure there wouldn’t be any further ambiguity. I would have been perfectly fine going as Aleksandra. Honestly, I always thought it was a bit prettier. Sure, it was hers too, but as long as only I actually used it as my main name, it should’ve been fine. She wasn’t okay with that. As soon as I expressed my idea, she decided that she wanted to use it instead. Annoying, but whatever, I could be the Estera. No, she didn’t like that either. No matter what I said, she just wanted to be difficult, and pretty soon, we all realized that we had spent almost the entire morning on this, and hadn’t learned a single thing yet. I even recommended I go by Dosia, after a famous scientist named Dosia Zajac who I came to admire after presenting a report on her the previous year. The other Estera claimed to like her too, so now she wanted to be known as Dosia. I’m certain that she hadn’t even heard of her until that day, this was getting to be so ridiculous. The teacher—bless her heart—found it impossible to keep control of the classroom. Lines were being drawn. Some favored me, while a few were on her side. But they eventually swayed over to me when they realized how insolent she was being. So the rest of the students came together, and decided that it was no longer our choice what either of us was going to be called. She was given a nickname that probably haunted her for the rest of the life, while I came to be forever known as Good Estera.