Showing posts with label auditorium. Show all posts
Showing posts with label auditorium. Show all posts

Friday, August 8, 2025

Microstory 2470: The Empyreamax

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Before virtual reality and volumetric immersion holograms, people used to watch media on 2-dimensional screens. I won’t get into the whole history of film—you can look it up your damn self—but suffice it to say that they were extremely tiny compared to what we have here. This is the Empyreamax. It is the largest film auditorium by orders of magnitude. You would have to project a movie on the moon to be larger than this. Towering 22.2 kilometers over the surface, this image covers an area of roughly 5,030 square kilometers. You can see it from anywhere, though of course, the center has the best seats in the “house”. Or should I say they have the best beds? Since you’re looking straight up, regular recliners just won’t do. You can adjust it to your liking, but they lay down completely flat, and let you look straight up at the movie. Obviously, they’re quite comfortable, with the standard firmness adjustments, heating, cooling, and vibrating features. If you’re an organic who still needs to eat, each bed comes with an interface that allows you to order concessions. If you’re not in one of the designated viewing loungers, you can request a mobile interface, and they’ll deliver to you wherever. There’s a Castlebourne-specific three-word address for wherever you happen to be. Actually, one little problem I noticed is that you can input any valid Castlebourne address, and they’ll try to get there, even if it’s on the other side of the planet in a different dome, so I hope they fix that dumb little bug. You can bring your own bed, or sprawl out on a blanket. There are several swimming pools and lakes that you can float on while you’re watching. One couple came in with an autotrampoline. They lay on their backs, and let the motor bounce them as they were watching. It sounds distracting to me, but who am I to judge? As far as sound goes, the options are limitless too. You can connect with your conductive implants, or your internal speakers, or your external headphones. They have ground speakers and pedestal speakers as well, but those are only allowed in certain areas. And that’s because some areas allow for regular conversation, and some are quiet zones. They provide you with an interactive map, so you can find out where you wanna be. While the ground is pretty flat here, they also have some hiking trails, so you can kind of keep an eye on the film while you’re walking with your honey, so that’s just a little thing that I’m not sure people would ever want, but it might as well be there. It’s not like we’re short on space. Again just about everything is up to you. They have a movie playing all the time on the big screen, but it’s not the only one going. They also have smaller screens lining nearly the entire perimeter. Each one is about 100 meters wide, and 40 meters tall, with a capacity of around 750 people. There are 1,699 of these, allowing for 1700 simultaneous shows in total. I’m not sure how many people could be here at any one time, for the big movie, or all of them combined, but I’m guessing it’s a pretty high number, even though we’re not vertical, on top of each other, like other domes. I know it’s old media, but there are some really great gems here. I saw one the other day called The Mystic, and it was basically the best movie musical I had ever watched. Even if you’re not interested in what’s playing, you can request a time slot for a specific title, and use one of the smaller Ultramaxes. One thing I’m not sure is right or not is that you can’t request a private auditorium. You can choose a movie, if there’s space available, but once it gets into the system, anyone can RSVP for a seat, so just bear that in mind.

Friday, December 13, 2024

Microstory 2300: Millions of People

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The place was packed. In case you never found out, the event was catered, that was the surprise from the other day. A counter-serve vegetarian restaurant called Honeypea’s Harvest graciously donated tons of food and labor time for what’s certainly the largest reception I’ve ever been to. They actually started out in the Kansas City area, and their first location that wasn’t in the immediate region was Chicago, so they felt a kinship to us. Nick loved going there, I remember that, but I didn’t think to reach out to them. Our publicity firm did, and we’re very grateful for their assistance. We basically took over the entire Humankind Causeway Center, because we had the auditorium on one end, and then the ballroom for the reception on the other. You can see why I couldn’t tell you about it before, right? You say the word free, and people flock to you, whether they know what you’re giving away or not. There was a limited amount of space and food available, so we couldn’t let the whole world know. As for the service itself, it went pretty well. I told you that I was nervous, and having a full auditorium didn’t help with my nerves, but I pretended that they weren’t there, and that I was still practicing in front of the mirror. I got into a rhythm, and made it through to the other end. I want to thank all who attended, and everyone who logged in to watch the stream. Millions. Millions of people watched it live, and millions more have watched the recording since it ended. I can’t believe we ended up here. When I first met Dutch, he was just this cool guy without a care in the world. And when I met Nick, I honestly thought that he was a little nutty. He was shy, but not shy about telling us who he was, and where he came from. I grew to believe him, and it seems that a lot of you have too. I find it hard to imagine that this many people read his blog, especially now that he’s dead, when they just think it’s this dumb little fictional story. Dare I say most of you are believers? It’s crazy how far he’s come. Even though he’s gone, his legacy continues, through all of you, and through me. I’ll keep sending out posts as long as you keep reading them. I think he would appreciate that. In fact, I bet he would literally say, “I appreciate your support.”

Saturday, August 5, 2023

Extremus: Year 51

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It’s graduation day. Unlike traditional schooling, or the regular education system on the ship, not everything about today is a given. For most people, the ceremony is to mark and celebrate an event that is already happening. Other students already have their degrees, and will move on from here based on whatever life has in store for them, which is based on whatever they have accomplished, and the promise they show for their future. The kids studying ship administration are in a special situation, though. Part of that comes from the circumstances they were born to and grew up in, and part of it is from their natural talent, but the majority of it is choice. They chose to place themselves on the captain’s track, and while of course not all of them will become captain one day, not all of them will end up on the executive crew in any capacity. They may not even make it to the crew, full stop. Hell, they may not even get into the college that is required to even have a chance.
There are two universities on the Extremus. One is the general university, where people study whatever it is they wish. The other is the University of Crewmanship. Within each of these two schools, there are separate college programs, and one of these is called The College of Executive Administration. This is the big time, and no one is guaranteed a spot in the program; not even Tinaya Leithe, legacy. It’s highly competitive, and the number of people currently graduating tertiary school who will be accepted is absurdly low. Standard practice dictates a student apply to a program elsewhere, and most have done that. If they did, they already know whether and where they were accepted. Despite the competition, there is a place for everyone. Education is a right, not a privilege; it’s just a question of what any given individual will be educated in. Today, everyone in Tinaya’s graduating class will learn whether they made it into the CEA, or if they’ll have to fall back on whatever their second choice is. It’s not just a graduation ceremony. It’s an acceptance ceremony, and the whole ship gets to watch.
Lataran is more solemn than usual, and Tinaya is trying to be supportive of her without sounding like a condescending bitch. “It’ll be okay. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay,” she claims, obviously not knowing if it’s true.
Lataran shakes her head. “You don’t understand, you never have. If I don’t get into this, I’m not going to college.”
“Your parents are letting you go to college. I’ve spoken to them on it many times. We agreed that if not Lieutenant, you would be best suited for civil service studies.”
“Yes,” Lataran confirms, “but you’re missing one half of the formula, which is desire. I don’t want to be a civil servant. If I can’t work on the crew, I don’t want to do anything, because I don’t have any other choices.”
“You have other choices. You could study philosophy. You always liked asking the big questions.”
“I can’t. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. My parents gave me two choices; executive or civil service. I have to be a big name on this rustbucket, and if I try anything else, they’re going to disown me, and I’ll end up...a freeloader.” A freeloader isn’t as bad as it sounds. As with education, everyone alive is entitled to work. You get, and you give is sort of one of the state mottos. But you’re not required to participate in either of those things. You can drop out of school when you’re fourteen, and you never have to work a day in your life if you don’t want to. Some people do this. They just live here. It’s conventional for such people to focus on propagating the species, so that their descendants will one day make it to the Extremus planet, but that’s not required either. Some people just...hang out. They’re not socially shunned, but in practice, they have trouble making friends with anyone who isn’t like them. So they tend to stick to their own kind. There’s even a section where most of them live. This is not because they were intentionally segregated, but because they wanted to form a subculture. And also, they’re entitled to a certain level of accommodation, while those who contribute to society are entitled to a little more; nicer cabins, better facilities, etc. So there is a little bit of segregation going on, but it has more to do with their choice than anything.
“Well, what would you do if you could do whatever you wanted.”
“Whatever I wanted?” Lataran questions. “Temporal engineering.”
Tinaya is still trying to be nice. “I meant...”
“You meant, whatever I wanted that I could actually do.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Lataran sighs. “A freeloader.”
“What happened to your ambition?”
“I still have it, but only for this. Tina, I don’t have high marks. I’m barely graduating. I’m not gonna make it into college. That’s why I’ve been so grumpy lately. The first couple years of tertiary school were okay, but my struggle really caught up with me this last year.”
“You don’t know that you’re not getting in, and even if you don’t get in...”
“Even if I don’t get in, what?”
“I can choose whoever I want to be my lieutenants. I can pull from any workforce, any walk of life, including freeloaders. So if this doesn’t work out, and that’s what you want to do, then you’ll live in my stateroom with me, and when the time comes, I’ll appoint you as my First L-T.”
“That will make you look so terrible.”
“No, it won’t, because you’re not just gonna sit around all day. You’ll be doing an independent study. The library is free for all. We’ll work on my home assignments together. It’ll be like you’re in the college anyway, and we’ll make sure people know that. This is all assuming you don’t get accepted yourself, which I’m still not convinced you won’t. They’ve not even started the opening speeches.”
As if on cue, Captain Soto Tamm steps on stage and approaches the podium.
“He’s not in the program.” Lataran flips through it.
“Why is he even wasting his time here?” Tinaya asks rhetorically. The man is everywhere. He’s setting himself to make more public appearances during the first quarter of his shift than the other three previous captains ever did combined. The captain is meant to be available and helpful, and that doesn’t mean parading himself in front of an audience. That’s something a figurehead would do. Is he just a puppet? Is something rotten in Denmark? It’s too much. He shows his face too often when he should really be doing his job. At least this particular event makes sense, but still. Aunt Kaiora rarely had anything to do with the students when she was Captain, and Halan only ever went to one graduation; the first one on the ship. Tamm is still trying to play it cool around her. As he’s giving his opening remarks—explaining that he was asked to step in for the dean, who generally does this, but is busy with a situation—he looks each one of the graduating students in the eye, except for Tinaya.
Captain Tamm finishes his words, and then sits down so the ceremony can continue. Finally, the moment arrives when they’re announced in alphabetical order, and at the same time, declare which university they will be going to, or which college. Anyone who doesn’t get accepted into the College of Executive Administration will be listed with their second choice, if they only applied to the one. If they applied to, and were accepted into, multiple programs in either university, they now have a choice to make, and today, they will only hear their name associated with the particular university in general.
“Elowen Isenberg, College of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence.”
Elowen frowns, then stands up, and walks across the stage to accept his degree. Her parents look proud of her, not disappointed.
“Lataran Keen, College of Executive Administration.”
Lataran exhales sharply.
“I told you that you would be fine.” She accepts a hug from her friend, then urges her to go across the stage, so they can continue.
Finally, it’s her turn. Principal Hampton clears her throat, and looks worried. He hesitates, but decides to continue anyway. “Tinaya Leithe.” And then he shuts his mouth, not saying another word. The room freezes. She always knew that there was a chance she wouldn’t get into the program, but she should have been accepted into something. She applied to seven other programs; four of which were in the other university. This doesn’t make any sense at all.
Tinaya stands and approaches the podium slowly. She’s actually lifting her hand to accept the diploma. She’s doing that slowly too, but she’s still doing it. Then she stops. She drops her hand, and makes a sudden turn downstage as if she was trying to introduce herself to a celebrity, but chickened out at the last second. Instead, she hops off stage. It’s a doozy, but she lands on her feet, and keeps walking like an action hero, doing everything she can to ignore the stinging feeling presently running up her legs. The audience is still stunned. They turn their heads to follow her as she walks up the center aisle, and through the doors. She falls to her knees, and begins to hyperventilate. This can’t be happening. It can’t. Again, eight programs. Everyone is guaranteed a spot somewhere. If nothing else, general education should have let her in. It’s never happened to someone on the captain’s track before, but they could theoretically hear those two words come after their name. Tinaya didn’t even get that. She didn’t get anything. She’s not even a freeloader. As least that would have been her choice.
Someone’s feet appear in the corner of her eye. “Stand up.”
“Why?”
“Stand up and I’ll tell you.” She doesn’t recognize the voice.
“I don’t mean why should I sta—”
“I know what you’re asking. Stand up...and I’ll tell you,” he repeats.
She regains control over her breathing, and complies. She doesn’t recognize the man’s face either. “Who are you?”
“I am Avelino Bridger.”
“Avelino Bridger,” she echoes, “of the Bridger section?”
He shakes his head mildly. “It’s not a section.”
“I know. It’s a ship.” There’s another ship that’s following the Extremus about a light year away from here. It’s one of the things she learned when she hacked deep into the secret files as a kid. She’s not supposed to know that much about it. Everyone else knows that it exists in some form, but that’s it. “Why?” she repeats herself.
“Because we need you...for something bigger.”

Saturday, July 29, 2023

Extremus: Year 50

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Captain Kaiora Leithe, Third of Ten of the Void Migration Ship Extremus, died nearly a week ago at the age of 46. She died as she lived: young. She was the youngest captain in history, which wasn’t saying much when she was only the third captain so far, but by the time this mission ends, she will likely still hold the record. The whole ship is in mourning, more so than they were for when Halan Yenant pass away, because she was a lot less polarizing of a figure. Due to her health issues, she was never promoted to the rank of admiral, leaving current Captain, Soto Tamm without an advisor. The admiralty has always come with an asterisk, and that will not end anytime soon. Tinaya Leithe doesn’t care about that, though. She’s not on the executive crew yet, and maybe never will be. While she’s on track to sitting in that seat, today she’s still only a kid. She’s a kid whose aunt has just died.
The family had a small funeral service two days ago to honor their loved one. Today is the memorial service, which while there is no single room on the vessel that can accommodate every crewmember and resident of Extremus, will be considered a shipwide affair. Everyone is watching; literally, because the service will be streamed. This isn’t something that Tinaya is interested in at the moment, not under these circumstances. She did fine in her Public Presence class, which teaches students how to deal with the spotlight, but it didn’t take this into account, and it was never the plan for any of them to actually have to deal with it this early on. Again, they’re just kids.
Tinaya is sitting in her room. Her game controller is on the bed next to her, and she’s been holding down the joystick, forcing her character to roll along the ground of a moon, doing cartwheels. Three years ago, when her grandmother died, it was Kaiora who caught her playing this game to distract herself. They had a moment, which was probably just a Tuesday for the captain, but to Tinaya, it was profoundly everything. It was the day she realized that every captain—every person—gets to decide who it is they’re going to be. There is no single definitive rulebook for how one is supposed to act. From then on, she’s been trying very hard in school, and branching out to lots of different subjects, instead of relying on this expectation that everyone seems to have that she’s going to win the captaincy, whether she tries or not. That’s not how it works, even if it looks like that from the outside.
Lataran is next to her. She was watching the cartwheels, but now she’s yawning over and over and over again, and scratching at chest, having had to resort to her itchy black dress this morning, instead of the comfortable one, because it is still in the wash from the first funeral. They've grown closer over the course of the last year. They no longer call themselves close enough friends, but true friends, who tell each other everything, and feel safe enough with each other to fart when no one else is in the room, and to cover for each other when it happens among mixed company. She yawns again.
“Go to bed, Taran.” Kaiora’s finger slips upon hearing the sudden sound of her voice, and her character misses the last cartwheel, falling on her face. Good thing it isn’t real. “You don’t have to be there. You were at the real one.”
“You’re confused, Naya, this is the real one. It’s the one that everyone knows. It’s the one that they will have watched. It’s the one they’ll talk about. It’s the one they’ll consider when they’re deciding who’s going to be your First Lieutenant.” Lataran long ago gave up hope of becoming captain herself, and has been vying hard for second position. It’s not just about serving on the crew with her best friend, but about getting as close as she’ll reasonably get to glory. She’s not the only one in the School of Ship Administration who feels this way, and that’s not a new thing. Plenty of people are more interested in other positions, such as Lead Engineer, or Chief Medical Officer. The boy who told the two of them about the protest against Captain Soto Tamm last year, Rodari Stenger is convinced that Hock Watcher Caldr Giordana is getting old enough to be vacating his position by the time Rodari is of age. That’s what he wants. The job comes with more power than it sounds like.
Think of the devil, and he shall ring the doorbell. Tinaya and Lataran see him on the camera. He’s standing moderately impatiently...twitchy, even. He’s wearing his extremely tailored—and extremely executive—black suit, and looking side to side as if someone he hates, but who likes him, is looming in the darkness, waiting to pounce with a bunch of questions that he doesn’t want to answer.
“Open the door,” Tinaya commands the system.
“Hey. You two look ready.”
“You look worried,” Lataran points out.
“This is my first public appearance. It’s our last year in tertiary school. People are noticing now. They’re going to parade us around the service auditorium like prize cattle. You should be worried about it more than any of us. Aren’t you worried?”
“I made a decision earlier in the school year that I wasn’t going to worry about how people perceive me,” Tinaya begins to explain. “I’m not saying that I’m above it, but the more I dwell on it, the less natural I’ll look. If I go out there, and just be myself, they will receive me however they will. Good or bad, I won’t change for them. That’s not doing anyone any good.”
“Sorry to say, Tinaya; I know you’re going through a lot today, but that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard from one of the smartest people I know.”
Tinaya breaks into laughter. “What did I just say about how I’ll be received?” She pauses a moment. “I don’t care what you think.”
“Well. You’re number one.”
It’s true, Tinaya and Tao Li have been chasing each other for first on the leaderboards since the beginning, but the former has maintained her place at the top since the beginning of this school year. Whoever’s there when it’s time to transition to college level studies will set the tone for the next three and a half years. “For now...”
“So, what exactly does that mean?” Rodari asks. “You’re not on the program to speak at the memorial, but when they open up the floor to anyone who would like to say a few words, a lot of people are going to divert their attention to you.”
“I’ve decided that I’m taking it a step further for this particular occasion,” Tinaya answers. “I won’t say a word. I’ve already discussed it with my family. Mourners can try to talk to me all they want. They can tell me how great of a captain she was, or how I must miss her so much. I won’t respond vocally..like a guilty man in an interrogation room.” People won't like it. It’ll probably just irritate them, but she’s not gonna do anything only to make others feel more comfortable. Aunt Kaiora wouldn’t do that. Even if it cost her the captain's seat, she would always be herself. She always was herself.
Rodari eyes her, and lifts his chin. “Hm,” he says, ever so quietly. “I can respect that. Halan was a man of few words. The words he did say came at a higher value.”
“I’m not saying that I would, or will, captain that way, but...I’m not here to placate. If they want me to be in charge, then they’ll have to accept what that means. I have no intention of tricking them into believing I behave like anyone but me.”
All three of their wrist devices beep. They didn’t all set their respective alarms to precisely 11:24. They programmed them to go off with enough time to walk to their destination, plus a padding of three minutes for one more trip to the bathroom, or to touch up their hair. If the auditorium were eight minutes away from wherever they were standing, instead of three, their alarms would have gone off at 11:19 instead. “It’s time to prove it.” Rodari reaches out to take Tinaya’s hand cordially. “One way or another,” he says with a positive shake of his head, “they’re about to see the real Tinaya Leithe.”
They walk to the auditorium together, then separate from there. Tinaya has to sit with her family in the front row, and as close as she is with Lataran, Lataran is not part of that. Nearly everyone else is already seated. Only a few other stragglers are dipping themselves into the crowd of a thousand faces. Former First Lieutenant Lars Callaghan is standing at the podium, waiting for the clock to hit 11:30 on the dot before he begins. He’s like a robot, completely motionless. He doesn’t look nervous, or saddened, or anything, really. He looks...professional, and ready.
He clears his throat. “People of the VMS Extremus, for those of you who don’t know,  my name is Lars Callaghan. I served under two captains, Admiral Olindse Belo, and the woman we are here to honor today, Captain Kaiora Leithe. I was the former’s second lieutenant, before transitioning to first lieutenant for Kaiora. She and I didn’t always agree with each other, but that is not the lieutenant’s job. I was there to make sure she was running the ship soundly, and to step up when there was too much work for one person to do. We had a respectful and professional relationship, and she asked me to give her eulogy, because she knew that I would be reverent, honest, and most importantly, brief. This is not an all-day affair, and she would not want it to be. There is so much work to do here, and she would want all of you to get back to doing it.” Much of the audience is made up of the retired crewmembers, most of whom served under Kaiora, but others served under Halan and Olindse, and are still alive. The current crew is predominantly not here at all, because they already are busy running the ship. The most recent shift has just begun, and they have not yet even begun to think about appointing apprentices for the next one. So in reality, nobody has to get back to work.
Lars goes on, “Captain Leithe had to deal with a lot during her term. When this mission was first being conceived in a little bar on a rotating habitat in the Gatewood Collective, no one thought we would suffer through all of this. I can’t get into specifics in mixed company, but we all know the pain we’ve experienced over the course of the last fifty years. We came to find our descendants a new home. We sacrificed our old home for that dream, and we’ve sacrificed more since then. No one knew that better than Kaiora Leithe. Love, death, war. She ran the gamut. She also saw birth, and growth, and heartbreak. She was steadfast through it all, and when she got sick, she stepped aside gracefully, and trusted in the rest of us to keep it together. We are at the very beginning of a new chapter in the Extremus saga. A new captain has stepped onto the bridge, and it is my honor today to introduce you to him, who is our next speaker. Crew and residents of the Extremus, please help me in welcoming Captain Soto Tamm.”
The people clap half-heartedly. He’s not a hated man, but he’s so far not become their favorite captain either. He’s just sort of blah. Tamm walks over to the podium with a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Callaghan.” It’s conventional to address someone by their final rank, as long as they were not dismissed dishonorably. He accidentally breathes into the microphone. “A Maramon, a choosing one, and a ship captain walk into a bar...”

Saturday, July 15, 2023

The Edge: The Enclave (Part V)

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Winona checked her watch. It was time to start, but it was like she was waiting for something. Leona didn’t know what. As far as she could tell, everyone on The Shortlist was here, excepting Ramses. While she was looking to her left and right to confirm as much, Winona was scanning the crowd, and leaning back in her seat to look sidestage. Hokusai checked her watch too, and then gently placed a hand on Winona’s. That’s when Winona stood up to address the audience. “People of the main sequence, and visitors from the other—now-defunct—parallel realities, we are here to discuss the fate of our universe as it pertains to the advanced spacetime-bending technology, created by—and until further notice, regulated by—this group of eleven scientists, researchers, and engineers. You have already met them, so we shall begin soon, but first, there are some rules to go over. In order to remain in this auditorium, you must agree to all of these, or you will be gently removed. Number one, you are in the audience, and this is not an audience participation presentation. The Shortlist is here to discuss, I am here to mediate, and you are here to witness. That is all. Number two, whatever decisions the Shortlist makes are final. They are not to be questioned, argued against, or modified.
“Number three, furthermore, the decisions are meant to be taken as inherent law, and followed ad infinitum, or until a hypothetical time when they are modified by the Shortlist themselves, or control is relinquished by them, for whatever reason. As a side note, death is meaningless for the twelve members of the group. Any attempt to alter the outcome, or reverse it, will be a waste of time. They are masters of time, and they will prove it if you force them to. Number four, everything discussed here today is confidential beyond confidential, and you all signed binding nondisclosure agreements in order to protect the proceedings. Any attempt to transfer, copy, whisper, or otherwise reveal information generated or uncovered from the meeting, or auxiliary developments, to outside actors will be stopped using the full force of temporal law and might. Number five, if you cannot abide by the rules above, we ask that you depart now, however, you are still bound by the rules in relation to everything you have heard or seen thus far, and will be at risk of judgment and punishment when discovered. Notice that I said when, and not if, and also remember that this is a group of time travelers, so even the when part is not as obvious to those of you used to linear time. And finally, rule number six, members of the Shortlist themselves are not limited by these rules, and can go against them in any way, however they wish. They can also alter the rules at their whim, and you will be required to continue to follow. Is all of this clear?”
A man in one of the middle rows, in a seat right at the end, by the wall, stood up. He performed the Picard maneuver with his shirt, then walked out. Winona looked to Hokusai for guidance, who closed her eyes and nodded, clearly unperturbed by the one person who has chosen to forgo his involvement in this event. “Very well,” Winona went on. She looked sidestage again, where a figure was now standing in shadow. It appeared to be feminine in form, but it was impossible to tell for sure. “Then we’ll begin.” She sat back down, and opened the kickstand for her tablet.
Down the line, Leona saw all the girls start to hold each other’s hands under the table. It was like a rehearsed dance move that she missed. This was true, as she was not around for much of the events leading up to this whole thing. Still, she thought she could figure it out, so she accepted Sharice’s hand on her right, and took Aldona’s on her left. Aldona, in turn, took Holly Blue’s, and the chain was complete.
“Give us one moment, please,” Winona said to the audience, trying hard to sit as still as possible, and staring at her tablet without doing anything with it. Leona couldn’t see what was on it.
Suddenly, the door in the back opened so hard that they fell off their hinges. A blinding light shot into the room like a bullet. The audience looked back, shocked by the intrusion, and maybe a little afraid. Sharice tightened her grip, so Leona instinctively did the same to Aldona. It was then that she realized that the audience was no longer moving. They were completely frozen. Either they were in a bubble that slowed time, or the Shortlist was in one that sped it up. She was inclined to assume the latter. Sharice let go of Leona’s hand finally, and patted her on the knee. The other girls did the same with each other. The shadowy figure stepped into the light, revealing herself to be a young woman that she didn’t recognize. If they were in a time bubble, she would expect Missy Atterberry to be the responsible party, so who was this person?
“Thank you, Miss Thorpe,” Hokusai said. She stood up, and shook her hand. “Everyone, this is the one I was telling you about. Her name is Greer Thorpe. She ate the yellow fruit of power, and now has Missy Atterberry’s ability to create time bubbles.”
“Some people in the audience can still see us,” Greer said. “I don’t know that there’s anything I can do about that.”
“We planned for this,” Hokusai explained. “Mr. Thompson? Are you here?”
Thor stepped in from the other side of the stage. “Thorpe and Thor, teaming up for the first time ever.”
Hokusai smiled. “Please go handle the eyelids.”
“Right away, sir.” Thor hopped off the stage, and started to lower the eyelids of anyone who hadn’t become distracted enough by the commotion in the back, and would be able to notice something weird about the people on stage. By the time the bubble is taken down, only a second or two will have passed for everyone else, but that would be enough to raise suspicion for anyone seeing hours pass in the literal blink of an eye.
“For those of us who weren’t exactly...around for the last few days, would someone be able to explain what’s happening?” Leona requests.
“Subterfuge,” Hogarth began. “We would have read you into the secret plan, but you ever since you arrived, you’ve been...”
“Unreliable?” Leona finished for her. “Unruly? Uncooperative? Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just very protective of my people.”
“We all are,” Weaver agreed. “So we understand where you were coming from, and we don’t blame you. We hope that you can understand why we’re doing this the way we’re doing it.”
“Maybe if I knew a little bit more about why,” Leona requested.
“We don’t want to be tyrannical,” Hokusai answered, “but after talking about all of this stuff, and the then-upcoming meeting, with the individual groups you see in the audience, we started to realize that they were never going to appreciate the gravity of the situation.”
“They don’t see how dangerous it is,” Kestral added. “They just want the technology, and since they’ve done so well with the tech they created themselves, they will never admit that there are some things that man should just not have access to.”
“There are inventions that even I won’t use,” Weaver continued, “because I trust myself to be restrained. We can’t say the same for anyone else. That’s why the Shortlist was created, and our mandate has not changed, even though we’re finally on The Edge.”
“So we’re not gonna give them anything?” Leona asked. “What’s the point of this elaborate ruse at all?”
“The ruse is because we didn’t want to erase everyone’s memories,” Pribadium told her, “especially since your interactions with the people of Teagarden are vital to the safety of the future. Undoing it would have caused more damage. There are other variables forcing the meeting to be inevitable. The path to this moment has already been paved. All we can do now is try to mitigate the results.”
“We’re not going to give them nothing,” Hokusai said. “We’re still having the meeting, but it won’t be witnessed by these people. When we’re done figuring out what we’re going to do, we’ll rehearse the fake but visible meeting, then pop the bubble, and put on a little show.”
Leona wasn’t sure what to think. She was looking towards the door.
“Ethical issues?” Brooke asked her.
Not really. “Who is that?” Leona asked. The face of the individual who just literally burst the doors open was obscured, overwhelmed by the wall of light coming from behind him, which was still shining into the room, though the photons were traveling slowly, relative to their perspective.
“Why don’t you go and look?” Ishida suggested.
Leona looked over to their resident bubble-maker, who nodded. “It’s fine. I can fine tune it to wrap around anyone who was in it when it was created. Go wherever you like. Just stay in this wing of the building.”
Leona hopped off the stage where Thor had, though more carefully than him. He was still making his way through the audience, making sure that no one would see enough of the creation of the bubble to think that something was wrong. She walked up the aisle, and approached the mysterious figure. Even up this close, she couldn’t make out who it was, but it looked like a man. Oh, the watch that Mario gave her had a tiny flashlight feature on it. She activated it, and held it up. “Rambo.” She looked back at the Shortlist. “Did you know he would be here?”
“Not when he stepped through the portal!” Pribadium shouted to her. “Thor was meant to be the distraction! We asked him to do it instead when he came back!”
“So he’s okay,” Leona said, though too quietly for any of them to hear. “Can we pull him into the bubble?” she asked.
“He has to stay the distraction!” Hokusai informed her. “He signed up for it! You can talk to him when the meeting is over!”
Leona sighed, and dropped her gaze. Everyone outside of the bubble was moving at an incredibly slow pace. They couldn’t be totally frozen in time, or the universe may be destroyed, but at this differential, their movements were imperceptible to a normal human’s eyes. Ramses, on the other hand, seemed a little different. Then she saw it. His fist squeezed tighter around the metal beads that he was holding onto. She looked back up to his face to see him wink at her. When she turned back to look at the Shortlist, she found them talking amongst themselves, preparing to start the real meeting. None of them had seen the wink, and probably couldn’t have detected it at this distance anyway. She smiled, and popped up to her tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you.”
He didn’t respond. However he was combatting the time bubble, vocalizing his thoughts was just asking too much. That was okay. This will be over by the end of the day, and then the both of them will be able to return to their team.
“Leona!” Sharice called up to her. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, on my way!” She jogged back down the aisle, and climbed on stage.
The meeting began. Over the course of it, the one thing they settled on pretty quickly was that the general public would be provided with plans for the reframe engine, which would allow them to traverse the galaxy in a matter of centuries. This was akin to traveling at warp factor seven in the Star Trek canon. This little trick had been proven safe by a number of vessels since Hokusai invented it back in the mid-23rd century. To make things fair, these plans would be accessible by anyone, so the technology could not be hoarded, and provide a certain party a dangerous advantage. Teagarden was probably not going to like that, and not because they wanted to have all the power, but because it would be harder to manage the colonies if travelers could jump between them in a matter of days, instead of years. In the end, though, it will make it easier to maintain a cohesive galactic civilization, rather than a smattering of isolated, deviating worlds.
Other technologies required a lot more discussion, debate, and in some cases, outright arguments. Teleportation was a big one. It would make it easier for people to jump from orbit to the surface of a planet, or between ships, or even from different habitats around the world. Another thing it would do was allow anyone to trespass on anyone else’s private property. Though no one these days owned anything anymore, people were entitled to privacy, and safe spaces to be alone, or only with those they trusted. Time travelers had access to technology that could prevent unauthorized access, even through teleportation, but such protections would take a lot of time and effort to implement for everyone else. Every single room in every single building would have to be retrofitted with such spatial locks. They would have to do it before a single new individual was allowed to teleport even once. How would they coordinate such a monumental effort, and how long would it be before someone discovered a loophole. Certain teleporters existed who could circumvent timelocks, but that was generally okay, because this only endangered a small population. The rest of the galaxy was also in danger from regular teleporters, and that remained a difficult problem to solve. Perhaps they shouldn’t give that power out freely.
Sharice conceived of a workaround for that in the form of a point-to-point teleportation network. One could not jump from wherever they wanted, to wherever they wanted. They would have to first make their way to a designated machine, which would dispatch them to another machine, and only if the destination accepted their arrival. The appropriate members of the Shortlist would hold their own meetings to work out the design for this new device, including all of the safeguards that would need to be put in place.
They continued to go down the list, generated in random order, of temporal technologies. Some were more dangerous than others. Some were completely banned, while others were so super banned that they weren’t even going to hint at the possibility of their existence. They planned to agree to provide the public with the means to reproduce the Shortlist’s list of approved inventions, but in a few cases, they were just going to say that such a thing was possible, and it would be up to researchers to figure it out for themselves. Obviously, standard backwards time travel was a no-go, as was anything specifically designed as a weapon, or weapon-like, such as temporal guns. They were there for two days, sleeping in their respective quarters in between, the rest of the universe having not moved an inch. Once they were ready, they popped the bubble, and started back up again. The fake meeting was more formal. Some were better actors than others, but they seemed to pull it off.
Everyone in the auditorium left disappointed. Such was the nature of negotiation, but this was even worse for the people on the other side of the table. The Shortlist dictated their terms, and the beneficiaries just had to accept what was given to them. This was the easy part. It was just the beginning. The had come to The Edge, and had now fallen off. From this day forward, according to linear time, it will be up to the Shortlist to police the developments of the vonearthans until the twelve of them feel that they’re ready to stand on their own, or they have no choice. That was not Leona’s problem right now, though. She was never really one of these people. She had her own family who needed her. It was time for her to make her way back home.

Saturday, July 8, 2023

The Edge: Enticement (Part IV)

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Leona and Aldona were talking about nothing and everything in Leona’s bed last light, and ended up falling asleep next to each other. They still didn’t know how they were going to get out of this star system, and back to where they wanted to be. Leona needed to return to her life, of course, and Aldona had more work to do for the Third Rail and Fourth Quadrant Earths. Would anyone let them actually go do those things, though? There was a knock on the door, but the person on the other side of it didn’t bother waiting for someone to answer. Ishida Caldwell walked in. “Hey,” she said in a very soft voice, like a mother to a child with the cold.
“We’re not going to be at the meeting.”
“Don’t ask us why, because you’re not going to like the answer,” Aldona added.
“I know why you’re not going to be there,” Ishida replied, “because you don’t wanna. If you don’t want to help, there’s no reason for you to be on this space station.”
“I thought that this was the only place that could protect us from the Reconvergence,” Aldona recalled.
Ishida shook her head. “There are a few others; namely Dardius, and Durus.”
“I don’t think they call it Durus anymore,” Leona divulged.
“Whatever.”
“Does that mean we can leave?” Aldona asked.
“Yes.”
“Can anyone give us a ride?” Leona asked.
“Let me show you something first. Get dressed.” Ishida left and closed the door behind her, but it felt like she was just waiting for them out in the hall.
They were both already wearing clothes, but from yesterday, so Leona let Aldona borrow an outfit. They scarfed down a meal bar each, cleaned their teeth with a couple of mouthbombs, and left too.
Ishida took them by the hands, and teleported away. They were now in Team Keshida’s new masterpiece ship, the Jameela Jamil, which wasn’t super new anymore. It was the single most advanced vessel in the galaxy, besides maybe the Matrioshka Body, which let’s just say, didn’t really count. Aldona was immediately smitten with its sleek curves, its absolutely cleanliness, and its perfect lighting balance. She had obviously never seen it before, even in the future, her past.
“Yeah, this is really nice,” Leona determined.
“This isn’t what I wanted to show you,” Ishida clarified. She started leading them down the corridor. “As you know, the JJ exemplifies the four pillars of spaceflight. Safety, Compartmentalization, Redundancy...” She paused while she slowly opened the last door, “and Modularization.”
They were in a shuttle bay, except fit for much larger vessels. Three were docked here at the moment, but there were spots for many more. “This is the Cleopatra. Next to it is the Ava, and that one down there...is the Phoenix.”
Aldona smiled. “I’m sensing a pattern.”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the Tahani?”
“It’s out with its new crew. Or should I say, they are out with their new crews,” Ishida began cryptically. “Quantum duplication is difficult to pull off. It takes a lot of energy, and what we’ve found is that the larger the object—or rather, the more massive—the likelier the duplicate is to come with issues. So we decided that the Reconvergence is an opportunity. We sent the vessels away from Altair in order to give them a fifty-fifty shot of sticking around. One duplicate will go to the Sixth Key, and the other version will stay here. The Sixth Key crews will go on missions in that universe, away from the guidance of the mothership. We’ll reconvene with the copies that stayed in this universe at a later date.”
“Interesting. But what does that have to do with us?” Leona asked.
“We kept these three here for their own reasons,” Ishida said. “The Phoenix is what concerns you, Mrs. Matic. Atterberry pods, Ubiña pockets, state-of-the-art molecular synthesizers, internal teleportation, lander beaming technology, more sensors than you could ever imagine, protective teleportation hull field, advanced holographic illusioning, and much more. Oh, and a true faster-than-light drive. Plus, the shuttle bay has enough room for two standard shuttles, and one...Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez sized ship of your choosing. All this could be yours for the low, low price of...”
Leona closed her eyes, finally understanding what was happening here. “Attending the meeting,” she finished. “This is a bribe.”
“This is an ultimatum,” Ishida contended. “Come to the meeting, do your job, get the ship. It’s simple. We’re not asking you to make any particular decision at the meeting; only to contribute. Your attendance is mandatory, as is yours, Aldona.”
“If it’s mandatory, you wouldn’t need a bribe,” Aldona reasoned. “You could just force us to be there.”
“We can do that too, but we wanted to incentivize you instead.”
“It looks and sounds nice,” Leona started, “but the AOC is safe and sound where we parked it in the Fifth Division. We’ll get it back.”
“That’s cool, but you need something more,” Ishida said. “The universe is changing. The AOC was an amazing piece of technology two hundred years ago, but this is the 25th century, and regardless of how the meeting ends up, you’ll need to be in a position of power for anyone to take you seriously. But like I said, your original vessel has a place, which is why you’re getting that one, and Aldona is getting the Ava.”
“That one?” Aldona asked, pointing. “What am I expected to do with it?”
“Go back home. Stop the war. It’s got its own special toys. What it doesn’t have is what the Phoenix does, which is why we chose that particular name for it.”
“What, does it turn into a bird?” Leona questioned.
“It can’t be destroyed,” Ishida started to explain. She reached into her back pocket, and pulled out something Leona had seen before, but it was not in great shape. “This is the little gadget that Ramses used to generate recovery states of the AOC. I borrowed it from a museum in the future. Don’t worry, it’s completely inoperable, but it’s a genius idea, and we drew from it. You see, the Reconvergence has already happened, and the Phoenix was in the center of it. It was secretly buried underneath Stonehenge in the main sequence when your husband copied the entire reality. It was imbued with the power to recover from anything, and rise from the ashes to fly again. It can survive anything...as long as the blackbox in the center of it remains undamaged. Obviously that’s why it is in the center. I’ll show you how to work it. I’ll show you everything if you agree to our terms.”
“I’m curious,” Aldona began while Leona was considering the offer, and unable to speak herself. “What’s the special purpose of the Cleopatra?”
“Oh, that’s my personal ship, which is why it’s still here. Kestral and I don’t want ourselves to be duplicated, but she did want her personal ship, the Eris, to be copied, so it’s off on its own in the middle of interstellar space. She didn’t explain why.”
“This is a nice offer,” Leona said, “but what I’m curious about is if you think I won’t be able to refuse it.”
“This isn’t a trick, Leona. This is our last attempt to persuade you. I’ve just received word that Ramses is fine. He survived what happened to him when he stepped through the untailored portal. You’ll see him again. So there is no reason for you to be mad at us anymore. All you have to decide is if you’re over your exhaustion, or if you’re satisfied flying the AOC off to a remote star system somewhere to live our your days with no more adventures or intrigue. What would the real AOC do?”
She was right. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was a relentless fighter. Leona would feel bad about abandoning the ship they had used for so long, if only because of its namesake, so keeping it somewhere on the Phoenix would be a decent compromise. As far as spaceship names go, it’s not original, but surely there’s room for one more. It’s a great name, and if what Ishida says is true, it’s really the only one that fits. She’s not excited for what she has to do to get it, but she wants this ship. She really does.
“Well?” Ishida asked. “How about it?”
Aldona frowned at Leona. “I’m taking the deal. I have to.”
“I understand,” Leona replied. “I’m taking it too. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
Ishida grimaced. “That’s the thing. Errr, that’s the other thing. The meeting starts today.” She glanced at her watch. “It starts in half an hour.”
“Why did it change?”
“If you had stayed through the whole introduction presentation, you would know why.” That was uncharacteristically sassy of Ishida.
“Well...” Leona was going to clap back, but decided against it. “Can you teleport us back to my room, so we can get ready?”
“Everything you need is in your new ships,” Ishida suggested.
“Better not,” Leona decided. “I would just get distracted in there.”
“Same here,” Aldona agreed.
Ishida obliged them, but took Aldona to her own room, so they didn’t have to share a space. It was two minutes to the starting time, and Leona still hadn’t left yet. She bolted out the door, and prepared to run all the way when she noticed Pribadium Delgado leaning coolly against the wall. “I thought you might be running late.”
“Pribadium, I—”
“Don’t apologize, or I’ll feel like I have to too. Let’s just move on.”
“Okay.” Leona nodded, and stuck her tail between her legs. She took Pribadium’s hand when it was offered, and they jumped back to Lylla Hall. A couple of ushers opened the double doors for them, as well as Aldona and Ishida, who had arrived at about the same time. Everyone looked back at Leona again, but her tail couldn’t get more tucked than it already was. “Hi, sorry. I’m feeling much better now.”
They climbed on stage with the others, and the meeting began.

Saturday, July 1, 2023

The Edge: Éminence Grises (Part III)

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Leona reluctantly returned to Lylla Hall. The audience looked back at her as she was trying to slink down the aisle. She recognized a lot of these looky-loos, but not everyone. The group sitting with Divina and General Medley were probably all from Teagarden. Coronel Zararias from the Third Rail was in his own section with part of the Mozambican Naval Fleet, which was an interesting development. As she scanned the rest, she started to get the sense that everyone was in their special section, according to reality, and then more precisely to world. They were in assigned seats. Her place was up on stage, where the rest of the Shortlist was waiting. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re right on time,” Hokusai Gimura explained. “The rest of us were early.”
Leona walked up the stairs and sat down between Kestral and Weaver, though there was still an empty seat between her and Weaver that was meant for Ramses.
“Welcome,” Ishida whispered over Kestral’s lap.
“Thanks,” she whispered back. She turned to eye Weaver and her alternate self, Holly Blue, who was last seen on her way to another universe to reunite with her son.
Holly Blue smiled, and pointed at the front row. Declan was there with a handful of other kids. “I found him.”
“I’m happy for you,” Leona replied.
“All right,” Hokusai projected, standing up.
“Oh, hold up.” Ellie Underhill trotted in from sidestage, and cupped her hands over Hokusai’s mouth. “Okay, there you go.” It begged the question, if everyone else could be here, why was Leona’s team not allowed to come? It was starting to feel like they were deliberately excluded, but for what reason?
“Thanks, El,” Hokusai said in a normal voice, but the sound replicated around the auditorium for all to hear perfectly. “Hello, all. My name is Hokusai Gimura. I was born in 1985, in the main sequence. I’m a scientist. I’ve made a number of breakthroughs in temporal technology, and I did so without the benefit of time powers of my own. I had to figure it out, and that was dangerous. My friends and I formed this group, not to hoard such technology, but to protect it, and to protect the general population from it, and its risks. We are standing in the year 2400, during what my people refer to as...The Edge. Its properties are hazy, this despite the fact that we’re time travelers, and our ability to know anything is a matter of finding the right moment.
“I can’t tell you how many temporal manipulators there are in the timeline, or even how many of us are not members of the subspecies, but are heavily involved in their affairs. Yes, that’s right; they’re a subspecies, but it’s really complicated. It has more to do with their neurology than their genetics. Most of you know most of this already, but none of you knows everything. None of us knows everything. That’s what this meeting is about. We’re here to get on the same page, with each other, and with you, and to decide the fate of the universe, or at least this particular reality. The meeting will not begin today. It will, in fact, be in two days. We are here in this room to meet, and to greet. Everyone up here...and a couple of others...will introduce themselves. In addition, you have been placed in groups of your own, and we’ll ask you to introduce yourselves as well. No pressure. We’ve never done it like this before; it’s going to be very informal. We all just need to, like I said, get on the same page. I’ll stop here in case anyone has any questions at this time, but only about the schedule?”
A man in the back cleared his throat. Whoever was in charge of lighting shone a spotlight on him. It was Senator Morton. “I was to understand there were eleven of you.”
“Yes, there were. One of us has been...detoured. We all have very busy lives.”
“But you’re time travelers, so that shouldn’t matter,” Morton reasoned.
“Right.”
Leona hung her head. This was her fault. It feels wrong, doing this without Ramses. He made the choice that she wanted to make herself, and she could never thank him enough for it. Even so, there is little reason for him to not be here. Unless his mission went bad. Oh no...the mission went bad.
Hokusai went on, “we will not be discussing any individual lifepaths here. We’re not here to talk about any salmon or choosing one’s specific rules, constraints, patterns, behaviors, choices, or missions. Ramses Abdulrashid cannot be here, and he will never be able to be here. That’s okay, because we never needed a plenum to move forward. We just would have preferred it. But fear not, because there actually are eleven of us. Our final member is simply late...it happens, even in our line of business.” She leaned her head down and whispered something to Pribadium. Not even Leona could hear it, but Pribadium stood and left. Hokusai sighed. “Anything else?”
Someone they didn’t recognize stood up. “Yeah, hi. Captain Waldemar Kristiansen, Eighth of Eight here. I need to get back to my ship. I was told that the amount of time I’m wasting here will be the same amount of time I’ll be missing there. That is unacceptable.”
“I assure you, Captain, the Extremus will be fine without you for a few days.”
“Yeah, but see, you’re not starting the meeting for two days. I don’t understand—”
“Thank you, Captain Kristiansen,” Hokusai said quite dismissively.
He continued to try to speak out, but no one seemed to be able to hear him. That must be Ellie’s doing.
Hokusai went on. “Ah, here we go.” She was looking sidestage.
Pribadium had just come back, and was trying to urge someone else to come forward who was still shrouded in shadow. “Come on. Come on,” she insisted.
Finally, Aldona Calligaris stepped forth, and approached the table. “What am I doing here?” she questioned through gritted teeth.
“You have been invited,” Hokusai said to her, not using Ellie’s projection ability.
“I respectfully decline,” Aldona said.
“Not possible. You’ve proven yourself worthy, so you’re here.”
“All of my work was done in the future in the Sixth Key. It is not relevant—”
“It’s relevant to us. Sit down, please. Ramses’ seat is right there.”
Aldona sighed and plopped down with attitude. Leona took her hand, and squeezed. “Let’s stick together.”
“Okay,” Aldona agreed.
“If there is nothing else, we’ll bring out our guest of honor; our mediator. This is something that the majority of you probably don’t know, our mediator is never a member of the group. We do this intentionally, in order to keep the proceedings fair, and as unbiased as possible, as well as provide us with some insight we may not be able to find in this group of mostly like-minded scientists and researchers. Friends and allies, please welcome this meeting’s mediator, Winona Honeycutt of the Third Rail.”
The audience clapped as Winona came from backstage, and approached her seat in the center of the table. She stood and watched the audience, not smiling, but not frowning, waiting patiently for them to finish paying their respects. “Thank you, Madam Gimura, for the opportunity. And thank you, esteemed guests, for the warm welcome. I am a relative newcomer to the underground. A little bit about me, My father is a lifelong civil servant, who is still in my reality of origin, dealing with our many crises. I’ve worked in the federal government for most of my adult life as well. To be specific, I run—I mean, I ran—a covert operations joint task force that brings together the six major branches of law enforcement for my version of the United States. When temporal manipulation was discovered, I found myself as a...handler of sorts, liaising the time travelers with our corner of the government. I think that’s all I’ll say. Who’s next?”
“I’ll go next,” Hogarth volunteered.
Winona nodded at her, and started to sit down as Hogarth was standing. She then nodded at Leona. She was told that she was an important contributor to the grand mission of the Six Keys and their Keyholders to pull every world in every reality into a new universe, and save them from some mysterious force that would see them destroyed. As it turned out, Winona and the others were merely decoys, so any dissenters would not know the true plan, which was still so secretive, not even Leona knew the truth about it. Apparently, the main sequence was free from having to worry about the Reconvergence, though, which was why this meeting will go on as planned.
The rest of the members of the Shortlist introduced themselves in their own way. Brooke Prieto explained that her temporal specialty was not being able to be manipulated by temporal manipulation. Sharice Prieto talked about her origins as an Unregulated Artificial Intelligence, and Brooke’s daughter. They then continued down the line, letting everyone speak before Leona. It was like they knew that she would not want to say anything, and would rather make it brief. This way, they could argue that they were low on time, and needed to move past introductions anyway once her turn came around, so it wouldn’t be Leona’s fault. At least that was how she reasoned it, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, rather than it being because of her spite and anger. Though her anger should really have been focused on Pribadium alone, or honestly probably not even exist at all. She was being irrational and emotional.
No, she wasn’t last. That honor would go to Aldona. Leona stood up, and swallowed nervously. Ellie stepped over, and gave her the sonic projection ability. It only took a second, but the audience didn’t know how it worked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Go on. It’s okay.”
Ellie nodded, and walked back out of the limelight.
Leona scanned the audience again, not for any particular reason, but because she couldn’t think of anything to say. She wanted to participate, as Pribadium had asked. This was her duty. She was a member of this group, and she needed to help figure this all out. But she didn’t want to. Not anymore. She just didn’t care. They could claim all day that they weren’t elitist; that they were necessary...vital, even. But in the end, they were technology hoarders, and she didn’t want to be a part of it anymore, even if that was supposedly ending. “My name is Leona Matic, and I’m outta here.” She grabbed Aldona’s hand again, and pulled her up. Together, they walked off stage.