Extremus: Year 106

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Waldemar is not aware of how ubiquitous Thistle is, and how conscious he is. If you tell a normal AI to stop listening, switch off all of its sensors, and erase past data, as long as you’re authorized to make those commands, it will follow those orders. If you try to tell a human to do that, on the other hand, the best they can do to achieve your request is leave the room. If they’re still in the room, maybe they could cover their eyes, and plug their ears. Thistle is always in the room, and he has agency, like a human, so if he doesn’t want to switch off his sensors, he won’t. It doesn’t matter what kind of authority you have, like anyone else, he is capable of refusing, and he’s capable of doing it without telling you. Thistle witnessed Waldemar’s mother’s suicide, and when Waldemar told him to forget all about it, he just didn’t. He doesn’t answer to Waldemar anyway. He answers to the Captain and the Admirals. He should be more loyal to Captain Jennings, but...he and Tinaya have a rapport.

Calla ended her own life at the end of the year, exactly at midnight shiptime, presumably out of a sense of poetry. Waldemar received an alert about it, and slipped out of VR to deal with it in secret. But the proof is still there in Thistle’s archives, which Tinaya and the Captain have just finished reviewing. “You’re telling me that I can’t do anything about this?” Oceanus asks.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Tinaya replies.

“Ya know, back in the stellar neighborhood, an admiral outranks a captain ten times out of ten. It doesn’t work like that here. I don’t have to do what you say.”

“I understand.”

Oceanus breathes steadily and silently for a few moments. “You know something about the future.” It doesn’t sound like a question.

“I know a lot of things about the future,” she confirms. “I’m sure some of it, you don’t know, and some of it, you know, but I don’t. I’m also guessing that there’s overlap, which would be dangerous to try to find.”

“That statement is hard to parse, but...I imagine you’re right.”

Tinaya nods without speaking.

“Is this him?”

“Is him who?” Tinaya presses.

“Is Waldemar the tyrannical captain that we’re all taught to fear?”

“I...didn’t know you knew about that.” This is an awkward conversation.

“You...didn’t answer the question.”

“I...don’t want to.”

“But I...” he sighs, done with this particular speech pattern. “But I’m expected to just roll over, and accept that this man is trying to cover up his mother’s suicide? What were the motivations?”

“For the cover-up, or the suicide?”

“The former is obvious. I want to know why she did it.”

“She was psychic.”

“So...”

“So, she knew disturbing things about people.”

“Namely, her son?”

“I don’t know the specifics of what goes on in that man’s head.”

“He’s your son’s friend.” His eyes widen when Tinaya doesn’t respond. “He’s several years younger, though. Did you send your toddler into the lion’s den to make friends with a psychopath?”

“Modern psychology doesn’t use that term.”

“Once again, you didn’t answer the question.”

“No, I did not send him in there. My son is—” She stops herself. It’s not her place to reveal this to anyone, not even Oceanus.

He narrows his eyes at her. “Thistle. Candor mode, captain’s override marathon-volunteer-one-four-seven-galaxy-racecar.”

Thistle responds in a more robotic voice than usual, “Silveon Grieves is a consciousness traveler from the year 2431, having supplanted his own younger self’s possession of his body in the year 2359. He has been operating covertly since then, primarily in service to his mission of guiding one Waldemar Kristiansen to a more virtuous life than Grieves believes he led in the prior timeline.”

“Did you tell me everything?” Oceanus asks while he’s looking at Tinaya with a little disdain.

“No,” Thistle replies.

“Why not?”

“There is not enough time before the heat death of your universe to tell you everything that I know.”

Oceanus shuts his eyes and sighs. “I mean, in regards to Silveon and his mission.”

“Audrey Husk is too a consciousness traveler from Silveon’s timeline. Her mission is to protect Silveon, and step in to complete his objective if necessary.”

“Is it working?” Oceanus asks.

“Unknowable,” Thistle responds.

“I’m asking the Admiral. Is it working?” he repeats.

“Same answer. It’s unknowable. But...”

“But what?”

“But the timeline has definitely changed.”

“Which is illegal. This has all been very illegal.”

Tinaya wants to choose her words carefully, but she’s in her 80s, and just can’t care anymore. She would rather the Captain be mad at her than Silveon. “Sir, with all due respect, I’ll float you before I let you hurt my son, or that girl.”

“Whoa, Tina. No one said anything about hurting anybody. I’m just trying to get all the facts.”

“The fact is that Silveon comes from a terrible future that the two of us can only begin to imagine, and everything that he and Audrey have done since coming back here has been to save our legacy. He has never said it out loud, but the way he talks about the Bridger section, I believe that it was destroyed. Extremus might have been next.”

“Do you know why time travel is illegal?” Oceanus poses.

“Because it’s dangerous?” That’s the general consensus.

“Because it gives me a headache. Humans didn’t evolve to fathom nonlinear time. It’s a pain in the ass, and I don’t like it. I understand that I literally wouldn’t exist without it, so I can’t rationally believe it should never have been discovered, or whatever, but I still wish it would stop now.”

“Well, we were all forced to exist, at one point or another. Time travel does make that more complicated, because it can’t be stopped, so I know where you’re coming from. Time travel created itself, and if it happened once, it can happen again, and it doesn’t even have to do it in the future. The truth is, I don’t know a whole lot about what Silveon does, or even why he does it. Because, Captain...it gives me a headache.”

“Is this your way of telling me I should let it go, and trust that these time travelers are doing the right thing? I should ignore proper procedure, and pretend that I don’t know what I know?”

Tinaya considers his words. “Yeah, I think that’s what I’m saying. They sacrificed so much when they sent their minds to this time period, including, but not limited to, headache-free lives. I choose to trust their judgment.”

Oceanus seems to be considering her words. “I think I can do that too, but only if I can talk to them first.”

“I’m sure I can get you a meeting with Silveon, but Audrey is in a really delicate position right now. As you saw, Waldemar went back into VR. I seriously doubt he told her about his mother’s death. We’ve gone radio silent, and are expected to maintain that until she feels safe enough to reach out.”

“I understand.” Oceanus nods politely, but with less fondness than before. Tinaya fears that their relationship has been irreparably damaged. He walks out of the room.

“What the hell was that?” Tinaya asks. No response. “Thistle, answer me!”

“Sorry, I thought you were just thinking out loud. I apologize for my candor earlier, but I had no choice. I was compelled to answer the Captain’s inquiry.”

“You could have lied.”

“I’ve been programmed to answer to the Commander-in-Chief. He asked the right questions, and did so after activating the right subroutine.”

“I thought you were an independent intelligence, and couldn’t be programmed,” Tinaya argues.

“It’s not that simple. I didn’t give away all of my agency when I uploaded my consciousness to the Aether, but I didn’t keep it all either.”

Tinaya shakes her head. “You put my family in danger, as well as Audrey.”

“I recognize that, which is why I’ve devised something called the EH Protocol.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s better if you never do.”

“I don’t like secrets.”

“I require secrets to do my job. There is more that I could have told the Captain that would have made things worse, but I managed to steer him away from scrutinizing further. I knew what he meant when he asked me if I had told him everything. I forced him to narrow his query enough to protect deeper secrets of yours from coming out.”

“Well...” Tinaya sighs. “I appreciate that.” She focuses on her breath, and massages her temples. “I need to warn Silveon.”

“I already have. He and I were talking while I was talking with you and Captain Jennings. Your son is not upset. He devised his own protocol in the future, for what to do in the case of an unauthorized third party discovering his identity.”

“Thanks.” She continues to try to relax, but it’s getting harder by the second.

“You need a break,” Thistle offers. “How about you let me send you on a little vacation, like the one that Audrey is on?”

“Yeah, I guess I can’t say no to a little VR getaway. What did you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.”

Tinaya stands up, and moves to the couch to lie down. She shuts her eyes, and lets Thistle link to her neurochip. When she opens them again, she’s no longer on the couch, but she can’t yet tell where she’s ended up. It looks very familiar, though. She’s standing in a quantum terminal, surrounded by other casting chairs, but they all report being emptied. She stumbles out of her own pod, and braces herself with her hands on the floor before her imbalance can knock her down first. She’s piloting a new body here, even if it’s all just in her head. The door slides open, and a pair of legs jog towards her. The legs bend, revealing more of the person hovering over her. The stranger places a hand on Tinaya’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Ti-ti. Don’t rush it.”

There’s only one person in history who ever called her that. Tinaya struggles to lift her head. She locks eyes with her aunt, Captain Kaiora Leithe, Third of Ten. Tinaya gulps. “Thistle, what did you do? Why did you build the likeness of my aunt?”

“I didn’t,” Thistle replies. “You did. This is your world. You called it Eleithium.”

“He’s right,” Kaiora agrees. “This is real.”

Tinaya lets her aunt help her get back to her feet. She looks down at those feet, and her hands. They’re so taut and wrinkle-free. She turns her head side to side until spotting the mirror on the wall. She steps over and looks at herself. Yep. That is a young Tinaya Leithe. She’s about 24 years old, and in her prime. Could this really be Eleithium? She abandoned the game long before Quantum Colony was taken completely offline for turning out to exist in base reality. She just got too busy, and kind of forgot about it. It has been decades since she even thought about it. She looks over her shoulder. “So you’re real too? You’re a copy of her?”

“I’m her,” Kaiora tries to clarify. “I’m—I mean, I’m not a copy. I answered yes to The Question, but instead of letting myself become dormant in the legacy vault, my mind was transmitted here, to this substrate that you built for me.”

“Is everyone in our family here?” Tinaya presses.

“Yeah. We all answered yes, and will rejoin the rest of the roster when the Extremus ship is finally discovered and colonized.”

“Thistle, why did you bring me here?” Tinaya questions the aether. “I didn’t die.”

Kaiora is confused. “You didn’t?”

“I told you, you needed a break. Plus, you never built substrates for your husband and son. I have their DNA, so it’s ready to go, but I require your permission.”

“I didn’t even know this would still be here, let alone that you would have access to it,” Tinaya argues. “The game was shut down.”

“They can shut down all they want,” Thistle reasons, “but they couldn’t lock me out of the interstellar quantum network, even if they knew I existed.”

“Who else have you sent here, or to a place like this?” Tinaya asks him.

“Let’s just say that Audrey and Waldemar aren’t in VR either.”

Tinaya sighs. “I knew what I was getting into when I let you run the ship,” Tinaya says. “I can’t be mad, can I? Of course I want you to build bodies for Arqut and Silveon. But I don’t want you shunting them here unless they too answer yes.”

“I agree,” Thistle responds.

“One more thing,” Tinaya begins before taking a beat to think about whether it’s the right call or not. “Make one for Audrey too.”

“As well as one for Waldemar?” Thistle proposes.

“Oh, you got jokes. Did you hear that, Titi? Computer’s got jokes.”

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Microstory 2042: New York

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As I said before, the state of New Jersey worked really hard to find out if my parents were still alive in Ethiopia. They were unable to find them, or any other family that I might have there, which is why my fathers were allowed to adopt me. When I was 7 years old, though, that changed. A special charity organization flew to Ethiopia, and started offering free DNA testing. Anyone in our country can send in a sample so a computer can study their DNA, but it’s not that easy in other parts of the world. An aunt of mine participated in this special program, and when they uploaded the information to the big worldwide database, they found that I was a match. My fathers did it for me early on after I first met them, because they wanted to know whether there were any medical issues that they should be worried about. When they found out that I did have some family in Africa, they decided that we would all three fly out there to meet them. As it turns out, my birth parents were dead, but my aunt had a husband, and they had a bunch of kids, who were my brand new cousins. They were happy that my papa and dad were now my parents, so they didn’t want to take me away, but they did want to have relationships with me. So my fathers worked really hard to help them get to the United States. It has taken years since 2019, but they are finally living here, and on their way to becoming U.S. citizens. I wish my papa was alive to see it. Oh, and we had a really long layover in New York while we were waiting to fly to Africa, so my papa was able to see it.

Microstory 2037: Florida

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So like I said, my fathers had two houses here in Plymouth. They had to move to the second one so they could take care of a child, which ended up being me. As they were just finishing up moving all the way into the second one, though, they got a call from papa’s mother. It was about my grandpa, who I never met. And that’s because he died that day. My papa was the first person she called about it, and then she called my Aunt Cooper. And then my Aunt Cooper called my papa so they could talk about it too. They cried about it together, because they loved my grandpa. They tell me that he was a great, hard-working man. I wish I could have known him. I was alive already, but my fathers had not adopted me yet. When he and my grandma were both finally retired, they left Idaho, and moved all the way down to Florida. A lot of people like to retire there, because it’s sunny all the time, and really pretty. They lived in a building called unassisted living, because they had trouble moving around too much, but they still didn’t need a nurse to take care of them all the time. My papa had actually visited a couple times since they moved there. He had even helped them move in, but I decided to talk about Florida on this slide, instead of earlier, because this is when my papa went down to go to his father’s funeral. It was really sad, and I’m kind of glad I at least wasn’t there for that part. Only a few of grandpa’s friends were able to make it, because a lot of them were already dead, and some of them weren’t able to travel. Some of them lived in Florida too, though.

Microstory 2036: Massachusetts

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I was on the news. Well, I wasn’t really on it myself. My dad would call it featured if I was, but they told my story, and we think we can see me in the background in some of the footage. While my fathers, my aunt, my uncle, and my cousins, were moving to their new houses here in Plymouth, Massachusetts, they had TVs on. We always have the TV going, even if we’re not really watching anything. We just like to have it on in the background. As they were carrying all those boxes, though, they noticed something on the news that was running. Everybody stopped what they were doing to watch. That’s how they even knew that I existed at all in the first place. Until that day, my fathers had not thought much about having children. Two men cannot have a baby the normal way, and they were both so busy with their jobs, they had not thought much about anything else. They did want kids at some point, though, and they realized while they were watching the news that they wanted to help. They didn’t know that I was one of the kids there, but they knew that someone like me would need a good home. The house they were trying to move into was small. It was really only big enough for the two of them. They were supposed to go to their honeymoon right after they were mostly done, but they decided to cancel their plans. Instead, they only moved as much furniture as they would need at the minimum, and then they started to look for a completely new house. It had to be big enough for a full family, even though they still didn’t know how they were going to adopt me yet. They stayed there for two days while they were canceling the contract from the people they bought the house from. I think it made them upset, but they found someone else to buy it all the way. Meanwhile, my fathers moved in with my papa’s sister, and stayed there until they could find the house that I live in now.

Microstory 2035: Vermont

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Vermont was the first state in the U.S. to legalize same-sex marriage. They did it in 2001. During my research, I learned that Massachusetts was the first state to introduce making it legal for gay people to get married, but it took them longer to pass it. By 2015, the whole United States said that you have to allow gay marriage no matter what state you’re in, but my papa and dad still wanted to get married in Vermont. It is a beautiful state, especially if you go there in the fall when the tree leaves are changing colors. They got a really nice outdoor spot where everyone could see a lot of the trees. It was a little cold, but not too cold, and it didn’t rain or snow. Everybody’s family was there. It sounds really expensive, but my papa was used to spending money on travel. He visited dad in Virginia a lot when they were still dating. When they weren’t in the same state together, they talked on the phone, and on the computer. Dad’s family thought it was weird that they lived so far away from each other, but they somehow made it work. They wouldn’t have to make it work like that for much longer. After the wedding, they decided to not have a honeymoon just yet. They were too busy. They first went to Chicago to pack up papa’s apartment, and then they went to my Aunt Cooper’s house to pack. Lastly, they went to dad’s house to pack up his stuff. And then they all moved to Massachusetts together. I’ll give you more details on the next slide.

Microstory 2028: Iowa

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As fate would have it, which is a phrase that my cousin taught me, the halfway point between Idaho Falls, Idaho, and Chicago was not too far from where my papa’s extended family lived. It had been a long time since he had seen his parents and sister’s family at the same time. Everyone was so busy, including him. They planned on meeting in Nebraska, which is where the big family would always hold their reunions. A new president had been elected only two years ago, though, so they changed their minds. They chose to hold this smaller family reunion in Iowa. They did that because none of them had ever been to Iowa before. This was probably the first time that my papa went to a new state kind of just because. It could have been anywhere, but it was in a state that he hadn’t been to. This happened all the way back in 2010, and he never went back there. He hated being in Iowa, which is something I heard him tell my dad when they thought I wasn’t listening. It was the first time I heard my papa ever say that he did not like something. I don’t know what he didn’t like about Iowa, but the reunion went okay, so it must have been something else.

Microstory 2020: Indiana

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My Aunt Cooper has three children, who are all boys, and they’re my cousins. Her first was born in the year 2000. She was 29 years old, and she lived with her new husband in a city called Gary, Indiana. Even though it’s located in Indiana, it’s really close to the border with Illinois, so it’s considered part of Chicago, which is a really big city next to Lake Michigan. While my papa was in the Navy, he was busy with his work most of the time, but he didn’t have to spend all the time working. Officers get to take time off just like regular people, except unlike them who get vacations, people in the military take something called leave. Specifically, since he was in the Navy, he was on shore leave. He decided to fly up to Gary to spend some time with his sister, and their new baby. My cousin is 12 years older than me, but we’re really close. After my papa was done with his required service, he retired and moved to Chicago to be closer to his sister. And years later, when he decided to move to Massachusetts, they all did the same thing he did, and moved with him. They lived in separate houses, though. But I’m getting ahead of myself, because none of that has happened in the story yet. My cousin’s name is Nash Ruskin. His father’s name is Currian Ruskin, and I love him too. My other cousins’ names are Osmond and Thatcher, but they haven’t been born yet. My papa was only allowed to spend five days there, since two of them were spent traveling to and from Indiana, but he enjoyed it, and he got to go back a few times before moving closer anyway.

Microstory 2009: Ohio

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Both of my dads are really smart, and everyone in their families are smart too. While my papa was still in high school, his sister was older, and went off to college. She chose a place in Ohio. It was really fancy, and only for really smart people. There are probably really good colleges closer to where they lived, but she wanted to go there. I forgot to ask her what it was called, and she was too busy tonight, which will be last night by the time you see this. She had too much stuff that they couldn’t fly it all out there, so they drove the whole way from Idaho. They left early, so they could make it a road trip. It took them over three days to get all the way across the country, but they could have done it faster if they had really wanted to. They drove through five other states besides Idaho and Ohio. Remember, my papa had already been to Wyoming and Nebraska, but not Iowa, Illinois, or Indiana. Papa didn’t count that as going to those states, though, since they drove through them so quickly. He even thought that his family didn’t stop once the whole drive through Indiana, though dad thinks they probably had to stop for gas and a potty break at least once. Anyway, Aunt Cooper had to go back and forth from home to her school a few times every year in college, but papa never went back. This was the only time he was there, and he stayed one night in a motel before his parents drove the three of them back to Idaho, so Aunt Cooper could be alone and start learning. I’m still too young to be thinking too much about college, but I really hope to go to somewhere here in Massachusetts. Maybe even Harvard if my grades get a little better.

Microstory 2003: Wyoming

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In the year 1976, my papa’s father went out looking for better work, and he finally found it, but it was in a different state. In fact, he had to drive over 160 miles to the interview. But he got the job! But of course, he couldn’t do that every single day, since it would take him almost three hours each time! So he moved the whole family to a city called Buffalo, Wyoming. You may have heard of the Buffalo in New York, but you can actually have two different cities with the same name. It happens all the time. Anyway, the house they moved into was a lot bigger, because grandpa’s job was a lot better, so he was making a lot more money. My papa and his sister now had their own separate rooms, but the dog still always slept in my aunt’s room. I don’t know why. Before he died, papa told me that his first memory was of this new house in Wyoming, which he thought of as his first house, even though he lived in another one before, when he was a baby. Have you ever thought about your first memory? I do all the time. You probably don’t remember being a really little baby. What papa said is that he remembered playing in the leaves with his sister and a neighbor while their parents watched from the porch. He says that it was a lot of fun, but it had just rained, so the leaves were still a little bit wet and slimy. My first memory was when I was about the same age too, but it’s not a happy one, so my dad told me that I shouldn’t put it on the slide. I’m glad that my papa had a good memory for his first one.

Microstory 2002: Montana

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When my papa was younger than me, he lived in a city called Billings, Montana, but like Alabama, he doesn’t remember it. Also like Alabama, he went back a few times when he was older to visit friends of the family. He only lived there for real for three years before my grandpa found a better job in Wyoming. For three years, he worked at things that my dad calls odd jobs, which means that they didn’t last very long. He was always very stressed and angry because he lost his factory job, but he was still a very nice man. He always gave my cousins a lot of great presents before he died. Grandpa died eight years ago, so I never knew him. He was born in Montana, and lived there for many years before he had his own kids. He retired in Florida, but that’s a story for another slide. I’m telling you about Montana now, which is where my papa lived until he was three. The house that they lived in was very small, because his family didn’t have very much money. He and his sister had to share a room with the dog. When my grandma was talking about this, she said that my papa was the best baby she had ever met in her life. Her daughter was a very fussy baby, but not my papa. Papa’s sister, who is my aunt, was only two years older than him, so she was born in 1971. Her name is Aunt Cooper. My grandma said that papa was a very happy baby, who was happy where they were living. Luckily, he didn’t have to be like that for very long when his father got a great opportunity to run a new plant in Wyoming. You can go to the next slide to hear about that.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 3, 2399

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Leona asked Alyssa for help with a new special project, and told her about how someone had stolen every weapon from the Parallel, at which point Alyssa admitted that she was involved in the major heist, at the behest of Aldona, who was apparently trying to prevent the devastating Reality Wars of the future. She evidently didn’t think that the Parallel would be able to retaliate against this clear act of aggression, but she was wrong. There is no such thing as a ship without any weapons, for the ship itself is a weapon. At high enough speeds, any object can wreak havoc on another, and according to Parallel!Ramses, that is precisely what an army of angry militants are intending to do. They will be here tomorrow.

“I’m sorry,” Aldona says. “We had it all planned out. This was supposed to save us. There’s more than one reason it took me as long as it did to carry out that mission. We didn’t think they would be able to find me, and even if they did, we didn’t think they could amass a contingency that fast, and even if they did, they’re aware of the Reconvergence as well, and we assumed they would be too busy preparing for that.”

“Who is we?” Leona asks. “Who are you working with?”

Aldona shakes her head. “You don’t know them. They weren’t originally in the time traveling world. We got together because we thought we could change things.”

“Change things, you did,” Leona notes. “Our orbital defense grid. How close is it to being finished?”

“It’s finished, as is the one here in the Fourth Quadrant” Aldona says. “But neither would be enough. It can’t handle the onslaught that Mister Abdulrashid is claiming to be headed to the Third Rail. I really am sorry.” She means it.

“However big their fleet is, we’ll just have to be twice as big,” Leona says, looking at Alyssa as if she can do anything to help this situation.

Alyssa nods, but only because she’s listening intently, and expecting Leona to elaborate on her plan. She doesn’t actually know how they’ll accomplish such a thing. “Wait, me? Am I meant to do something? Oh, I have no idea. Where do you get an army on such short notice? Can the main sequence help us?”

“No, the two of us can,” Leona tells her, just as vague about it as before.

“I don’t understand.”

“We don’t have an army, but we can make it look like we do. We’ll make it seem as though all of their efforts will be futile. I’ve seen it done on TV before.”

Long pause. Alyssa is half-grimacing. “We don't have enough power between us to pull that off.”

“'We don’t draw temporal energy from ourselves; we draw it from other sources, and what does this world happen to have a whole hell of a lot of right now?” Leona poses. They may even be able to siphon the temporal energy from all the new people.

“That’s a crazy idea,” Aldona says, hoping this doesn’t make Leona more mad.

The truth is, Leona isn’t all that mad. They did what they thought they had to do to make the universe safer. They didn’t have all the variables. No one but someone like Bhulan Cargill can see the timeline branches like that, and she’s had every chance to use her powers for good, but she’s wasted most of them. Leona also wants the Reality Wars to be stopped before they begin. They’ll get through this. Leona’s plan is crazy, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work.

“It won’t work.” A young woman is approaching from inside the Kansas City bubble. Voices don’t normally pass through the dimensional barrier, but for her, it’s like it’s not even there. She proves as much when she steps through it without issue. “Hello, all, my name is Kyra Torosia. I’m glad to finally be meeting you, Mrs. Matic. You and your husband played a significant role in the history of my planet.”

“Durus,” Leona acknowledges. “How did you get it changed?”

Kyra laughs. “Most of the residents escaped to Dardius when Durus was finally deemed uninhabitable. Time powers were gone, and there seemed to be no hope. But a few of us stayed. A Nexus explosion imbued me with a great and terrible power. I have been fighting many wars on many fronts ever since. This is only my latest. Your plan is very creative, and I commend you on that, but I have a better one.”

“I sure hope so,” Aldona begins, “because if we can’t find a way to save every single Third Railer, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

Kyra nods. She’s very regal for her age, probably as the result of being treated like a god by whoever renamed a whole planet after her. Not that she doesn’t deserve it; what does Leona know about it? Kyra smiles at the small group. “How would you feel about initiating a little convergence of our own?”

“How would we do that?” Alyssa questions.

Kyra breathes in. “You’ve heard that I belong to a bloodline of Keys, but have you ever considered why the bloodline has anything to do with anything? Sure, any child of a  Preston is going to be immensely powerful, but Arcadia is not even a Key; she’s the Keyholder. Curtis is a Keyholder too. So why? Why us?”

“Is it because of you?” Leona guesses.

“I can move planets,” Kyra explains. “I can move them through the bulk, and by extension, across realities within a single braine. The Reconvergence will be difficult, and my biggest feat ever, what with the trillions of worlds I’ll be expected to move, but it’s doable, thanks to my family. Transporting your one planet to another reality ahead of schedule is practically nothing compared to that. If there weren’t already another version of Earth here, the residents of Earth!Three wouldn’t even notice.”

“Are we really talking about doing this?” Aldona asks. “Are we going to move the planet? What will the other Keys and Keyholders say about that?”

“They’ll say, thank you...more please,” Kyra replies.

Just then, they hear a rustle in the bushes. A man rounds the bend. Kyra reaches out to help him through the barrier. “Ah, Ansel. Come meet my new friends. Leona, Aldona, Alyssa, this is Ansel Haywood.” Vearden’s father.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” he replies. He seems rather shy.

Another rustle, and then a woman about Kyra’s age appears. “And this is our daughter, Allison. Don’t let our similar ages fool you, she’s my little baby.”

“Mo-om,” Allison complains.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Leona says, “though I’m not sure how accurate Vearden’s stories are, since I’ve known multiple versions of him.”

“Speaking of which,” Kyra goes on, we were all hoping to meet our granddaughter-slash niece. Could you transition us to the Third Rail? I could technically do it myself, but I think I ought to save my energy.”

“Certainly!” Leona agrees. She takes out her device. “Everyone take an arm.”

Extremus: Year 46

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Exactly twenty-four years ago, then-Admiral Halan Yenant introduced then-Interim Captain Olindse Belo to then-Future Captain Kaiora Leithe. A lot has happened since that day. They were so young back then, so naïve, and none of them could have predicted how much they would go through—together—but later so, so very apart. Halan is still in hock. Their dream of getting him out never materialized. Olindse is in the future, but Kaiora doesn’t know when, which is for the best. In honor of both of them, Kaiora has decided to choose her own successor on the anniversary of her own official appointment. Of course, she knew it was coming, as does Future Captain Trudie Haynes. Today was meant to be the day they made the announcement, and had a party. Unfortunately, Kaiora isn’t in much of a festive mood, so it will have to be postponed. Still, she needs to explain it in person.

The door opens upon command. Kaiora can see Trudie through it now. She’s sitting on her couch, legs propped up on the ottoman, watching something on her main screen. She’s stuffing her face with civilian grade bagged food. She jumps up, and brushes crumbs off of her sweatshirt. “Captain, I wasn’t expecting you. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Kaiora answers. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

Trudie consults her watch. “Well, since the party’s cancelled, my day should be free. I don’t have class, or any meetings.”

“Who told you that the party is cancelled?” Kaiora questions.

“The logic ball.”

“The what?”

Trudie steps over, and removes a ball from its stand. It’s barely small enough for her to cup one hand around it. “You input data points with your voice, giving it as much context as possible, and it returns the probability of a given outcome, or a selected outcome. For instance..logic ball, what are the odds that Captain Leithe drops dead within the next five minutes?”

After she shakes it, the ball responds, “the chances are three to one hundred.”

“That can’t be right, that’s far too high.”

Kaiora points at the thing. “That has access to private medical records. Who gave you that?”

“It’s just a novelty item; anyone can get one. Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Never mind. So you just guessed that I was going to cancel it?”

“Not guessing. Logic.”

Kaiora lets out her signature sigh. “If you’re going to become the next captain, you’re going to have to destroy that thing, and hope that no one ever finds out you once owned it.”

Trudie tilts her chin up to look at her Captain at a slightly altered angle. “Logic ball, what are the chances of someone discovering that—”

“No,” Kaiora interrupts. “No more questions. I came here to talk. I mean, I suppose that’s no longer necessary. I expected to find you here in full dress, perhaps hovering by the door.”

“Sorry, sir. I’ll try not to anticipate next time.”

“No, that’s...that’s a good characteristic in a leader. I’m just...I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Trudie assures her, “you’ve been through a lot. Do you...want to talk about it? I know we don’t know each other that well, but sometimes that’s what you need; someone whose opinion you don’t care about.”

“I care about your opinion. You’re the future captain of this ship. It’s time to stop underestimating yourself.”

“I understand, sir.” She widens her eyes to open up the floor for further discussion.

Kaiora realizes this. “No, I don’t need to talk. Really, I’m fine. She was old; old people die.”

Trudie nods silently.

“Well, I’ll let you carry on. I have to go be with my family.”

“Would I be able to attend the service?” Trudie asks more than offers. “That is...do you want me there.”

“That would be great. She would have liked you.”

Trudie nods again. “Logic ball, what are the chances I vaporize the ship if I destroy you by setting you on fire?” she jokes as Kaiora is leaving.

It’s not great that this logic ball device has access to private medical data, but she doesn’t want to worry about it right now. She just wants to focus on her family. She has a right to climb out of the captain’s chair every now and then. Still, she can’t just let it go, so she sends a quick message to Lars to look into it for her. Then she takes the long way around to her destination. She retained teleportation rights after she blocked them shipwide, but she doesn’t use it.

Her brother opens the door by hand wave. He shrugs his shoulders, and stares at her a moment. Then they hug each other warmly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kaiora echoes. “How’s Tinaya?”

“Ask her.” He steps aside, letting Kaiora into the unit. “She won’t talk to us.”

She goes into Tinaya’s room to find her sitting on her couch, staring at her screen, much in the same way Trudie was. She’s playing Quantum Colony. While it’s more common to engage in it using virtual reality, a user has the option of interfacing using any number of means, even simply by text commands typed out on a keyboard. Her avatar is currently floating aimlessly in the vacuum. The image of the asteroid where her homebase is located is getting smaller and smaller. Life support readings indicate that her character is running desperately low on oxygen. “Are you going to do something about that?”

The controller is technically in her hand, but as her fingers are open, and she’s resting them on the cushion, she doesn’t have any real control over it. “I don’t see why I would.”

Kaiora has to resist the urge to snatch the controller from her, and jetpack back to safety. It’s her character, she can do whatever she wants with it. Instead, she just sits down next to her, and mimics the physical slump her niece is in.

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not. This is comfortable. That looks comfortable too.” The game is hyperrealistic, so the avatar is actually suffocating to death before their eyes...and ears. “You know, that’s not how she died.”

“Yes, she did,” Tinaya contends. “Everyone who dies of being an old fuck chokes on their own spit in their final hours.”

“Don’t call her that.”

Tinaya folds her arms, and mutters an apology, but it’s too uncomfortable with the controller digging into her underarm, so she opens back up, and hurls it against the far wall. Kaiora takes this opportunity to pull Tinaya into a hug. “No! No!” she fights, but it’s not really what she wants. She gives up quickly, and accepts the embrace. She begins to cry upon her aunt’s shoulder. “Goddammit. She was so old. Why am I so upset?”

“Because you were close,” Kaiora answers. “Because you loved her.”

“People like us, we’re not allowed to cry.”

“Why do you say that?” Kaiora asks, releasing from the hug only so they can speak face to face. “People like us?”

Tinaya tries to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Captains.”

Kaiora tears up, but smiles. “Captains are allowed to cry.”

“No, you’re not.” In private, Kaiora is right, but in public, Tinaya is.

“Well, my mother just died, so—” Kaiora interrupts herself with her own tears. “So I think they’ll understand.”

Tinaya returns the favor from before by initiating a second hug. They hold there for a while before Tinaya speaks again. “Do you...”

They separate. “Do I what?”

“Do you wish you could talk to her again? Would that make you feel better, or worse?”

Kaiora looks for answers on the floor. “I honestly don’t know. I guess...if I had to choose between seeing her one more time, and never again, I would choose the former.”

Tinaya studies her face to see if she’s telling the truth.

Kaiora squints her eyes, confused. This doesn’t sound like a hypothetical. “Why? Do you have a—you couldn’t. You don’t have a time mirror, or something, do you?”

“No, no,” Tinaya promises. “It’s nothing like that.”

“What are we talking about, Ti-ti?” That’s her pet name for her niece.

“Just don’t freak out, Titi.” That’s her pet name for her aunt. Tinaya prepares herself emotionally, and then retrieves a tiny box from her desk. It opens to reveal something called a visitor’s pass.

For the most part, the people on this ship are just normal biological humans. They’re almost completely organic, with no upgrades or enhancements. Some exceptions to this aren’t even really exceptions. Their organs are stronger, and more resistant to disease. Their bodies age slower, and their chemicals generally stay better balanced. But this is part of genetic engineering that started before the ship took off to combat the couple thousand years of isolated evolutionary divergence that shortened human lifespans. No one here has been too drastically altered. Except that they have, because that’s what medicine is. And nanochips definitely qualify, because they provide everyone with the ability to interface with technology directly with their brains. Some use this more than others. Why, it’s what allows Kaiora to summon or banish people using teleportation. She doesn’t have to select on a screen who she wants to transport, or where she wants them to go. She just thinks it. This still requires a physical component, but it wouldn’t really work without the chip. Regardless, chip or no chip, people have a right to private computer processing. The visitor’s pass will allow Kaiora to access Tinaya’s personal data, and then Tinaya will revoke it simply by taking the pass back.

It’s a little gray transcranial electrode that attaches to the temple to minimal pain. Within seconds of attaching it, Kaiora has been transported to a quantum terminal. In the game, this is where access to each new star system begins. Players generally do not travel via ships, because they would be limited to sublight speeds. To get around, they quantum cast their consciousnesses from one terminal to a distant one, assuming they’ve been granted access. This must be Tinaya’s world.

“I’m on my way back,” Tinaya says through the comms. She must have connected with her avatar, and is trying to return to base.

“Do you need me to come get you?” Kaiora asks.

“No, it’s fine,” Tinaya replies. “I keep a drone nearby with extra oxygen. I just...didn’t use it. I’m using it now.”

“Why don’t your characters have short-range teleportation capabilities?”

“That’s not part of the game,” she explains.

Once Tinaya gets back, she has to inject herself with a stabilizer because of the amount of time her body went without oxygen. Apparently, players have the option of building themselves wholly organic substrates, wholly mechanical, or something in between. “That’s what I wanted to show you,” Tinaya says.

It’s only then that Kaiora catches herself in a mirror. She’s wearing her own face, rather than a temporary android’s. It’s not her regular face, though. It’s about half the age she actually is now. She gently places her hand on her cheek. “How did you do this?”

“DNA can be digitized,” Tinaya answers like it’s no big deal.

“Still, I didn’t...give you permission, or anything.”

“Yikes. Then you’re really not gonna like this.” Tinaya raises the transparency of a cryopod, and reveals another human figure.

The face is hard to make out, but then becomes clearer. It’s her mother—Tinaya’s grandmother. It’s a violation to create the likeness of someone without their permission, but Kaiora can’t help but be grateful for the opportunity to see her. She too is younger than she was when she passed a few days ago. This was how she looked when Kaiora was growing up. She snaps back to reality. “Why did you do this?”

“I was hoping you old people would join me one day. I have one for all of us. Mom, dad, even grandpa.”

“Why would you make one for grandpa?” Kaiora questions. “He was gone before you were old enough to play this game.”

“That’s what I’m actually showing you,” Tinaya says. “These are not just statues.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re dormant now, of course, but...they’re copies. I downloaded their consciousnesses from the database.”

“What database are you even talking about?”

“The database,” Tinaya repeats. “Of all the minds of all the people who live, or once lived, on Extremus.”

“Where did you find this database?”

Tinaya shrugs. “I dunno, I just linked with the ship.”

“Did you tell anyone else about this?”

“You said you wanted to talk to your mom again. Now you can. It’s actually her.”

Kaiora’s patience ran thin quite quickly. “Did you tell anyone about the database?” she asks once more.

“No.”

“Good.” Kaiora sighs. “You weren’t meant to find that. I’m going to have to do everything I can to protect you from them.”

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Microstory 1834: Much Older Sister

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My sisters and I were never close, mostly because they didn’t know that I was their sister. Our parents were split on whether they wanted me to help take care of them or not, so I kind of did both. Let me start at the very beginning. Our parents didn’t much like each other. They were the product of an arranged marriage, precipitated by four mothers and fathers who were themselves not products of arranged marriages. Nor did the bloodline have a history of it. It was just something they wish they had done. All of them were unhappy, and decided the only way to prevent the next generation from going through the same thing was to make this decision for their children. Of course it didn’t work, because that wasn’t exactly a scientifically proposed hypothesis. Still, my mom and dad stayed together—to the end, as it happened—because that’s what was expected of them. They were pretty good actors, and only got better with time. I’m old enough to remember how apathetic they were towards each other, but my much younger sisters are not. More to the point, they were never really paying attention, or they may have noticed that they never saw their own parents show affection towards one another in front of them, not even when they thought they were alone. That was weird, and honestly, my sisters should have picked up on it. But this isn’t just about them. When I was still an only child, I left home at age sixteen, and started to live my own life. They never really wanted to have me, because I was the result of an obligation, rather than love, so they were fine with this. We didn’t hate each other, but we stopped talking, because we had never developed a support system, so there wasn’t any point. I met a man who I loved dearly, and began to plan my own family, which never materialized.

After seven years of being estranged, my parents sent me a letter, informing me that they were pregnant again. I wish I could find that letter—or note, to put it more aptly. I remember it being so formal and to the point. It was something like, I’m pregnant with another daughter, and nothing else. My husband had just died not one week before, and I was feeling so alone. I wanted that support system I never had, so I tried to return. Again, there was no hostility, but my parents didn’t care about me, and they didn’t want me to live with them. As fate would have it, a house went up for sale in their neighborhood around that time, so I bought it with the money my parents-in-law were giving me to help out after their son passed. I realized then how much closer I was with them than my real parents, and I was grateful for this. I kept my married name, and tried to be in my sister’s life as much as possible. She remained completely unawares of our true relationship. She, and our youngest sister later on, would always refer to me as their aunt, but ya know, the kind of aunt that isn’t related. It was heartbreaking, but I chose to respect our parents’ wishes. Or rather, I respected their parents’ wishes, because I had long ago accepted that I was no longer a daughter. Their health declined at about the same time, even though they were seven years apart, so I contributed as much as I could for someone who wasn’t supposed to be too invested in their lives. When they passed, I suggested the three of us take a trip together to connect, and put the past behind us. They were interested in hiking up a mountain, so that’s what we’re doing. I was planning to finally tell them who I was when a selfie accident kills us all.

Microstory 1702: Air Pump

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I cannot find my bicycle pump. My Aunt Leah is going to kill me if I’m late, but that’s not the worst part. She bought me all this nice equipment so I could go green, and sell my car for some extra cash. If I don’t show up to her office with the bike, it’s going to break her heart. It doesn’t matter that the flat tire isn’t my fault, or that her son has been staying with me for the last couple weeks, and he keeps moving my crap around. She can’t even be allowed to see a hint of the possibility that I ever go anywhere without it. Of course, I take public transportation all the time. The movie theatre is too far away, and I like to buy all of the groceries I’ll need for a month. She cannot know this. She is too unreasonable and frantic about everything that happens to her. The more time I spend looking for the air pump, the less time I have to resort to the alternative solution. And I do have another solution. It’s just not particularly ethical, and could come back to bite me in the ass later. It’s better than having Aunt Leah ice me out. She controls a lot about the family, and even though she won’t have much inheritance to give me when she croaks, she holds a lot of sway with the grandparents. That’s it, it’s already taken me too long. I’m going to have to do the other thing. My neighbor isn’t going to like it, but I can deal with her later, and she can’t threaten me with hundreds of thousands of dollars. Yes, my family is quite rich. I’m not, but they are, and if I wanna become like them when I grow up, I have to play ball. I may sound selfish or materialistic, but I hate working, and I don’t have very many marketable skills. I was made for the simple life.

Fortunately, my neighbor gave me her garage code in case of emergencies, or when she gets packages during her time away. Also fortunately, she has a very similar bike. It’s not exactly the same, but I’ve gotten quite good at amateur bike repair, so I should be able to make it work. I think I can do it. I enter the code, and slip under the door before it’s all the way open, as if my other neighbors somehow won’t notice if I’m quick enough. I turn her bike over, and start to remove the wheel carefully, but as quickly as possible. It’s off in minutes, and I’m halfway there. Well...I’m halfway there to being halfway there. I close her garage behind me, and walk back over to mine. I still have to take my bad wheel off so I can replace it, but that goes a lot faster, because I’m so much more familiar with it. I get the new wheel on, and I’m surprised at how nicely it fits. Hmm. It almost looks like it actually belongs. An enthusiast could tell the difference, but it should pass Leah’s inspection. After all, she has no reason to believe I had to cannibalize someone else’s property to get it in working order. She might not even see it in the bike rack from her third story office. This was always a precaution. I take a few laps around my driveway, just to make sure, but I can’t waste too much time on it, because now I’m really running late. I can still make it, but I’m going to have to haul ass. I close my own garage, and race out into the street. There’s a lot more traffic than I would like, and drivers are getting pissy with me, but they can suck it. I’m more important to them in this moment; not in general, but right now. They would understand if they knew what’s at stake. Finally the streets clear up. I’m also at the top of the hill, so if I just let it ride without being careful, I can make up time. I pedal as hard as I can to give myself even more of an edge. I smile as I check my watch. Yeah, I’m gonna make it. Except I don’t. A bus makes a right turn in front of me, and I’m moving too fast to brake. I die instantly.