Microstory 2447: Terminator Track

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This isn’t a dome. It might be, in fact, the only thing that you can do on this rock that isn’t. It’s basically this big wide train that goes around and around the circumference at a certain latitude. They told me exactly how far from the North Pole and equator we were, but I can’t remember. The point is that the time never changes when you’re on the terminator track. It might be sunrise, sunset, magic hour, or twilight, and as long as you stay put, it will remain as such until the solar system collapses, or the track goes out of commission....whichever comes first. I’ve only seen sunrise and sunset, but I heard that magic hour isn’t that great since the atmosphere is so thin. I think they’re planning on adding more trains in between these, so it can always be night, or always be day. I’m not sure why you would want that exactly, but to each their own, right? This is a cool concept that they’ve tried on a few other planets. Varkas Reflex has something very similar, but the train is of a very different layout, and I think the capacity is a lot smaller, because it’s an older design, and the megastructural engineering capabilities weren’t quite there yet. Or the size of the one here on Castlebourne is the result of natural advancement. They made it bigger very deliberately because they wanted it to be bigger. If the Varkas one had been built to this scale, this one would be even bigger. Anyway, you get the gist. You sit on the train, and watch the sunrise. And watch it. And watch it. The show never ends. Again, it’s a cool concept, but if you stare at it long enough—even though you’re going, like, a thousand kilometers per hour—it starts to look like a painting. Well, I can go look at a painting of a sunset whenever I want. Do you have any idea how many paintings there are of sunsets? I couldn’t tell you, but look it up, and then multiply it by several times, because some people will paint a sunset, and then not show it to anyone else, so whatever’s in the records is probably an underestimation. As you can see, I’m a bit of a tangentist. There’s just not much I can say about Terminator Track. I don’t think it’s any better than just setting your smartwindow to show a hologram of a sunset at will. Actually, it’s worse, because again, Castlebourne has such a thin, dusty atmosphere, so just remember that before you board. When you think about it, it doesn’t make much sense, even if they thickened the atmosphere, and created some of that Rayleigh scattering. Part of the beauty of a sunrise or sunset is watching it change from one state to the other. Yeah, they’re pretty colors, but seeing them appear and disappear is part of what made humans like them in the first place. This is just static...like a painting. That’s the way I see it anyway. I’m not gonna tell you not to come here. I’ve not gotten into any specifics, but they have a restaurant, and several lounges. You can watch the domes fly by too if you go to the side viewports, so that’s another thing. I see this spot as a one-time destination, not something you frequent, except maybe if you’re on a romantic date, or something. Or, like I said, you could just tell your nearest smartwindow to show whatever you want. In fact, I bet the trains have cameras, which you can tap into, allowing you to watch it remotely anyway.

Microstory 2436: Tundradome

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It’s just a big tundra, what do you want from me? It’s even worse than one of the desert domes, because it’s cold. I know, that’s obviously the point, tundras are supposed to be cold. I don’t know what I was expecting, but there’s just nothing here. They don’t even have animals running around, which you would find in a real tundra. I did get the sense that this dome was unfinished, but also not a priority, but there wasn’t anyone around to explain it to me. The vactrain stopped here, I walked through the doors, and I was outside. I went back into the lobby to see if I needed to sign in, or something, but there really wasn’t anyone around. They didn’t even have a help button on the wall. Surely they wouldn’t have let me come here if it was legitimately closed to visitors. There were others who showed up a few minutes after me. We didn’t talk, but they seemed pleased. They stopped a few hundred meters from the entrance, and I guess admired the beauty before them. Then they picked up their gear, and walked away. I assume they went off to camp somewhere, but I don’t know for sure. I doubt they went far, because they were carrying their stuff in their hands, instead of in packs. Listen to me, reviewing the other visitors as if that matters. I should have asked them real quick if maybe I missed something. Like, maybe there’s a different entrance where they went to first, or they messaged someone ahead of time. I could contact customer relations, but I think writing this review is as far as I’m gonna take it. It’s clearly only meant to be a tundra as that’s the name. They’re never going to add activities or adventures, so no matter how much they work on it, I’m never gonna wanna come back. I don’t suggest you do either. If you want to camp, try Foggy Forest. At least they have trees there.

Microstory 2423: Oz

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My assumption is that the guy who made this planet was a huge fan of L. Frank Baum, and his works. If you haven’t read the books, you really should. You can see the movies, particularly the first one, but everything here is drawn from the source material. Oz is only one dome, complete with the Emerald City in the center, and the four countries around it. There’s a so-called Impassable Desert along the perimeter, but there’s not much to it before you just hit the wall. Which is fine. I mean, that qualifies as impassable, doesn’t it? Unless you go through a door. I’m overthinking it. The point is that Oz is only one dome, but the world of the Baum books includes many other regions on the planet, and each of them has their own dome too. They’re all on my list, because my father used to read me the books when I was a kid, multiple times. And when I grew up, I read them myself. On my way here, I read them yet again to refresh my memory. Yeah, I could have installed the data into my cybernetic mind, but there’s nothing like reading the words in realtime, is there? The bottom line is that this place is perfect for me. It’s as accurate as it can be given the lack of specifications from the books (which no one could expect from any writer). It exemplifies the spirit of the original story, I should say. They had to make their own decisions, and take some liberties, but they totally nailed it. This. Is. The Land of Oz. Are there some things that I would change if I could? Sure. Do I wish that they would ask me to help them make such changes? Yeah, I do. Could I offer my services? Yeah, I guess I could. I might just do that. They have people work here, right? It’s not all automated. I might wait just a little bit, though. I should take notes, and go through the entire thing. I should also wait until I’ve had time to do the same in the other Baum domes. I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do, but you really should check it out. It is great and good.

Microstory 2422: State of the Art

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Isn’t that a funny name for a dome? State of the Art. Since art is so subjective, that term is so often used to describe scientific advancements, which is essentially the opposite of what we’re talking about here. But in this case, they’re calling the entirety of the dome a state, and its purpose is art. Have you ever seen a show from a long time ago called The Peripheral? It only lasted one season, but in that, they feature sculptures that dot the skyline, which are larger than most buildings around it. They never talked about them, or gave any history, but it was set in the audience’s future. I’m not sure if the Castlebourne people were specifically inspired by this, or if it’s a coincidence, but either way, they have those here. These things go up two or three kilometers in the air, and can sometimes be just as wide. It’s really cool to stand on the balcony level, and look down at the whole thing. You’re a few kilometers up yourself, but there aren’t any clouds that low, since they can control all that stuff. Not every dome has one of these second levels, but I think it’s really important in this case. I certainly think that you could extend it more along the perimeter, or even build more layers, but maybe there was a reason why they stopped it here. I just worry that there won’t be enough room once the planet and the dome become more popular. That’s assuming it does. I know you’re all running from your zombies, and wasting each other in the wasteland, but it’s important to learn to be cultured and quiet. That’s what my mom taught me. She was old enough to remember a time before the longevity escape velocity. To them, art was a way of continuing on an individual’s and culture’s community. A piece of visual art or musical piece is a snapshot in history, showing in the most genuine way what life was like—what life was like for the people making the art, and for the people around them. We’re taught that a painting, for instance, comes from a distinct period in time, and it’s important to understand that. You paint a pond of water lilies in 1840, it evokes a different feeling than someone painting it in 2040. Lives change, lifestyles change. Those two people see the world entirely differently, and recognizing the beauty in that is an important human trait that I think we’ve lost as we’ve developed. We still make art, but it’s a reflection of who we are today, and it means nothing if we can’t remember that. Go back to the past, and learn from it. You can visit one of the Babeldome libraries and read about it, and I definitely wouldn’t discourage you from doing that, but don’t forget about the art. Never forget about the art. It speaks, so listen closely. Be cultured and quiet.

Microstory 2380: Vacuus, October 29, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Thanks for the compliment, you’re not so bad yourself. I wouldn’t mind seeing a few more photos. As for your question about what I might have done with my life had I been born on a pre-apocalyptic Earth, I’ve always wanted to work with my hands. Obviously, I need my hands to do my real job well, but I’ve never gotten those hands dirty. As your twin and I realized, our base is immaculate. The systems are designed to keep out all the Vacuan dust, and keep the atmosphere in. If I had been born on Earth instead, say a hundred years ago, I guess I would have liked to be a gardener, or something. Yeah, we have a garden here, but it’s not really the kind I’m talking about. It’s so stale and perfect, like everywhere else. It would have been nice to plant beautiful flowers just for the sake of it, not because anyone needed food. To crouch there on the edge of the colorful garden, smiling up at the sun. We don’t have a sun here, so I suppose just about anything outdoors would be amazing. I do yoga too, so I’m flexible, and don’t have any problem being on my hands and knees. I’ve attached a photo of myself doing my morning yoga. It was taken a few years ago, when I was in slightly better shape, but I’m still doing okay. That’s about all I can do to workout unless I want to fight over the three treadmills that we have. You must have other ways of staying fit. Exactly how big and comprehensive are these domes that you live under? Have you ever gone swimming in a pool, or an artificial pond? You can send me a picture of that if you want. We’re so confined here, and swimming would be a huge waste of resources, we would never dream of it. Back in the day, people would make fun of one of my grandfather’s friends because he didn’t know how to swim, but these days, that’s probably a whole lot of people. It looks fun, but it’s just not practical. I did design myself a swimsuit once, just to see what it looked like. I can send you that photo too, if you’re interested. Researchers are developing virtual reality, which could give people so many opportunities that they never had before, like swimming, or opportunities that would be impossible in the real world, like flying without an aircraft. Could you imagine? Okay, I’m just fantasizing now. What kind of fantasies do you have? Don’t be afraid to be a little provocative, if that’s what’s on your mind. We all have dreams.

Dreaming of you,

Velia

Microstory 2379: Vacuus, October 28, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I saw the letter that Velia sent you, and the photograph that she sent along with it. I knew that she was curious about you, I just didn’t realize how attached she had become to the idea of getting to know you more personally. She’s been very lonely here. As you can see, she’s quite good-looking, but she has a little trouble communicating with others. I think she jumped at the chance to correspond with you, because the medium allows her to rethink and revise her thoughts before they ever reach you. Just be careful with how you approach the situation. A long-distance love story is romantic, but not very practical. You and she will never meet in person, and even if you can accept that, it will probably eat at her over time. Be nice, and don’t just ignore her, but really try not to lead her on. She deserves to be happy with someone who is living on the same planet, and she doesn’t deserve to be distracted from such fulfillment and contentment. Okay, that’s enough of me scolding you for something that may never be a problem. That’s exciting news about your nurse, please let me know how that goes when she gets back to you. It reminds me of that book two development where Roscoe tracks down his estranged grandfather, and learns that he’s the one who protected Audie’s grandmother from that storm when they were young. It was a cool symmetrical twist, and the writer handled it well. Though, I admit, the adaptation could have done it better. I don’t like when the leads are double cast into entirely different characters for flashbacks. It’s a little cute, but mostly annoying. That’s just my opinion, I guess. Anyway, it would be great to reunite with someone who was so important in your past. I hope it goes well. She sounds lovely. I’m worried about Pascal and his trip, though. I don’t like it when you have to breach the safe confines of your floating platform at all, but I’m more worried than I was before; probably because I know you two better now than when you were first telling me your whole situation. I know he’ll have already left, but remember to tell dad to be careful. I’m sure you always say something to that effect, but a lot has changed since he last saw your neighbor. He could be dangerous, even if he had nothing to do with our separation. A part of me hopes that he’s dead, or simply can’t be found, just to avoid the risk of an encounter that does not go well. Just be safe, and get him back home quickly.

Lounging on an imaginary beach,

Corinthia

Microstory 2378: Earth, October 21, 2179

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Dear Velia,

I know what it’s like to feel a connection to a place or event that I’ve never actually been a part of. That’s what happens when I’m reading a good book. Corinthia and I have been reading The Winfield Files, and watching the corresponding seasons of the adaptation. Even though the stories are very personal and intimate for the characters that we’re following, the writer manages to do a great job of going into great detail with everything that’s happening around them. It’s set in a fictional universe, but it almost plays like historical fiction, because the background is so rich and intricate. It might as well be a version of Earth that really does exist somewhere out there. I sometimes feel more attached to it than my own world, probably because of all the darkness and sadness that has defined our past down here. I also know what it’s like to have a job that makes sense for you, but isn’t necessarily something you would have chosen if you had had every option. My dad was good at what he did, and it was more practical for us to stick together, which meant me finding my own way to contribute by becoming a sort of flight attendant. I don’t know what I would have done if I lived in the kind of world that I read about in some of the classics. The tales are fascinating, but they take place in mundane settings. If you were privileged, you got an education, and pursued your dreams. Not everyone was able to do what they wished, of course, but it was at least there in front of them. We lost so many options when society fell apart. I think maybe, if I were one of the lucky ones, I might have become a scholar. I could have dedicated my life to learning, and possibly become a teacher. I appreciate the characters who wear nice but not overly fancy clothing, and spend their days indoors, reading books of their own, and searching for answers. In the real world, it’s always been about survival, but in a more perfect world, we would mostly have everything that we needed, and could focus on things that aren’t absolutely vital. What would you do if you were born on Earth, and the poisonous gases never befell the lands? Do you think you would have gone into fashion anyway, or is there anything else you find yourself daydreaming about. I must say, you’re not bad at what you do, if the outfit you’re wearing in your photo is any indication. In my opinion, it’s not too much cleavage, though I admit to being a bit biased. I hope it’s not too forward to say that you’ve a very beautiful woman.

Warmly,

Condor

Microstory 2213: Calming Environment

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Negative. Negative or inconclusive, that is. All of the blood test results came back, and none of them told us what Nick might have. We woke up to no answers today, just as we have every morning in recent days. He was scheduled to have an MRI in the early afternoon, so we were still hopeful that that would turn up something, but it didn’t tell us anything either. Well, I’m sure it told the doctor something, but it goes over our heads. All we know is that Nick is sick, and there is no apparent treatment for it. While we were waiting for the ultimately unhelpful MRI analysis results, I took him for a walk in the arboretum. This is precisely why they built the hospital at this location, so patients and loved ones can have a calming environment in some of their darkest times. There are trails in there that are somewhat difficult to walk on, or at least which require two legs, but for the less mobile people, there are also paved paths. We stayed on those, but were still able to enjoy a lot of beauty. I think it was really great for him to be out there. If you go deep enough, you stop being able to see the ninety degree angles of the buildings and roads, and hear the sounds of the cars. He told me that he likes either being inside with the conditioned air, or in nature, but not in between. He doesn’t like the urban world, with all its loud artificial noises, and crowds of people. Due to all the jail time he experienced, and the work he did during and after that, he hasn’t been able to spend much time in places like that. He agrees that it did him good, but there was a downside to it. I pushed him in the wheelchair, which is not the same thing as walking it himself. He regrets not going on one more hike, but of course, he had no idea that things would turn out like this. He may never be able to once again walk on his own, but I’ll take him to places like this every day if he wants. Nature has been scientifically proven to be emotionally and mentally beneficial to all, but especially for someone like him, and for someone in his condition. EEG, and maybe a spinal tap, tomorrow. Yikes!

Microstory 2050: Minnesota

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Now, some of you may say that my papa never made it to all fifty states. He died in Oklahoma before he ever got the chance to see Minnesota. But my family and I don’t feel the same way that you do. After he died, we had a funeral service for him in Florida. My grandma has a hard time moving around. She doesn’t have ALS, but she’s old, and that’s just what happens. My aunt, uncle, and cousins all flew down to be there too. All of papa’s friends from college, the Navy, and his co-workers from the submarine company were there. Papa met a lot of people as he was going to every state. I didn’t talk a whole lot about that, but he didn’t just step over the borders, and take photos. He became involved in people’s lives, and they remembered him later. People heard of his accomplishment, and because of my dad’s work with the news, it made it into national news. Everyone knew that he had died, and they knew when the funeral was. They even had to move the service to a bigger room, because there wasn’t enough space in the one we had booked. When it was all over, we took papa’s cremains up to Minnesota. When you die, you might be buried in the ground, but they also may turn your body into ashes. It may be scary, but a lot of people want this to happen to them, and that’s what my papa wanted. We spread his ashes in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in Minnesota. Papa loved forests, so we thought that it was a good place to do it. Don’t worry, we asked for permission first. Some of the ashes are still in a little urn on our mantel. We had the special map framed, and it’s hanging on the wall right above it. The rest of the ashes will stay in Minnesota forever. I think that’s fitting. My papa went to all fifty states in the United States of America. I think that’s pretty amazing. Thank you for watching and listening to my presentation about my papa.

Microstory 2049: Oklahoma

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Back in August, my papa was sitting in his wheelchair in the dining room. He was looking up at the map where he and my dad had placed stickers to show which states they had gone to. My papa was only missing two states. He had never gone to Oklahoma or Minnesota. It was hard for him to pick up objects, but he asked me to hand him a quarter. When he let go of it, it fell to the floor. It landed on tails, which he had decided meant that he would be going to Oklahoma. I think he knew that he didn’t have very much time left, because that is where he died. He was sitting in a blue camping chair, watching the sunset with his favorite people. My dad was sitting on his right, and I was sitting on his left. Grandma Daphne, Aunt Cooper, Uncle Currian, and my cousins, Nash, Osmond, and Thatcher were all there too. Even though we knew that it was going to happen, it was sad, especially since I was there to see it. Still, I’m glad that he was looking at something so beautiful when it happened, instead of just staring up at the ceiling, or something.

Microstory 2045: North Dakota

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Before my papa was born, his parents would go to a forest called the Roosevelt National Park, which is located in North Dakota. It isn’t that far from the border to Montana. Papa never went there himself, but on my grandpa’s birthday, who was dead, papa wanted to honor him with a family trip. We took a plane over there, and stayed in tents. We ate outside, and we hiked, and I swam in a lake a little bit. I know that it’s a really beautiful place, but I don’t have very good feelings about North Dakota. This is where my papa started getting sick. I hope I don’t cry while I’m presenting this slide. My papa had a real hard time on this trip. He had trouble walking, and he felt very weak all the time. I remember seeing him twitch while we were sitting around the campfire. He was also talking kinda funny, like he was trying to talk with his mouth full. We didn’t know what was wrong with him at the time, but we hoped that it would just go away. He took it easy for the rest of the trip, and then we just went back home. The problems started getting worse after that, so he went to the doctor, and he was eventually diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. Most people just call it ALS, because that’s hard to say.

Microstory 2039: Alaska

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Like I said, it took a long time for me to get adopted. While they were working on it, my fathers put off their honeymoon. They got married in 2015, but it was 2017, and they still hadn’t gone on it yet. It was looking like they were going to have to wait even longer for me to be ready to come home with them, so they decided to finally go on the trip. It was almost the wintertime, but they had their hearts set on an Alaska vacation, so that’s where they went. It was really, really, really cold there, but they still had fun. They slept in a cabin, but it was heated, and they packed a lot of clothing. While they were there, they got a call from the adoption agency, telling them that a child was ready, but they had to get to New Jersey right away. They hadn’t gotten much time to relax. They quickly packed up their belongings, and got back to the airport. The problem was that there weren’t any flights until the next day. It was a really stressful time for them. They didn’t get to enjoy very much of Alaska, but they said it was beautiful. My papa used the word gorgeous to describe it.

Microstory 2032: Hawaii

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My papa was really good at his job. He was so good at it that in the year 2012, his bosses rewarded him with a really expensive trip to Hawaii. Hawaii is a chain of islands in the North Pacific Ocean. It used to be its own country, but now it’s in the U.S. Papa and his whole team went there together. It wasn’t a business trip, or a retreat so they could learn to work together better. It was just a cool vacation, where they could do whatever they wanted. That didn’t mean that they were just going to go without having any plans. The bosses also came up with a special itinerary, which sent the team to each of the major islands of Hawaii. There are over 100 islands in Hawaii, but there are only 8 main ones. They went to each one of them, spending one day on most of them. The whole trip lasted for 11 days, though, so they must have been on one or more for longer, probably wherever the airport was. Hawaii is a really beautiful state with lots of trees, mountains, and beaches all around. I would like to go there one day. You probably would too.

Microstory 1736: River

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For years, Po believed himself to be the only one of his kind in the entire world. He didn’t so much believe as it didn’t occur to him to question why that might be. He wandered the lands, enjoying the wilderness around him, and living in harmony with the other animals. He especially liked to live next to a particularly beautiful river. One day, he came across two tiny ground creatures. They were crouched next to each other, munching on the seeds all over the ground. This wasn’t the first time he had encountered these animals, or even the first time he saw two of them at once. For whatever reason, this time gave him pause. He knew that there was more than one tiny ground creature, and that there was more than one other kind of tiny ground creature. There were different flying creatures, and swimming creatures. Many of them looked alike. There seemed to only be one Po. How could that be? Why did everyone else have at least one other companion, but he had only himself? This was the first time he felt sadness, and loneliness. He didn’t care for it. He kept moving, and came across a pack of the large brownish ground creatures. No, not those large brownish ground creatures, but the other ones. There must have been a better way to distinguish them. Po had a name, why did none of the others? They probably did, but he didn’t know how to communicate with them, so there was no way to know who they really were. These...antelope, he thought he would call them, were about the same size as him. They weren’t exactly the same, but they were certainly closer than the medium-sized tree creatures, right? He wasn’t an antelope, but maybe he could start pretending that he was. He got down on all fours, and started trying to live with them. Never before had a creature been afraid of Po, but they showed fear now. They ran away. Or maybe they were just irritated by him, because they could easily tell that he was a faker.

Po continued on, hoping to find a pack of his own. He communed with the big gray floppy-eared creatures. He stood with the pink water-loving sky creatures. He always failed. Some of the animals moved away from him when he approached, while others just ignored him, but they all knew he didn’t belong. His sadness not only stayed with him, but grew larger in his heart. He eventually realized that he had to give up the pursuit. There were no other Pos, or whatever he was meant to be called. It was a name he made up for himself. His first memory was of a creature flying overhead, whose call sounded like that. He never did meet the flyer again, so it seemed fitting that he should steal it. Seeing now that his entire life was meaningless, including his name, Po returned to his favorite spot in the whole world. He stood at the bank of the river, watching the glimmering water race past him. He knelt down to it, hoping to catch one more glimpse of the gorgeous orange swimmer with the big mouth. He saw other pretty swimmers, but not that one. Burdened by his terrible despair, Po stuck his face in the water. He loved feeling it brush up against his cheek. He liked to press his nose against the rocks on the bottom. He normally removed his head when his chest began to hurt, but this time he chose not to. He stayed there, and let the tightness claim his body. With the last bit of his strength, he opened his mouth, letting all of the water in. If there could only be one Po, there might as well be no Pos at all. The river took him away. A moment later, Eridana came by, looking to find a pack of Eridanas like her, but she found no one.

Microstory 1421: Sourced

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Somewhat early on after the Deathfall sent Springfield to Durus, the first ever non-source mage received a special temporal power from one of the sources. Aimo Lahti gave his older sister the ability to separate liquid molecules from each other. On a small scale, she could pour a bottle of fruit juice into a beaker of acid, and then teleport them away from each other. This could be very useful, but her family didn’t want anyone to know about it. They didn’t even know that it was Aimo who accidentally gave it to her in the first place. They kind of just thought she later developed a power of her own. It wasn’t until 2029 that the fact that these children were capable of doing this to others came to light, and it was less of an accident. Aqil may have been considered the intelligent one, but Orabela was the wisest. She was always underestimated intellectually, because of her physical beauty, which was—not only inappropriate for a twelve-year-old—but harmful to her self-esteem, and standing within the community. She was worried that the way people treated her would only get worse if she were to strike a deal with the proverters. If they made her look 23, then people would start looking at her like she was an adult, but no amount of rapid aging would make her actually an adult. That was something that came with time, experience, and maturity. She did not fault the other children for making this deal, but she wanted no part of it. They were tired of being treated as children, and figured this would help them, but it would most likely just give people the wrong idea about her. Ecrin Cabral was several years older than the source mage children, and had only recently turned 18 when the proverters aged them to look older than her. She found herself quite protective over Orabela, and her choice to remain as she was. After the deal was done, the other sources decided they were no longer okay with letting Orabela make her own choice. They thought they knew better, and that she would thank them later. They tried to force her to go visit the proverters, and she was helpless to refuse. She couldn’t take on all of them at once. But Ecrin could. At least that’s what she felt she had to do. She fended them off, even though it went against everything she was taught to believe about the divinity of the powerful children. The fight caused pretty severe injuries on her part, and left her combatants completely unscathed. She could have died if their parents hadn’t intervened, and put a stop to the fight altogether.

Ecrin spent weeks in recovery. During this time, the town decided the children would have a lot of authority over Springfield, but still wouldn’t be allowed to pressure anyone to do anything against their will. They could lead, and they could protect, but they did not rule unilaterally. Smith tried that years ago, and it didn’t work out for anyone; not even him. Once Ecrin was better, Orabela admitted that she understood what her real power was. Yes, she and the others all had abilities of their own, but their true purpose was to give other people their own gifts. She knew what Aimo had done for his sister, and she realized that they could all do the same, to anyone. So she chose Ecrin as her first receiver. She bestowed upon her the gift of agelessness. Ecrin would be able to be hurt or killed when attacked, or from an accident, but barring that, she would never get older in appearance, decline in general health, or die. As the wisest among them, Orabela determined it would be best that no one knew this particular gift was given on purpose. If they were to ever do it for anyone else again, people would have to believe that it was random, and beyond the giver’s control. In fact, she saw that it was entirely possible to make it random anyway, to promote fairness and harmony in the society. While Leena Lahti would later be outed as the first true sourced mage, Ecrin held the title for a good long time. But it would not end there. This gave the other source mages an idea, and it changed everything about how they planned to run Durus from then on. This was the beginning of the beginning of the Mage Protectorate.

Microstory 1399: Story

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Seasoned Reporter: This is the interview with Fiore Stern, noted serial killer and terrorist.

Fiore Stern: I am not a terrorist. I’m the one who helped take down the terrorist organization. Get your facts straight.

Seasoned Reporter: You worked for Hemming Fertilizer for three years before you contacted the authorities about their misdealings.

Fiore Stern: That’s right. I was undercover all that time.

Seasoned Reporter: That’s what you said when it happened, but you were later discovered to have personally killed two dozen people. Does that not call your motives regarding the bomb-making company into question?

Fiore Stern: I don’t think it does at all. The two things have nothing to do with each other.

Seasoned Reporter: According to earlier interviews, you knew the entire time what Hemming was in reality. Now, I’m not saying it doesn’t take three years to go undercover, and bring terrorists to justice from the inside. I honestly don’t know how I would do it, let alone how long it would take. But because of these revelations about your private inclinations towards violence, you have to understand that people are going to be suspicious about your role within the company. Some are wondering whether you had always intended to fight against them, or if you simply saw an opportunity, and took it, assuming that no one would scrutinize you about who you really were.

Fiore Stern: I can see where people might start modifying their perception of me. But they have to realize that serial killing and terrorism are two very different ideologies. What I did to those innocent victims was very personal, and I’ve been working with mental health professionals to understand my reasons. It’s a lot more complex than you might think.

Seasoned Reporter: I would never characterize your behavior as simple. No one seems to be arguing that.

Fiore Stern: Yes, but terrorism kind of is simple. These people were angry at the world. The justice they saw, they perceived as injustice. They believed it was their duty to correct society as a whole, and make people afraid to go against them. Now, I’m not at all saying that the terrible things I did were okay. It’s just that Past!Me had very different motivations. He thought he was making art, and subsequently beauty, and he even thought he was creating life. When I put those bodies on display, I surrounded them with plant life, which signified rebirth, and transcendence. Again, I’m completely aware of how wrong that was, but the terrorists couldn’t care less about any of that. I don’t fault people for hating me, or thinking I’m not better than the people who worked for Hemming, but to suggest we fall into the same category is quite negligent, and no psychologist would do that. I just want to make it clear that I didn’t hurt anybody for Hemming. I’ve hurt people, but not for those reasons, and not for them. It’s important to me that the public acknowledges that.

Seasoned Reporter: Okay. You’re both bad, but you’re not the same. Acknowledged.

Fiore Stern: Thank you.

Seasoned Reporter: Let’s move on. Tell me how life in prison has been for you over the course of this last year. Have the other inmates accepted you for what you did to your victims, or do they mistreat you because of what you did to those bomb-makers?

Fiore Stern: I’m actually in protective custody, but a special corner of it. This is where they put the corrupt cops, and snitches, so I interact with people a little, but not much. I’m mostly in solitary confinement.

Seasoned Reporter: And have you found that difficult, being alone all the time?

Fiore Stern: I like it. I don’t much care for people, and I don’t find myself going crazy in there. They gave me a little window, so that’s nice.. I will say this, though, the place could do with a few more plants.

Microstory 1146: Orabela Vinci

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Orabela Vinci was one of the source mages on early Durus, and considered to be the most beautiful. Even as a child, people would rave about her physical appearance, and make claims that she would be a heartbreaker. They believed their remarks to be harmless and innocuous, but they were unproductive and irrelevant. They were ignoring her more important qualities, like the fact that she was a beautiful person. She saw the beauty in the world, even a lowly insect, and the good in others, including those who probably didn’t deserve it. As terrible of a leader as Smith was, he always recognized her potential as a contributing member of society, and completely ignored her physical characteristics. She knew that he wasn’t just born evil, but he saw the world they were trapped in for the dangerous powder-keg it was—monsters or no—and while he went about it in the worst ways, he legitimately wanted to protect his people. She was not much for leadership herself, and left those decisions to the other source mages after Smith disappeared. However, in retrospect, they probably would have benefited from a little more of her insight. She was relegated to being the face of the source mage movement; like a mascot with more agency. It was astonishing how much easier it was to get people to listen to them when their words were coming from Orabela’s aesthetically pleasing visage. When the group decided to seek the proverters, who had the power to make them grow up at an alarmingly fast rate, Orabela was the most vocal against it. She was already treated differently because of how she looked, and that was when she was only twelve years old. If the monsters made her look twenty-three, now people were going to be having inappropriate feelings for her, and that would make things worse. They wanted to age themselves up, so people would take them more seriously, but it would most likely have the opposite effect on her, and it would be artificial either way. The proverters were capable of manipulating the age of a target’s body, but could have no impact on their mind. So whether they accepted it or not, the source mages were all still twelve-year-old children, or even younger, in Valda’s case. Natural born protector, Ecrin Cabral had a huge problem with forcing people to do things they didn’t want to do, so she guarded Orabela from the others, and the proverters. She was able to escape this fate while the rest of her friends were magically turned into adults. Sure, this limited her influence on the society they were building, but she was still one of the source mages, and no one could take that away from her. She awarded her older friend, Ecrin with agelessness, as a gift for her bravery and loyalty. Ecrin was thusly one of the first humans to be granted temporal powers on Durus, and she didn’t even have to compete in the mage games to earn it. Of course, this would come with its own consequences, as she would forever be underestimated for her own young appearance, but she would still go on to do great things for the Mage Protectorate, and beyond. Orabela, meanwhile, remained grounded as their civilization grew. She continued to focus on its citizenry, and largely ignored her status among the elite. She would come to be cherished for her accessibility, even after the world fell into the phallocracy, and most women were treated as unequals.

Microstory 961: Sassy Compassionate People

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If you wanted me to describe the perfect person for me, it would be really easy to come up with the surface characteristics. I prefer shorter, lighter-skinned girls with dark hair. I like a bit of asymmetry, with as few flaws as possible. What attracts me to a man is a bit harder to codify, but I know it when I see it (on a scale from John Barrowman to Channing Tatum, they should be somewhere on that scale, and that’s rare). Obviously, personality is more important than superficial features, which is why I would never rule out falling in love with say, an extraterrestrial alien, or someone with some kind of so-called deformation. But what is a good personality for me? Would I want them to be really outgoing, or be quiet like I am? Should they struggle with self-confidence? Be into science fiction? Should they be just like me, or my complete opposite? When it comes down to it, the people I find myself liking the most share two common traits, which may seem contradictory to one another. I like people with attitude and snark, and also compassion. I like when they look at the world from multiple perspectives simultaneously, and are capable of judging fairly what they see, while also being able to play devil’s advocate. They should enjoy cracking jokes, but only in a playful and harmless way. These jokes should not be mean-spirited, or have a negative impact on the progress of the human condition. I care about the world, and the people in it. And when I say that, I mean everyone. I don’t just mean my family, my country, or even my continent. If I had the power to change society on a massive scale, I would use that power to equalize everyone; get rid of money and suffering, and instil a sense of loyalty and love amongst all Earthans. I prefer to surround myself with people who possess the same crazy dreams of a better world. This mix of sass and compassion is important, because I do not believe either one fairs well without the other. A sassy person who doesn’t care about others is really just inconsiderate, callous, and negative. They quickly devolve into a spiteful and vindictive, cynical misanthrope who manipulates others to their own gain. You would think compassionate people are fine enough, and for the most part, that’s true. But I’ve personally found really nice people to often be hesitant to help others grow. In a world where no one can do wrong, and everyone is perfect the way they are, people can’t improve themselves, or learn to fail. It’s not inevitable, but compassion plus sass gives an individual the edge they need to truly understand what others are going through, because there’s a difference between compassion and empathy. Empathy is a prerequisite for any decent human being, so if you don’t have it, you don’t matter to me in the slightest. Regardless of how you feel about flaws, if you’re incapable of seeing them in the first place, you’ll never be able to relate to most people, because most people can see those flaws. So please, be nice, but also be interesting.

Microstory 630: New Home of the Mourners

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In the midst of the peace negotiations between the two rivals of the Dodulko War, the dust began to settle. People from both sides started realizing what life could be like if they didn’t have to live in bunkers, dark stations, and other fortifications. In the end, they were all just looking for a new home. Unfortunately for them, everything they had was either destroyed, or completely unrecognizable as something any decent human being would want to keep. Luckily, a new planet recently opened up that they could use, and Lightseers were in the perfect position to give it to them. Once all of the Narvalian Gardbirds were destroyed, Narvali could once again become a place of beauty and stability. Highlightseers were debating and discussing what the planet could be used for when someone came to the realization that it already had a destiny. The Book of Light promises that there shall be a “new home for the mourners”. At only one line, the passage for the thirtieth taikon is the shortest of all. No one has ever been sure who the mourners are, where they’re supposed to live, or any other logistical approach to making this happen. It would seem, however, that the present survivors of the Dodulko War are uniquely qualified to serve this function, and at the perfect time. They are certainly mourners, and they certainly need a new home, so why don’t we just give them one of ours? Of course, this does not come free of cost. There is no such thing as a true gift in the galaxy of Fostea. We don’t believe in them. The mourners will have to work for their right to live in this orbital paradise, and they will have to learn to share it with those who were once their enemies. The planet provides many resources, all of which will be welcome across the galaxy, and could fetch them a healthy price. The Lightseers will act as facilitators for these transactions, and take our due commission. As fate would have it, the achievement of this taikon, and the business opportunities, are not the only things we Lightseers get out of this deal. The next taikon was found in a group of Dodulkori refugees, in a child named Vrasim Kappel.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 19, 2134

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The rest of the gang had not been brought back yet when Mateo and Leona returned to the timestream. The first thing they saw was a bearded and disheveled Darko jump out of the bushes and try to attack them. Then he got on all fours and slinked away quickly like a chicken who totally knows that it’s over. He started grunting and talking to them in gibberish before hiding behind the shelter, which he seemed to think was sentient and complimenting him. The two of them just stood there and watched, knowing what was really happening. Finally, Darko stood back up and took off his dirty and torn jacket. “Goddammit, I spent all year growing this itchy beard just to make this joke, and you’re not even mildly amused!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but we knew you would be okay,” Leona said.

“Because I’m a badass?”

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Mateo said. It was mostly true, but also he had been living there for years by now. Being alone for just the one wasn’t that big of a deal, and unlikely to have been the worst thing he had ever experienced.

An hour later, the others in their group literally stepped out from the fire one by one, casually brushing ash off of their bodies.

“What the hell is this?” Darko asked.

Mario was shaking his head. “Apparently Arcadia had not yet read the Harry Potter books, so—after a few lovely weeks of her trying to figure out how to safely mimic the effects of floo powder—she started transporting us like this.”

“It is safe,” Aura added, “but it’s not pleasant.”

“How did the classes go?” Leona asked.

“Oh, they were fine,” Lincoln said. “Not hard at all.”

“Well, that’s because you have superpowers, Linc,” Horace spit, minimally irritated. “The assignments were hard for some of us. We were expected to have already understood a lot about the practice of medicine.”

“I made study guides for everybody.”

“Those may have well been written in Greek,” Paige said. Then she turned back to the three dropouts. “We did all pass, though...even my dad.”

“Hey.”

“So we’re cool? Did Arcadia confirm that the expiation was completed?”

Aura nodded. “She did. And she said we should get some sleep before the next one. It’ll apparently be rather easy, but it requires daylight anyway.”

They went to bed, and then several hours later, they all woke up.

A young woman was waiting for them patiently amongst a legion of easels, more than there were people on the island. “Please,” she said to them in a warm and pleasing vaguely British voice, “partake in your breakfast first. An artist’s soul cannot be fed before the stomach.” She immediately seemed like the kind of person who spent a great deal of time doing yoga and meditating. And when she wasn’t doing those things, she was probably just enjoying the beauty of the universe. “Class will begin...whenever you are ready.”

They did as they were asked, but ate a little faster than they normally would. The woman remained steadfast in her place on the beach. She seemed completely at peace in this position, and was doing nothing to make them feel guilty for taking up her time, but still, it felt unbecoming to dawdle.

“So, we’ll be painting today, huh?” Darko asked, stifling a burp.

“We will be creating art,” she answered. “Paint is but one way to do this.”

He peered down the beach. “Is that a sandcastle?”

She slowly looked to her creation, but waited to answer until she was facing the group again. “I built that earlier this morning to greet the day. You may do so as well, if you find sand to be the medium that better expresses your heart.”

Darko seemed rather smitten with her, and was trying to covertly make sure there was nothing on his face. Fortunately, he had taken the time to shave before bedtime. “We did not catch your name. Or do you have a name? Do you identify as a symbol, or a color?” He was trying to be sensitive to her perspective.

Luckily, it was probably rather difficult to offend her. “My name is Marcy.”

“You’re gonna teach us art?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Art cannot be taught. It must realized...remembered. I will be your guide today.” She turned her attention to the whole group. “To get the sense of what it is like to transcribe the beauty in your mind to something others can enjoy, I ask that we all begin with the canvasses and paints. Once you feel comfortable, you may move onto something else; like I said, to whatever speaks to you.” She approached her own easel. “Arcadia,” she began, pausing to purse her lips. It would seem as though there was at least one thing in the universe that she did not consider valuable. She fought through her feelings, though, and went on, “has asked that I lead this expiation. You are required to come up with something beautiful, and says that I must approve of it, and it must be beyond your first piece. Funnily enough, for someone who spent the first several thousand years—if not longer—of her life in an art gallery, she still does not understand what the definition of art truly is.”

“What’s the definition?” Darko asked of her, enraptured by her every syllable.

She didn’t just look at him; she examined his face, ensuring that he was ready for the answer. “Art...is whatever keeps you from turning away.” She took a breath and centered herself. “You will all pass this expiation. I guarantee this now.”

They got to work, or rather they got to life. Mateo was confused when Darko chose an easel in the back row. Surely he would want to be as close to Marcy as possible. When questioned on this, Darko just turned his easel away so that no one else could see. Mateo slyly got a few peaks a little later on. Darko was in the middle of painting strawberry blonde hair, which matched that of Marcy’s. With no signs of being uncomfortable with this, or an explanation for how she knew without seeing, Marcy walked around to keep an eye on everyone’s progress, excluding him. She somehow knew that he was painting her, and also that he would not want her to see it until he was finished, if ever.

Marcy’s ability to be sensitive to other people’s needs made Mateo assume that she was universally liked by all who met her, which meant she might have been used to an onslaught of people interested in her in less platonic ways. That she was the complete opposite of Darko; who was wild, reckless, adventurous, and slightly judgmental, explained his personal attraction to her. He could probably do with a little more calm and stability in his life. Though he was regularly preoccupied with his own problems, Mateo realized now that life here had probably been the most difficult for him. Sure, Téa didn’t love the outdoors, Saga had always missed her camera, and Horace didn’t much like pooping in the bushes, but Darko had never before been required to stay in one place and time. He had always been running off to explore new sights, eternally comforted by the fact that he always had an exit. He needed someone like Marcy to teach him how to find peace in doing nothing.

“Maybe we’ll be able to keep her,” Leona whispered to Mateo while she was painting the ocean they were all facing right now.

“I wouldn’t want her any more mixed up in all this.” He was painting a portrait of Jesus. He was using darker colors to better reflect Jesus’ true form as a Middle Eastern man, and was inspired by an infamous drawing he had once seen of him smiling. No, he wasn’t just smiling, he was laughing. Mateo had always liked this representation of the OG Savior, and had always felt disappointed by its lack of replication by others. Jesus was about love. Too many focus too much on his birth, and his death. They all but completely forget everything he did in the middle. He had dedicated his life—and, yes, in more ways than one—to peace, love, and happiness. It wasn’t that he died for everyone’s sins, but that he felt like he had done everything he could to show people what love meant. He did not fight against his murder, because he believed that this gave his murders power that they did not deserve. He died with endless love in his heart, and not even death could take that away from the world. Mateo had changed from angry to accepting of his situation as an unwitting time traveler, but it took Marcy’s class to remind him why he was able to do that. Painting was proving to be cathartic, helping Mateo get back to his faith once more. For the first time ever, he was treating an expiation as a gift.

Some paintings were better than others. Mateo’s wasn’t half-bad, if he did say so himself. Leona’s was worse than he would have expected. She said that her film major mind was in conflict with her physics mind; each from a separate timelines. She wanted to reproduce what she saw in her environment, but she was being too exacting. The lines were too straight, and the colors in less of a gradient than they should have been. She wasn’t bothered by this, though. Painting was not her thing, nor did it have to be...nor was it anyone’s on the island. Except for maybe Darko. His portrait of Marcy was spectacular. Once it looked like he was satisfied with the result, Marcy walked over and took a gander. As expected, she wasn’t surprised. She even sounded enthusiastic about it, whereas with everyone else, she turned out to have been feigning endorsement for their benefit. Again, no one was particularly bothered by this seeing as art just wasn’t in their wheelhouse, except for Paige the photographer.

While Marcy stepped aside to engage in a deeper discussion with her new protégé, everyone else moved on to try other things. Aura started building her own sandcastle next to Marcy’s, expressing her nostalgia for her childhood when her parents took her to Myrtle Beach every year for vacation. Lincoln started carving at a monolith Arcadia had silently apported to their location upon Marcy’s request. Paige and Horace put on these special suits covered in paint that allowed them to create something out of their own dancing and rolling around on a giant canvass. They laughed the whole time. Mario was absolutely determined to draw a perfect turtle. When he grew too frustrated with one, he would throw the entire easel on the ground and move on to another. This was probably why so many of them were set up, even though one could simply start again on the next page. Mateo through Marcy would try to calm him down, but she wasn’t the least bit perturbed by his outbursts. She would later tell Mateo that this was just ‘part of Mario’s process’ which is something sacred and personal to each individual, and should only be encouraged.

For the longest time, Mateo and Leona just stood there on the treeline, watching everyone else enjoy their newfound hobbies. They weren’t interested in painting any more. Neither one of them had grown up near enough a beach to feel anything strongly about sandcastles. Sculpting just sounded like a whole lot of work, and would take too long for their unchosen lifestyles. Seeing their reluctance to do anything, Marcy halted her conversation with Darko, and walked over to them. She suggested that they stop thinking of art so narrowly. Though her passion was visual art, and the expiation was technically supposed to fall under those disciplines, not everything is black and white. She was taking it upon herself to have the authority to give them permission to do something different.

That night, after hours of rehearsing, they performed the dance number that The Rogue, Gilbert Boyce had forced them to prepare, but never actually present, during the tribulation period. It took them over sixty years, but they finally had it down pat. The audience loved it, which included Arcadia. When it was over, she was smiling and clapping with all the rest. Then she nodded and gave a thumbs up to indicate her approval in their method of accomplishing the expiation; as if they required it.

The next year, they discovered Leona’s wish to have been granted. Marcy was still on the island with them.

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