Microstory 2381: Vacuus, October 30, 2179

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Dear Velia,

I need you to tone it down with Condor. As if it’s not weird enough that he's my twin brother, but he lives billions of kilometers away. He’s not going to be able to take you out on a romantic dinner, or even hold your hand. I’ve been letting it slide, because I understand that you’re lonely, but this is inappropriate behavior, and it’s gone too far. I know you say that he’s responding well to your advances, and I’m not going to argue against that, because the truth is that I don’t know if he likes it, or if he’s just being polite. What I do know is that it’s completely irrelevant, because nothing is going to happen between you two. I mean, maybe if long-distance meant the other side of the planet, and you could still have realtime conversations, everything would be okay. But you have to wait two weeks before receiving each other’s replies. I know how frustrating that is for me. I can’t imagine how much worse it is when you throw sexual tension into the mix. Those photos you sent him, woof. I told you the first one was too revealing, but that’s how you’re built, and I don’t wanna body-shame you. But I can’t believe you sent him the one of you doing yoga too. Why did you even take that in the first place? He doesn’t need to know how “flexible” you are, or that you’re fine on your “hands and knees”. Jesus, girl. I know that you’re an adult, and you’re only trying to follow your heart, but damn, Velia, this has got to stop. I don’t want to make everything about me, but you were not like this before Bray and I started seeing each other, so maybe you’re just feeling rushed, I don’t know. And I don’t know if you’ll ever meet anyone who’s good enough for you on this base. I had all but given up on it. I wasn’t even looking for it. It just happened, and it could happen for you, but it’s not going to be Condor, I’ll tell you that much. He also deserves to find someone special, and if you keep distracting him with your sexy photos, your innuendo, and your blatant sexual advances, it will be that much harder for him to notice it when someone who lives on Earth is standing right in front of him. I’m sorry to be so harsh, but despite our distance, he has been very protective of me, and I feel like it’s my duty to extend the same courtesy in my own way. I hope that we can still be friends after this, and also that you’re not offended that I had to write this in a letter. I wanted to get all of my points out, and if I confronted you in person, I was afraid that we would just end up in a screaming match, and we wouldn’t hear each other. I’m more than willing to discuss this further, though, so don’t take this as some final word from me that you’re not allowed to respond to.

I love you like a sister,

Corinthia

Microstory 2359: Earth, July 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Thank you for reminding me about the whole study aspect of our separation. I did ask dad about this, and didn’t let him leave the room until he explained everything. At least that’s what I said when the conversation began; he never actually tried to escape. He doesn’t know what happened after you and your mother left. They deliberately withheld information from him. The way we’ve understood it thus far, it seemed like this twisted, nefarious conspiracy with a cabal of evildoers who don’t care about ethics. Dad painted it in a new light, even though I’m not sure he realized it. In reality, it kind of sounds more like an amateur job. They weren’t very well-organized, and they didn’t have much of a plan beyond separate twins, study behavior. Imagine that in a caveman voice, because the more he talked about his limited involvement, the dumber the researchers sounded. After the atmosphere started to become toxic, the only constant in my life was him. No one else was around for any meaningful length of time. There was no one studying me, up close, or from a distance. They couldn’t have. Society was breaking down, and had yet to rebuild itself in a new way. Whoever was assigned to keep tabs on me would have either lost me, or given up. Or, I suppose they could have died. Not everyone made it through that dark period in our history. Dad says he doesn’t have names, and I believe him on that part. I mean, you can look through your own databases on Vacuus, but I can’t find a single study that has anything to do with observing twins across two planets. I think you said it early on, we’re not identical, and we’re two different genders, so right there, the study was already bizarre. There are too many relevant variables to account for, so unless it’s part of a larger case study, you’re not going to gain any significant insights into how twins develop in terms of nature versus nurture. My guess is that they realized as much before too long, and eventually just gave up, leaving us to live our lives however we were going to. I don’t think we’ll ever really know who was responsible for this, or what they were thinking. Some information has been lost on my world, but I do have access to quite a bit of it. A small group of brave people during the toxic buildup dedicated their lives to preserving humanity’s knowledge. Some regions have information that others don’t, but only due to oversights and lapses, not a concerted effort to hide the truth from us. At least not when it comes to this stuff. The people who poisoned the air in the first place? Sure, they hid as much as they could from the people they were hurting, and still do, but they really would not care what happened to the two of us specifically. On the lighter side, I’m glad that you’ve worked things out with this Bray fellow. Let me know if he gives you any more trouble, though, and I’ll beat him up for you.

Enjoying my private life,

Condor

Microstory 2337: Vacuus, February 16, 2179

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Dear Pascal,

Thank you for reaching out. I would say that it’s the first step towards mending our relationship. I’m sure that your son told you that I would be out of range for a period of time, so that’s why it’s taken me this long to respond. As for you and me, I can’t promise you what will become of us in the future, but I can promise that I’ll try. You’ll always be able to send me a message, and I’ll always open it. Condor and I kind of have a weekly thing going, but we don’t have to write as often, and I won’t hold it against you in terms of resolving our issues. That being said, there is no quick fix here. Forgiveness is a really strong word, and I’m afraid I’m going to need more time before I can even consider it. That may be all it takes. We could not talk to each other the whole time, but I may one day get over it just because it’s been long enough. We’ll have to see. I understand that you were in a difficult position, and having known my mother for 36 years, I don’t doubt that she forced her ideals on you. She has a way of making you live the kind of life that she wants you too. I’m not sure if it was about being vicarious, or if she just wanted control. I’ve always thought she only wanted what was best for me, but looking back now, it doesn’t really make much sense. I mean, if this was a social experiment to see how two twins grew up if they were raised separately, why did she try to make all my choices for me? It sort of taints the results, wouldn’t you say? I dunno, it just seems like a weird choice to me, or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. It strained our relationship, and I pushed back at every turn. She didn’t exactly hope that I would become a solar flare watcher. I’ve spoken to counselors here, and on the ship, but other than that, to my knowledge, I don’t undergo any tests or evaluations. No one seems to be recording my behavior in any way, unless they’re doing it from a pretty big distance. What can you tell me about Condor? Do you report in to someone about who he is, and what kinds of things he does? Is someone writing a scientific paper about it? I would prefer it if you let me know, but it’s more important that he knows, so if you only tell one of us, I would rather be the one left in the dark.

It was nice to meet you,

Effectively, a stranger,

Corinthia

Extremus: Year 50

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Captain Kaiora Leithe, Third of Ten of the Void Migration Ship Extremus, died nearly a week ago at the age of 46. She died as she lived: young. She was the youngest captain in history, which wasn’t saying much when she was only the third captain so far, but by the time this mission ends, she will likely still hold the record. The whole ship is in mourning, more so than they were for when Halan Yenant pass away, because she was a lot less polarizing of a figure. Due to her health issues, she was never promoted to the rank of admiral, leaving current Captain, Soto Tamm without an advisor. The admiralty has always come with an asterisk, and that will not end anytime soon. Tinaya Leithe doesn’t care about that, though. She’s not on the executive crew yet, and maybe never will be. While she’s on track to sitting in that seat, today she’s still only a kid. She’s a kid whose aunt has just died.

The family had a small funeral service two days ago to honor their loved one. Today is the memorial service, which while there is no single room on the vessel that can accommodate every crewmember and resident of Extremus, will be considered a shipwide affair. Everyone is watching; literally, because the service will be streamed. This isn’t something that Tinaya is interested in at the moment, not under these circumstances. She did fine in her Public Presence class, which teaches students how to deal with the spotlight, but it didn’t take this into account, and it was never the plan for any of them to actually have to deal with it this early on. Again, they’re just kids.

Tinaya is sitting in her room. Her game controller is on the bed next to her, and she’s been holding down the joystick, forcing her character to roll along the ground of a moon, doing cartwheels. Three years ago, when her grandmother died, it was Kaiora who caught her playing this game to distract herself. They had a moment, which was probably just a Tuesday for the captain, but to Tinaya, it was profoundly everything. It was the day she realized that every captain—every person—gets to decide who it is they’re going to be. There is no single definitive rulebook for how one is supposed to act. From then on, she’s been trying very hard in school, and branching out to lots of different subjects, instead of relying on this expectation that everyone seems to have that she’s going to win the captaincy, whether she tries or not. That’s not how it works, even if it looks like that from the outside.

Lataran is next to her. She was watching the cartwheels, but now she’s yawning over and over and over again, and scratching at chest, having had to resort to her itchy black dress this morning, instead of the comfortable one, because it is still in the wash from the first funeral. They've grown closer over the course of the last year. They no longer call themselves close enough friends, but true friends, who tell each other everything, and feel safe enough with each other to fart when no one else is in the room, and to cover for each other when it happens among mixed company. She yawns again.

“Go to bed, Taran.” Kaiora’s finger slips upon hearing the sudden sound of her voice, and her character misses the last cartwheel, falling on her face. Good thing it isn’t real. “You don’t have to be there. You were at the real one.”

“You’re confused, Naya, this is the real one. It’s the one that everyone knows. It’s the one that they will have watched. It’s the one they’ll talk about. It’s the one they’ll consider when they’re deciding who’s going to be your First Lieutenant.” Lataran long ago gave up hope of becoming captain herself, and has been vying hard for second position. It’s not just about serving on the crew with her best friend, but about getting as close as she’ll reasonably get to glory. She’s not the only one in the School of Ship Administration who feels this way, and that’s not a new thing. Plenty of people are more interested in other positions, such as Lead Engineer, or Chief Medical Officer. The boy who told the two of them about the protest against Captain Soto Tamm last year, Rodari Stenger is convinced that Hock Watcher Caldr Giordana is getting old enough to be vacating his position by the time Rodari is of age. That’s what he wants. The job comes with more power than it sounds like.

Think of the devil, and he shall ring the doorbell. Tinaya and Lataran see him on the camera. He’s standing moderately impatiently...twitchy, even. He’s wearing his extremely tailored—and extremely executive—black suit, and looking side to side as if someone he hates, but who likes him, is looming in the darkness, waiting to pounce with a bunch of questions that he doesn’t want to answer.

“Open the door,” Tinaya commands the system.

“Hey. You two look ready.”

“You look worried,” Lataran points out.

“This is my first public appearance. It’s our last year in tertiary school. People are noticing now. They’re going to parade us around the service auditorium like prize cattle. You should be worried about it more than any of us. Aren’t you worried?”

“I made a decision earlier in the school year that I wasn’t going to worry about how people perceive me,” Tinaya begins to explain. “I’m not saying that I’m above it, but the more I dwell on it, the less natural I’ll look. If I go out there, and just be myself, they will receive me however they will. Good or bad, I won’t change for them. That’s not doing anyone any good.”

“Sorry to say, Tinaya; I know you’re going through a lot today, but that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard from one of the smartest people I know.”

Tinaya breaks into laughter. “What did I just say about how I’ll be received?” She pauses a moment. “I don’t care what you think.”

“Well. You’re number one.”

It’s true, Tinaya and Tao Li have been chasing each other for first on the leaderboards since the beginning, but the former has maintained her place at the top since the beginning of this school year. Whoever’s there when it’s time to transition to college level studies will set the tone for the next three and a half years. “For now...”

“So, what exactly does that mean?” Rodari asks. “You’re not on the program to speak at the memorial, but when they open up the floor to anyone who would like to say a few words, a lot of people are going to divert their attention to you.”

“I’ve decided that I’m taking it a step further for this particular occasion,” Tinaya answers. “I won’t say a word. I’ve already discussed it with my family. Mourners can try to talk to me all they want. They can tell me how great of a captain she was, or how I must miss her so much. I won’t respond vocally..like a guilty man in an interrogation room.” People won't like it. It’ll probably just irritate them, but she’s not gonna do anything only to make others feel more comfortable. Aunt Kaiora wouldn’t do that. Even if it cost her the captain's seat, she would always be herself. She always was herself.

Rodari eyes her, and lifts his chin. “Hm,” he says, ever so quietly. “I can respect that. Halan was a man of few words. The words he did say came at a higher value.”

“I’m not saying that I would, or will, captain that way, but...I’m not here to placate. If they want me to be in charge, then they’ll have to accept what that means. I have no intention of tricking them into believing I behave like anyone but me.”

All three of their wrist devices beep. They didn’t all set their respective alarms to precisely 11:24. They programmed them to go off with enough time to walk to their destination, plus a padding of three minutes for one more trip to the bathroom, or to touch up their hair. If the auditorium were eight minutes away from wherever they were standing, instead of three, their alarms would have gone off at 11:19 instead. “It’s time to prove it.” Rodari reaches out to take Tinaya’s hand cordially. “One way or another,” he says with a positive shake of his head, “they’re about to see the real Tinaya Leithe.”

They walk to the auditorium together, then separate from there. Tinaya has to sit with her family in the front row, and as close as she is with Lataran, Lataran is not part of that. Nearly everyone else is already seated. Only a few other stragglers are dipping themselves into the crowd of a thousand faces. Former First Lieutenant Lars Callaghan is standing at the podium, waiting for the clock to hit 11:30 on the dot before he begins. He’s like a robot, completely motionless. He doesn’t look nervous, or saddened, or anything, really. He looks...professional, and ready.

He clears his throat. “People of the VMS Extremus, for those of you who don’t know,  my name is Lars Callaghan. I served under two captains, Admiral Olindse Belo, and the woman we are here to honor today, Captain Kaiora Leithe. I was the former’s second lieutenant, before transitioning to first lieutenant for Kaiora. She and I didn’t always agree with each other, but that is not the lieutenant’s job. I was there to make sure she was running the ship soundly, and to step up when there was too much work for one person to do. We had a respectful and professional relationship, and she asked me to give her eulogy, because she knew that I would be reverent, honest, and most importantly, brief. This is not an all-day affair, and she would not want it to be. There is so much work to do here, and she would want all of you to get back to doing it.” Much of the audience is made up of the retired crewmembers, most of whom served under Kaiora, but others served under Halan and Olindse, and are still alive. The current crew is predominantly not here at all, because they already are busy running the ship. The most recent shift has just begun, and they have not yet even begun to think about appointing apprentices for the next one. So in reality, nobody has to get back to work.

Lars goes on, “Captain Leithe had to deal with a lot during her term. When this mission was first being conceived in a little bar on a rotating habitat in the Gatewood Collective, no one thought we would suffer through all of this. I can’t get into specifics in mixed company, but we all know the pain we’ve experienced over the course of the last fifty years. We came to find our descendants a new home. We sacrificed our old home for that dream, and we’ve sacrificed more since then. No one knew that better than Kaiora Leithe. Love, death, war. She ran the gamut. She also saw birth, and growth, and heartbreak. She was steadfast through it all, and when she got sick, she stepped aside gracefully, and trusted in the rest of us to keep it together. We are at the very beginning of a new chapter in the Extremus saga. A new captain has stepped onto the bridge, and it is my honor today to introduce you to him, who is our next speaker. Crew and residents of the Extremus, please help me in welcoming Captain Soto Tamm.”

The people clap half-heartedly. He’s not a hated man, but he’s so far not become their favorite captain either. He’s just sort of blah. Tamm walks over to the podium with a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Callaghan.” It’s conventional to address someone by their final rank, as long as they were not dismissed dishonorably. He accidentally breathes into the microphone. “A Maramon, a choosing one, and a ship captain walk into a bar...”

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Extremus: Year 33

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Admiral Olindse Belo is a decent leader, served as a good captain, and is a great person. She listened to her advisors, and the people, and dispensed reasonable and righteous orders. She treats everyone with respect, even when they don’t really deserve it. Unlike Kaiora and Halan, she is not a manipulator. She knows how to lie, but she doesn’t know how to deceive, or steer people in the direction that she wants. She speaks plainly, and unambiguously, and genuinely cares about other people’s needs. Despite what Vice Admiral Perran Thatch tried to teach her about the art of war, Ovan and Dvronen were able to see right through her scheme. So when they were released for a week, along with Halan Yenant, they acted like model citizens, not causing trouble, or starting any revolutions. That’s not what Olindse wanted. She wanted Halan to look like a hero, so the ship would eventually agree to release him from hock. Then again, it is indeed what she wanted to happen. Temporarily releasing the other two could have spelled doom for the mission, but they were so scared of rocking the boat that they didn’t do anything even remotely wrong. In the end, that is a much greater achievement than any sort of conspiratorial deep state could hope to replicate. Peace won out after all.

Since the brief prison release experiment, things on Extremus have been going swimmingly. The people who have strong feelings against incarceration saw a little bit of justice, according to their moral standards. The people who believe strongly in favor of paying for one’s crimes saw all three long-term prisoners returned to their cells relatively swiftly. Everyone saw that their leadership was fair, open-minded, and very much not tyrannical. It was a win-win-win-ad-nauseum, and Olindse was pleased with herself for having come up with yet another great idea that turned out even better than she hoped. At the same time, she has gone back to not being needed.

Tap, tap, tap. “Hello?”

“Umm...hello?” Olindse asks the aether.

“Is this Vice Admiral Belo?” the mysterious voice asks. Tap, tap, tap again.

“Full Admiral, who is this?”

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t sure when I would reach you. I’m in the mirror.”

Olindse keeps the time mirror she uses to communicate with Thatch in her drawer when she doesn’t need advice from him. Who is this person? She pulls it out, and sets it on the desk.

“Thank you, I feel like I can breathe again, even though I’m obviously not actually in the mirror,” the man muses.

“Who are you?” Olindse presses.

“This is Captain Kaison Summerling, Seventh of Eleven.”

Oh, someone from the future. “Eleven? How did that happen?”

“Let’s just say...there was a death in the family,” Kaison replies.

“Kaison, you say? How do you—”

“K-A-I-S-O-N. It’s a family name. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“This is highly irregular,” Olindse points out.

“So is doing the same thing as this with Vice Admiral Thatch.”

How does he know about that? “That’s different, he has a way of erasing his own memories without anyone else’s help.”

“So do you,” Kaison points out. “It’s hidden in the mirror. Place the tips of your six middle fingers against each other, and lay the pads down on the base. Like this, watch me as I do it in the air. Anywhere’s fine. Now simultaneously tap one pinky, and the opposite thumb down. Do the same for the opposite ones. Slide your fingers apart, and a little compartment should pop open.”

He’s right. A tiny little door opens on the stem. Inside is the little green bottle of eyedrops that Thatch supposedly uses to erase his memory of an entire day.

“One drop per eye should take care of a day, maybe a little longer. If I ever need you again in the future, I plan on reaching out within seconds of our last meeting, from your perspective, so you only have to do it once.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Olindse tells him.

“Please, I need your help, and you’re the only one I can trust. You’ve already traveled through time; you understand the risks.”

“Is everything that happened to me common knowledge?” she asks.

“No, it’s just my knowledge,” he answers.

She turns the bottle around in her fingers. “Fine. Just...choose your words carefully, and keep it as short as possible.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s your problem?”

“Well, you noticed how similar my name is to your Captain’s. I am Kaiora Leithe’s grand-nephew.”

“So, when you said there was a death in the family...”

“I meant it literally.”

“Is Kaiora the one who dies?” Olindse will not be able to retain this information about the future, but this version of her has her memories intact, and is dealing with the issue right now in this moment. She has to hear the truth, regardless of whether she’ll be allowed to recall it later or not.

“No. It was my mother.”

“Your mother?” Olindse questions, aghast at the possibility. “Three captains, one family?”

Kaison sighs. “Four. My father finished her shift for her when she died.”

“Jesus Christ, Kaison, this isn’t how the system was intended to work.”

“We all got here on our own merits, even my father. They met each other in school, both on the captain’s track, and he almost beat her out of the position before. You have to understand that a lot happens after Kaiora completes her own shift. Things were weird, and the people demanded someone reliable, and almost familiar. Mom fit that description, and she was excellent before she passed. No one thought about the fact that she was a legacy.”

“Still. The crew considering her in the first place, knowing she was related to a previous captain...it’s not right. And then you come along...they shouldn’t have even let you apply to the program.”

“Well, I did, and I made it, and I earned it, but some people...”

“Doubt you? I would think so.”

“I just need your advice on how to lead them without being manipulative. You’re famous for your integrity, against all other previous and current executive crewmembers.”

“My advice?”

“Yes.”

“No matter what it is?”

“Absolutely.”

“How long have you been in the seat?”

He takes too long to respond.

“Kaison.”

“A day.”

Olindse rolls her eyes. “Well. It’s not a good sign that you sought my help quite this early in your shift, but it works to our advantage. My advice is to step down. Tell them you changed your mind. The people who make these decisions chose you,but you weren’t the only one they were contemplating. There’s a runner-up. In fact, there are at least two. They just don’t release these other names to the public. There’s still time for you to fix this, but the longer you wait, the shittier you’ll look. Do the right thing, and get out of there. End the dynasty. People don’t like things like that, because the kings of old used to take their positions based purely on the bloodline, which is a ridiculous and archaic way of finding leadership.”

Kaison looks away, and shakes his head, but then he begins to nod. “You’re right, you’re right! This is unfair. And even if it isn’t, it will always look like it is, and I inherently will not be able to be a good leader. I guess I knew this, and I just needed to hear from someone which history has shown that I can trust.”

“Can you promise me you’ll do it, or are you deceiving me?”

“No, I promise.”

“Okay. Good. We should end it here.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. She turns off the time mirror, and begins to open the eye drop bottle. He surely won’t need to speak with her again if he’s no longer going to be Captain.

“Hello? Admiral Belo?”

Olindse stops, and looks down at the mirror. He looks older—he looks a lot older. “Kaison, what the hell are you doing? You were supposed to step down.”

“I did. After we hung up, I literally transported right up to the Consul’s office to declare my decision. Nobody tried to talk me out of it. I basically got an annulment. The real Captain even just went by Seventh of Eleven, instead of twelve. Things were great, it was the right decision. Unfortunately, it did not come without its consequences, at least as far as we’re concerned. I kept the mirror, because...who else can be trusted with it? But I don’t have any other privileges. I’m not even allowed to join the crew in any capacity. It would reflect poorly on everyone. I accepted this, and things were great for twenty-four years, but I kind of need to be in a position of power now, because of the new, new captain.”

“I don’t think I should hear about this.”

“You have to,” Kaison insists. “You’re still the only one I can trust. He is bad news, Olindse, I’m tellin’ you, they made a big mistake. He is—I mean, if you thought Ovan Teleres was a problem, you...he—like, Ovan is a sweet puppy dog compared to this guy. He’s gonna get us all killed. He is clinically insane, and I don’t think anyone can stop him.”

“Who else knows about this?” Olindse asks.

“Just you and I would guess the scattered few others who have picked up on the signs. I haven’t discussed it with anyone, though.”

“So he isn’t outwardly evil?”

“No, but I can tell. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s like Ovan, but he’s not Ovan. Please, this is bad.”

“Kaison, I can’t do anything about it, and neither can you. If he hasn’t done anything wrong, then it’s over, he’s Captain.”

Kaison is shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Come to me with proof,” Olindse advises. “Something I can hang my hat on. That’s the only way you can get anything done. But if you commit a crime to accomplish it, you’re not doin’ the ship any favors, so you have to think long and hard about every single move you make from here on out. If he’s as dangerous as you believe, you can’t get caught looking for evidence.”

“Okay,” Kaison says with a nod. “I’ll begin my own investigation, but I’ll do it slowly, and carefully, and methodically.”

“Good. Contact me when you have something.” She takes a gander at her watch. “In a few seconds. I’ll hold off on the eyedrops until I know you’re safe, and whatever problem may arise has been resolved.”

“Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome again.”

Seconds later, a figure appears in the time mirror, but it isn’t Kaison. It’s a woman. “Admiral Belo?” she whispers. She seems nervous and frightened. A light above her flickers, and she jumps in a panic, darting her eyes to make sure she’s still alone.

“Can I help you?”

“You were the one that dad always used to talk about?”

“Dad?”

“Kaison Summerling.”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Your advice was good, but...he wasn’t. He couldn’t pull it off. He’s been in hock for years. The good news is that his crazy theories were right, so he’s been validated.”

“What happened?”

“We’re running scared. I was able to get a message from him, but all it said was to find this mirror, and talk to you. The hock is in a section of Extremus that we can’t get to. There’s a border separating us. On one end is the real bridge, and on the other is the original bridge...the one they called The Perran Thatch. Each side controls some systems, but neither controls all of it. We’re in the middle of an internal conflict. It’s a war.” She shakes her head, still scared, even though it sounds like the enemy can’t get to her. “It’s a war we can’t win.”

“If the border separates the bow from the stern, that means the Extraction Room is on your side of it. Is that true?”

“It is,” the unnamed woman confirms.

Olindse takes a second to think about if she really wants to do this. This isn’t her fight. Her fight is decades prior; it’s now. But there is no fight now. Things are fine, and it’s the future of this mission that’s at stake. Kaiora will have to understand. They’ll be fine without her. They won’t even notice that she’s gone. She disappeared for months, and people just moved on. It seems as though that was a dry run for the mission that begins today. “Extract me. I’ll come and help.”

“Really?”

“Open the portal before I change my mind.”

“Thank you.”

Olindse takes out a slip of regular old paper. The portal opens up on the other side of the room. Before she can scribble out a goodbye note, the normal door opens up.

Captain Kaiora Leithe is on the other side. She darts her gaze over to the portal. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not needed here, but I’m needed there, in the future.”

“Olindse, don’t,” Kaiora commands.

“Take care of my ship, so it’s still there when I get to the other side.”

“Admiral Olindse Belo, I order you to stand down. Do not step through that portal. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kaiora places herself between Olindse and the portal, but the thing about portals is that they connect two points in spacetime together. There is no reason you can’t use one in tandem with other time technology.

Olindse activates her teleporter, and jumps right through. In a second, the portal is closed, and the only living admiral this ship still had left is gone.

Kaiora looks over at the desk, and eyes the memory-wiping solution.

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Microstory 1802: A Mother Doesn’t Know

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The end has finally come, and I welcome the relief. The doctors have been keeping a close eye on me for years now, but they can’t stop the inevitable. I have a DNR, and nobody lives forever. I don’t remember how I ended up in this institution, but it was definitely against my will. They keep me drugged up so I can’t think straight, let alone move fast enough to get out of this place. It’s been such sorrowful torture. I would protest against them, but I just don’t have the energy anymore, and haven’t for a very long time. They know this about me. They do that on purpose. They took away my free will, because if I had a voice, people might actually listen to what I have to say. But they can’t have that. No, far be it for me to speak my mind. I’m a crazy person, who no one cares about. I had someone who cared about me, but they took him away. Not the same people, technically, mind you, but close enough. Anybody who works for the institutions of this country, and promotes the oppression of the masses, might as well just be one evil man. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here, and I am well aware that the only way that happens is in a bodybag. The time has almost come; what I’ve been yearning for. This won’t be the first time that I died. I tried to kill myself a few years ago. My son got into an awful mess, and ended up being murdered by a cop. I was foolish to have made my attempt on the day the charity organization would come to deliver meals. He was the only person who ever gave a damn about me, and now he’s gone. What do I have to live for but him? Now this cough has taken me down my final path, and I’ve been letting it happen. They can’t keep me locked up forever, no sir. Now it’s just a waiting game.

I reflect on the decades behind me. They say that your life flashes before your eyes, but maybe that doesn’t always happen automatically. Maybe I have to force it, and expedite the process. I’ll take any advantage I can get. I did my best raising my child, but I could only do so much without his terrible father. Sure, he was the one paying for everything, so I didn’t have to work, but he should have been there. He should have helped teach our son how to be a man. I don’t know how to be a man; I’ve never done it before! Looking back, maybe there were some signs that he wasn’t well, and maybe I should have gotten him some help. But, really, how was I meant to know that his fixation on certain girls in his class was some kind of warning? It didn’t seem weird when these fixations transferred down to new girls. They kept staying the same age, while he grew older. He was very protective of others; I thought it was sweet. He didn’t ever kill any small animals, which everyone says is the behavior you’re supposed to look for. He has absolutely no trouble feeling empathy for people. I mean, when I say these signs were obvious in retrospect, it’s because hindsight is 20/20, not because I think I should have understood what the problem was back then. I couldn’t have known, I couldn’t. He did some bad things when he was older—those cages. He didn’t have to die for it, though, and they certainly shouldn’t have blamed me for it. Like I said, he didn’t ever show any violent tendencies. He truly wanted to help those women, and the situation sometimes just got out of hand. If their own parents had raised them better, perhaps they wouldn’t look so vulnerable. That’s what he was attracted to, but not in a sexual way. He wanted to help them, and I can’t help but be proud of him for that. I know he’s in heaven now, where he belongs, and I know that I’ll soon meet him there...at last.

Microstory 1774: Sculptor

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Thank you for meeting me. I’m sure, after I’m done with my presentation, you’ll see why I deserve this loan, and how big this business can really become. This bank will be pleased with the results, and I’m eager to prove myself. Okay. Parents. What is their job? Well, they’re meant to mould their children into decent members of society, who contribute to the positive good, right? Well, it doesn’t always work out, does it? Sometimes people grow up wrong. It’s not necessarily the parents’ fault, and I doubt I can do anything for those people. There’s something in their psychology or neurology that I am not equipped to handle. My business is designated for the people whose caregivers screwed up somewhere along the way. They made the wrong choices, or taught them bad lessons, or maybe they just weren’t around. These people have a ton of potential, but they’ve not learned to want to reach it, let alone actually reach it. That’s where I come in. I’ve had dozens of boyfriends over the years, and I was about halfway through them when I realized why I kept breaking up with them. I was naturally attracted to the ones you might call projects. They fell into this category of people who were messed up by their childhood, rather than having been born with problems that I’m not qualified to deal with. I fixed them. I fixed them, and then I broke up with them, and moved onto the next. A few months ago, I got curious, so I started looking them all up on social media. Every single one of them is doing great. They didn’t relapse into their old bad habits, but kept their lives going on track. I corrected their behavior, and I have proof right here. Take a look at these posts over the course of the last two years. Now, I know what you’re thinking. How am I going to make money off of this? Who will be my client base? I intend to market to girlfriends, regretful parents, and even friends. It is also not outside the realm of possibility that such unproductive people will want help turning their lives around, and come to me themselves. I’ve spoken with a lot of people already, and many of them have not been able to find help from professionals. Therapists are generally concerned with helping their patients with their internal feelings, and that’s supposed to help their behavior, but I’ve found that they’re not so great at following through with making sure that behavior does indeed change. Their patients sit in a room with them, have their talks, and then they part ways. I’m there, I’m on the frontlines. I will live with these people, and watch them go about their daily lives. I can make suggestions as they become necessary, and I can formulate exercises for them to complete. I already have a name for myself. You can call me The Sculptor, because I carve out all the unwanted character traits, and leave only the pure version of the person that my clients want to be. I’ve thought a lot about this, and I think I have a really clear business plan laid out for you, which you can read at your leisure. Until then, any questions?

Microstory 1767: Piscis Austrinus

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I’ve been an honorary fish for a few months now, and I’ve loved almost all of it. There’s something missing in my life, though. I’m the only one of my kind. The other fish have accepted me into their school, but I’m not truly one of them. I’m a giant, and I still look human. Every other member is paired up. That’s how this species works. It’s hard to communicate with them, but I’ve been able to gather some information, like how their pairings are a defense mechanism. When they swim in their circles, they create a bunch of bubbles, which makes them difficult to pinpoint. It allows each pair to move off from the school, and hunt for food, or maybe find a little alone time. I don’t want to mate with a fish, or anything, but I do feel lonely. Like I said, they’ve accepted me, but that doesn’t mean one of them is going to circle with me. I don’t want that anyway. I want to find another human to transform into a fish. Unfortunately, that’s damn near impossible. The reason I discovered this species is because they live deeper than 600 meters below sea level. I’m the first person in history to scuba dive to that depth, and since I never came back up, I doubt anyone else is going to be trying it anytime soon. They wouldn’t likely survive; I was the best in the world before I became a fish. Submarines have come this far before, but not regularly, because there’s usually no point. The chances of finding a mate are just too low to hold out hope. I’ve tried encouraging the school to swim closer to the surface, but they won’t do it. They’ve never done it before, and it’s not how they evolved. I don’t know why they transformed me into someone who can breathe underwater, but they seem to consider that act their one favor, and they aren’t interested in going for another. I’m free to go up alone, but that won’t matter. I’m not capable of repeating the miracle myself. I need them to do it. There’s no other way.

I give up on pleading with them. I don’t think it’s gonna happen, even though the second generation seems to be a little more open-minded. I just surrender to the fact that I’ll live the rest of my life alone. It’s still a blessing to be down here. I’m setting records left and right. As it turns out, 600 meters is a little high for these fish. We spend most of our time at 800, which is a depth I never dreamed of seeing. It’s dark, but my eyes have adjusted accordingly, so it basically looks like tropical snorkeling to me. I don’t even think there’s a regular species with that kind of eyesight. Some have even lost their eyes to evolution, because it’s too dark for them to see. It’s a wonder, all the underground mountains, and other unique terrain. As I’m watching some kind of crustacean crawl around on the floor off the coast of Australia, the school suddenly shoots upwards, faster then they ever have before. I have to work hard to keep up. They gave me the ability to breathe water like air, and to withstand the pressure, but I didn’t grow fins. I’m still using the carbon fiber ones I came down here with. It’s not long before I see what all the fuss is about. It’s another diver. She’s only at 500 meters, but she’s descending quickly. Something is tied to her leg. My God, it’s a cement block. Someone is trying to kill her. I wonder why they left her with her scuba gear. Anyway, her attempted murderer is not going to succeed. The fish do to her what they once did for me. We bite off the rope, and swarm her, using magicks to keep her from dying. I smile, glad to finally have someone that I can relate to again. She does not feel the same way. The first thing she does is swim back up to confront her attacker. I feel compelled to follow. Maybe I can help.

Microstory 1766: Pisces

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I’m the best scuba diver in the world, which is saying a lot, because I was afraid of it when I was a kid, and I come from a family of masters. I’ve since surpassed all others in skills and experience. I can venture to the deepest parts of the ocean that are humanly possible to survive. I can use any kind of tank, and complete any task. Today, I’m about to set the record for the deepest dive ever, and cement myself as one of the absolute best in history. I’ve already passed the last record, but I’m not satisfied with that. I have to get to 600 meters. No one will try that depth after me without a submarine. I check my watch. I had to have it specially made to survive these pressures too, and so far, it’s done me well. I’m at 570 meters, and so pleased with myself. No one has ever seen what I’m seeing right now. Of course, like I said, submarines can descend this far, but they haven’t, not around here. My cousins are going to be so jealous, I can’t wait to run it in their faces. None of them thought that I would make it, and I’ve yet to prove them wrong. It’s not really the deepest dive if I die down here, is it? Maybe they’ll still count it, and sing songs of my brave and tragic end. I keep going: 580, 590, and...600 meters! I reached my goal. If I stay too long, I really will die, though, so I immediately prepare to ascend. Then something catches my eye. It’s a fish. No, it’s two fish. Wow, it’s an entire school. There’s something strange about this species, but I can’t put my finger on it. Oh, yeah, they’re swimming in pairs.

These fish are exhibiting behavior that I’ve never heard of. I’m no ichthyologist, but I know what species live around here, and this ain’t one of them. Every single fish is paired up with another, face to tail. They’re swimming in circles around each other, or more appropriately, around some mutual barycenter between them. Since they’re not going straight, the only reason they go anywhere is because the spin isn’t constant. They nudge themselves in one direction, like propellers. Why the heck are they doing that? Is there some sort of evolutionary advantage to spinning? Perhaps it has more to do with the pairs, and less to do with the way that they swim. I obviously have to take photographs and video of this phenomenon. If I’ve discovered a new species, it will only make me more famous, which is kind of what I’m going for here. I don’t even have to survive. The footage is being automatically beamed back up to the boat. There’s no way for me to communicate with them directly, but I can.imagine my mother urging me to begin the ascension process. It’s going to take an extremely long time, and the extra tanks they left hanging for me at my stop intervals won’t be enough if I don’t maintain my schedule, not to mention the risk of getting bent. I’m about to let it go, and save myself when the fish change behaviors. They stay in their paired circles, but also begin to circle me. They’re aware of me, but probably aren’t sure if I’m a predator. I’m amazed but frightened, but the latter grows faster once they start biting at my equipment. They tear off the straps, and cut the breathing tubes. Welp, I guess I really am gonna die. Except I don’t. I suddenly stop feeling the intense pressure, the freezing cold, and the need to breathe. They’ve somehow transformed me into one of them, and once I realize what an amazing gift this is, I all but forget about my past life as a human, and together...we dive deeper.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Tuesday, October 15, 2222

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With Angela’s help, Mateo was able to chill out a bit, and not be so focused on figuring out how to destroy The Superintendent by reaching out to his God. For the record, my God is named Sophia Dimo, and she’s a very lovely girl who doesn’t take sides, so his idea would not have borne fruit. Now they needed to focus on their next mission, which was taking them to what they would call Italy in the main sequence. Of course, in both realities, humans were living in tall arcologies, so they were in the middle of nowhere, in a rocky field. The AR flickers showed a man sitting at a desk, studying some papers. When the transition completed, he fell on his ass, but he was okay. Like they all did, he looked around, confused. He didn’t appear to be shocked to be in a completely different setting, though, like he had done it before. He noticed the transition team around him. “Are we still speaking English?” he asked. He said all the right words, but he seemed to be struggling with it.

“Yes,” Leona replied. “What language are you more comfortable with?” She started tapping on her Cassidy cuff.

“I was birth to speak Classical Latin, but I know other Latins. I now learning English modern.”

“We can speak Classical Latin for you,” she explained. She started to speak into her cuff. “Does this sound better?” All the other cuffs started translating her words in real time. It was Latin, but it sounded like her real voice.

Angela handed the man one of the extra cuffs, which he just held in his hand. “Yes, that’s much better,” the translation returned.

“What’s your name?” Leona asked.

“I’m Statius. I was born on the first day of what you would call Year One, A.D. On the day I turned eleven, I jumped forward eleven years, and a year after that, it happened again. It was year 22, year 33, year 44, and so on. It was just the year 2222, and I should not have yet jumped again.”

“You haven’t jumped forward,” Leona clarified. “It’s still 2222, but in a different reality.”

Statius crooked his neck. That didn’t seem to translate well.

“A different world,” she said, hoping that made more sense.

Time travel, he seemed to have a grasp of now, but any scifi nonsense beyond that was probably out of reach. He likely hadn’t met any other time travelers before. “Why am I here?”

“Were you in danger?” Jeremy asked through his own cuff. “We help people in danger.” He was always the one to explain that.

“Not that I know of,” Statius said. “The people here have been very friendly. They didn’t get mad at me for not understanding their magic boxes, and have been letting me learn the language using real paper, which is apparently rare in this time.”

“Yes, we no longer need it,” Leona agreed.

“We need to figure out why he’s here, why Nerakali chose him to transition,” Jeremy mused, not into his cuff.

“No, we don’t.” Mateo argued. He spoke into the cuff, “what do you want to do? Do you like being a time jumper?”

“I would like to go home,” Statius replied. “I wish this had never happened to me. I just want things to be how they were.”

“That’s not something we can do,” Jeremy said apologetically.

“Now, hold on,” Mateo said. “Let us discuss your situation. We may come up with a solution yet.” He spoke to the group without the cuff. “I may have an idea, but we should speak alone.”

“You can discuss it,” Angela said. “I’ll stay with him. I speak Classical Latin anyway.”

Mateo led Leona, Jeremy, and Olimpia back to stand next to the AOC. “What’s this idea of yours?” Leona questioned.

“We’ve been looking at these missions the wrong way. Jeremy keeps saying that we’re saving people, but we’re not saving them, we’re freeing them. He’s not in danger of being crushed by boulders falling down a landslide, or from being pursued by an evil serial killer. He just wants to go home, and I propose that we do that for him.”

“How?” Olimpia asked. “We can keep him in The Parallel to protect him from the powers that be, but his life was in the main sequence. They won’t let us put him back. I guess I don’t really know that, but I imagine they’ll be upset. He’s supposed to jump to the year 3333 in a few months.”

“No, we can’t take him back to where he was,” Mateo agreed, “but we can make him think he’s there. We can even make him think he never left. We can erase the last...”

“Twenty,” Leona helped.

“...twenty years of his life,” Mateo finished. “Make him think he’s a regular eleven year old in Ancient Rome, or wherever he was.”

“How would we make him think that?” Olimpia pressed.

“Virtual reality,” Mateo offered. “Put him in a simulation. Let him die there when it’s his time.”

“Mateo, that’s a...” Leona trailed off for a second. “The ethics for something like that are very unclear. You really think that’s what Nerakali had in mind.”

“I don’t care what Nerakali wants. This is what he wants.”

“You don’t know that,” Jeremy pointed out. “He wouldn’t understand it, even if we told him.”

“We don’t have to tell him,” Mateo contended. “We jack him into the Matrix, and make it look like it did when he left. I know the Parallel natives have the ability to reconstruct the past using a subject’s memories. Hell, they may even have data on what the world looked like at that time anyway.”

Leona was shaking her head. “It would all be a lie. He would literally be the only person in the world. He may not know it, but he could feel it. He could sense that everyone else is different, even without realizing that they were NPCs. If he ever did find out, it could drive him insane.”

Mateo wasn’t so worried about that. A well-respected scientific theory hypothesized that people were indeed living in a simulation already, and it didn’t make most people crazy. Hell, today was the day Leona went off to another universe to learn that it was kind of true, but she was fine. When he pointed this fact out to here, she disagreed.

“I did go crazy. I was in therapy with Eight Point Seven for a long time because of this revelation. I mean, we already knew that The Superintendent was playing around with our lives, but to learn it was literally a game that a bunch of children were playing to entertain themselves, was too much.”

“Well, we’re talking about the worst case scenario,” Mateo reasoned. “I trust the natives to know how to program a flawless simulation. Coupled with the fact that he’ll have his memories erased, it should be fine. Eleven-A.D. is too far in the past to have an inkling that the world around you is just zeroes and ones.”

“He has a right to consent,” Olimpia tried to defuse the situation before the Matics could get into a real argument about this. “We can’t erase his memories unless this version of him agrees to it. If we’re confident that he understands it won’t be real, but he won’t remember that it’s not real, then I’m all right with this plan.”

Leona seemed to be off the topic, and onto a more general problem. “We used to be a team. Mateo, I don’t know you anymore. I never know if you’re going to be your original naïve self, your new and improved zen self, or an explosive, vengeful asshole who frightens me. Whatever you and Angela are doing, it’s not working. You are too unpredictable, and you’re too dangerous. We’ll do whatever Statius wants, but after that, I don’t want you part of this team. You can keep the cuff on, but while the rest of us are handling the transitions, I want you to be off doing something else. It doesn’t have to be therapy, but you can’t come back until you can make me feel safe to be around you again. You need time to recover from whatever it is you’re going through.”

“Are you really doing this?” Mateo questioned, mortified and confused.

“I’m really doing this.”

“We need to talk.”

“No, I’m done talking,” she said angrily. “I can’t talk to you. I don’t even wanna look at you anymore. I’ve been trying to stay patient, but that’s not working either. You have options; don’t think you don’t. You can do what I asked, which I think is best, or you can take off the cuff permanently, and fuck off. Or we can get divorced, and you can still fuck off. I won’t have you on this team until you can prove you deserve it.”

“Why don’t you have to prove anything?” Mateo fought.

“Do you two think I have anything to prove?” she posed to the others.

They didn’t say anything.

Leona went on, “I’ve made mistakes, I admit that. I’ve always been me, though. You always know what you’re getting. You can’t say the same anymore, so I’m giving you a choice. What will it be?” She checked her cuff. “You have two minutes.”

Mateo set a timer, and waited the full two minutes. The other three remained silent the whole time. “I’m leaving, but I’m keeping the cuff. I want you to think about something, though. I want you to ask yourself whether you should take off the cuff instead, not because you’re not good for this team, but maybe you’re misunderstanding the situation. This is me now, this is who I am. You can’t understand what it’s like to lose your soul unless it happens to you. That’s not a thing that people can just...learn about second-hand. It was...it wasn’t the scariest time in my life as it was happening, but it gives me shivers now. Am I different? Yes. But I won’t apologize for that, and how dare you demand that I do. I don’t need time to figure myself out. I think you need time to figure me out. So maybe you should take off the cuff, and not come back for another, uhh...”

“Three years, goddammit!” Leona screamed. “The math is not that hard. The next jump is three years, and then another three years, and then nineteen years, and then three years again!”

Mateo stayed calm so as not to lose what he believed to be the upper hand. “Who’s unpredictable now?” He tapped on his cuff, and requested authorization to teleport to Nerakali’s location, which was the only place that he could teleport. Walking away in real time would not have gotten him away from his wife fast enough. Nerakali accepted immediately, probably after having been eavesdropping on their fight.

Once he was gone, Leona fell to her knees, and sat down. She was breathing heavily, and pressing her knuckles against her forehead. She was having a panic attack. “What did I do? What did I just do?”

Olimpia knelt down and wrapped Leona in her arms. “You can’t be around a man who doesn’t make you feel safe. You did what you had to in this moment.”

“Was it even me? Or is this just another twist for the Superintendent to capture his audience?”

No. This was an inevitable development, and a long time coming.

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Microstory 1624: Would You Rather

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Here’s another one that’s both bizarre, and involves multiple realities. You’ve probably heard of would you rather games. These can range from innocuous questions for children, to really raunchy, unsavory, or sadistic. Would you rather be blind, or deaf? Would you rather only be able to breathe from the bottom of your feet, or only ever smell smelly feet? They can be fun, they can be embarrassing, and they can be impossible to answer without looking bad. But one thing they’re not is consequential...unless you live in Hypothetiverse. In that world, every answer you give comes true. It happens to someone. It happens to an alternate version of you, one whose only real purpose in life is to suffer whatever circumstances you’ve forced upon them. Not all hypothetical questions lead to this. You have to ask it in this very specific way, but if you do, it will happen every time, and each time it happens, reality as a whole becomes more complicated. It almost feels like there’s some kind of intelligent design to all this, and not because of the inextricable connection between the main reality, and all of these offshoots. It’s also that the bare minimum number of realities exist to accommodate these realized hypotheticals. Some questions contradict each other—like if you were asked whether you would want to go without the internet, or without TV, for the rest of your life, and another one later that asks whether you would rather only be able to visit porn sites, or advanced scientific databases, for the rest of your life. Those two versions of you will live in their own respective realities, because they would not be able to coexist. But beyond that, all the hypothetical alternates live in the same reality. That is, as long as they don’t contradict each other, they’re together, so it’s not like there is one reality for every single would you rather hypothetical. Here’s where things get interesting, though. Each of these alternate realities has to be inhabited by a full population, and not everyone has answered one of these questions ever in their life. So their alternate is just walking around, trying to lead a normal life, amongst a neighbor who can only walk on their hands, and a co-worker who has to eat everything with a butter knife. They don’t know they’re in a realized hypothetical reality, so they can’t explain this odd behavior, and if they were to ask one of them about it, that person is also unaware of what they are, so they would just think it was normal, and not be able to articulate their reasoning. “Well, I don’t understand the question, I can only drive on Sundays. How would it be possible for me to ever drive on any other day of the week? You’re not making any sense.” I won’t get into specifics, but this universe doesn’t have anything to do with the Darning Wars, because these realities eventually collide after too many would you rather questions are asked, and things get ever crazier from there on out.