Microstory 2477: Wheeldome

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In case you’re confused, this dome is all about wheels. This includes bicycles, roller blades, skateboards, etc. What it doesn’t include are cars and motorcycles. Basically, if it runs on petrol or electricity, it can’t be here. I guess I shouldn’t say that. They do have some electric bikes, but obviously that’s a whole different animal. There are hundreds of wheel-based leisure areas, as well as long trails that stretch between them. They have all sorts of hills if you wanna go fast, and the best part about it is that you don’t even have to hike all the way back up. They have chairlifts that take you back up. It’s like a ski mountain, but for wheel sports. You couldn’t do that on Earth. They just didn’t want to build the infrastructure, and of course in more recent decades, all those old abandoned roads have been demolished to make way for nature. I didn’t come here because I was a skater. I came because I’m not, and I want to learn. I’ve had plenty of time to practice in virtual simulations but never got around to it, despite how accessible the worlds are. I guess I was waiting for this. Having a whole dome dedicated to what might one day become my passion seemed like the perfect place to get into it. It’s real, ya know? Anyway, I tell you that I’m a beginner so you’re not expecting me to give a detailed review of this place. I don’t know how it stacks up against other skate parks. I just know that when you’re working with 5,410 square kilometers, it’s hard to believe it’s lacking in anything. Unless, again, you’re looking to race cars, or something. Go somewhere else for that. Just because it’s got wheels, doesn’t mean it belongs in Wheeldome. Hang ten, bruh. Gotta go.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 0 EXT

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Leona looked over the new control console that Ramses had installed on the bridge of the Vellani Ambassador. He had revamped the whole thing, instead of simply integrating this new engine that he had fabricated into the old system. He was calling it the quintessence drive. It worked by pushing against the fabric of the universe, which was composed of what was once known as dark matter. Instead of fully piercing the membrane, it only reached through it enough to adjust the temporal properties of the ship. Outside of any universe, time was a spatial dimension, instead of a temporal one, which essentially meant that time didn’t really pass in any humanly fathomable sense. One could travel untold distances in the blink of an eye by stealing energy from the highest dimension possible. Machines like the Crossover and the Transit did this all the time, but they usually did it to travel from one brane to another. All the quintessence drive did was skip over the realspace in one brane, and end up somewhere else much faster than any other vessel in histories. Not even The Globetrotter, Maqsud Al-Amin was as fast. At least that was the idea. They had yet to test it.

“Show of hands, who is willing to risk it?” Ramses asked, now that he had clearly explained the deal.

“That’s not your call,” Leona reminded him. She took a beat before repeating the question herself verbatim.

Everyone raised their hand.

“All right,” Leona decided. “Rambo, this is your thing, so if you say you’ve done the necessary preflight check, I’ll believe you.”

“I’ve done it,” Ramses said. “Navigation is the hardest component, as it always is. I can’t guarantee that we’ll be right on target, but we’ll be close, and we’re not going to be liquified, or turned back into babies, or something.”

“Why would you even bring that up?” Mateo questioned.

“Because it’s not going to happen, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He slammed his hand on the physical button that he had incorporated into the console, and declared, “yalla!” That was usually Leona’s line, but it was his language.

A web of technicolor threads appeared on the viewscreens. The bridge offered them a 360 degree view of the outside using exterior cameras. The web continued to spread out, and encompass the whole ship. It closed in on them tightly, like a silkworm forming its cocoon. It didn’t remain in this state for long before it stretched back out into infinity, pulling all of spacetime along with it. The stretching decelerated as the colors faded into oblivion, and for a moment, they saw nothing in the absolute black. Not a single photon of light was making its way towards them. And then the stars blinked into existence as if God had switched them back on. They were there. Well, they were somewhere anyway.

“Report,” Leona ordered.

“PMS is recalibrating,” Ramses replied. Back when researchers were first really contemplating using the galaxy’s pulsars to determine a ship’s relative position in space, they devised the Pulsar Mapping System. By the time people pointed out the unfortunate acronym, it was kind of too late. They did officially change it to the PPS, a.k.a. the Pulsar Positioning System, but a lot of developers preferred the original term specifically for its humor value, and it wasn’t illegal to call it that.

“Just call it the PPS, dude,” Leona suggested.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Ramses watched the screen, gradually falling into a blank face.

Leona could have read it the whole time herself, but it was his job, so she hadn’t bothered. Now she turned her head to check as well, and saw what he was seeing. “Insufficient data. Position indeterminable,” she read.

“What does that mean, we’re too far for it to know?” Marie asked.

“We could be too far from the extent of the pulsar map in three dimensions,” Leona began, “or in four.”

“We may have traveled through time too?” Angela surmised.

“Lee-Lee, your watch,” Mateo pointed out.

“Right, of course.” Her watch could tell her the time no matter where or when she went. It would either default to standard human culture, or reach out to the nearest civilization that was advanced enough to have their own timekeeping standards. If none of these was available, it would display the relative temporal distance from its last known position. “Two thousand, eight hundred and fifteen years.”

“That’s the year, or the...” Olimpia prodded.

“That’s how far back we went,” Leona clarified. “We’re about 350 years before the start of the common era.”

“Can you...plug that into the PMS?” Angela asked, gesturing towards the console. “Or the PPS. Do we know where these pulsar things were back then?”

“We do not,” Ramses answered, shaking his head. “The map doesn’t account for such big time differences. Perhaps a time traveler could make such a map, just for people like us. Because without it, there’s no way to know where we are. There’s no decent way to even measure regular stellar drift in this period. Everything is different. And until we figure it out, we’re not going anywhere. Trying to make another jump would be even more dangerous. I seem to have sorely overestimated my abilities.”

“It’s all right, bro.” Mateo slapped him on the back. “We’re still here in seven pieces, that’s all the matters.”

“I need to run a diagnostic on the rest of the ship’s systems,” Leona said. “If we’re stranded, we need to know if anything’s damaged. Waltons, could you take stock of our inventory?” She placed her hand on Ramses’ shoulder. “Keep working at it. Find Sagittarius A* and at least two neighboring galaxies. Those will not have moved much. It won’t give us our exact location, but we’ll get a better frame of reference.”

“That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

Leona went off to check the other systems, like the reframe engine, and hull integrity. Verdemus was nowhere to be seen, so the new drive had taken them somewhere else, and they needed to understand whether there were any consequences or limitations to that. Angela and Marie went off to see what kind of supplies they had with them. This left the dummies with nothing to do once again.

For the most part, the six of them preferred to be rather close to each other. Their private rooms in the main pocket dimension were small; no one was more than several meters away at any time while they were on the ship. There were times when that was just a little too much. Fortunately, Ramses had built this second pocket altogether, which was used by the delegators during The Rock meetings. Though Ramses was considering upgrading his lab to the entirety of this space, it was presently still completely vacant. There was a bicycle in here, which someone must have requested from the industrial synthesizer in the engineering section. He didn’t think that any of the delegators were allowed to use that without supervision, so maybe they had had it, and someone else on the team had decided that it was okay.

“Got one for me?” Olimpia asked, having followed him inside.

“I don’t think so,” Mateo replied. “We could take turns.” He tilted the bike away from his body, balancing the end of the left handlebar on the tip of his index finger.

She brushed it away with a wave of her hand. “It’s all you, buddy. I don’t even know how to ride.”

Mateo smiled. “Neither did my daughter. I taught her while we were in the Sixth Key. It was a touching moment. Shoulda caught it on camera.”

Olimpia nodded. She was alone in the void during that time. Well, it was technically the future, but they didn’t reunite with her until she had spent some time there, fighting for freedom, and also for what little hope she had left.

He sighed, and looked around. “There’s not really much room. I don’t know how they used it. I guess there’s this hallway that wraps all around. But when you’re learning, you kind of need wide open spaces.”

“It’s fine,” Olimpia replied, sincerely confused. “I wasn’t asking for you to teach me. I don’t need to know how to ride. It’s...” She consulted her forearm interface screen. “...the fucking future.”

He thought about it for a moment, then he leaned the bike back against the wall, and started to leave the pocket. “Come on.” He led her across Delegation Hall, and into their usual pocket. He opened Olimpia’s door, and ushered her inside. “Lie down.”

“For..for what?” she stammered.

He tapped two fingers against the corner of the VR drawer to open it. He took out the headband, and waited patiently. “We can have as much space as we need.” All in all,  they didn’t use the virtual environments that much. They just didn’t really have the time, what with all the running around, fighting bad guys, and saving universes. They were always there, though, and the Ambassador came equipped with a decent number of virtual stacks.

She smiled without showing teeth, and lay down on her back.

“Scooch over.” After she was closer to the wall, he gently placed the band over her head, like a nurse preparing her for a medical procedure. He then reached back into the drawer to retrieve the second band. He lay down next to her, and slipped his on.

They appeared next to each other on the street that ran by Mateo’s childhood home in Topeka. Thanks to satellite imagery, stitched panoramas, and supplemental photographs, the majority of civilization since the late two thousand aughts was available for visiting through the stacks. People were dreaming up virtual worlds every single day. It was pretty much impossible to have a copy of every single one of them, especially since most of the point was for people to come together on a joint server. But these mapping images, which could be scaled to any point since 2007, depending on where you want to go, had become standard issue in every copy of the central archives. This included the street images, ocean views, and sky maps. The idea was to simulate the real world, using a real world physics engine. Anything beyond that was user’s choice. This was what they needed today. Olimpia needed to feel what it would be like if she were sitting on a real bicycle.

They could smell the fresh autumn air, and hear the dogs and leaf blowers in the distance. There was no pollution, or bits of trash on the street, though, so it wasn’t exactly like it was in the real world, but it was an idyllic version of it. This is what things looked like in 2013, not long before Mateo first disappeared.

“Why am I wearing a helmet?” Olimpia questioned.

“For safety,” he answered.

“I can’t die in here,” she reasoned.

“It’s a simulation,” he argued. “We’re simulating it. No, you can’t actually die. Even if we really traveled to Earth, and you fell down, you would barely be hurt in this all but perfect body of yours. But I want you to feel like it was like back when I was learning. Well, I mean, twenty years later, but we don’t have data from 1992.”

“Who taught you?”

Mateo smiled, and looked up at the house. The imagery didn’t contain people unless the user programmed them in. Even then, likeness was difficult to acquire. He couldn’t just conjure up his family out of nothing, and there was no getting the rights to them from here. “My mother. My birth mother. She couldn’t take care of me on her own, but she still wanted to be there for the milestones. She disappeared in ninety-four.”

“I didn’t have much in the way of parents myself,” Olimpia said. “I couldn’t be around people with my voice the way it was before this—” She cut herself off when she looked at her arm, and realized that she had no need for the Cassidy cuff in here. “Well, you know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah.” He placed one hand underneath the seat, and the other on the handlebar. “Put both feet on the pedals. Don’t worry, I won’t let go.”

“It would be fine if you did, remember?” Olimpia turned her head, and realized how close their faces were. “But please don’t anyway.”

They could smell each other’s breaths. Regardless of what they ate today, they both smelled good in this world. Scientists did studies centuries ago, and while there was no accounting for taste, citrus seemed like a pretty universally appreciated scent, so that was the default in VR. In fact, pink grapefruit was the most common default in most systems. She looked up at him with those eyes.

Scared of whatever the hell was happening, Mateo jumped back, accidentally pushing the bike over in the process. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

Olimpia stood back up, leaving the bike where it was. “I’m fine, my pain sensors are at a very low setting.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that...Leona...”

“I know. I’m not trying to get between you two. But you were just talking about my perfect body, and you have to admit, we’re more alike than you two are.”

“Yeah, because we’re both morons. We could be the progenitors of Idiocracy!”

“I don’t think a moron would know the word progenitor.”

Their comm discs buzzed in the real world. It was from Ramses. “Team, I found something. It’s a planet, and there’s an energy signature coming from it.”

“How far?” Leona asked.

“One hop, one skip, and one jump.”

“Plot a course. Everyone get back to the bridge. I’m pretty sure it’s the Exins.”

Mateo and Olimpia looked at each other awkwardly. “We need to talk, the three of us,” he decided.

“I know.”

They removed their bands, and got out of bed.

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Microstory 2080: It’s Frickin’ Perfect

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I’ve been writing kind of long posts recently, especially that one from Monday last week. I’m particularly tired today, though. I had so much to do. I had to work first shift, and then go to several appointments for my apartment search. My real estate agent was great. She doesn’t make as much money in her job as the kind that sell full family homes, but she was committed, and she understood what I was looking for. There was one particular unit that I am very interested in. You can see the entire thing from one spot. A single room quadruples as a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and office. One door leads to a closet, and the other to a bathroom. I think they said it was 27 square meters in area, which is about 290 square feet, if you like to use the WRONG measuring system. The way the building manager tells it when we met him, there was a bit of an error when calculating the number of units that could fit within the length of the complex. Every floor has this tiny little thing that they tacked on in the corner. It’s too big to be just a storage closet, or something, but not big enough for most people’s needs. I am not most people. It’s frickin’ perfect. I can already picture the layout. The building is a little farther from work than I would like, because I would prefer to walk, but I think I can invest in a bike, and still avoid buying a car. I don’t know what I will do in really bad weather, but it might be worth it.

Microstory 2023: Kansas

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In September of 2004, my papa had worked for the private submarine company for more than two years, and he had not taken any vacation. His boss, who was his friend, was worried about him, so he asked him to take the time off, or he would lose it. But papa didn’t like to just sit around, doing nothing. He wanted to be accomplishing something. One of the hobbies that he picked up was bicycling. Whenever he had the time, he liked to ride his bike from his house to his sister’s place, which was about 20 miles away. It took him a couple of hours, and it was a workout, and he really enjoyed it. He decided to take his longest ride yet. Instead of just going a few towns over, he wanted to go a few states over. He plotted a route that went all the way from Chicago to Kansas City. What a lot of people don’t know is that there are two Kansas Cities. One is in Missouri and the other is in Kansas, of course. They’re right next to each other, and the one in Missouri is actually larger. He had already been to Missouri, because of his friends who lived in Independence, which is considered part of the whole Kansas City area. The distance from where he started was over 630 miles, and it took him two weeks to ride the entire way! He rode about 45 miles per day, which is pretty impressive, I must say. He couldn’t really explain to me why he chose to go there. He just wanted to. Once he made it to Kansas City, Kansas, he spent one night there. He donated his bicycle to a charity for kids. Then he took a plane back home. I think this was a pretty cool thing that he did, and I’m so proud of him. Maybe one day, I’ll do something like it, but probably not to Kansas City, since it’s 1,700 miles from here!

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 24, 2398

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Mateo and Ramses made a conscious decision to not exit the Facsimile pocket dimension right away. This world has been abandoned for centuries, but certain things they know of were designed to stand the test of time—specifically, anything in The Constant. The version of the Constant in the Third Rail started out as the same as the one in the main sequence, but they split from each other at some point. There should have been two separate elevator shafts, two separate kitchens, two separate libraries, and two separate Danica Matics. The Facsimile, on the other hand, is an exact copy of the way the world was at its last save point, which was reportedly around Christmastime 2022. The only things that don’t get copied over are living beings, particularly people. Plants seem to do okay, but nothing that moves on its own was duplicated. They didn’t know who made the Facsimile in the first place, but they believe they met the man himself yesterday, who ended up being trapped there this whole time by The Cleanser.

Now they’re on their way to Lebanon, Kansas. It would have been a short trip, giving them plenty of time to return to the dimensional exit by the end of the day, except that there aren’t any working vehicles in the world. Nearly everything runs on fossil fuels, and gasoline breaks down over time. They could have found an electric car somewhere, but they wouldn’t have been able to charge it, because power stations run on...fossil fuels, and all the solar panels they happened to come across had fallen apart due to lack of maintenance. Bicycles still worked, though they couldn’t just grab two off the street. They had to first make their way to the nearest bike shop, and go all the way to the back, to the ones that had suffered the least amount of exposure from the broken windows.

They found some really good models, but according to Ramses’ calculations, the ride would take over 21 hours straight. It was the middle of the night, which made it more difficult to see, but at least they didn’t have to worry about traffic. They pedaled for a few hours, took a rest, then pedaled a few hours more. They kept going like this for the better part of two days, and they’re finally here. If there’s nothing underneath that can get them back to the exit in a reasonable amount of time, they’re kind of going to be screwed. The elevator has to operate, and they have to get down there for some help, and an advantage that they never could have hoped for before. If this doesn’t work, they’ll have to wait a whole other week until the next window opens. When they left, everything seemed fine, but a lot can happen in seven days. Things might have taken a huge turn, and it would only get worse. The moment of truth. Mateo presses the secret call button, and crosses his fingers.

“You know it won’t be another week, right?” Ramses says after they hear the motor humming through the walls. “It would be two more weeks by bike. It took us two days to get here, which was fine in the beginning, since we started at midnight, but now we’re starting late on the second day. When we get out of here, it will be the eighth of November.”

“That’s assuming we can’t get back home tonight.”

“Right,” Ramses agrees. The doors open, and he steps in. “This is a good sign.”

They ride all the way down to the bottom. The lights are already on inside, anticipating their arrival. “It looks empty.”

“Computer, report,” Ramses orders.

No response.

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

“We don’t have time to search.” Mateo breaks the glass with his shirted fist, and pulls the fire alarm. The alarm still works too. They take another break on the couches while they wait to see if anyone runs up from deeper in the facility. It’s a big place, it might take a person a while. After ten minutes, though, they’re just wasting time. Mateo cancels the alarm, and follows Ramses to the control room.

Ramses starts fiddling with the computer. “It’s blank.”

“What’s blank?”

“The hard drives; everything.”

“They’ve been wiped clean?” Mateo asks.

“No, this is more like how they would look if you bought the computer today, and haven’t used it yet. I guess there are some things that the Facsimile can’t copy.”

Mateo tilts his Mr. Spock brain. “This place is run by an AI, or it’s supposed to.”

“Yeah.”

“That would not be a living organism, but it would be a consciousness. If the Facsimile can’t copy people, it probably can’t copy other forms of intelligence either.”

“Hm. Yeah, you’re probably right. Damn, I was hoping to find some great tech, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

“This place is huge. Surely there’s something we can use. Let’s go take a look around after all. We need to find some kind of car, or something, anyway.”

They each take a radio transceiver, and split up to search the premises, hoping to come across something both useful, and which they can take with them back to the Third Rail. But only Ramses is going to be doing that. Mateo already knows what he’s looking for, and he’s about fifty percent sure that it’s here. He goes back to the lounge area, and approaches the wall with the sledgehammer he found in the garage. Hoping that Ramses has gotten himself out of earshot by now, Mateo starts banging. It’s not long before he’s through the wall, and can reach the secret door behind it.

Ramses runs back in, having apparently heard one of the last swings. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“There’s not gonna be another you in there.”

“Wanna bet?”

Mateo pulls the rest of the wood panels away, and opens the door. Inside is the stasis pod he was told he woke up in months ago in a different version of the Constant. It’s occupied, so maybe it’s not such a different version, is it?

“This is just going to make things complicated,” Ramses warns.

“He’ll remember what happened to him in the past. We need answers.”

Mateo deactivates the pod, and lets the other Mateo out. Fax!Mateo steps out. “Is everybody who came down here in this room right now?”

“Don’t worry about that,” the regular Mateo says. “It’s not going to implode.”

Fax!Mateo narrows his eyes at his other self. “Report.”

“No, asshole, you report. The memory of my time down here has been erased. Before it happens to you, you’re gonna tell us. What did you see? Who did you see?”

Fax!Mateo looks behind him at the pod control panel. “October 24, 2398. Sorry, it’s not time yet.” He runs off.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 27, 2398

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The new lab facility that the Honeycutts purportedly gave to Leona and Ramses isn’t gigantic. It’s about thirty meters wide, and twenty deep. It’s three stories tall, with a basement. It’s designed very simply, as a concrete block held together by steel beams. They never got around to laying a parking lot, but there’s a little warehouse in the back. It’s down a hill, so it’s actually on the same level as the basement, and they can drive right into it. Since they probably won’t require that kind of storage, it should be good enough. It’s not quite located in the suburbs, but it’s not in the center of the city either. This should make for a relatively quiet, but accessible, area.

They ended up never giving Winona the list of equipment they would need to set up a working lab for the both of them. Instead, they kept the list to themselves, and added up the cost to procure all of it. They also included the cost of construction and labor to make the place look less like a parking garage, and more like a legitimate place of business. Then they doubled that number, and gave that to Winona. She seemed neither surprised nor perturbed about it, and wrote them a check right then and there. Now they wish they had asked for triple. They set up a new bank account, separate from the Walton one they’ve all been accessing, and the credit cards. It’s good to not keep all of one’s eggs in one basket. It will still be a joint fund for the whole team, which is why they asked for extra.

It’s only been three days, and the place is already starting to look real. They just finished installing the interior walls, according to a design that the artificial intelligence that Ramses took from the Constant came up with according to his direction. Next, crews will lay tile on the second floor, and cork and high pile carpeting on the top floor. Winona probably expected them to use the whole building for their labs, but that shouldn’t be necessary, so they have other plans for the other two levels. The top floor will have to wait until later, but today is for the ground level. They’ve not done much with it yet, but they want to show the space to a couple of their friends, so they have called Angela and Heath in. Marie is taking some time for herself at a spa day. Mateo and Kivi could be here, but they’re doing some father-daughter activities, and this doesn’t really have anything to do with them.

“What do you think of this one?” Leona asks.

“It’s coming along nicely,” Angela says with a nod of approval. She’s being polite, because it really isn’t anything yet. “It’s not quite as done as the top floor.”

“Well, this one is special,” Ramses says cryptically.

“What makes it special?”

“It’s for you,” he says.

“Me?”

Heath steps in. “My wife is done with her job. After the procedure, she’s reprioritized her life, and she’s decided to just...be.”

“Okay...that means it’s my prerogative to quit?” Angela wants to be relieved, but she can’t know that yet. “Or do you want me to keep going?”

“We want you to quit,” Heath begins, “but we think you should keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Did Marie ever tell you how she and Heath manage to afford everything they have on the salary that you are all too well aware of now?” Leona asks her. “Teaching doesn’t pay that much, so where did the money come from in only four years?”

“Well, she implied that she had another job before this one,” Angela says, presuming now that it’s not the whole story.

Ramses chuckles, and hands her a pair of virtual reality goggles. “Put these on.”

Angela puts them on, and looks around at the start of a virtual world.

“That’s called Angaros. It’s a kind of game.”

Angela lifts the goggles up to leave them on her forehead. “That’s the name of the environment I was going to build once I was promoted to World-Builder in the afterlife simulation. I spent my free time drawing up plans.”

“What was the purpose of this world?” Leona asks encouragingly.

“Well, I was hoping to make it a sanctuary for Level Fours, particularly the ones who finally finished serving their sentences in Hock. They would be given amenities normally reserved for higher levels. I even wanted to start a program that helped to commute certain people’s sentences.”

Heath smiles affectionately. “She did that. She built that world. Of course, it’s not quite as sophisticated as anything you would have made in that other place, but it works. It helps people.”

“You just said it was a game,” Angela argues.

“It’s a game for convicts,” Heath clarifies. “It’s halfway between a prison and a halfway house. Inmates journey through this virtual world, and learn how to make good choices, as well as function in society after what they’ve been through. It’s fun, though; it is fun, so the prisoners don’t feel like they’re just taking a class. They actually want to play. They apply for session times. It’s estimated that her program alone has lowered recidivism by 24%...around the country.”

“Wow. Why didn’t she say anything about this before?” Angela asks.

“She sold it. She sold it for around four million dollars. She could have gotten a lot more, because remember inflation is much higher here than in your day. She had some stipulations, like the fact that her name couldn’t be made public, or that users would never have to pay or perform labor in order to qualify for the program.”

Angela is four years removed from her alternate self, but these sound like things that she would do, in the exact ways that she would do them. She understood the purpose of placing certain people in hock. Just because you die, doesn’t mean you automatically become a good person. But she also hated how the Limiteds were treated, sometimes as if they had never been released from prison at all. “I’m glad she did that.”

“She tried to retire,” Heath continues, “but didn’t care for it. I think she’s ready for it now, but we all thought maybe you would want to take up the mantle?”

“I don’t want to go back to that place,” Angela says sadly.

“You won’t have to. That’s what this space is for. We think you could start your own company, and do whatever you want with it. The whole floor is all yours.”

“You’re so good at the coding, and you have access to my new AI,” Ramses says. “Perhaps you could become a competitor, and just blow them out of the water.”

Angela nods and looks around again. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Leona says. “Take all the time you need.”

Angela separates from the group, and starts dreaming up plans.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 26, 2398

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Mateo and Kivi yawn at the same time, the fourth in a series of yawns that started ten minutes ago. Everyone knows that yawning is contagious—though no one is a hundred percent sure why—but this is getting ridiculous. They both laugh, because that is also contagious. “Boredom is a sign of an unstimulated mind,” Kivi muses.

He looks at her differently. “That’s just the definition of boredom.”

“Oh. I thought it made me sound smart.”

“Are you not?”

“No, I’m cognizant of my alternate selves, but I don’t know the things they do. I should say that I’m cognizant of their existence. I don’t know anything about them. Are most of them smart?”

“A few of them are lawyers, but I don’t think we have any scientists in the family.”

She nods. “So, you’re my father, eh?”

“Leona’s theory is that your mother and I conceived you in an old timeline in the main sequence. Due to what you are, you managed to survive, and keep coming back in later timelines, including ones where Eseosie and I never met, or I didn’t even exist.”

“Now we’re in a reality where neither of you exists. I don’t know who my parents are supposed to be.”

“Let’s just say it’s me.”

“I think I would like that, if you’re okay with it.”

“You’re not the only daughter I have out there that I never took care of. You got a half brother too. He and his full sister do their own things, and I don’t know anything about them, though I’ve heard they’re incredibly powerful. Like..Meliora Rutherford-level powerful.”

She nods and yawns. He yawns. They sit in silence for another few minutes.

“I don’t even think I know how to ride a bike.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You know how to speak English, and tie your shoes?”

“Yeah. Maybe I do.”

As dense as he is, he should’ve realized right away that she was asking him to teach her. Marie does have a bike that she stores above their parking space in the underground garage. “I could teach you.”

“Would you? I would love that!” She’s excited.

“Yeah, I haven’t done it in...” He looks at his watch. “Oh, a few thousand years, give or take a few timelines.”

“It’ll be fun. We certainly don’t have anything better to do, do we?”

“No laboratories to set up, no couples trips to go on, no job to do.”

They go downstairs and retrieve the bicycle. He walks it down the hill to the park for her, where a father is already teaching his own daughter to ride. She’s at a typical age. Hopefully people won’t judge Kivi. Not everyone is born with the same privileges, weird temporal condition or otherwise. She gets on the bike, and tries to pedal. They quickly learn that she was right about not knowing how. He never had a younger sibling, and as he was saying before, didn’t ever get the chance to raise his children. It’s nice, even though she’s an adult, that they can share this one experience. Perhaps there will be more down the line. She might not know how to catch a ball, or talk to a crush either.

Microstory 1702: Air Pump

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

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

Microstory 1587: Nonstop

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Prompt

I found a treadmill on the side of the road, and started using it the next day. I could literally see the fat dripping off of my stomach as I was running.

Botner

A dude riding a bike passed me, looked at me, and said, “if you’re on there, you must be a junkie, you can’t be running.” Unfortunately, it took two months of running on that treadmill before my body could actually move again. I was basically incapacitated. I was barely able to stand or walk. But every time I went to the store, or a restaurant, I told people I was a military veteran. That was all I could remember—how to tell people I was in the military and that I had been hurt. People told me I needed to go to the VA for help, and I thought they were right. They were asking me if I was drunk, which at the time I was not. When I went to the VA, they said, “Well, we can’t give you any drugs because you haven’t been diagnosed. You just had your wrist blown off. But if you stop taking the treadmill, you’ll die.” They didn’t know what was going on with my brain. They were just looking at me like, “you’re scaring us. You need to get off of this machine.” That was the most dehumanizing...

Conclusion

...experience of my life, and I felt like crap for lying to people. I had never heard of stolen valor before, but I knew the whole time that it was wrong. I stopped telling the lie, but that wasn’t my most pressing problem. If I spend more than two days off of this treadmill, the fat I lost starts coming back. It comes back fast, like the frost on a windshield when the heater doesn’t work, and all you have is wiper fluid. It doesn’t stop either. When I first tried to take a break, I gained even more weight than I had when I started using the damn thing. Who would do this to me? Who would leave this cursed treadmill out there for anyone to pick up, knowing what it would do? I learn to run twice a day, just to be safe. I don’t have to run several miles, or anything, but I can’t leave it be for too long. It’s like the machine is a pet, and requires frequent attention, or it’ll start chewing up my shoes. I wish that those were the consequences. I would take a closet full of destroyed shoes over this nonstop life of running. The dude on the bike rides back up to my garage during my workout one day. “There’s a way to stop this from happening, you know. You can even keep all that fat off. All you have to do is give the treadmill to someone else.” What is he, the girl from The Ring? No, I’m not doing that, I’m not subjecting someone else to this horror. It ends here. It ends with me. But I’m not running anymore either. I take the treadmill out to the middle of an empty field, douse it with lighter fluid, and set the wretched thing on fire. I hope that ends the curse, but if it doesn’t, at least it won’t be able to hurt anyone else. The next day, the fat starts to return again, and it doesn’t stop. At my peak, I weigh 1,500 pounds. But then a funny thing happens. I start losing the weight again. It just rolls off me, and I have to take it out with the garbage. I’m happy for a while, satisfied that I broke the curse, but then I start to wonder if I did. Maybe the treadmill can’t be destroyed, and some other poor schmuck just happened to find it out in that field.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 23, 2230

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Unlike people in Mateo’s past who claimed to have fallen onto his pattern, Cassidy appeared to be the real deal, though she didn’t act like she had any previous knowledge of it. Other people were around when she disappeared one year ago, and they witnessed her return at the exact same time Mateo did. Since they didn’t have access to a type of chooser called a diagnostician, who was capable of interpreting people’s time powers, Weaver would have to suffice.

“What do you expect me to do, diagnose her?” She tickled Cassidy’s fingers with her own, like a bad attempt at an examination.

“Couldn’t you invent a medical device capable of that?” Mateo asked.

“Theoretically, maybe. I wouldn’t be able to do it within the next several hours, though. Perhaps if a real diagnostician were here for me to study, I could imbue their power into something, but my own ability takes time. I have no clue how they do what they do.”

Cassidy tilted her lizard brain. “What if we started by checking for temporal anomalies. Surely you’ve already invented something that can do that. I mean, that’s all salmon and choosers are, aren’t they? Walking, talking temporal anomalies.”

Weaver tilted her head as well. “Did you intuit that, or do you know something?”

Cassidy shrugged. “Iono, it just makes sense.”

Weaver studied Cassidy’s face for a moment. Then she walked over to the central table, and accessed one of the terminals. She pulled up a hologram of an object, and tapped a corner of it to make it spin around perpetually.” “Do you know what this is?”

Cassidy stepped closer and watched the hologram. “I suppose I would call that an echo chamber.”

Weaver smiled. “The official term is cylicone, but yes. That’s exactly what it is.”

“Weaver, what do you know? She’s from 2019, and said her arrival here is her first exposure to our world.”

Weaver spoke into her wrist, “Greer, no real emergency, but could you emergency teleport back to the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, please?”

Greer appeared. “Yes?”

“Miss Thorpe, this is Cassidy Long. Miss Long, this is Greer Thorpe.”

Cassidy and Greer shook hands.

Weaver’s smile grew as soon as their hands touched. “Greer, could you please place Goswin in a temporal bubble?”

“What, why? What did I do?”

Greer did as she was asked, and for several seconds, Goswin was frozen in place.

“Okay, you can let go,” Weaver went on. “Now, Cassidy. Would you mind...trying to do the same thing to me?”

“You want me to freeze you?” Cassidy questioned.

“Couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Okay, how do I do this?” She lifted her arm. “Should I just wave my hand in—holy shit, she’s not moving! Are you frozen in place? Did I just do that? How do I get her out of it?”

“Just try,” Greer said. “If you can do it, you can undo it.”

Cassidy waved her hand again, and brought Weaver back to realtime.”

Now Weaver was beaming. “You’re an absorber. Or a channeler. There’s no way to test which one at the moment, but that explains why you disappeared and returned when Mateo and Serif did, and presumably how you got here in the first place. You must have accidentally bumped into The Trotter on the street, or handed The Chauffeur his wallet after he dropped it.”

“So, I’m one of you? Which one, the kind that can control it, or the kind that can’t; the fish ones?”

“I guess you would have to create a time bubble, and then invent something, to figure out whether you can have more than one power at a time. Or you would have to encounter someone with a time power, and choose not to use it. We’re kind of low on options all the way out here.”

“Can I get back to work now?” Greer asked. “I’m still trying to figure out how to maintain two massive bubbles at the same time.”

Weaver laughed at this. “We don’t need you to do that anymore. You can focus on holding the Maramon bubble. Miss Long here can pick up the slack, and cross everyone over.”

“Wait, you figured out how to cross people over?” Mateo asked.

“Yeah, while you three were gone,” Goswin said. “There’s a problem, though.”

“The technology is stable,” Weaver began, “but it’s limited. Not even the Muster Beacon has ever had to summon eleven billion people before. What we need is, more time. I mean, Greer can hold the bubble indefinitely to keep the Maramon out, except...”

“Except some of the Maramon are at our borders,” Greer finished for her. “A few have even gotten past the bubble’s barrier, just because they were already on their way when I made it. We outnumber them a hell of a lot, but we don’t have long before we’re overrun. I wouldn’t be able to modify it in time. Too many people live on the border towns. If we want to evacuate them, we have to bring them into this universe.”

“Cassidy can do what Greer wasn’t able to do alone,” Weaver added. “She can create a second bubble; one that goes faster than realtime. By the time the Maramon break through, all the humans will be safely over here.”

“If it works,” Greer noted.

“If it works,” Weaver agreed.

“And it won’t be all the humans,” Goswin pointed out.

“Yes, some are stuck in inaccessible parts of Ansutah. That’s not an easy fix regardless.”

“It’s my greatest concern,” Goswin reminded her.

“Well, the people we know we can save are my greatest concern.” This was evidently a touchy subject for the both of them, about which they had already fought at least once before.

“Guys. People. Fish...people. I just learned that I’m some sort of magician. I can’t create the kind of time bubble you appear to be discussing. I don’t know how any of this works, and if I only have one day to figure it out...”

“We’ll have more than one day to teach you,” Weaver assured her. “You shouldn’t have to jump to the future with Mateo, like you did before. It’s possible that you are, in fact, being infected by people’s powers and patterns, and you can’t ever get rid of one once you acquire it, but I wouldn’t put money on it.”

“I just don’t know. I mean, I got no stake in this. Who are these people?”

“They’re my people,” Greer explained. “Look, I don’t know if you were sent to us by someone on purpose, or if it’s just a brilliant coincidence, but we need you. You can save an entire world’s worth of human beings. There are as many of us living in that universe as there are on your home planet.”

“She’s from the past,” Weaver clarified. “There were actually fewer people living on Earth when she left it than there are in Ansutah.”

“Cassidy,” Greer went on. “I implore you, don’t let these refugees die just because you don’t know them. Please. I can teach you how to use your powers. These isn’t a comic book. Most of us don’t have tragic origin stories where we killed our families because we didn’t know our own strength. It generally comes pretty naturally.”

“When did you first discover your powers?”

Greer looked for guidance from the group, but no one had any answers. “Okay, well, I’m different. I obtained them from this fruit I ate few years ago, but I put someone who was trying to kill my friends in a bubble before I even knew I could. It’s an instinct thing.”

Cassidy sighed. “I will do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Greer said. She draped an arm over Cassidy’s shoulders. “Come on. We need some space for your training...and tennis balls.”

After they left, Mateo nodded towards Goswin. “Yo, you know where Ramses is?”

Goswin rolled his eyes. “He’s probably working out. He’s convinced he’ll have to be the one to muster all the refugees, so he’s trying to be in tip-top shape.”

“I thought the machines were going to do it.”

“In conjunction with the Nexus replica, and the muster device on the other side of the bridge, the Muster Lighter can pull everyone into this universe, but the lighter has to be operated manually. Someone is going to have to teleport from sector to sector, taking chunks of the population one at a time. We can’t take everyone all at once.”

“Is that right?”

Mateo left the ship, and ended up following Greer and Cassidy to the recreation building, but he kept a distance, so they could talk amongst each other. He found Ramses exactly where Goswin thought he would be, pumping furiously on a stationary bike. “Deputy Director Abdulrashid.”

“Hey,” Ramses replied shortly, but stayed focused on a spot on the opposite wall that he would never reach.

“Stop pedaling.”

“No brakes. Can’t stop..don’t want to either.”

“Stop the bike, Deputy Director.”

“I don’t work for you anymore, Patronus.”

“Stop the fuckin’ bike!”

He did as he was told, then pulled a green towel from his handlebar, and started wiping the sweat off his face. “I need to hydrate anyway.”

“You’re not gonna do this.”

“Hell you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“You’re not going to muster the refugees.”

“Mateo, we don’t have time for you to come back in a year and play hero.”

Mateo shook his head. “I’m not doing it either. I want Goswin on it.”

“Why would he do it?”

“You don’t have anything to prove, Ramses.”

“And he does?”

“He doesn’t have a heart condition.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you do.”

“I told you that in confidence.”

“And I’m confident you’ll do the right thing. Teleportation is tough on the body. Weaver had to invent a special kind that can work with humans, otherwise you would just straight up die. Goswin has been fitted with transhumanistic upgrades that will allow him to survive. You weren’t, since you thought it would be better to live in a world where you had to pay for them, instead of just filing a request.”

He dumped the rest of his water on his head. “Hey, I rejected those doctrines a long time ago.”

“And I’m grateful for the friendship we developed because you made that choice. You’re still not mustering the refugees. If I come back next year and find out you’re dead, because you didn’t listen to me, I’m going to head straight for the extraction mirror, summon you just before your death, then kill you myself.”

“Mateo, I just spent the last seven months training like hell for this mission. Now you’re telling me it was a waste of time?”

“Of course not. Now you can play a superhero in a movie. You look good, Ram. That’s not a waste.”

A moment of bro silence.

“Hey, what’s up with that girl who disappeared when you did?”

“Oh, her. I’ll explain why it looked like she was on my pattern.”

“Nah, I don’t care about that. I mean, is she single?”

“I don’t know, man. She’s from the past. If she was with someone, they’re probably dead now.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean, not necessarily?” Leona asked.

“We don’t know that someone is trying to hurt you,” Eight Point Seven started to explain herself.

“They hijacked my ship, and they’re sending me in the wrong direction.”

“Maybe you’re supposed to go in this direction.”

“You’re supposed to be finding a way to turn us around.”

“I told you, I’ve not been able to. You’re the engineer.”

“I’m an astrophysicist. You’re an artificial superintelligence.”

“Yes, I’m super, not omniscient.”

Leona opened her mouth to argue.

“Nor omnipotent. Look, if we were gonna figure out how to get back on course, we would have done it by now. You’ve been here for a couple days. I’ve been working the problem for years. There’s no solution. I’m locked out of navigation.”

“Goddammit.”

“Maybe Mateo will be on Varkas Reflex, waiting for you. You’ve not been able to establish contact with him, and there are ways of achieving faster-than-light travel.”

Leona shook her head.

“You should eat.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my leader anymore.”

“No, we’re partners, and as someone who cares about you, I’m telling you...you should eat.”

“Fine. But then we get back to work.”

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