Microstory 1804: Good Opinions and Right Choices

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I was raised in an extremely hostile environment. My parents were racist, hateful, and mean. When my older brother was first growing up, he tried to rebel against them. He didn’t go full liberal—because he didn’t know what that meant—but he didn’t agree with the kinds of things they would say. And they weren’t super obvious about it. They didn’t go around claiming that black people were inferior. They just used very unclever cover words like urban and hoodlum. They weren’t as inconspicuous as they thought they were, though, and my brother wanted no part of it. Unfortunately, they decided they weren’t going to give him a choice. They verbally abused him until he stopped talking all that lovey dovey nonsense. The world didn’t use terms like snowflake and libtard back then, but they would have loved it if they had been alive to learn them. Anyway, when I was old enough to start possibly making my own decisions, my brother realized how similar we were. He taught me to pretend to be like our family. I let them think that I was all about letting poor people die on the streets to save the dollar in my pocket, and not getting upset about the injustices we would see on the news. I did a really great job, blending in as the good little conservative boy that I was expected to be. I did too good of a job, actually. They were so proud of me. My brother and I had about the same grades in school, but since they were so disappointed in him, it was like I was the second coming of the messiah. I also had to pretend to believe in the messiah. I wasn’t an exceptional student, or person in general, but I could do no wrong, and my parents did what they could to give me the opportunities they felt that I deserved.

They paid my way into a preparatory school, which led me to a really great college. I hated every minute of it, but I figured I would take my free education, and do something positive with it. The problem was that I was so used to pretending to be an entitled prick that it was too hard to turn off at this point. I let them get me conscripted into a secret underground brotherhood, which was designed to foster a network of good ol’ boys who help each other go places, and get out of jams. It was so rough, being around people with such wrong opinions. I know people say that there’s no such thing as a wrong opinion, but those people’s opinions are wrong. There is a right way to think about how the world should be run, and a very bad way. It was impossible to walk away, though, and not because the only way out would have been in a bodybag, but because it was so tempting to accept their gifts. With their help, I was poised to step on a lot of heads, and make a lot of money. At that point, I didn’t really care that everyone who was helping me get there disgusted me to my core. Because maybe they didn’t. Maybe they weren’t so bad. None of my brothers were violent or outwardly intolerant either. They were great at hiding it, and some of them probably weren’t even that conservative at all. That’s obviously how the secret society formed, but we all make our own choices. I had to make a choice too. I had to do something to become my own man, and stop letting my family dictate how the world should see me. The brotherhood fed into a militia. Not everyone joined it, but it was an option. I continued to pretend, and took the path towards that anti-government group. They accepted me, and armed me, and it wasn’t long before they decided to plan an attack on the capitol. Before they could, I warned the authorities, and got the place raided. I finally made the right choice, and it was my last.

Microstory 1755: A Man Named Monoceros

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Yes, Monoceros is my real name. Yes, it’s—more or less—the same as a unicorn, which is why that’s my twin sister’s name. No, my parents were not on drugs when they had us. No, I’ve never thought about changing it, and neither has my sister. It’s not even the most interesting thing about us, but it is related. Something went wrong while we were developing in the womb, which made both of us come out with slight protrusions on our heads, reminiscent of a one-horned animal. This protrusion lessened in my sister over time, which is kind of a ripoff, because hers is already a pretty name that people don’t make fun of very much. Mine is still here. In fact, I would say it’s larger, but my parents disagree, and say that my whole head is obviously just larger than it was when I was a baby. I’ve tried to wear an afro to cover it up, but that doesn’t look great on me, and kids would just make fun of that instead. The teasing and bullying got to be so bad that we left the area completely. The same people who gave us these unusual names actually packed everything up, and moved us across state lines just so I could start over with a new strategy. I can’t figure them out either. Perhaps they secretly regret giving us such insensitive names, and have since tried to become better people. This time, they spoke with the principal before the start of my sophomore year, and told her what my situation was. Not only did she have the advantage of being able to get ahead of the bullying before it ever happened, she proved herself to be kinder, and better equipped to handle someone like me. My sister was a little in love with her because of how good she was to me, but don’t worry. This isn’t a sad or disturbing story. I might even call it uplifting.

So what did I do to keep anyone from finding out what my head looked like? I wore a hat, and I claimed it was for religious purposes. My sister wore a variation of the same design to sell the lie. All of the faculty and staff were told this as well so that only the principal knew the whole truth. People get really skittish about religion, so they didn’t question me. Occasionally, a substitute teacher would take their opportunity to yell at me for it, but there was always at least one student in the class who defended me, and called them a bigot. That usually shut them down right quick. Even with those heroes, the kids at my new high school were generally about as mean to each other as they are anywhere. Some of them teased me anyway, because my name was still Monoceros, but a lot of them thought it sounded badass, so it evened out. One girl in particular said she liked it. On my first day, before everyone had learned about my fake religious hat, she called out a group of boys who were mocking me. She didn’t know anything about me, but she instantly showed compassion, and I think I fell in love in that very moment. She was so popular, but for all the right reasons, because she was nice, so people left me alone if they were worried about displeasing her. I know, this story sounds familiar. The awkward kid falls for the hottest girl in school, and they end up together, because they end up having a lot in common. Well, that’s not what happened. We went out on what turned out to be a platonic date, and I professed my feelings. She let me down easy, and told me that she just wanted to be friends. As you can see, we’ve stayed close all these years, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s married now, and so am I. She was the one who convinced me to take off my hat forever, and be confident in myself—to be confident as myself. So what about you? How do you two know each other?

Microstory 1482: President From Earth

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Things were pretty bad after the Deathspring sent a bunch of people from Earth to Durus. The Durune didn’t want them there, and the Earthans didn’t want to be there. Two seemingly contradictory things were happening at the same time, which sort of fed into each other. Durus was trying to get rid of all the misogynistic laws of the past, and become a more just society, but they were struggling to accomplish that with all these refugees here. So they treated those refugees poorly, and didn’t really give them that much thought. They tucked them away in isolated camps, and got to work on rebuilding their government from the ground up. It was years before they started listening to the people who were trying to explain to them that the Earthans would be able to help them do that. After all, they had just come from a world of equality and fairness, so maybe they had a few pointers? Well, it took some time, and a military state, but society eventually figured it out. Some of the Earthans went back home with the Elizabeth Warren interstellar ship, along with a few Durune who wanted to start new lives, but for everyone left, there didn’t appear to be much chance of further rescue, so the best thing to do for the Earthans was to dig in, and get used to the here and now, instead of dwelling on what might have been. That got easier over the course of the next two decades as policy adapted to the diverse population. One major thing to further this philosophy came in 2185, when the first person to have been born on Earth was elected as president of the Democratic Republic of Durus. They were long past the elitism and bigotry that formed in 2161, but it was still a huge step for the original Durune. On the other side, the Earthans had mostly accepted this as their new home, and that was impressive as well. Everyone was a native now. As for the new president himself, things were a little rough. Earth had moved so far beyond a standard representative democracy by then that he had some trouble understanding that Durus was not technologically advanced enough for a comparable system. He had to make a lot of mistakes, and reach some compromises, and he only lasted one term, but it was a decent start.

Microstory 1471: Salmon Battalion

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In an alternate timeline, the paramounts on Durus started a war with the regular humans. Most of them didn’t actually believe that those with time powers were superior to those without, but they were tired of the Provisional Government, and they wanted to see real change in their world. They figured creating a common enemy for the native Durune, and the Earthan refugees, to fight would unify them. Well, that part of the plan worked, but the part where they would arbitrarily end the war, and try to form a peaceful union for all, was lost. Some of the paramounts decided they were happy with this new direction. Yeah, people with powers were better, and they ought to be ruling the planet. As one might imagine, this caused a lot of problems, and the sort of fake war transformed into a real one, with plenty of empowered people on both sides. This meant that it would probably end in the total destruction of humanity on the rogue world. Worried this would happen, and not wanting the fighting to continue either way, a time traveling paramount went back to the Deathspring in 2161, and purposefully made sure that he was sent to Earth. Once there, he contacted someone named The Overseer, who was the go-to leader for any major endeavor that involved salmon and choosing ones working together. Salmon were a subspecies of humans who experienced nonlinear time, but lived under the control of a mysterious group called the powers that be, while choosers were people with powers, who could choose to use them at will. They were the Earthan equivalent of paramounts, and they had a pretty reliable network, which could make things happen. One of these groups was called the salmon battalion. It consisted of a few hundred people from all over time and space. They fought in various wars throughout the timeline, turning the tide to their leaders’ will, which was generally to ultimately create peace. Some members fought only in one battle, while others were more long-term participants, and these people cycled in and out of the battalion as necessary. The Overseer was not in charge of the battalion, but she could petition for aid if she felt it was warranted, and the powers that be were obliged to at least consider the request. Though Durus was beyond their scope, they agreed to come set things right. The highest number of simultaneous battalion members transported to Durus, and created a new timeline, which wiped away the formation of the New Crusades. They took control of the government, just for the time being, and started the Salmon Battalion Military State.

Now, this was a scary thing to call it, and though they kept the peace through peaceful means, the battalion did use that fear to keep people in line. They didn’t tolerate violence, or bigotry, or the infringement of people’s rights. They let protestors speak their peace, but most people eventually became glad that the battalion was here. They brought with them people who were experienced with democratic procedures, and though these experts didn’t dictate how the new republic would be set up, they did provide them with a lot of great advice. They helped them figure out what the Durune leaders would be called, and what responsibilities they would have. They helped build the capitol, so the new government would have a place to work out of. They helped set up the 2168 Special Election, so the first administration could star making decisions on their own. And finally, they helped them draft the Constitution, so that everyone would understand what the laws were, and what was expected of them as citizens. To that end, they wanted to ensure that every single person on the planet was considered a full citizen, whether they descended from Earthans who came in 2016, or if they just had arrived in 2161. Everyone, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, race, color, religion, disability, age, or temporal status would be treated as an equal, and enjoy the same rights as everyone else. As far as what the paramounts were allowed to do with their time powers, the battalion left that up to the administration, and the people of Durus. Immediately following the special election, which established the leadership until at least 2175, nearly all members of the salmon battalion left Durus, and returned to their respective time periods on Earth, or on to the next mission. Only a few key officers remained behind to tie up loose ends, and answer any lingering questions. In the end, the people were grateful to the battalion for them having been there.

Microstory 1253: Raphael Neville

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Though he was born and raised on Earth, Raphael Neville spent a healthy chunk of his life on Durus. He was an unwilling participant in the 2161 Deathspring, which saw to it that thousands of refugees were helplessly pulled up to a passing rogue planet. This occurred in the middle of his wedding with one Wayne Crawford, so he didn’t care, because as long as he was with the love of his life, it didn’t matter where they lived. Things were difficult for the refugees in the beginning, though. The native Durune, which were all relatively recent descendants of Earthans themselves, developed a nationalist-like attitude towards the newcomers. This was only exacerbated by the bigotry that plagued the government at the time. Though society was improving, and wising up to the logic behind equality, it would be a long time before the world truly functioned properly. Still, this was where Wayne and Raphael made their life together. There was no way back, so they had to make the best of it, and find joy where they could. Though institutionalized misogyny had been abolished, there were still a lot of men who believed that women could not be trusted, and even some who outright believed they were inferior. They were objects to be owned by a man, and treated however that man wished. One of these men decided that he wasn’t going to accept how the world had changed, and mostly as an act of defiance, he raped a neighbor of his. Not only did he not try to keep her quiet about what happened, but he proudly boasted of his conquest, to anyone who would listen. Of course, he was arrested for his crime, and was never given the opportunity to hurt anyone again, but this is not his story.

The young woman belonged to a religion that didn’t believe in abortion. She didn’t have to raise the baby herself, but she wasn’t allowed to not give birth. She did not feel pressured to follow these rules; they were part of her convictions as well. But she also could not take care of the child. It was the product of rape, and she didnt feel like she could handle that constant reminder. And so Raphael and Wayne adopted the little baby girl, naming her Vitalie Crawville. Before too long, some other people came to Durus in a ship, which provided a chance for a select few to be ferried to Earth, whether they had been part of the Deathspring, or otherwise. Wayne was ecstatic. He would finally be back where he felt he belonged, and might once more get to see everyone else he loved. Raphael did not feel the same way. He was against leaving. He and his husband were both from Earth, but their daughter was from Durus. Did she not have the right to know her own home? They fought about it for months until he felt like it was no longer worth it, and just gave in. After they were all three chosen as passengers, they boarded The Elizabeth Warren, and began the years-long journey to the homeworld. Little Vitalie grew up on Durus, and then on that ship, where they learned she possessed a special time power, and then she grew up some more on Earth. She had made friends with the crew, because of her gift, so her life took her on many adventures with her new friends; away from her fathers. Raphael began to resent his husband for having forced them into this, believing that they would have had more time with their daughter if they had just stayed put. The fighting started again, and eventually threatened their marriage. Only through hard work, and professional help, did they get through it. Raphael was able to accept that his new life was here, and that Vitalie was now old enough to live her own life wherever she wanted. That was really all he ever wanted for her.

Microstory 1212: Faustus Lambert

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When the Deathspring came for a seemingly random scattering of Earthan residents, most were unhappy about it, but not as unhappy as one might assume. While the magic portal seemed to take people at random, it often took multiple people within a community sphere; as if it were being controlled by some kind of intelligence. Entire families were swept up, even if they happened to be standing nowhere near one another. The worst losses the refugees felt were the people they loved, but many of their loved ones were taken along with them, so it could have been far worse. This was why—despite how difficult life was on Durus—not everyone lobbied to be transported back to Earth when the opportunity arose. Only a couple hundred people expressed interest in making the journey, and out of those, only about half had come in the Deathspring. The rest were born on Durus, and just didn’t want to live there anymore. Faustus Lambert did not fall into either of these groups. He saw the arrival of the interstellar vessel, The Elizabeth Warren as a means of furthering his own agenda, but its flight plan didn’t matter much to him. He was an entitled prick, to be quite crude, but appropriate and accurate. Durus, Earth; he could live anywhere, as long as there were those who would give him what he wanted most, which was attention. Under the guise of being an advocate for his people, he orchestrated a violent attack on the of the Warren, and demanded they let them tag along as passengers. The truth was, however, that their feelings and desires were of little consequence to him. They were just tools. Faustus didn’t care who his people were. They could be puppy-kickers, Nazis, or serial killers. He just wanted to lead. More to the point, he wanted people to follow him—not because he thought he knew best, but because it made him feel relevant.

Faustus lived a rather comfortable life from the very beginning. He was born male, so he had that going for him. He outright rejected the idea that women were systematically treated unequally, while simultaneously treating women poorly. His beliefs were no less true anywhere than they were on Durus during its phallocratic era. He wasn’t a violent rapist, but unfortunately, that was more problematic in its own way. Had he committed even one assault, it would have at least been possible to arrest him, but he just continued with his life, never breaking the law, but never following the spirit of the law either. He abused his girlfriends psychologically, but too subtly for them to prove anything, even to themselves. He cheated on his partners frequently, and while he didn’t ever do anything with a minor, he sure did like them young. He had an unwritten rule that he couldn’t date anyone over the age of 20. This lasted until he was 35, and could no longer “score” so young, so he raised his limit to 25, but only because he had to. When the public learned that the only ship on the planet capable of transporting more than one person was scheduled to leave within a matter of months, Faustus took his shot to get those precious followers. He quickly changed his tune on a number of sociopolitical causes; pretending to champion women’s rights and Earthan refugee living conditions. Anytime anyone brought up his history of bigotry and misogyny, he simply denied their allegations. Anytime anyone presented proof that he was lying, he doubled down, and claimed that it was nothing more than fake news. Faustus took control of the movement that was trying to get to Earth, and nobody felt like they could fight him on the matter. His new people thought he could get them on that ship, and if that meant they were following a dishonest clown to do it, then so be it. In the end, the majority of the people who wanted to go were allowed in, but all the violent people—the ones who took the crew hostage—were completely excluded, including Faustus himself. He was finally sent to prison for his proven crimes, and this was where he died, alone and unremembered.

Microstory 1040: Jerry

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I’ve only lived in Blast City for a couple of years, so if you’re looking for a different perspective than you’re getting from these townies, you’ve come to the right place. I don’t know what reason your family had for moving, but mine had to do it because of me. I grew up in a really red state, but my mother had a really good job, and they thought they would be able to survive. My first high school was the absolute worst, though. In the summer after eighth grade, I asked if I could become a cheerleader, which they had no problem with whatsoever. They were actually getting a little worried that I wasn’t interested in anything. It was a bit too late to sign up for cheer camp, but they made tons of calls, and found me a place that was far away, but really open to beginners. Most of the other kids had been really active their whole lives, even if they were switching from gymnastics, or acrobatics, or whatnot. They were so incredibly supportive and patient with me while I was catching up. So you can see why, even though I knew my hometown was more conservative, it was a huge shock when I was met with such backlash when I tried out for my school’s cheer squad. It’s the 21st century, you would think there would be protections for diversity just about everywhere in this country, but no. They just shut the door on my request, and wouldn’t even entertain the possibility. In the end there was no fighting it. They seemed more angry when I mentioned I wasn’t gay, because then I wasn’t afflicted with the homosickness—their word, not mine—I was just confused and weird. Well, we learned about this place, which we found surprising progressive for a small town. My mom was offered a really good job at the club, though still not as good as what she had, and I will never be able to pay her back for that. You may be wondering why I’m even telling this story, and what it was to do with Viola. The truth is, everything. The issue with my old school was tragic and traumatizing for me and my family, but it didn’t make national news, or anything. Perhaps it should have, but I guess we just didn’t make a big enough stink. Viola herself actually called me out of the blue, and acted like she worked for your paper, Alma. She said she had heard what happened to me, and wanted to tell my story. We got sidetracked, and she brought up an open position at the club, and let me know how much safer and loving Blast City Senior High was. It was she who suggested we move all the way out here, though she did a great job making me think I had thought of it myself. It wasn’t until my second week in that I realized the whole thing was made up. She didn’t work for the school paper, and the article never existed. Even then, I never found out how she found out about me, let alone got her hands on my phone number. I’ll tell you what, though, I’ll always be grateful she did. I’m captain of the cheer squad now.

Microstory 999: The Unknown...

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As a budding amateur futurologist, it’s my job to understand what’s going to happen in the future. For many people in the field, they’re responsible for predicting market trends before they even happen, or understanding when the current trends will end. They know how technology is advancing, and how that will impact their employer’s business. Or maybe they’re a journalist who has to know what stories to tell, and when, in order to remain topical. Political pundits have to recognize the consequences or our leader’s decisions. I am not quite like these people. I look more at the big picture so I can tell reasonably believable stories. Just watch the Back to the Future franchise, where they grossly overestimated how advanced we would be in the future. Now of course that’s okay, no one is imprisoning Robert Zemeckis because he didn’t employ a futurologist, who might have warned him we won’t have flying cars in 2015. Part of it is that I want my stories to be as prescient as possible, but I also just really like reading predictions, and making some myself. At the same time, what’s really fascinating about the future, and many things in the present, is the mysterious unknown. The majority of the sea is unexplored, as is almost all of outer space. We still don’t know if the quantum universe is ruled by subatomic particles, or just vibrating strings. And how exactly the hell does the brain even do literally anything it does? How little we know about life, the universe, and everything is a frightening thought. Count yourself lucky if you don’t suffer from OCD, because I regularly find myself questioning my very existence, and feeling a profoundly deep fear for the possibility that I may die, and what comes after is—not even darkness—but completely nothing. Yet there is comfort in our ignorance; the same kind religious people get by believing in some higher power that’s responsible for all the good and bad. There’s a relief in the hope that things can get better, because there’s no real proof that it won’t. How difficult would it be to persist if we knew with certainty that King Dumpster would be on his throne of lies for six more years, instead of only two? The Unknown can be bad, which is why we fear the darkness, and why many people are bigoted and intolerant. If you don’t know what it is, it could be dangerous. People get hurt all the time because they stick their noses where they don’t belong. Think noodling, but in a grander capacity. One of my favorite proverbs comes from one of my least favorite countries, and was famously repeated by one of my least favorite presidents, Ronald Reagan. Doveryai, no proveryai is Russian for trust, but verify. Exercise caution, but don’t be afraid to explore, and try new things. Things could end poorly, like they did for Viola Woods in my next series, but it could also be the greatest thing ever.

Microstory 650: An Escaped Murderer Kills No More

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This is one of those taikon that are hard to judge, which is why it’s so important that we have trained and conscientious verifiers to make sure that all events in question qualify. Lightseers have been worried about this one since the Book of Light was first written. It describes the life of a murderer who changes his ways. It doesn’t say who this killer is, why he’s meant to stop, or even what amount of time is supposed to pass. All humans are potentially immortal. Even those who haven’t worked hard enough to gain access to transhumanistic upgrades still have access to basic medical treatments that can extend life by decades...centuries, even. Though many of us never worry about death, or at least death by old age, we still measure time by the same lifespans of old. In fact, lifetime remains a legal term in most courts. Seventy standard years is used in sentencing systems as a baseline to determine how much punishment an offender deserves, be it more, or less. It is for this reason, and other traditions, that people still experience their lives in increments of about seven decades. People often alter their lifestyles to account for these transitions, as arbitrary as they may be to medical science. Because of this, believers were unwilling to wait however long it may take for an escaped murder to prove that he has stopped killing. Does the clock start once the taikon themselves begin, or can a murder have effectively quit long before, and somehow qualifies now. Fortunately for the more impatient amongst us, the former turned out to be the right answer.

Peve Stannon is considered to be one of the worst serial killers of all time; in this galaxy, and likely beyond. Of course, murder in Fostea is completely legal, as it’s a free choice that any central government would be powerless to prohibit. There are many good reasons to kill someone else; personal vengeance, business purposes, or even to protect others. Peve Stannon did not kill for these reasons, though. He did it for fun, and he was quite particular. Stannon went after people who his twisted sense of morality told him were too different than him to be trusted. He didn’t like being around those who were not heterosexual (which includes most everybody), those with darker skin, or people who chose to associate themselves with diversity. As terrible as it was to live under the rule of the dirty communists back in Lactea, one thing they had going for them was their ability to accept others for who they are, which is a sentiment we continue today, if only that. Stannon got his ideas by studying the planet isolate, Earth, which is where Fosteans lived for a brief time during its early civilizations. Since then, racism and homophobia has come and gone to the Earthan peoples. They are now living in the middle of the first decade of their third millennium, and things seem to be going okay. Decades earlier, though, bigotry and hatred were almost ubiquitous, with an entire political party being built on the platform of killing people who were different than them; their main issue being those of a rival religion. They ultimately resulted in the deaths of millions of people. We fight against our rivals as well, but we do so on an even playing field, and our goal is to show them The Light, not to simply be rid of them. Peve Stannon was fascinated by their behavior, and that of others later on, notably a white skin supremacists group who, umm...dressed up like ghosts? Stannon went on several killing sprees for years, eventually killing thousands of people. He was finally caught by a collective of the survivors of many of his victims, who created a court system for the sake of hunting, and prosecuting, Stannon. Sadly, Stannon escaped from the prison they built for him, and has spent years hiding out, having left no trace of where he might be going. But one thing he did do was spend the rest of his life without killing anybody else. His body was found in the middle of the woods by the survey team shortly after former Eido, Mateo’s departure from this universe. Verifiers still don’t know how he ended up on Kesliperia, or Hargrave Peninsula, but decided that he had died recently enough to qualify for the fiftieth taikon.

Rogue Possession: Masquerade (Part III)

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On the eighth day of the eleventh month of 2016, one of the worst candidates in history was elected president of the United States of America. He and his team had executed one of the most successful and intense campaigns in history as well. With unprecedented technical support from Russia, and an undying need for rural citizens to “change the status quo” Donald Trump managed to secure nearly half of the popular vote. Though he did lose the popular vote, he took the right votes in the right states to gain an advantage in the electoral college. The electoral college is composed of merely hundreds of people who are the only ones whose votes actually matter. Everyone else’s vote, in that time in history, was irrelevant. Fortunately—this only being the latest in a string of presidents elected while losing the popular vote—the country was moved to begin election reform, which ultimately abolished the electoral college system altogether.

Immediately following Trump’s upset win, however, the country faced extreme dissension. The U.S. had not experienced this level of discord since the so-called “Civil War” of the mid-19th century. Trump supporters were angry about the state of affairs, believing their dreams to be systematically crushed by the establishment, and desiring any level of change. Many people voted for him just so that there would be some kind of change to the administration. They did not necessarily agree with everything, or really anything, he said. They just hoped that trusting the devil they didn’t know would, at the very least, result in a paradigm shift enough to give everyone new perspective. What it did, unfortunately, was cause an increase in anger from the other side. Entire groups of states threatened secession; again, at a level not seen since the Civil War. Family members were pitted against each other, and would spend years, sometimes their entire lives, no longer speaking. There was, however, hope.

Donald Trump was not nearly as bad as he made himself out to be during the campaign. He was extraordinarily misogynistic and insensitive. He would make exceptionally unsavory remarks about others. His followers either denied he said these things, as Trump would, or trail off and pretend to get a phone call. Or they would admit that they were either okay, or even happy, with his comments. It was these supporters who at least had balls. Trump, on the other hand, did not believe everything he said about repealing a health initiative that provided insurance to millions of people who could not before afford it. He did not want to ban Muslims, nor build a wall between the U.S. and Mexico. What this man lacked were convictions, and consistency. He would regularly contradict himself, but the real problem with that, was that his voters were fine with it.

In the midst of further scandals of trying to get his family members security clearances despite their conflicts of interest, and other transition snafus, he made some interesting statements. He back-pedaled a large number of the campaign promises that he had made over the last year. He agreed to change, but not completely repeal, the aforementioned healthcare program. He changed his tune regarding Muslims and Mexicans. And he just generally began to sound more like a legitimate human being, and not just someone catering to the only people with any chance of voting him into office. As it turned out, much of what he said were simply lies designed to get people on his side. As it turned out, he was a brilliant businessman, who recognized early on the national schism, and used it to his advantage. As it turned out, he was not as hateful and twisted as many people were; he just knew how to exploit their bigotry and stupidity, so that they would think he was just like them.

Throughout all of his loud and outrageous claims, there was one issue he chose to remain quiet on. He didn’t care that people thought he was racist, or complained about recorded conversations of his that had been leaked. He didn’t care that people made fun of his orange skin, or fake hair. He didn’t care that people thought he was unqualified for a political position, or pointed out his business corruption. He didn’t care that people noticed he had received a million dollar loan from his father when he was just starting out, and was actually very much nothing like the working-class voters who wanted one of their own to win. He didn’t care about any of that. He just wanted everyone to look away so that he could win the election, and utilize his power to do the only real thing he truly wanted. Russia. He was an adamant supporter of Russian policies, and believed that the only logical path for the U.S. was to strengthen its bond with Russia. His claims were not completely unwarranted, but they were dangerous. They could result in catastrophe for the entire world. For much of Russian practice was rooted in homophobia and other backwards beliefs. In the end, the United States shouldn’t become more like Russia, but Russia should become more like the United States.

By Michael Vadon, edited by User:Calliopejen1 [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Gilbert Boyce, newly created choosing one, possessed the body of a time traveler so that he could check in on the future. He saw Donald Trump win the election, and went back in time to stop it from happening, any way that he could. He found his efforts to be fruitless. He just could not do enough to fix the discriminatory feelings of the country’s populace. There were too many variables, and too much hatred. He was powerless. There was only one man who could stop this, but he was nearly impossible to infiltrate. Before and during the campaign, something was shrouding Donald Trump. Gilbert never quite figured out what it was, but he could not possess Trump’s body. He postulated that the campaign had invigorated Trump’s temporal powers, and protected him from influence from others. That is, Trump was so focused on his goals, that no one was capable of altering them, no matter how powerful they were. The election results changed all that.

Upon finally being declared the winner of the Office of the President, Donald Trump unwittingly relaxed his abilities. It was over, he no longer needed to work so hard to get people to believe in him. He had never intended on being president for any longer than four years, so he no longer needed to worry about what people thought of him. He could finally be himself, and it was that moment that allowed Gilbert Boyce to prevent it from happening. With all his strength still needed, he forced his mind and soul into Donald Trump’s body, and became one of the most divisive people in all of time. He spent weeks, trying his best to change things. He backtracked many of Trump’s original comments, and clarified a few others. He made no attempt to step down from the throne, or kill himself, for that would not effectively change the people’s minds. He could also only do so much, though. Possessing the body of such a strong-willed person proved to be difficult. Much of Trump’s personality remained, and forced its feelings upon the environment. He could never be completely suppressed, like other people could. Trump wasn’t weak enough, and Boyce wasn’t strong enough.

But it was something. It was hope. Things could get better. Gilbert could harness Trump’s powers of passive future manipulation, and turn his presidential term into something not quite as bad as it might have been. And it was possible that he wouldn’t have to do it at all. On December 19, the electoral college would hold the official vote. Though Trump had already been declared the winner, it was still technically possible for him to lose the electoral vote. The college didn’t have to vote him into the position. They could choose to go against their supposed state’s wishes, or they could abstain from voting at all. While Gilbert Boyce was trying to wrangle complete control of Donald Trump’s body, supports of Secretary Hillary Clinton were signing petitions, hoping to change the electoral college’s minds. Gilbert couldn’t actively support their efforts, but he was strong enough to not actively work against them. He could fix this. He could still make things right, as long as enough people were willing to help. But they weren’t, and he couldn’t.

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Microstory 362: Environmental Awareness

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Regional Pride

I have many passions. I’m a writer, avid TV watcher, urban hiker, rugged backpacker, camper, photographer, dancer, singer, canoer (is that a word?), skier, and probably so many more things that I can’t even remember. Please note that I’m not an expert on all of those; really only the first five. But I’m also passionate about social issues; almost all of them. If you’ve read enough of these essays, you’ve probably seen how angry I am about the lack of gay rights (a.k.a. human rights). One issue I don’t know I’ve mentioned before is the environment. It really bothers me how much paper people use. Do you really need to print that out? Is it really easier to read, or do you just like killing trees? There are so many things people can do to make the world a better place, including staying virtual. Shove electric car prices down, and build charging stations up. Tear down oil rigs, install solar panels on every house, raise wind turbines, and pull up geothermal energy. Invest in 3D printers, advanced telepresence and virtual reality, and telepathy to eliminate traffic. For when we do need to get places, build vactrains and precisely programmed driverless cars. Nanotechnology can assist with all these changes, but you know what will really facilitate it? Artificial general intelligence. Computers can make calculations with greater efficiency than any human. We saw one do it on the final chapter of Person of Interest. Sure, it was a dangerous machine that needed to be stopped, because it was killing people, but it was doing some good. In the right hands, ASI could solve all of our problems. I imagine a world with very few, and consolidated, cities. If we constructed buildings exceptionally high and close together, we wouldn’t need cars to get around. We would only need transportation to other cities while the space in between could be left to the wilderness. Yes, I said it. Destroy the cities of old, even the “historical landmarks”. The original historical landmark was Earth itself, and we were pretty excited to destroy that one. So why don’t we just get back to it. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?

Sexual Propagation

Microstory 361: Regional Pride

Click here for a list of every step.
Progressive Society

In order to write my Mateo Matic stories, since they take place primarily in the future, I’ve been doing a lot of research on future events. First of all, you should know that forms of immortality I’ve mentioned before are coming. That’s not just science fiction. With such advancements in nanorobotics, consciousness transference, and virtual reality, the physical will become less important. Borders will fade away, and many will choose to live rather nomadic lives. We won’t live in homes, because everything we need will be on our person at all times. It’ll no longer matter where anyone is from. Travel and exploration will just be something we do constantly. When you live forever, a fifteen year trip to another solar system suddenly no longer feels like a waste of time. But until then, I recognize your drive to be proud of your home. Just don’t take this too far. It’s okay when you cheer for your favorite sports team, and “hate” the opponent, but it becomes a problem when you love your country, and hate another. There’s a fat line between pride and bigotry, yet I see people crossing it all the time. One of the biggest problem I notice comes out of people who live in the U.S. south. Now I know southerners will cry hypocrisy, but it’s really not the same thing. When you wave your confederate flag (which, by the way, isn’t even the same one used during the war) you’re expressing a level of anti-patriotism that I can’t even fathom. Scrap everything about race and slavery, and you’re still on the wrong side of the argument. The war was also about a certain group of states attempting to secede from the union. They hated this country so much that they wanted to leave. When you paint the flag on the back window of your truck, or hang it on your clothes line, you identify yourself as someone who doesn’t consider themselves to be a United States citizen. It’s ironic, because you’re the one claiming to be patriotic, and screaming about immigration. Have pride in your region, but don’t let it stand in the way of love.

Environmental Awareness