Microstory 2392: Vacuus, December 26, 2179

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Dear Condor,

No, I don’t know which one of us is older than the other. We could have been born hours apart, for all I know. Well, that’s probably too long of a difference. You would think that Pascal would say something about it if that were the case. Unless, I guess, if he was out of town, or something. Was he even there? Has he never told you anything about what it was like when you were born? Probably not since his story would have been shaky from having no choice but to leave me out of it entirely. Let me get right into what happened. I’m glad that I talked to Elek sooner rather than later, because I might not have had another chance to tell you about it. Our scientists believe that the Valkyrie long-cycle is imminent. Unless something major happens to change their current projected trajectory, they’re coming for us, and they’ll be blocking transmissions for a really long time. Theoretically, the only thing that could affect them enough for them to change their path would be a gravitational body of significant mass-density. That would be even worse, because it would probably cross the Roche limit, and collide into Vacuus. I told you that I would be getting into what happened, then went off on a tangent. Sorry. Elek. When I approached him earlier today, he seemed very scared. I don’t think he read our messages, or anything, but I think he knew that this conversation would be coming at some point. We were bound to put the pieces together eventually. He actually seemed relieved when I demanded answers about the study. Attached is the full transcript of our conversation. Our laws say that I can record audio on the base with everyone’s permission,  but I can’t record video. It’s a little weird, but it would be a lot to compress anyway. Here are the highlights. The program had been going on for a hell of a lot longer than we realized. Madalena was only hired for its most recent iteration. They tried this with other missions prior to this, including lunar bases and Martian outposts. They have always wanted to know how one person would fare across contradictory realities, and twins are the closest thing they can come to gaining any insight on that. The thing about us being fraternal twins was the result of a series of concessions they had to make over the years. It started out as one would think, with the ideal conditions, and no legal qualms. They just kept changing it and changing it until it became all but pointless. Elek observed me as I grew up, and took some notes, which he showed me, and they’re all attached too. They weren’t very detailed, and his heart wasn’t in. It was just stupid from the beginning, but they sunk so much money into it, they didn’t want to let it go. They since have, disbanding entirely, and the various players no longer communicate with each other. He thought that Madalena was dead, but he’s pretty sure most of the others on Earth are indeed gone. After this I think it’s time we put this whole thing to rest. It sounds like it’s all over, and nothing really came of it. Now let’s just be. Let’s be twins who talk via weekly letters.

Until the Valkyries descend upon us,

Corinthia

Microstory 2358: Vacuus, July 16, 2179

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Dear Condor,

There was a short delay in my response to you because I read your letter, and decided that I wanted to implement your suggestion regarding my new noisy neighbor, then wait to see if it worked. It seems to have, at least for now. I kind of maybe got the feeling that I will eventually have to reset my connection to him after he forgets. I’m not saying that he’s dumb, but I noticed he would regularly lose his train of thought, and forget key aspects of the stories that he was telling. I came to find out that researchers here are aware of his issues. They’re still not certain if he would have developed this way had he been born on Earth, or if there’s something specific to this environment that led to his neurological shortcomings. Right now, they’re leaning towards the latter. All children are different, but others have shown similar signs of developmental problems that need to be addressed. At the moment, there are still some variables that they have to account for, so they can’t arrive at any conclusion on the cause. This is a relatively small population. There must have been something about the progenitors’ own psychology that made them want to come here at all, and they all had to pass certain tests to qualify. These factors, along with others, limit the gene pool, making it more difficult to test hypotheses when it comes to determining the effects that this world might have on humans as a rule. I have to say, I’m surprised I didn’t know anything about any of this before. I guess they’re trying to keep it hush-hush. It is funny, though, they might be missing out on valuable data by keeping the rest of us in the dark. I belong to a subset of the population: children who had no choice but to travel to this world; born on Earth, grown up on the ship, and working on the base. The criteria for our selection was different than it was for the adults, of course. Studying us may tell them something that they’re not seeing now. I’m not gonna let them know about this, because I’m already a test subject, and I don’t need to add to that pressure. I still can’t find anyone who will tell me what exactly they’ve learned from the whole twins separated at birth study. I don’t know which team might be responsible for that, and I can’t get the top brass to even admit that it’s a thing. In a way, my situation is not dissimilar to Bray’s. We’re both being studied against our will. I think that’s what really endeared him to me, and honestly, this street seems to go both ways. He has had a much harder life than I realized, and I think that he also sometimes wishes that he were on Earth. I’m not saying it was okay that he was playing music while I was trying to sleep, but I kind of understand this behavior better now. They weren’t watching him in secret. They were really in his face about it, and they probably just made everything worse. I do not envy him, and it really puts our situation into perspective, don’t you think?

Sleeping in the quiet once more,

Corinthia

Microstory 2321: Vacuus, September 26, 2178

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Dear Condor,

Thank you for the sentiment regarding my job. I’m okay whether it’s important or not. It gives me something to do, and besides, it’s not like I have to sit and stare at the alarm for hours on end. There are other tasks, like making sure communications are running smoothly. I mean the communications between various outposts on Vacuus, not to other planets. It would give me a lot more freedom if I had full access to those systems. I would probably know more about Earth than you! Speaking of interplanetary communications, I should have said earlier that they’re going to be down for the next couple of weeks or so. They’re overhauling the entire system, which is something they do every three Earthan years. We’re still on your schedule, which I’m sure you’ve noticed since I’m dating these messages according to your calendar. That’s not just for your benefit. There are certainly no local periodic astronomical phenomena to base anything off of. Anyway, back to the explanation about the systems. Obviously, they update the software about once per month to make it faster, more efficient, and just better overall. But at the end of what they call a Research Cycle, they also upgrade the hardware, because those software updates stop being enough to keep up with advancing technologies, and operational needs. We have all sorts of anniversaries here. The day we launched, the day we landed, the day the first baby was born on Vacuus. One of these “anniversaries” only happens every three years, because we were on this planet for that long before people finally felt like we weren’t just trying to survive, but actively starting to conduct stable daily research as true Vacuans. I dunno, it seems kind of arbitrary to me. No one day marked the end of survival mode, and the beginning of thriving mode, but it’s a pretty big deal. It doesn’t actually happen until the end of October, but that’s when we celebrate it, so they always want the big overhaul to be finished by then. I definitely won’t be able to send you any messages, but it’s a two-way street as far as the transceiver goes, so your messages to me won’t come through either, and in fact, may not even be waiting on a server somewhere for me to read later. I may not ever be able to read a message that tried to come through during the upgrades. If you do try to send something—as people used to say in the olden days—it could get lost in the mail. I’ll hit you back when systems are up and running again. I apologize for not warning you about this sooner. I just forgot about it, because I have to do so much to prepare as part of my job, and I’ve never spoken to anyone who doesn’t already know everything about it.

Until we can talk again,

Corinthia

Extremus: Year 93

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In New Migration Theory, there is a concept of a “true native”, which is academically known as the rooted generation in order to avoid charged sociopolitical connotations. A true native would be anyone who identifies as such, and can reasonably consider themselves that way. Trying to establish a particular definition would undoubtedly offend people. The rooted generation, however, refers to very specific people born to a given area. The Void Migration Ship Extremus is about to experience it, and the keystone for this species really just depends on who happens to be born first.

When the original passengers of Extremus first boarded the ship, they were leaving their home behind. They knew that they would never see the destination planet, but they didn’t do it for them. They did it for the descendants. Even now, after all this time, not a single person on board is expected to be alive to see the mission realized. It will be up to those who have not yet been born. Until then, the rooted generation will be in reference to a native of the generational ship itself. Again, they don’t for sure know who that is yet, but they know what the trigger was. Naruhito Arethusa was three years old on Launch Day, making him one of the youngest babies to board. He wasn’t the absolute youngest, but lifespans aren’t all the same, so others have died already, making him the last man standing. While he had no intact memories of Gatewood, he technically lived there. He was a Gatewooder. He was 96, and is survived by his children, grandchild, and great grandchildren.

Naruhito being the last Gatewooder is an important milestone in Extremus history. Everyone alive today was born on the ship. He was too young to be able to decide for himself whether he wanted to board the ship or not, but he still had influence on the decision, if only subconsciously for his family. No one else here even had the hope of altering this decision. It had already happened. The first member of the rooted generation is one who will have a temporal gap between them and Gatewood. Of course, knowledge and stories have been passed down the years, so it’s not like this big mystery, but they will never meet a Gatewooder. Everyone who sees this future person will be an Extremusian who never saw Gatewood themselves. The distinction between this baby, and everyone else who was born here, is not meant to cause some kind of generational divide. It’s not there to cause anyone to other anyone else. It is just, again, a milestone. Whichever baby is born first will become the first member of the rooted generation, and its inherent value is enough to warrant some form of celebration. This achievement was never inevitable. A million things could have happened in the last 93 years to prevent its success. Yet through it all, Extremus and its passengers have persevered. The rooted generation is a testament to that. The job isn’t over yet, but this is still an accomplishment. Or it will be anyway, once the baby is born.

The problem that Tinaya is facing today is one which no one thought would happen. It didn’t occur to them that this issue should arise, and cause conflict between otherwise perfectly normal and well-adjusted families. “This is highly irregular, Dr. Cernak.” After Dr. Ima Holmes died, Captain Soto Tamm appointed a new Chief Medical Officer, though Tinaya can’t remember her name at the moment. Whoever it was, they coincidentally retired at around the same time that the captain’s seat was changing butts. One of the last things that Lataran did was appoint Radomil Cernak to the position. “Why are you treating a passenger, and why have you brought me here?”

“I’ll let her explain,” Dr. Cernak replies.

A very pregnant woman is sitting sort of between them in a wheelchair. Her doula is holding onto the handles, and showing no signs that she’s going to say anything herself. “My name is Veta Vivas, and my child’s name will be...” She pauses to create a sense of anticipation. No one is feeling it; they’re more annoyed. “Root. Root Vivas.”

“Congratulations,” Tinaya says politely, not understanding why she should care. If this were an emergency, the tone of the room, and the behavior of the medical staff, would be quite different. “When are you due?”

“Unfortunately, a week from now,” Veta answers. “The Wiegand baby is due in three days.” Back in the olden days, a baby’s due date was only ever the best guestimation. Few babies actually came into the world on time. Some were early, some were late. These days, with advances in medical science, the date is generally spot on, even if it has to be adjusted slightly during the gestational period as development presents a clearer pattern. This late in the process, however, doctors are never wrong.

But Tinaya. She still doesn’t know what this has to do with her.

“I have put in a request to induce labor,” Veta goes on. I want Root to be born now, or his name will just sound stupid.”

“You’re rejecting it?” Tinaya asks Dr. Cernak, not accusatorily.

“I wasn’t the first,” Dr. Cernak explains. “Like you said, she’s not my patient. She...escalated the issue when she didn’t receive the answer she was hoping for.”

Tinaya nods, and looks back at Veta. “You want your child to be the first in the rooted generation.”

“He deserves it. We deserve it.”

“You realize that inducing labor in order to give one particular family this privilege is not only unfair to other parents, but goes against the spirit of the milestone. We don’t get to decide who turns out to be the first to take root. That is time’s job.”

“So you’re rejecting us as well,” Veta figures.

“I’m not rejecting anything,” Tinaya argues. “This is a medical concern. I’m the captain. I don’t understand why you’re bugging me with this.” She’s still looking squarely at Veta. She doesn’t blame Dr. Cernak for seeking help with the problem. She can tell by everyone’s respective demeanor that this is not the beginning of the conversation, but the middle of a long one. Tinaya has so far gone down in history as the least polite captain. Even Tamm was charming and beloved by many until the scandal blackened the lines of his story. Tinaya is the oldest to hold command, and she doesn’t take any shit. People know this about her, and they respect her for it. She’s not losing any popularity contests because of it either. The captain has to be firm, even if that means some people don’t get their way.

“This is Root’s birthright, literally,” Veta insists. “We were trying to conceive for months before we sought medical assistance.

Tinaya is flabbergasted by this response. “First off, if you had successfully conceived earlier, then you would be having a different child, rather than the one you’re having now. Secondly, and more importantly, Naruhito Arethusa died yesterday. This other hypothetical child would not have had any hope of being the first in the rooted generation as they would have been born months ago.”

“We don’t see it that way,” Veta says matter-of-factly. “My husband and I were really close to conceiving 280 days ago today.”

Tinaya sighs. “Dr. Cernak, I’m asking you one last time, are you rejecting Mrs. Vivas’ petition for the inducement of labor?”

“I am rejecting the petition,” Dr. Cernak confirms.

Tinaya studies Veta’s eyes. “Please place Mrs. Vivas on safety watch for the remainder of her pregnancy, and clear your schedule to perform the delivery procedure yourself once the time comes.”

Veta is fuming. “What the hell! You can’t do that! I’m not suicidal!”

“Safety watch is not about suicide alone,” Tinaya begins. “It’s about the risk that you pose to yourself, and-or to others. “You have exhausted all of your legal options for the inducement of labor, and I can tell that you are willing to explore alternative methods, which would not be safe for you, nor your baby. If you don’t already know what they are,” Tinaya says before looking up at the doula, “she surely does. You will stay in quarantine until you have the baby. Should something happen to delay the Wiegand baby’s birth, you may get your wish, but we will not be assisting in this regard. My word is final.” She turns around to leave, suddenly realizing her grave error.

“You can’t do this!” Veta screams. “Root is the root! Root is the root!” She sounds like she’s thrashing about. The security guard posted in the infirmary runs over to help.

Tinaya teleports to the passenger hospital, and approaches the reception desk. “I need to look up a patient. I don’t need any medical data on her, just the name of her obstetrician.” She submits the name, then proceeds to Dr. Causey’s office.

“Captain, this is quite the surprise, and an honor. If you are looking for discreet treatment, I promise you that I can offer it, no questions asked.”

Tinaya has never heard of a member of the executive crew seeking medical attention from someone who enjoys a distance from scrutiny, but perhaps it’s happened. If it’s true, it’s none of Tinaya’s business. “That’s very kind of you, but it won’t be necessary. I need you to place a patient of yours on safety watch. A...rival of hers is determined to predate her date of delivery.”

Dr. Causey nods. “Veta Vivas; I am aware. Lena has already expressed her concerns to me regarding this one-sided conflict. You believe she is in danger?”

“I made the mistake of telling Mrs. Vivas that her child may end up winning if something happens to Mrs. Wiegand. I meant it innocuously, but immediately grew concerned that she might encourage someone to force a delay...or worse.”

Dr. Causey nods again. “That is a scary thought, however, my patient is willing to trade delivery dates to avoid any social unrest. She has no strong feelings about her child becoming the first rooted descendant, and recognizes that it’s evidently quite important to this Veta Vivas.”

“That will not be happening,” Tinaya contends. “Perhaps if you had made this arrangement sooner, it might have worked, but now it’s too late. I cannot allow you to reward Mrs. Vivas’ inappropriate behavior. I’ve already placed her on safety watch. If I backpedal now—”

“I understand,” Dr. Causey interrupts. “We should have dealt with this internally. There was no need to bring the Captain into this. I apologize for the inconvenience, I’m sure you have more important things to attend to.”

“So you’ll place Mrs. Wiegand on safety watch?”

“Might as well,” Dr. Causey agrees. “We’ll take good care of her, and protect her from any interference. She won’t complain; she’s very laid back.”

“Thank you.” Tinaya taps on her watch. “I’ve placed you on my priority access list, so if you need to contact me, you’ll be able to circumvent the communication filters that shield me from every rando who wants to talk to the captain.”

“Great. I’ll be sure to call you every hour, on the hour, to ask you your favorite colors and foods.”

Tinaya chuckles. “Good day.” She disappears.

When Tinaya returns to the executive infirmary, Dr. Cernak is locking the door to the safety watch room. Tinaya watches through the window as doula is helping Veta into the bed.”

“She staying in there with her?”

“She’s a tethered doula,” Dr. Cernak begins to explain. “She literally can’t leave her client’s side. Time will teleport her right back if she tries to walk away.”

“She consented to that?” Tinaya questions.

“It’s her whole job. She takes a new one every year. I believe she only gives herself a week or so off, depending on who commissions her next, and when they need her.” They stand in silence for a moment, watching to make sure the mother is okay. “We’re getting her her own bed to put in the corner.”

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” Tinaya says to him.

“Me too, but this is what these rooms are for, even if this is the first time anything quite like this has happened. I would rather be safe than sorry. Though...you do realize that the other mother—”

“I just spoke with her doctor. She’ll have to go into safety watch too, in case the father gets any crazy ideas put in his head, or someone else close to Mrs. Vivas.”

They’re silent again before having to flatten themselves against the wall to make way for the trundle bed. “I kind of like the name Root,” He decides. “If this hadn’t become a whole thing, I might suggest it for the actually rooted child.”

“Yeah, maybe. Listen, I gotta go pick up my own kid, but call me if you need me. Maybe consult with Dr. Causey about the situation too. After both children are born, they’ll probably all need some counseling. I, for one, would like to see them become friends one day. There’s no need for all this hostility. This is no one’s fault.”

“Will do, Captain. Thanks for comin’ by.”

Tinaya jumps back to her stateroom, and plops herself on the couch.

“Can you talk about it?” Arqut asks respectfully from the perpendicular loveseat.

Tinaya stares forward into space. “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”

“You’re just as beautiful today as the day I first saw you at graduation.”

She furrows her brow, and cocks her head towards him. “You were at my graduation? Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“You were only a little baby at the time, I’m a few years older. Seems creepy, looking back.”

She scoffs. “You couldn’t have known that we would end up together. Besides, because of my time travel, I’m actually older than you.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

Tinaya kisses the air in his general direction as he does the same towards her. “I better go get Silvy from school,” she determines.

“I’ll take care of it. I didn’t do anything today.”

“Thanks.”

 Tinaya’s watch beeps with a text message from Dr. Causey. That whole every hour, on the hour thing was a joke, right? It reads, I just received word. The rooted child has been born. A different OB agreed to induce labor for the Hearn family.

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Microstory 2109: Conflating it With Her Own Life

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This world is so weird. Because the girl is under eighteen, she can’t consent to a DNA test, and since the couple who claims to be her parents obviously won’t consent to it for her, the lazy coppers are just gonna send her back to them. I’m still in contact with her, and she told me that the authorities ran whatever facial recognition system they have access to. They apparently didn’t find a hit in the missing persons database, but that doesn’t mean anything. She was taken when she was a toddler, and their age progression software doesn’t sound very sophisticated. The girl doesn’t have any idea where she was born, or who her real family is, but one thing I do know is that she is backing up my story. There was a chance that she was screwing with me when she told me about her resurfaced memories, but she also insists to the police that she really does remember living with someone else in her younger years. The cops think that she just watched something on TV one time, and she’s conflating the memory with her own life, but she doesn’t think so, and neither do I. So far, no one has found me in my hiding place, but I’m about to put that all at risk yet again. I’m going to do something drastic to solve this problem. It could get me caught, or truly killed this time. I need to focus on planning everything right now, so I’m going to cut this installment short. If I’m able, I’ll detail the undertaking for you tomorrow. I’m scheduling this one to post on my blog for sometime after I start the process, so by the time you read it, I will already be on my way, and they won’t be able to prepare themselves for me. You can wish me luck, if you want, but it won’t help, even if such psychic power were possible here. Temporal psychic powers would do it, if you had those.

Microstory 2098: Where I was Living

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I was going to crack a joke about being born “at a young age” but it seems that joke has already been made. Or maybe it wasn’t a joke, but written by someone incredibly, incredibly dumb. Either way, it’s as true for me as anyone. My family lived in a small town called Derby, Kansas, which was a suburb of Wichita, which is where the hospital was. I’ve asked my mother multiple times where else exactly we lived after that, but I don’t think I wrote everything down, and besides, I don’t have that information with me, do I? But I know that we moved around a little before I was old enough to retain memories. I was three years old when I first became self-aware. I recall playing in the leaves at my house in Springfield, Missouri, which was where we lived for about five years. My father’s time as a teacher was ending, so we moved back to Kansas. I learned years later that he was applying to jobs in both Topeka and Kansas City, so we lived in Lawrence for a year while we waited to find out which it would be. Once his employment was settled, we moved to Overland Park, and we stayed in that area up until the day I disappeared, though not always in the same house. Overland Park is probably the largest suburb of KC, and they’re all sort of mixed together. You can drive on the highway for less than half an hour, and pass eight different cities without realizing it. This has all complicated my education history, and been complicated by it, but I reckon that I’ve lived in eleven places. That’s not even counting the two months I volunteered on a farm in California, the five different dorms and apartments I was in during college, or the two months that I house-sat for my aunt in Michigan.

I didn’t always get that most people don’t move around this much. As adults, they can return to their childhood bedrooms to find them just as they were. The last room I slept in before leaving the nest is my dad’s home office now. I never stopped moving. Once I was making enough money at work, I moved to a studio apartment.A year later, my parents invested in rental property, and I was their first tenant. It was a two-bedroom house with a yard for a future dog, though it was never a great setup, because the only way to the backyard was through the garage, or from the side yard. So I moved again, this time to a four-bedroom house. That’s where I was living when I got my dog, Daisy. Since I’m a temporal alternate, I’ll just tell you that my other self lives in yet another house now. It only has two bedrooms, but the den (living room) has a door that leads to the backyard, which is perfect for Daisy. She hangs out right by the door, and never dirties up the rest of the house, which is important, because we’re allergic to animal dander, and we have OCD. This is only about my original life, so I won’t even get into all the different worlds I’ve visited since becoming a bulk traveler, but that’s all added a lot too. As I mentioned, I moved schools a lot too, and not always because I moved houses, but won’t get into that until tomorrow. Here’s a list of other states that I’ve visited, in the order that I remember them: Michigan, Colorado, Illinois, Arkansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Florida, Ohio, Minnesota, Indiana, California, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Iowa, Tennessee, Washington, Alaska, New York, and Hawaii. Here’s a list of other countries that I’ve visited, in definite chronological order: Japan, France, Canada, Egypt, Panama, and Peru.

Microstory 2065: Not Gonna Hurt You

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Today I had a tour of the garden where I’ll be working starting next month. Or I should say, I hope I’ll be working there. She thought it was going to be okay that I don’t have any proof of citizenship, or a bank account, or a national ID number. Where I’m from, there’s no such thing as an NID. We have social security numbers that serve the same purpose, but that’s not really what the system was made for. I’m getting sidetracked again. The garden. It’s not the end of the world that I can’t prove I was born here, or that I was born at all, but there’s a process. She won’t be able to officially hire me until I get all that squared away. If you’ll remember, I was going to meet with a social worker earlier this month, but I never ended up doing that, because I secured this great place to live, and everything seemed to be okay without my new life. I’m getting over my second illness, but I’m still not there yet, so come Monday, I’ll finally be doing that. We’ll keep our distances from each other, and I’ll at least be wearing a mask. I spoke with him briefly on the phone, and he thinks that it will be okay. There is a proper way to enter this country, whether you want to come as a visitor, or stay as a citizen, but it’s not that difficult. It’s extremely difficult and painful in my version of the United States, but they see no reason to do it like that here. Where I’m from, people are terribly afraid that criminals will come in from foreign nations, but here’s the thing, there are criminals everywhere. You can commit a crime in the country you’re born in just as easily as a different one. No, that’s not true. It’s actually easier, because you don’t have to go somewhere first. How can we stop foreign criminals if we don’t just criminalize immigration itself? Uh, well what do we do about native criminals? It’s called law enforcement. Ever heard of it? It may begin with the border in some cases, but it’s not like it ends there. So stop freaking out, I’m not gonna hurt you. Can I be a citizen now? Everyone I’ve talked to about it says, yes, probably. Have a nice weekend!

Microstory 2042: New York

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

Microstory 2041: New Jersey

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My dad and teacher didn’t want me to put this information on the slide, and I bet she’s upset with me right now as I’m presenting it, but the way I see it, it’s my story, and I should be able to tell it. I was born in a country in Africa called Ethiopia. When I was still a baby, some men came into my village, and took me away. They were trying to sell me to some really bad people. We think that I would have grown up to be a slave for them. That’s right, slavery still happens. I was rescued, but not everyone is, and it’s going on all over the world. They found me and a bunch of other children on a big ship, and took me to New Jersey where I would be safe. But I still didn’t have a home. A group of women who worked for the state took care of us in an orphanage. Reporters talked about what happened to us on the news, so actually a lot of people wanted to adopt us, but they first had to see if they could send us back to our birth parents. It was really complicated. It usually took a really long time to find out where we belonged, because we didn’t all know our names, or who our parents were. I was there for three years before my papa and dad came in to take me to my forever home. I will always be grateful to them for that, because I love them, and I would never want to live anywhere else.

Microstory 2025: Mississippi

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After working at the Auxiliary Support Branch shelter for hurricane Katrina survivors for three weeks, my papa was required to take a day off. He and the other volunteers would usually only get five or six hours of sleep every night, and the people in charge were worried about it becoming unsafe. He had made some friends there, but they had already taken their required time off. He was part of a group of holdouts, which means he resisted doing this, but the bosses weren’t going to allow him to stay any longer. He got into a car with four other people who decided to drive along the coast. They couldn’t think of anything better to do. The hurricane had destroyed so much, companies weren’t showing movies, or doing county fairs, or anything like that. Driving was the only activity. They ended up driving so much that they crossed into two other states. The first stop they made was in Mississippi, where they had lunch outside. He couldn’t remember where they ate, but I remember him telling me that he thought he had a burrito sandwich, which I guess would be a little burrito between two slices of bread? He laughed when he told me this story, like maybe he just made that part up. Once they were done, they were going to just drive back to drive back to Slidell, Louisiana, but they decided to keep going. It was kind of cool that he got to see Alabama. Remember that he was born there, but his family lived in Montana at the time, so he didn’t have any real memories of it. They saw a lot of destruction during this part of the trip; more than they had in the shelter, and it really saddened them. It does sound very sad.

Microstory 2001: Alabama

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My papa, Aubrey was born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama on July 26, 1973 to father Burchard Jardine, and mother Daphne Smolak. Smolak was her maiden name, which means that that’s what her name was before she was married. She was a schoolteacher, and he worked in a factory. They were on their way back from a trip to Alabama when his mom gave birth at a hospital. It was about a month before papa was supposed to be born, so he was very small, and a little sick. He had to stay in the hospital for 11 days before the doctors said that he was healthy enough to leave and go home. He wasn’t able to breathe on his own, so they put him in a plastic box, and hooked him up to all these machines. They were also worried that he would get really sick, so they had to watch him all the time. My grandparents were sad and scared, but they prayed, and knew that he would get better, and he did. While they were there, papa’s dad lost his job at the factory, because he was supposed to be back at work on Monday, and his boss wasn’t very nice about it. It was the summertime, so my grandma didn’t lose her job. It was fine. Since he was just a baby, papa doesn’t even remember being in Alabama, but he went back when he was older to meet the doctor who delivered him. The doctor was very old by then, but he was still alive! He is not anymore, or he would be over 100 years old! My papa was 50 when he died, which is very young to die. Anyway, when papa was better, his parents left Alabama, and drove back to where they lived, which was Montana. It’s really far away, so it took them three days of driving. I bet they were pretty tired.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 22, 2413

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Mateo and Leona stayed with Karla for the rest of the day, as did the rest of the family. For the last several generations, it was important to make sure that another womb-bearing child was born to the bloodline to maintain Mateo and Saffira’s child. Nothing inherent about this unprecedented situation prevented them from birthing only anatomical boys, so the family tree was quite large, and consisted mostly of men. In this case, Karla was an only child, but she could easily have been the only daughter of many. But this was not their only concern. It takes two to tango, and while partnership was generally a shared agreement, the Niemans occasionally had to take steps to avoid the premature end to the family lineage. Arranged marriage was a contentious term, but it was sometimes necessary in order to ensure the future of the baby. Though it would have been extremely unlikely for Karla to not be the one to ultimately birth Romana, there was a remote chance that she too would have to pass on the responsibility. To make that even possible, she needed a mate.

A young man by the name of Silenus Koolen was chosen to play this role. The two of them did not hate each other. By all accounts, they got along just fine, but there was no spark between them. There was no love. There was also very little pressure to make any sort of relationship work, because again, there was nearly no chance of their coupling being at all necessary. They never married, and did not have a child together, and now that Romana was here in the world, it was clearly no longer necessary. Still, he made one appearance to show his support for Karla, and reportedly continued to do so on a daily basis until the day of birth. This occurred at 12:01 central time, just after Mateo and the others returned to the timestream. The Matics were in the room where it happened, assisting with water, towels, and words of encouragement.

It was an extremely busy day, April 22, 2413. No one really knew exactly what was going to happen to Romana once she was born. Was Team Matic going to take her away? Would they never see her again for the rest of their lives? Everyone took their turns holding her, in case they would never get another chance. Traditionally, this was too much for one baby, and the doctors were not happy with this decision, but Neimans were a tough clan, and little Romana handled it with grace. But tomorrow, she will be monitored appropriately for the entire day. There was still so little they knew about her medical condition. What toll would daily time travel take on such a tiny, fragile body? In the meantime, the world government stepped in. They had spent the year remodeling the roof of the LIR Towers. It was built exclusively for Mateo and his people, but had undergone changes over the last two centuries. One of the towers was in full use, but the other stood empty, waiting for Mateo’s return.

The top floor of Lincoln Tower was still a penthouse, but was upgraded and kept up to date since the last time the Matics were here. The skybridge in between the towers was the biggest difference, having been adjusted to allow the docking of the Dante. Anyone in the penthouse could be evacuated in a matter of minutes, assuming they didn’t just teleport up there on their own. There were several units, depending on the viable size of Mateo’s team, a nursery for the young one, and other amenities. Below that, there was a restaurant, an indoor park and arboretum, and a library. These were all private, and for the center levels, there was pretty much nothing. Below that, however, was a military base, and a law enforcement station. There were other police and military buildings in the surrounding area. It was said that this was the most protected structure in the world, and that was probably true. Romana Saffira would be safe here, assuming that this was what the family wanted.

“So we’re moving to Darius permanently?” Angela asked. They were in the penthouse now, only a few hours before midnight, to get a look around at where they might live.

Leona scratched her chin. “Is there any reason why we shouldn’t?”

“I have to be wherever my daughter is,” Mateo declared. “I don’t want her to be raised without me, like the others were. So it’s up to Karla. Karla, I will go where you want to be.”

“This is a nice-ass place,” Karla admitted. “There’s even already a place for me to...sit down.” She just gave birth. They really shouldn’t have to worry about this right now, but she was the one who was going to be living here for an extended period of time. Everyone else would be gone.

Marie helped her get down to the couch, and spread out to a comfortable position. “I don’t see why we should leave. What else is there? The way I see it, we deal with one emergency call at a time, so if we receive another, we’ll have to put it off, because we’re still in the middle of this one.”

Leona laughed. “We’ll technically be in the middle of it for the next seven thousand realtime years.”

While Mateo believed that this was Karla’s decision, Dardius was the obvious best choice. Besides the tribulations and expiations on Tribulation Island, this world had been pretty good to them. Well, there was a war, but that was so long ago. This was only not the most peaceful planet they had been to when not accounting for its population. It was ten times better than Earth easily, and comparably advanced. It was clearly a great place to raise a child, yet that was no one else’s problem. “This is...this is a me thing,” he reiterated. “And a Karla thing. I love you guys, but really, if something else comes up, I don’t want you to stay just for me.”

“You’re my husband,” Leona insisted.

“You’re my best friend,” Ramses said for himself.

“You’re like a brother,” Angela said.

“Or a cousin, at worst,” Marie added, smirking.

“Hold on,” Olimpia began, “there’s not much left. “Boyfriend?” She was now speaking normally. They were never able to retrieve the Cassidy cuff that suppressed her power, but Dardieti scientists already had something for her. It didn’t stop her voice from echoing into the future, but it muted the sound, which was good enough for practical use.

Constance stepped forward. “And to me, you are like also a baby.” She patted him on the head. “There, there, you little dum-dum baby.”

Mateo smiled. “Okay. Are you okay with this...suddenly even bigger family?”

“Yes, yes, very good, thank you.” Karla immediately dozed off, one hand placed gently upon little Saffira’s chest, who was sleeping soundly in her bassinet.

There was a knock at the door. They all looked over to make sure it had not awoken mother and baby. The knock was tempered, suggesting that the knocker was cognizant and cautious. Still, Leona teleported over there to make sure it didn’t happen again. She opened it to find an old friend.

Saga Einarsson frowned at her kindly, and started to tear up. She reached out to hug her estranged friend. “I didn’t think I’d cry. I didn’t even promise myself I wouldn’t. It didn’t cross my mind.”

Leona was crying too. “I’ve missed you.” Now she could see that Vearden, Étude, and Cassidy were also in the antechamber. She started to cry even harder. These were the four owners of the entire planet. Well, Vearden didn’t technically own it, but he was a de facto co-owner, and the citizens treated him as such. The three true owners inherited it from Mateo, who wasn’t around enough to make much of a difference. They were apparently hands-on here, operating separately from the government, but working with it in the capitol building of Rutherford Tower, which was right next door. Vearden, on the other hand, was an elected official, serving as the current Mediator. He didn’t make the decisions, but he supervised the two who did.

Constance carefully carried Karla into the private hospital room down the hall that was designed specifically for her, while Olimpia wheeled Romana in with her. A nurse and a doctor were meant to be stationed here at all times, but there was evidently a mix-up in scheduling, so Constance took on the responsibility. She sure had the knowledge.

Meanwhile, the old friends reconnected with each other, and made introductions to the ones who had not yet met each other. Out of the four, Cassidy was the only official former member of Team Matic, but the other three were just as important. There was a lot of catching up to do until midnight hit in a few hours. “Please tell me you’re not here to report a problem,” Mateo said, feeling anxious about it now that the pleasantries were done, and the conversation was in a bit of a lull.

“We came here for two reasons,” Étude began.” She indicated the group before saying, “for this...and for this.” She pulled a half-full vial of red fluid from her pocket. It looked a little like blood, but if that was what it was, other things were mixed in with it to alter the color.

“That was once mine,” Cassidy said.

Mateo stared at the vial. “Oh.” Cassidy could absorb other people’s time powers, patterns, and afflictions. She was pursued by time travelers while under Mateo’s protection, but that didn’t always work out, and they never did figure out who specifically was behind all that.

“This is temporary,” Étude went on, “but we can make a concoction that is permanent. We have provided the Nieman family with counseling since they arrived on Dardius. One of these people has always been personal and private. Their conversations were just as privileged as one would expect out of a civilized society. The other reported back to us, and this was completely above board. The mothers consented to it, and they said whatever they wanted to this person, leaving out whatever they wanted to keep to themselves. Karla has gone through this as well, and based on their relatively limited interactions with her, it has become apparent to us that...” She trailed off to look back in the direction of the hospital room. “Karla will suffer from profound postpartum depression if that baby is taken from her. She has asked us to place her on your pattern to prevent this from happening. We can’t take blood from an infant for such a procedure. It would be illegal, unethical, and unnecessary. We are here to ask one of you to donate blood to finish the serum. Who’s up for it?”

All six of them held out their arms, and pulled their sleeves up, if necessary.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 21, 2412

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Finding the Nexus, and getting the hell out of this galaxy, while dangerous and full of many unknowns, was their best and safest course of action. The angry Fifth Divisioner was one of apparently many who wanted to see the whole team dead, probably for not completely unreasonable reasons. They always had pretty good luck on Dardius, at least when it came to civilization. Of course, that was the location of Tribulation Island, which was arguably the source of every problem that still haunted them today, but other than that, it’s been great.

“What’s your idea, Constance?” Leona asked.

“Well, the three-word coordinate system is an interesting thing,” Constance began. “They’re meant to be random, but then I started thinking about how time travelers affect history in tiny little ways that a normal person wouldn’t notice. There are phrases that I’ve heard two people utter independently of each other, centuries apart, without them having ever crossed paths. Now, maybe that can be explained by a long chain of meetings, like the six degrees of Kevin Bacon, but based on other things I know about how time works...not necessarily. The Nexa are incredibly advanced, complex machines that can do a whole hell of a lot more than just send you from Point A to Point B. The people who came up with them cross the multiversal void like it’s nothing more than a tiny stream they can hop over with a modicum of momentum. They’re sometimes called gods. If anyone is capable of secretly impacting the algorithm of a natural language global coordinate system, it’s them.”

“Where are you going with this?” Mateo pressed, not impatiently.

Constance nodded, and turned a screen that hung down from the ceiling between the passenger section and the helm. She zoomed into the ocean. “Nexus.space.machine,” she said dramatically. “Middle of the Pacific Ocean, just as we suspected.

Leona peered at it. “Could it really be that...on the nose?”

“Might as well see what’s up,” Constance determined. “The nearest major land mass is three thousand kilometers away. There’s little risk in checking it out. I mean, except, of course, that guy who’s trying to kill you. But he could be anywhere.” She shrugged. “I doubt he’s there. If he is, it’s because I’m right.”

“Yeah,” Leona agreed. She looked back up at the screen, and took a breath. “Dante. Activate the cloak, plot a course back to Earth, and once we’re within teleportation range, jump us straight to—”

“Wait,” Olimpia piped up. “If there’s something there, we don’t wanna land right on top of it, or inside of it.”

“Good point.” Leona tapped on a different square on the map. “Jump to arise.until.converges instead.”

“Understood. Cloak activated. Jumping now.”

They were floating in the middle of the ocean. Around them was more ocean. There was no land in sight, no aircraft in the skies; they were totally alone. And there was no Nexus space machine to transport them to Dardius. But of course, it was never going to be that easy, or a satellite would have picked it up in the late 19th century. Angela started removing her clothes.

“Whaaat are you doing?” Ramses asked

“Don’t question her,” Olimpia scolded playfully, enjoying the show.

“I’m going for a swim. My guess is that it’s at the bottom of the ocean. I don’t know how deep it is here, but—”

“Three thousand, six hundred, and eighty-three meters,” Dante answered, unprompted.

“You can’t go down that far,” Ramses explained, “but...” He widened his eyes, and lifted his hand towards the ceiling.

“I can,” Dante volunteered.

“Let’s do it,” Leona said. “Run a grid sweep, centering on Nexus.space.machine.”

They didn’t have to do much of a sweep. As soon as they dove right under the surface, and pointed the headlights where they wanted to go, the Nexus building appeared within view. It wasn’t giving off any energy readings to speak of, and was undetectable via sonar, but it was visible to the naked eye. It was just under the water, and maintaining neutral buoyancy. The waves went up, it went up. The waves went down, it went down. It was possible to stand on top of it, and not get wet above the ankles, if not for the splashes. They dove the Dante deeper, and magnetically attached it to the exterior wall. Then they all seven teleported into the Nexus building.

“Venus, are you there?”

“I’m here, Leona.”

“I’m always worried that you won’t respond.”

“I can’t promise that I always will.”

“Thanks for being honest. We were hoping to be transported to Dardius?”

“Certainly.” The machine began to power up.

“Wait, let’s think about this,” Mateo said. Despite the fact that Mateo did not have anywhere near the relationship with this Venus Opsocor, the machine actually started to power down a little bit, apparently in response to his hesitation. “I’m a little tired. Aren’t you a little tired?”

“I guess,” Leona replied.

“I’m not,” Ramses said. “But if you worked half as hard as I imagine you would have had to in the stairwell, your bodies could be spent right now. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a rest.”

“If we wait one more day,” Leona began to reason, “everyone else is waiting a year. They’re expecting us.”

“They knew what they were getting into when they sent for us,” Marie reasoned right back. “They are under no illusions that our lives are quick and easy. You should sleep. It could be that they would rather us be late and energized than early and useless.”

Leona thought about it some more. All right. Venus, we’re going back to the Dante to sleep. Is it okay if we postpone this for a year?”

“Why go back when you have everything you need right here?” The Nexus went back to powering up. A light flashed, and when it receded, they found an undecagonal bed that fit perfectly within the undecagonal Nexus cavity. Someone designed it to be used for such an occasion, and it was just sitting on another world, waiting to be transported here when needed. Did they need it, though? Did anyone need a bed that was larger than most bedrooms?

“Orgy, party of seven!” Olimpia joked. She jumped into the bed, and started logrolling around.

“That’s my sister,” Angela argued, pointing to Marie.

Olimpia just shrugged.

“You definitely need some sleep, which is all that’s going to be happening in this bed. Thank you, Venus,” Leona said.

“I live to serve.”

Everyone slept through the night, including the four of them who didn’t expend a ton of energy in an underground monkey bar prison. Constance found it to be an eye-opening experience, because while she had obviously placed herself in dormant mode before, she had never slept as an organic being. It made her appreciate the human struggle more in several hours than she had accrued in the prior four and a half billion years of her life. That was probably a tiny exaggeration, though. Once everyone was up and ready, Venus made the gargantuan bed disappear. She then loaded the coordinates to the Nexus on Tribulation Island, and sent them all away.

“You have arrived,” she announced at their destination. Because she was everywhere all at once.

The two Nexus technicians greeted them, of course knowing exactly who they were, and having been expecting their visit. They made no indication that the team was late. They contacted someone to come and explain why they were asked to come here, and told them that they were free to wait inside, or get some fresh air. This planet never had any air pollution, which was something that all Vonearthan colonies shared, but this one held a population of billions, so it was particularly astonishing.

When they stepped outside, they found the Dante sitting on the sand next to the Nexus building. “Venus. How did you bring it here?” Leona asked her.

“The cavity is more of what you would call a guideline than an actual rule. I am the Nexus. I am the network.” Hm. Interesting.

They wandered around, and did enjoy the fresh air until a woman arrived an hour later from an airshuttle. She stepped out, and looked directly at Mateo, rather than the group as a whole. “Mateo Matic. My name is Tyra Nieman, Generation Ten. I am here to take you to my daughter, Karla Nieman, Generation Eleven.”

“Do we have business with her?” Mateo asked. “I don’t believe we’ve met, though I do recognize the surname. I think it’s in my notebook.”

“It ought to be,” Tyra said. “You had sex with our ancestor nearly three hundred years ago.” She turned to head back towards the shuttle. “Come. Your daughter will be born soon.”

They followed her into the shuttle, and rode with her to the mainland. Mateo started flipping through his notes, but he already remembered what Tyra was referring to. Two hundred and seventy-nine years ago, Mateo and Leona found themselves on the rogue planet of Durus. A settlement called Ladytown was attacked by the government, which resulted in all of the males living there contracting a deadly disease. They asked Mateo to donate sperm so they could repopulate and rebuild. They did not have the technology to do this medically, so he had to perform the old fashioned way. He paired with several women, but after returning to the timestream a year later, he learned that none of the pregnancies took. According to this woman, that was apparently untrue, or the truth was at least complicated. In their world, complicated was the resting state. Their best guess was that Saffira Nieman was placed in stasis, or jumped forward in time, and it was just that no one mentioned it. But if Saffira was finally about to have the baby, what did her descendent, Karla have to do with anything?

Tyra declined to clarify the situation, insisting that, as the current mother—which she said as if the word were more of a title than a relationship—Karla was responsible for speaking for herself. So they waited until they were in the house in Sutvindr, where the Niemans lived. There they were taken into a bedroom, where a pregnant woman was lying in bed. Mateo wasn’t the best with faces, but this was definitely not Saffira.

A man was sitting on a chair next to the bed. “It’s all right, father. I would like to speak with him alone.”

“What if you need something?” her father asks.

“Then I am sure that Mister Matic is more than capable of helping. If his reputation is accurate, he will be more than willing as well.”

“Of course,” Mateo concurred. “She is safe with me.”

The father grunted, and left the room. Leona had stepped in as well, and was reluctant to leave.

“It’s okay, Madam Delaney. You may stay as well,” the woman said with a smile, though it appeared to be difficult for her to change the expression on her face. With all due respect, she looked very tired. “I’m sure you have lots of questions,” she began as she was trying to sit up. She accepted Mateo’s help with the pillows. “Or maybe you just have the one: what the fuck is going on? Bear with me, and I promise, everything will make sense.” She cleared her throat, and reached over for some water. “My name is Karla Nieman, Generation Eleven: the final mother. Now, what does that mean? Well, hundreds of years ago, you impregnated Saffira Nieman. She lived and died with no idea that she was pregnant for years on end. She actually had her own kid—two kids, I believe; a girl and a boy. The girl, when she came of age, became pregnant as well. She lived and died also without knowing the truth. It was actually not until the fourth generation that people started to suspect that something was weird.”

“Oh my God.”

“Leona’s getting it,” Karla said with a bigger smile, and a laugh. “That’s when she started to feel symptoms, because for the baby, the pregnancy has been going on for the last several weeks.”

Mateo lost his breath. He turned away to get it back. He was hyperventilating. Leona tried to place her hands upon his shoulders to comfort him, but it only made it worse. After a couple of minutes, he composed himself, and turned back around. “I’m terribly sorry about that. I just...now I understand that... I’m sorry.”

“Yes, it’s a lot to take in. We can only imagine how difficult it must have been for Generations Four and Five. They had to figure it out with limited medical technology, and a cursory understanding of time travel studies. You’re famous, Mateo, and the Nieman bloodline knows more about you than anyone else in the universe, but that’s only because we made a point to know. We had to. But the early mothers had no reason to research your life yet.”

“So you’ve been pregnant your whole life? The baby just keeps going down the generations?” Mateo asked.

“No,” Karla responded with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t happen until after puberty. Until then, the previous mother holds onto it. But remember, it’s a once a year thing. It’s just like your life—” She interrupted herself to stare into space with a look of immense pain. Her sigh turned into a whimper, which turned into a scream, though it wasn’t too loud. Mateo just let her squeeze his hand until the contraction was over two minutes later. She breathed heavily, and drank some more water. “Forgive me.”

“That is nothing that needs to be forgiven,” Leona insisted.

“Thank you. As I was saying, the way it worked is that once the next mother in line goes through puberty, the baby will transport itself to her. The doctors called it Spontaneous Uterine Transplantation. Actually, they originally called it Spontaneous Matrilineal Uterine Transplantation, but someone pointed out that it spelled out Smut, so they changed it. But it’s still matrilineal. To my knowledge, a daughter was never a guarantee. I only have three brothers, but previous mothers have had many more, because they needed to make sure that there was an impregnable person to carry the torch. Ha! That’s not the right word, is it? It seems like it should be. If you can be impregnated, you’re impregnable! Right? Am I right? I’m right!” She laughed heartily.

They laughed with her.

“Anyway, as we’ve said, there have been eleven generations of this for the last three hundred years. The baby exists for one day out of the year, just like you. It jumps forward in time at the end of that day, but the funny thing is, every fun component of pregnancy sticks around. Bloating, cramps, wonky hormones: I’ve had them since I was a teen. And now...”

“Now you’ve been in labor for, what, a week?” Leona guessed.

“A month,” Karla corrected. “I’ve been having contractions for a month. And unless this baby comes today, I’m going to be having them for a whole other year. The final mother has always been a revered figure in our family history. But they never thought about the downsides. And I’m the only one who has to go through them.” She leaned over to the side, and glanced at the door as if she could see through it. “Between you and me, my mom has always resented me. My grandmother—God bless her—she was scared to death that she would birth a premature baby. But her husband was always, like, Telma—her name was Telma—he was like, Telma, this is Mateo Matic’s child. It magically disappears every year, and then comes back to the same womb. Then it moves to a different womb! It’s not gonna be premature! It’s gonna come out perfect! My grandfather, he was a laugh riot. But my mom! My mom. She thought she was the one. Lots of babies are born at thirty weeks, she’d say. She never let me forget it. But she was wrong. It’s me. I’m the birth mother. And she doesn’t resent me anymore.” She indicated herself in the bed. “Not after seeing me like this, and being pretty sure that the baby’s birthdate is April 22, 2413. Ain’t nobody wants to be me no more, I’ll tell ya that much. Sorry, I got a bit of an accent that comes out when I’m riled up. I know I’m in trouble, but you’re here now, and I can’t help but be excited.”

“We understand,” Leona said. “But you really should get some rest. We will indeed get you anything you need. We can try to...” she started to say uncomfortably.

“Induce?” Karla assumed. “I’m not allowed to. It’s this whole spiritual thing. I gotta go through it all the way. We’re on the baby’s timetable. We always have been. Everybody’s afraid that something’ll go wrong if we interfere in any way.”

Leona frowned at her, as did Mateo.

“It’ll be all right, Sugar,” Karla said. “I’m a tough chick. I’ll get through this, and then I’ll be the only mother that matters. And my mother will hate me for it.” She seemed quite pleased with this eventuality.

They stayed with her for the rest of the day, learning more of the family history, and of Karla’s personal life. She hadn’t come up with a name for the baby yet, but the past mothers always thought that it would be a good idea to choose a Croatian name. A year later, Romana Saffira Nieman took her first breath in the fresh Dardieti air.

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