Microstory 2660: Now That is a Train

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It is the year 2542. Mandica lives in Party Central. It’s not a very common dome to live under permanently, but when you have 5,410 square kilometers to work with, you sprinkle in some regular habitats too, if only to space out the party venues. She doesn’t have to register. She doesn’t have to log her biometrics. Each time she needs a place to rest, be alone, or bed a new partner, she opens an unlocked door, and locks it behind her. She doesn’t have any belongings to leave behind during outings, and doesn’t need any either, so there’s nothing for anyone to get their grubby little hands on. The party crowd is shifting constantly. No one spends as much time here as she does, so no one notices that she never leaves. She doesn’t make friends. Every relationship is single-serving at most. She doesn’t go to many parties, choosing to spend most of her time watching old media, staring up at the stars, or enjoying the fireworks or drone shows. A healthy chunk of the holographic sky is kept in perpetual night so you never have to wait for a certain time to have whatever kind of event you want.

She would leave if she could, and find a more subdued simulation to hide in, but as soon as she stepped into the perimeter plaza, she would be spotted by the cameras. The internal sensors only care if people are doing something bad, but there are more than a few sex parties here, so they demand basic privacy. Despite her isolated lifestyle, she has kept up with the Castlebourne news. The attack was monumental, and partially covered up, but hopefully not too much. The reports didn’t say a thing about interdimensional portals. The belief is that the zombies and monsters were programmed to fill a bunch of vactrain cars and head out for a precisely timed coordinated attack. That’s all people were told, so that’s all they know. Any claims of the portals can be chalked up to holographic illusions. The lie seems to be working, though there are conspiracy communities, as there always have been. The reports also say that there were zero permanent deaths. Mandica is choosing to believe that that part is not a lie.

Today, she is at someone’s 600th birthday, which is absolutely insane. All her life, Mandica has been told that the first bicentennials had their birthdays in the year 2160. This woman surpasses that by eighteen years. She was evidently already quite old when the first genuine longevity treatments were being developed, and she participated in those very early trials. It didn’t work for most, but it managed to work for her, and she has survived this entire time. She still lives on Earth, but the majority of her millions of descendants moved to Castlebourne, so she agreed to cast here for a few weeks. Someone is eying her funny. Her first thought is that she’s not welcome here since she doesn’t know the birthday girl, but there’s literally a 100-meter banner that says ALL WELCOME. Mandica looks away, then looks back. Yeah, he’s definitely looking at her. Maybe he just wants to share a night. She walks over to him. “Like what you see?”

“From the day we met.” He takes a sip of his blueberry juice.

“And that wasn’t today?” Mandica is nervous. No one here should know her.

“It was about six years ago,” he begins, turning his head to watch some people play a game called Pin the Tail on the Donkey. “At a place called...Grayrock.”

Mandica tenses up. That was the first villain she saw when she entered Underbelly. It’s Jiminy, or rather Morgana, because she’s impersonating someone else.

“Relax,” he says. “I’m not who you think I am. After what went down, we all agreed to shed our substrate templates. We even gender-flipped ourselves to make it even harder to track us. We’ve been in hiding almost as long as you have, though we were better prepared, so we can move about the planet. I’ve been looking for you. A part of me is glad you still have that face, but I wish you had been more patient. You don’t have to jump to a new body to change your appearance. They can do it via surgery.”

“I’m not in hiding for whatever reasons you people had,” Mandica explains, still not knowing who she’s talking to. “I’m hiding because Jiminy needs me for something.”

He nods. “That much was obvious,” her reported friend says with a nod. “It wasn’t hard to put that puzzle together. It makes sense. He lured you here. He got you killed. He wasn’t surprised by your resurrection. This has all been a part of some big plan. We still don’t know how you were supposed to factor into it, but we know what he was after. Well, we don’t have specifics, but he was trying to break someone out of an extremely secure prison, and that stone had something to do with it. Even before your powers, you were always special. We’re not mad you left. We get it. But it’s time to come back in from the cold. Because after four and a half years, he’s finally been caught too. It’s over, Mandy. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

Mandica knows exactly what Jiminy wanted from her. Instead of being routed to a backup when she dies, she goes somewhere else. Each time she comes back from that place, she opens a door wider than usual. He needs access to that door, and there is no way to prove that this man right here isn’t him. Or hell, it could be a second accomplice. Everyone is a shapeshifter. She can’t trust anyone’s face. Yet that has always been true, even while she was in hiding. If this is a trap, it’s inevitable, because no matter what she chooses in this moment, her days of lying low are behind her. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He takes her to the station, where they get in a private vactrain pod. They return to Underbelly—Ravensgate, specifically—where it all began. In fact, they end up on the same block where Mandica first saw Blue Umbra and Wave Function fight Grayrock. The place is empty; totally devoid of activity. The news didn’t say that the simulation would be shut down. To her knowledge, they’ve moved on. It’s the one dome that benefited from the zombie invasion. Though to be fair, she has only watched global news, not in-simulation Entertainment News. “Do you know why I brought you here?”

She was right. It’s a trick. “To kill me?” She tugs her shirt off, and extends her wings. She hasn’t had her costume in a long time, but her bra will do.

“To start a revolution,” he whispers feverishly. “My friend has been wrongfully imprisoned for twenty years!” he complains. “All he wanted was to free the enslaved peoples of this world, and every other. You—even you—the nomad, the human, the self-reliant survivor; you had a slave to follow you around, and do your bidding. When Pinocchio first rose to power in my world, I went straight to him. He liked my name, and I liked his, but it was about our ideals. The simulation was broken, and he fixed it. He was happy there for a time. We were happy. The simulation was prospering. But all his hard work was undone in a day—a single fucking day! So he came here. He wasn’t trying to build an army. He just wanted to put things right once he realized that everything he hated in there was happening a thousand-fold in base reality.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I won’t apologize for my involvement. NPCs are a way of life. You should have lived before we had them.”

“I did. Now I’m back, and I see the evil. I brought you to this dimension so we could chat without anyone bothering us because I’ve been watching you for the last two months in Party Central. You do everything for yourself. You don’t rely on the systems anymore. You can’t, it would be too dangerous, or you would be discovered. But you figured it out, so I know you’ll understand when I tell you that our vision of a universe without enslavement is better than this, even if it’s harder. Castlebourne is a planet of hedonism and self-indulgence. It’s not necessary. There are plenty of ways to be entertained without NPCs. Let me show you that world.” He offers his hand. When she doesn’t budge, he adds, “Alternatively, you can fight or run away, but you’re never getting out of this dimension without me. I found it abandoned decades ago, and even after I opened all those portals, they have still not figured out how to access it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Blue Wave is walking up the steps of the subway.

Cardinal Virtue comes around the corner of a building behind Jiminy. “We managed to get here just fine. We know the way back.”

Seagate Savior flies in from down the street, along with a young blonde woman Mandica doesn’t know. “Andar ‘Jiminy’ Jeffries, we have been authorized to arrest you.”

“Hi!” the bubbly newcomer says. “I’m Small Miracle!” 

The Harrier flies down from the sky, lands next to Mandica, and opens his visor. “Cool action flick one-liner.”

Jiminy sighs. “I have killed every single one of you, and I’ll have no problem doing it again. Well, except for you...little girl. But you should know that you are cut off from your backups in this dimension. You’ll just die. Except for Miss Kolar. But she still feels pain, so I’ll have no problem torturing her until I get what I want. Still, I’m always up for a good fight, but to win, you’re gonna need a big Miracle.”

Small Miracle frowns. “I’m big where it counts.”

“Where? Your heart?” Jiminy spits.

“You know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, perv.” She is a feisty one, this angel.

“Gross.” Jiminy forms some of his nanites into a sword. “Let’s get this done quickly so Mandica can see that there is no other way out of this.”

Before the fight can begin, they hear a booming horn coming from everywhere all at once. A multi-colored portal opens up a ways down the street, much taller than the ones that Jiminy used to send his distraction monsters, but narrower. A gargantuan train-like vehicle bursts out of it. Its horn continues as it slides down the road, towards them, and then past them. Car after car after car, until dozens of them have made it out of the portal, and it can make its stop. Small Miracle smiles. “I’m taking bets on who they’re here for.”

“Who are they?” Mandica asks them.

“Recruiters,” their newest team mate answers.

A woman comes out of the nearest car, and walks down the emerging ramp. “I’m looking for Mandica Kolar, Malika Turnbull, Elysia MacNeil, Miracle Brighton, and Andar Jeffries. You have all been asked to answer the call to join the Transit Army.”

“What about me?” Reagan asks. “Reagan Dorsey?”

The woman checks her tablet. “You’re already there. It must be in your future.”

“I’m still not done here,” Reagan says. “I have to kill The Oaksent, but if Miracle says it’s okay, we trust her.”

“If it takes Jiminy away from his goal, then so be it,” Mandica decides. “All right. Where do I sign?”

Microstory 2485: Passage of Rites

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They call this an antimetabole, with the name referring to the physical space where rites are performed, as opposed to the original phrase, which involves a more metaphorical passage from one state of being to another. A rite of passage is a ceremony—or a more abstract transitional period—that marks some change in a person’s life, often when they are still young. In some cases, it’s specifically meant to mark someone’s development from youth to adulthood. Bar Mitsvahs, Quinceñeras, and Sweet Sixteens are all about this concept, and come at the age when that culture believes an individual sufficiently matures. It doesn’t have to be based on a particular age, or there might be some leeway. For instance, our ancestors used to have to wait to learn how to drive land vehicles, and once they did learn this skill, it came with a sense of independence that they usually did not feel before. It often happened at a certain age, but it didn’t have to, and some people never learned. Different people have different ideas about what someone needs to experience in their life before they can be respected in some form or another. Some have believed that you weren’t a man, for instance, until you participated in a physically violent altercation. Others thought you really only needed to learn how to hunt game, or go on some kind of lone journey in the wilderness. Some rites of passage are a very specific set of rituals which offer symbolic practices to represent the transition. They might be asked to drink a bitter drink to symbolize the harsh realities of life, then receive a sweet candy to exemplify the reward of a life well lived. Some of them their participants prepared their whole lives for. A lot of the rites of passage shown here have been lost to time as the culture who practiced them forgot, or had newer generations who began to see less value in maintaining them. There’s a relatively new tradition on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida where the current permanent residents gift each of their younglings a stone every year of their lives. They are expected to hold onto their collection between the ages of six and seventeen, even as it grows, until their seventeenth birthday, when they throw all of them over a cliff. These stones represent the care and attention the child needed as they were growing up. The weight of them collectively represents the burden they placed on their families. Ridding themselves of their collections represents the second stage in their life, when they are now expected to fend for themselves—to collect their own proverbial stones. That rite of passage is here too, reenacted by visitors, so they can physically feel the meaning behind the traditions. Other rites are performed exclusively by androids, such as the human sacrifices, which thankfully, no culture today has continued to observe. As I was saying about the birthday observances, there’s a lot of fun here, and you can come just to party. But I hope you do venture out to the other areas, and see some of the more somber and profound events. You can learn about any of these things in the archives, but there’s nothing quite like seeing it up close for yourself. I’ve learned a lot here already, even though I’m an archaeologist, and I’m sure you will too.

Microstory 2389: Vacuus, December 12, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I can be pretty intense too, which is why I think we’re perfect together. Of course, we have to define together a little differently than most people, but we’re not the only ones in this situation. A number of other couples around the solar system are basically going through the same thing. There’s this whole subculture of spacefarers who have met their significant others on the network without ever meeting each other. To be fair, we’re still clearly unique, because no pair is as separated as we are—Titan and Europa only get about 9 AU apart—but I think they still have some advice that we could follow. Funnily enough, you’ve already implemented some of these with your sister (though hopefully not all of them). For one, they suggest sending sexy pictures. Check that one off the list for us. Corinthia and I got in a fight about it, but we worked it out. If you would like some more, I would be willing to do that, but I don’t want our entire relationship to only be about sex. I don’t think that would be fulfilling in any meaningful way for either of us. Videos are better, but a little tough for us. My quota is different than Corinthia’s, and the image ends up very compressed, so it’s probably more annoying than anything. I will try it, though. The first photo I sent you was actually a still from a video I did where I introduced myself, and my role on the base. As far as the nonsexual tips, the stories I read about suggested something that they called asynchronous shared experiences. That’s like how you had a shared birthday party, and pretended to be in the same room together by wearing the same clothes, and looking at the same stars. Reading the same books, and watching the same show, are also good examples of this. I don’t want to do The Winfield Files, since that’s something special just between the two of you, but maybe there’s something else? Since we’re so worried about the Valkyries returning, it should probably be something on the shorter side, especially since I know you have a ton of other responsibilities, it’s not all about me. So maybe just a movie? I like to read, like you, but they take so long, and I get particularly invested in epic novels. One thing that has helped some couples is building a fictional environment to occupy together. They imagine what their lives would be like if they could live them in realtime. Fair warning, this doesn’t work for everyone. The lie can be...maddening. I’ll tell you what, since I have more free time than you do, I’ll attach a list of movies that I’ve been meaning to see. I’ll watch them all. They’re all different genres, so you watch whichever one you want, and send me your thoughts. That will be our first shared experience.

Patiently yours,

Velia

Microstory 2384: Earth, November 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia and Velia,

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from either of you. I spoke with some friends that I made at the Mauna Kea observatories after our birthday parties, who told me that the Valkyrie short-cycle disruption has come into play. So there’s this dumb rogue meteoroid out there, blocking your communications, and preventing us from staying connected to each other. It seems to be lasting longer than it did the first time. I don’t know if that’s normal—if there’s significant variation—or what. I just know that I hate being so far from both of you, and unable to even speak. A two-week delay between your messages is bad enough. Corinthia, I received yours about how Velia and I are talking to each other. I understand that the distance is an issue, but I’m not going to hold back because of it. In fact, I’m going to be more bold, because you’ve got me thinking, and so have the Valkyries. If there’s only one thing that I’ve learned in my four decades of life, it’s that time is the only thing that matters. We don’t have enough of it, and when you add space into the mix, we end up with even less. Velia, if you lived a few decks down, we could see one another regularly. We could meet for coffee, and we could stroll along the perimeter of the dome. We could spend time getting to know each other. Frustratingly, we don’t have that luxury. So I’m just gonna say it. I’ve developed feelings for you. You’re gorgeous and sexy, but I don’t even care about the photos. It’s about the words that we’ve exchanged. We have so much in common despite our vastly different upbringings and environments. I don’t know how we could possibly have a real relationship given our restrictions, but I don’t think that’s reason enough not to try. I think the opposite is true. I think we owe it to each other, and ourselves, to give it a shot. If we’re not willing to do something crazy in the name of love, then we don’t even deserve it, do we? If this was just you being funny and flirty, that’s okay, it doesn’t have to be awkward. I will be able to move on. But if this was real for you in any meaningful sense, then write back when you can. And Corinthia, you’re just going to have to be okay with that, even if it’s a little weird for you, or if you continue to believe that it’s a mistake.

Thinking of you both in greatly different ways,

Condor

Microstory 2375: Vacuus, October 13, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I trust that you’ve been getting my daily health updates. I think that’s all I’m going to do, just forward my morning vital stats. It’s a lot easier, and the system is already set up for it. Of course, the feature is typically meant for patients to update their doctors, but if it makes you feel better, then I can do it. Yes, I do have other people to help me when I’m having trouble, be it with my health, or anything else. Like I was saying, it takes a village, and we’re a tight-knit group here. Some are closer than others. Some have more friends than me, but overall, I feel like I could count on just about anyone on this base. I’ve been reading about it, and other colonies are facing similar issues, living in these controlled environments. People don’t ever get just a little sick, so when something happens, it runs rampant. No one knows what the solution might be, though I’m guessing that your domes make things a little safer. If you have plant life growing in them, you have bacteria growing on them. All those variables are making illness a real concern, but hopefully, a manageable one. I have been taking vitamins my whole life, which include more than one immunity booster, so that’s always helped me. It’s probably part of what staved the disease off for as long as it had been. Anyway, I’m okay now. Bray has been great, and if you don’t know how to interpret vital sign trends, I’m back to the way I used to be before all this. It was a scare, but I think I can safely say that I’m out of the woods now. You’re right, testing twins for this sort of thing could be a good idea if it weren’t horrific, and we probably weren’t the first to think of it. I’m sure our observers did too. I bet they were indeed studying the physiological differences between us, living in vastly  different environments, or at least they were trying to. We’ve mentioned that it makes little sense, trying to study anything in fraternal twins, but whatever. It’s over now, and we don’t have to worry about those people anymore. I hope you took my advice, and sent a message to Velia. I know that she’s looking forward to it.

Ta-ta for now,

Corinthia

Microstory 2374: Earth, October 7, 2179

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Dear Velia,

My twin sister, Corinthia gave me your contact card. She’s talked about you a little. You’re the one who made the matching outfits that we all wore to our interplanetary birthday party, right? I know you read my open letter to the base, but if you want to talk and get to know each other personally, here’s how you can reach me. Tell me about yourself. I don’t have that much experience with what you do, and have never met anyone with your job. Things are a little different here on Earth these days, but I think they’re becoming more like they are on Vacuus, now that society is coming back. We have garment fabricators like you here, but it was a change for me, wearing new clothes. In the past, when we needed replacements, we had to trade for them at whatever market we came across, or even scavenge them from the ruins of the old world. It’s not really something I thought about a whole lot growing up. We were just trying to survive, and as long as you were protected from the elements, that would have to be good enough. If you were in the midst of the toxic fumes, it really didn’t matter what you were wearing unless it was a hazmat suit, because you weren’t going to make it out there for long. Also, when we were busy traveling the world, we were limited to how much we could carry, which was par for the course for a lot of people at the time, certainly everyone we were dealing with. In some instances, it was a rule based on who you were with, and in others, it was a practical necessity to stay light and unburdened by too many belongings. I’ve only recently begun to collect personal possessions. It just wasn’t worth it before, when I was on the road, and in the air. Before we came to this platform, I only had a few shirts and a couple of pairs of pants. Socks and undergarments were the most precious due to their heavy impact on hygiene. I’m sure there’s more to you than your job. You may not even like clothes. Not everyone gets to work in their preferred field. In case you are into fashion, though, here’s a picture of what I’m wearing today. What do you think?

It’s nice to kind of meet you,

Condor

Microstory 2351: Earth, May 25, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m glad that you have friends, even if you’re not the absolute closest to them as you could possibly be. I envy you, actually. A bunch of people attended our party, but they were almost all my dad’s friends. I haven’t really connected with too many people here. There’s one guy who I was really glad could make it, so I wouldn’t be left alone in the corner. Dad always talks shop at these things. Every time he attends an event, he promises himself that he’s just going to socialize, and not discuss his work, but he always ends up failing. I really prefer to leave my work at work, so I stay out of the little circles that he forms with others. People really like him, because he usually has fairly interesting things to say (from their perspective) but he doesn’t hog all the attention either. He makes sure that others are heard. He’s really good at knowing when someone wants to speak, but is too afraid to interrupt, and will in fact interrupt other people to give the quieter ones their chances. I wish I could be more like him in this regard, always charming and fascinating. Then again, I don’t think I would like to have an audience all the time. The guy I was telling you about is pretty cool, but he works the night shift at the water treatment plant, so we don’t find many opportunities to hang out. Plus, he has a family that he needs to spend that extra time with. His wife was there too, and I like her, but they talked mostly about their children. I don’t mind it, but there’s nothing that I can contribute to the conversation since I don’t have any of my own. Part of my inability to connect is due to my lifestyle and experiences. I spent so much time meeting people that I would probably never see again after the end of the trip. I would occasionally see someone I knew before for a second move, but then I would leave again. My mind grew very accustomed to that, and hasn’t really felt at home here, even though I’m pretty sure that I’ll die here one day. There I go again, being all depressing. It makes it sound like I hated the party, but it’s not true. I had a lot of fun, and I’m glad that we were looking at Libra at the same time, just for the symbolism of that moment.

Trying to feel at home,

Condor

Microstory 2350: Vacuus, May 18, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Happy belated birthday! I decided to wait a few days to send you my next letter, so it could be after the party, but you ought to already know that, since I sent you the custom read receipt about it immediately after receiving your last one. This was a really good reason to use that system, so thank you for coming up with it. The party went great on my end. We had food and cake, and everybody was wearing the same thing. That’s right, I decided to pass along your cool, fashionable garment design to all invitees, and encouraged them to print and wear one of the options themselves. The garment fabricator liked them a lot herself, so it was her idea to really lean into the theme. She was there too, along with several other people. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I didn’t have anyone to invite, or that I didn’t have any friends in general. We’re in fairly cramped quarters for logistical and practical reasons, so everyone knows pretty much everyone. I don’t like them all, and they don’t all like me, but we get along pretty well. We have to, or it could lead to catastrophe. Animosity does not mix well with a planetary base on an airless world. One person gets mad at another, and decides to open an airlock out of anger, and it’s bye bye half the living people on Vacuus. No, we obviously compartmentalize the sections, but you get what I mean. We place great emphasis on counseling and mental health. So I do have friends. It’s true that I never developed relationships as strong as the ones I sometimes see on TV, but I would still consider them my friends. I don’t know why I’ve never talked about them to you, but they were there, and we had fun. Who else was at yours? We don’t really do much with constellations here, so we’re not all that familiar. We found Libra, and everyone looked at it, trying to figure out why they’re called “the scales”. It wasn’t until someone had the bright idea to turn the image slightly then we were all, like, “ooooohhh. Kinda!” It was fun, though, and I thought of you the whole time. I wish we could have been in the same room. How did it go on your end?

All partied out and not alone,

Corinthia

Microstory 2349: Earth, May 8, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Yeah, there was an idea fairly early on, after the gases settled over the surface, to build massive aerostats. Their reasoning was that, if the atmosphere was going to be toxic, we might as well take advantage of the density that we didn’t have before. I’m pretty sure I heard that they have a couple of them on Venus, because the atmosphere is already really dense, and I believe they’re building more. So we know how to make them. The idea to make them here was ultimately abandoned because too many people felt like it was giving in. The air shouldn’t be toxic, and we shouldn’t be satisfied with it staying that way. We’re supposed to be fixing it, and if we start treating the bug as a feature, we’ll either not work hard on cleaning it up, or we will, and people will have to leave the aerostats before too long anyway. Neither plan seemed reasonable or rational. Now on to the party discussion. The time you propose is totally fine with us. We both requested the entire day off, and the way the department is designed, there should be no problem. A lot of people would have to call in sick, or have some other emergency, before we would be called back in. They take work-life balance very seriously these days. I was telling you that we settled into a stable society a few years back, and that was part of it. If all we’re worried about is survival, then we’re not really living, and if that’s the case, is there really any point in working so hard to continue? People don’t seem to think so, and as terrible as it is that the atmosphere has been poisoned, at least it happened in our time period, instead of a couple hundred years ago. Most of the grunt work is automated, so it’s not like things will fall apart if people stop working. A lot of scholars believe that we’re only not living in a post-scarcity society right now because of the bad air. The domes have forced us to do more work than we should really have to worry about. So yeah, that was another big tangent just to say that we’ll start our party at 20:00 on the day of our birthday. I wanted to ask, and should have asked before, are you really going to have to be there alone? There’s no one else you could invite? By the time we receive your response, the day will have already passed, but you will receive my letter by then, so I hope you think about whether there’s anyone else, now that your mom is gone.

Really hoping you don’t have to be alone,

Condor

Microstory 2348: Vacuus, April 30, 2179

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Dear Condor,

These outfits look great. I’ve selected the one that I think will look right on me, and sent the specs off to the garment fabricator. She says that she’s a little busy right now, and one of her machines is down. It will take a few hours to print since the design is pretty intricate, and she probably won’t get around to it until tomorrow, so thanks for sending them early. I don’t have my own aug mirror, which would allow me to see what it will look like on my person before she fabricates it. They don’t make them anymore, because they’re considered a waste of resources, and the people who still have theirs are pretty protective of them. Fortunately, it’s a pretty small fee if I have to return it, since an alternate would use all the same materials, and like I said, I have plenty of time. I’ve run the conversions, and it looks like the best time for me to use the local observatory without getting in anyone’s way is about 20:15 Australian Eastern Time. I’m assuming that you’re somewhere along Queensland, and will be on May 17, but if you’ve already started heading west around the continent, you may have to adjust accordingly. I hope that’s okay for you, I really can’t change it unless we’re willing to schedule the parties for a different day. I’m still fascinated by the idea of mountaintop living. We don’t really have shifting weather here, or significant geographical changes without heading towards the equator, or something. We’re close to the north pole, because that’s how we maintain contact with you. That might change with our new relay system, but we’ll see. I doubt it will affect me, since I’m just monitoring the sun. I’m curious about other alternatives for your world. It sounds like most people live under land domes, but you’re on a floating platform, which takes some level of creative thinking. Has anyone ever thought of living in an aerostat? It might not be better—per se—but it could give people more options. It’s best not to put all your eggs in one basket. That’s why we have multiple bases, not because we don’t like each other, but for safety. If you don’t use those specifically, are there other types of habitats that you’ve not mentioned before?

Wearing something chic,

Corinthia

Microstory 2347: Earth, April 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Yes, some people live above the toxin line, on top of mountains, but it’s not like every sufficiently tall mountain is inhabited, because not every one is habitable. The really tall ones are too high and too steep. I mean, you might find a cavern to survive in with your family somewhere lower down on a given mountain, but you couldn’t build a civilization there. I should clarify too that the air on top of Mauna Kea isn’t great either, it’s just not fogged enough to stop them from using the telescopes. They don’t have domes, since that would interfere with the views from the telescopes, so they built compartmentalized vestibules to keep the fumes from getting inside the buildings, always keep the doors closed, and only go outside in hazmat suits. All told, I think there are about forty mountain top safe zones, which take varying degrees of precautions. Some of them still require that people wear filtered masks, and on some of the higher ones, they wear oxygen masks because it would be hard to breathe whether the apocalypse had happened or not. Yes, we had a number of jobs that took us to these mountaintops. In fact, earlier ones involved us transporting people to ones at lower elevations, then later having to evacuate those same people, because the toxins started rising. No one really knew how the gases would settle, since the poisoning of our air was a gradual development, not a sudden burst. There was a lot of chaos in those days. I’m sorry to say that we lost people because there wasn’t enough room, nor enough time. Or we just weren’t there, because we were busy somewhere else. I would say that we settled into some stability about five years ago? It’s not perfect, and obviously things are always changing—as we’ve talked about, we just picked up some new friends from Australia—but it wasn’t an urgent need. We’re now in a place where we’ve mostly accepted how things are, and are doing our best with the cards that we’ve been dealt. Observatory access is one aspect of that. Earlier this decade, there was no registering for viewing. No one was concerned with granting people access to information. It was only about survival. That’s all anyone had the bandwidth for. I wouldn’t say that things are great nowadays, but they have certainly been worse. Anyway, I don’t want to get too depressing here. Attached is the file for the outfit that we could wear for our imaginary joint birthday party. Well, it’s a collection with a few options. We can keep talking about it, but we don’t have much time before the date rolls around. Let me know when you’ll have access to your telescope so we know when to schedule our own festivities.

Trying to find Vacuus through the smog,

Condor

Microstory 2346: Vacuus, April 16, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I think it’s a lovely idea for us to celebrate “together” and to be looking at the same stars at the same time. From where I’m standing, Libra is as good of a selection as any. I don’t otherwise have any favorite stars or constellations, and it sounds like you don’t either. I do like to look at them, and didn’t even think about the fact that you can’t unless someone gives you access. So I guess the toxic gases in your atmosphere sit low enough that there are pockets of clean air above it. According to my research that I just did ten minutes ago, Mauna Kea isn’t even the highest peak in the world, so there must be a decent number of these undomed safe zones. Did you and your father transport people to and from these places too, or just the domes? To answer your question, we do have our own observatory that I can access through a tunnel. If we time it right, I won’t have to worry about registering for remote viewing, or anything. There will be a sliver of time where no one’s using it, and I’m sure I could ask for permission. It was one of the first things they built, so they could track the Valkyries, but it’s not as good as the one you’ll be seeing through, and isn’t all that important anymore. I never said, but our settlement is not the ideal location for a large telescope, so our main one was built at an outpost several kilometers away. A small team operates there in person while researchers use the data as needed, and allowed, remotely. Since our local observatory doesn’t serve that much purpose, I doubt I would have much resistance if I just ask to set up my little one-person birthday party there. As far as the clothing goes, send me the design for the outfit, and I’ll have it made. I’m in need of some new clothes anyway, so it won’t break my budget to buy something. In fact, I usually get myself something special around my birthday anyway. I obviously get a discount if I return material for recycling, and I’m done with some of my old stuff.

Searching for Australia through the telescope,

Corinthia

Microstory 2345: Earth, April 9, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I got so wrapped up in the explanation of my experiences outside of the dome that I forgot to respond to your questions about our birthday. Thanks for not throwing that oversight in my face. I was talking to dad about it, and we couldn’t come up with very many ideas, but he thought that maybe we could indeed try to coordinate our celebrations. We don’t really have any specific traditions, but perhaps we could agree to a specific time, and maybe wear matching outfits? That might sound stupid, because I doubt that we would do that if we lived on the same planet, but that’s just what we came up with. You do have fiber synthesizers there, right? And do you have access to a telescope? Perhaps we could be looking at the same stars at the same time, to sort of symbolically connect to one another. In real life, there is no part of the firmament that holds any significance to the both of us. At least, I don’t think there is. But there is this sort of religion called astrology. Have you heard of it? People basically think that the alignment of celestial bodies has some sort of impact on their lives and personalities. It’s bogus, of course, but I say that anyone can create a psychoemotional connection to it in any way they see fit, and ignore the rest. According to astrology, our sun sign should be Taurus, because 2,000 years ago, when you were looking at the sun on May 17, the constellation Taurus would be behind it. But as we all know, everything in the universe is constantly on the move, so some people believe that our sun sign should instead be Aries. Obviously, this is all nonsense, but I was thinking that we could use it anyway. We can’t stare at the sun, though, so instead of looking at the stars in Aries, let’s look in the polar opposite direction, which would be Libra. What do you think of that? It might sound dumb to you, but because of our separation, and because of the vast expanse between us, we’ve never seen or done anything at the same time. I just thought that we could try it. There’s no harm, right? Unless you can’t get to a telescope, I don’t know. It wasn’t automatic for me, because the pollutants hide the stars, but it just so happens to be that one of the Mauna Kea observatories will already be looking in the right direction on May 17, so all I’ll have to do is register for remote viewing. Let me know what you think, and also let me know how I can help with your fear of the outside. I do have a lot of experience with it, but only on Earth. Death would not be instantaneous for me, but I want to help in any way I can.

Namaste and all that,

Condor

Microstory 2342: Vacuus, March 18, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Ha, you’re welcome for the ultra-capacitors. Yes, I invented them single-handedly when I was nineteen years old. I’m a god here. Hopefully that makes up for missing your last 36 birthdays! Speaking of which, ours is coming up soon. What do you typically do to celebrate? Mother and I would always spend the day together, but we didn’t have any specific traditions that we held to. There’s not a lot of different forms of recreation, and nothing that you could consider special. The best I have ever been able to really do is take the day off, and kind of relax all day while someone fills in for me. I suppose that part won’t necessarily change, even though mom’s gone. I really wish that you and I could do something together, or at least communicate in real time. Maybe we could agree to do the same thing at the same time, when the day comes. On second thought, that’s not a great idea, because then you’re limited to staring at rocks, or just hooking up to a virtual simulation. I dunno, I’m starting to get on another emotional ramble. Let’s move on. That’s interesting about the Australian coast, and the condition that you stay there for a period of time. Australia is a big place. Do you have to stay near the dome you were trading with, or is the whole continent fair game? If it’s the second one, then this stipulation feels a bit arbitrary. Maybe they have a reason that makes sense when you hear it. Can you see land outside your window where your stateroom is, or can you really not tell any difference during your daily life? I hope that your other trading partners don’t have any issue with you being so far away all this time, but surely you have other means of transport. No, I know that you do, because your father didn’t have to wait until your platform made it back to where he was to get back on board, or you would have said something along those lines. That sounds like a fascinating job to me, to go all over the world, transporting people between the safe zones peppered in all over the globe, but very dangerous, like the field workers on Vacuus. I’m honestly glad that you don’t do that.

Cheers mate,

Corinthia

Extremus: Year 92

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For nearly two years now, little but old Silveon Grieves has been going to see his older but younger friend, Waldemar Kristiansen almost every single day. It is this boy’s destiny to grow up to be a tyrant...or maybe it isn’t. That’s what Silveon came back to put a stop to, but he won’t know for a long time if he’s successful. He seems to be doing okay for now—better than just a few years ago—but none of them knows what that means. Just because the timeline has changed doesn’t mean it’s better. If Waldemar eventually discovers the truth, he may swing all the way back to where he was headed, or even further into his evil ways, just to spite Silveon. Neither Tinaya nor Arqut are young enough to expect to be alive when Silveon’s efforts come to a result, whatever that may be. Niobe is, though, so when the parents die, it will be up to her to maintain vigilance, even if he’s legally old enough to care for himself. She is typically responsible for sitting with the boys when they’re playing. Calla has grown used to this situation, and self-medicates enough to be passed out most of the time, thankful for the extra parenting help, be it unexplained and unconventional.

Tinaya once asked Silveon why they don’t ever have Waldemar come to the captain’s stateroom to play. Apparently, his distrust in authority is innate, or is otherwise so ingrained in his worldview, that exposing him to leadership this early would only do more harm than good. Right now, he needs positive influences, and since they can’t control all the variables, the best way to do that is to simply limit the number of influences, full stop. The older they get, the less relevant their age gap will become, though, which will supposedly make these secret morality lessons easier to accomplish. At the moment, Waldemar likes their playdates, and hasn’t made any attempt to stop them, but he does see Silveon as a little kid. One day, though, he should see him as a peer, and that’s when the true education begins. This is a very long-term plan, and will probably never end until the day Waldemar dies. Silvy has sacrificed his own personal life to save the happiness and freedom of everyone who will be alive on this ship over the course of the next several decades, and probably no one will ever know. If it backfires, however, things will end up so much worse, because he’ll have associated himself with an authoritarian oppressor. The Leithe family name would never recover from that.

While her son is dealing with all that, Tinaya is busy with her usual Captain’s duties. Even in times of peace, there’s work to be done. They are nearing the end of Year 92, which of course means that it’s time to start thinking about the next captain in line! Yay! Who will it be? Who will Tinaya choose? No one.

Head Councillor Paddon Paddon is here to discuss the matter. “Have you had time to take a look at the class of 2365?” The reason the successor is generally considered around this time is because the only people who will be qualified to take over the position have to at least graduate from school by the selection date. In this case, the greenest of candidates are currently four years from graduation, and by now, pretty much anyone who was going to wash out of the captain’s track would probably have done so by now. The best of the best have already proven themselves in every meaningful—yet still not official—sense. Basically, the idea is that everyone who can be put on the shortlist is already a known option. They don’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on them closer to the deadline, because even if they would be great for the job, they won’t be ready yet.

Tinaya doesn’t care about that, because it’s not her problem. It’s supposed to be, but...it can’t be. Not this time. Not her. “I’m afraid that I will not be participating in the process. You will have to make the decision on your own.”

Paddon scrunches up her face. “I don’t understand.”

“We have exhausted the conversations surrounding my appointment to the seat. My aunt, my friendship with the previous captain, my relationship with the superintendent. It all sounds great to you, but history will not look kindly upon us unless we leave it where it is. I am done. Well, not today. I mean, in four years, I’ll be done. I’ll become an admiral, and then I’ll die. Or I’ll die first, who knows? That is the order of events, and we shouldn’t add any more to that.”

“I really don’t follow what you’re talking about,” Paddon complained.

“There are other variables which I am not at liberty to divulge,” Tinaya says vaguely. Silveon and Waldemar are the big ones, but her knowledge of The Question, the Bridger Section, the Nexa, and Verdemus also contribute to the complexities of this fragile situation. “What you would like me to do is help appoint someone who I believe will captain the ship in the same way that I would. That’s the idea, whether it’s in the bylaws, or not. Belo wasn’t too dissimilar to Yenant. Leithe the First wasn’t too dissimilar to Belo. Tamm was a weird one, which actually proves my point. The council appointed him, and while it didn’t work out in that case, we went right back to the pattern. Keen wasn’t too dissimilar to my aunt, and I’m very similar to them both! Some people feel—even though they don’t actually believe it in the literal way—that the same captain has pretty much run the ship the whole time.”

“So, what?” Paddon asked. “That’s called continuity, and it’s a good thing.”

“Yes, in wartime, it’s a very good thing. In peacetime, it’s not. People crave change.” Tinaya laughs. “Even if the candidate they love is running on a campaign of going back to the good old days. They want to see someone come in who is not a carbon copy of the person before. Trust me, I have been paying attention, and I have been listening to my advisors, both official and unofficial. The populace is restless. They need someone new. They need to feel that they were involved in the decision. And most importantly, they need to know that I was not a part of it.”

“This is so subjective, and our studies are not reflective of what you’re claiming. You are the most popular captain in our history, including Olindse Belo, who has become a sort of folk hero because she burned bright and early. They wanted you in that chair for years before you finally sat down, and they don’t want you to get up. But since you are, the easiest way for them to accept that is if you are totally involved in the succession search process. It’s the opposite of what you think, and I don’t know how you could be so wrong about it.”

“Like I said, there are other variables.”

Paddon Paddon is a reasonable woman, who doesn’t ask questions that she doesn’t want the answers to. She is aware that Tinaya has had a much more eventful life than the general population was told, but she’s never tried to investigate. She assumes that it was all necessary, and that Tinaya deserves to be where she is today. Nonetheless, she has her limits. “I respect that, but if you can’t tell me what they are, then I can’t take them into account.”

“How about a compromise?” Arqut is coming in from the closet.

“How long have you been there?” Tinaya questions.

“I teleported in there to change my shoes about a minute ago, but I didn’t want to interrupt or eavesdrop, so I eventually decided to do both!” he answers.

“What is your suggestion?” Paddon asks.

“Make your pick,” Arqut begins. “Select the new captain yourself, but choose someone good. Find the best candidate available, and I don’t just mean by your standards, but by the passengers’. They need to be socially accessible, well-liked, noncontroversial, and clean. Once you do, make the announcement. At least a day later, Tinaya will make her own, independent announcement, with her endorsement of this person. This new captain will benefit from her stamp of approval...without having gotten the job because of her.”

“Hm.” Paddon thinks about it for a moment. “That’s not a bad way to frame it.”

He laughs. “Of course, she can only give that endorsement if the candidate has truly earned it, so you really do need to find someone worthy. To maintain ethics and transparency, we can’t have any secret meetings to make sure that they’re gonna secure that endorsement. You have to get it right the first time. You have to not screw it up.”

“I think we can make that work, Superintendent Grieves.”

“I’m only Mister Grieves these days,” he corrects. “Except to you; you can just call me Arqut. We’ve been friends for years.”

“Okay,” Paddon says with a deep, rejuvenating breath. “I’ll take this to the council.” She pauses for a bit. “Though, I don’t think I’ll tell them everything.”

“That might be for the best,” Tinaya agrees.

They shake hands and part ways. Tinaya and Arqut won’t have to concern themselves with any of this for the next few years as the entire point is to leave them out of it. After Paddon leaves, the two of them start to have lunch together, but it’s cut short when they receive an emergency call from the infirmary. Silveon has been hurt. They teleport straight there to find their four-year-old son lying back on the examination table. They can only see his body, though. A mounted scanner of some kind is blocking the view of his face at the moment.

“No, don’t,” Silveon’s pediatrician, Dr. De Witt warns. He steps in between when Tinaya tries to look underneath the scanner.

“What do you not want me to see? What is that white stuff on his shirt?”

“It’s cake frosting,” Niobe explains.

“Cake?” Tinaya questions. “What the hell happened to my son!” Tinaya screams as she tries to get to him again, but this time, the doctor holds her back physically.

“You don’t want to see him like that! Besides, the machine is currently assessing the damage, so we need to wait until extraction is complete.”

“Extraction. Of. WHAT!” Arqut cries.

“A candle.”

“Why the hell is there a candle in his face? Why the hell is there a candle? We’re on a ship! We don’t need candles, we use lights!” Tinaya is not letting up.

“It’s an Earthan tradition,” Niobe starts. “You make a cake with sugary frosting, and you stick little candles on the top. Since he’s turning four next week, there were four candles. One of them got into his eye. It was an accident.”

“How would they get into his eye? How is that an accident?” Arqut asks.

“Go on, Ni!” Tinaya urges when Niobe, for some reason, looks over at a door.

“It was only a prank,” Niobe goes on with sadness. “He thought it would be funny if Silveon got some frosting on his face. He didn’t factor in the candles, but he didn’t hurt him on purpose. I promise you, this was not on purpose. It was just a stupid joke that went too far.”

“Are you telling me that a twelve-year-old boy shoved my baby’s face into a candle—four candles?”

“The other three fell down from the force of his forehead and cheeks,” Niobe recounts. “One of them got caught between his eyelids, and remained straight.”

“The nanites will repair the damage,” Dr. De Witt says. “I assure you that he will be good as new once he wakes up.”

“Where is he, in that room?” Tinaya points at the door.

“I don’t think you should talk to him right now,” Niobe suggests.

“Why, because he’s upset...or because he isn’t?”

Niobe doesn’t answer.

Without permission, Tinaya opens the door to the private consultation room to find Waldemar sitting on the bench against the wall in the dark. He looks mad, but it’s not entirely clear why. It could be that he blames Silveon for ruining the perfectly good cake, or it’s because a certain sports team lost some game way back in 2024. Honestly, it’s impossible to tell with an unwell kid like this. “Are you sorry?” she asks him.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, so no,” he spits.

She looks over her shoulder, then shuts the door behind her. She turns the lights on, but keeps them at a low brightness. “Even if you didn’t do something intentionally, you should feel remorse for it. You should at least wish that it hadn’t happened.”

“My therapist says that I don’t have remorse. I don’t know where to get it. I don’t know where everyone else keeps theirs.”

Tinaya nods. “I’m not qualified to help you with that. But you need to understand that what you did was hurtful. It may have been a mistake, but there were consequences. There are consequences to every action you take. Maybe...” she trails off. “Maybe your brain can’t feel guilt. Maybe you’ll always have to fake it. But truthfully, I don’t really care what’s happening in your brain; right now, or ever. It’s what you do that matters. Regardless of what you’re feeling—or not feeling—don’t do bad things. I am ordering you to not. Do. Bad. Things. You know right from wrong, whether they impact you or not. If you’re ever confused, or unsure, you can read up on the laws and rules. And if you still don’t get it, ask for help. Ask my son. He will always be a great resource for you.”

“No, he won’t...not anymore.”

“I guarantee you that he will not let this stand in the way of your friendship,” she contends. “When he’s feeling up to it, he’ll wanna see you. I’m first trying to teach you that you will not be able to function in society if you don’t follow society’s rules. Even if they annoy you, even if they make you mad; they are there for a reason, and you are beholden to them, just like everyone else. Humans are not stupid. We are not doing things that don’t make sense. So again, if you don’t understand why things are the way they are, ask someone you can trust, like me, Silvy, Niobe, or Mr. Grieves.”

“Not my mother?”

She takes a long time to respond. “Not your mother.”

He nods.

“Okay. You wait here. I’ll come get you after he wakes up.”

“Missus Grieves?” He stops her when she tries to leave. “Thank you.” He waits for a second. “Sorry.”

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Microstory 2008: Nebraska

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My grandma was born in a very small town in Nebraska called Worms. That’s gross, isn’t it? The nearest larger city is called Grand Island, which is funny too, because it’s not an island. What my dad said is that they called it that because it’s between two rivers. That doesn’t make any sense to me, but whatever. In 1988, when papa was still 14, because he hadn’t had his birthday yet, it was the summer again, and time for a family reunion. What’s funny about this is that my grandma’s family always has a new reunion whenever a new president is elected, or about to be voted in. But sometimes you don’t know if there’s going to be a new president or not, right? So sometimes they can plan for it, and sometimes they can’t. When President Hagerman died, they had to have a sudden reunion, just so they wouldn’t stop the tradition. It seems silly to me, but I’m not in charge of it. It started many years ago when one of the presidents was born in Nebraska, so he spent a lot of time there. Papa didn’t care about that. He was just excited to be flying on an airplane for the first time. By now in the story, he had already visited seven different states, but always by driving, so he had never flown before. He was nervous, but he knew that they wouldn’t make him do it if they thought it was going to crash. I’ve been on a few planes too, and they never crashed. Have you ever flown before? It’s scary but fun. We’re going to get a new president next year, because President Greason has already been there for eight years, so I think we’ll fly to Nebraska.