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.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 1, 2399

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Winona needs some company to deal with all the testosterone in the air from Mithridates Preston and Hamilton Burr, but that’s not the only reason that Leona wanted to contact Dilara Cassano. The cane that Dalton Hawk was using, and which he gave to Alyssa before she lost it, was named for her. Leona isn’t sure if Dilara made it herself, or if someone like Holly Blue or Weaver made it for her, but it is based off of her power, and utilizes a gigantic synthetic diamond that Leona procured for her a long time ago in another timeline. They may require Dilara’s help with Dalton in the coming days, so it’s time to bring her back into the fold. Until then, there doesn’t seem to be much for anyone to do. The task force teams are in place, and awaiting Leona’s orders, but she doesn’t have any orders to give, because she doesn’t know the specifics of what they’re going to do. Trina said that the Keys and Keyholders would reveal themselves soon, but they still haven’t gotten a solid date on this whole Reconvergence thing.

For now, Aldona is the only one with a job to do. If Ramses were around, Leona would ask him to reverse engineer the inter-reality TV that Mithri let her take from the Fifth Division. Without him, Aldona is their best bet for on-the-fly inventions. Leona herself is smart and well educated, but she’s not an inventor. She understands how to use technology, and she loves to tinker with stuff that already exists, but she was never all that great at making something from scratch. In a day, Aldona is done. The Fourth Quadrant had all of the raw materials that she needed to make enough communication devices for everyone, and the potential to make more.

Leona is distributing them now, and teaching the teams how to work them. They look like the Farnsworth communicators from Warehouse 13, which Aldona may have been subconsciously inspired by. She doesn’t have time to figure out the network protocols, so each reality has one phone number, which everyone in that reality shares. If multiple people in one reality answer their devices when they receive a call, the video and audio will be mashed together in a confusing and incoherent mess. That’s why she had to include a sort of ultra-advanced squelching knob that will focus the signal between only two devices. Perhaps with a little time, she could modify them to handle full three-way communication, but again, they don’t know how long they have before the event goes down. Trina and Cheyenne should have reached out to them sooner.

Leona is in the main sequence now. Mateo nods, grasping the basics, and obviously not worried about it. “Do you know what day it is?” he asks her.

“Thursday,” she answers, though she knows why he’s bringing it up.

“Yes, but...”

“Mateo, I’m a time traveler. This may technically be 399 years since I was born, but I’m not 399 years old, and I’ve not experienced any significant interval of time since then. In fact, I don’t even know how old I am.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies with a slow shake of his head. “It’s your birthday, so we’re celebrating it.”

“You can’t make me.” She threatens him with her reality-jumping dial.

“You would abandon me on this, the day of your birth?”

“Mateo...”

“Come,” he insists. “Let us eat cake.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 212,398

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Curtis is wandering down the corridors, checking all the doors to see if he’s allowed to go in. He’s not. He tried to teleport directly into a couple of the rooms, but they’re temporally locked as well. He’s made it to the main living area now. Cheyenne is already there. She’s staring at the open door to Mateo’s stasis chamber. “Hey. Is everything okay?” he asks, hoping not to frighten her.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I just feel bad for the guy. It really sounds like Danica is screwing him over. He’s just trying to get back to his wife. Wait, is Danica here?”

“I didn’t see her,” Curtis says, “but these walls have ears. Literally.”

“Right.” She breathes deeply, and continues staring at the pods. “I should be more careful.”

“Hey, you’re trying to get home too, aren’t ya?”

“I’ve never been in any hurry my entire life. So yes, but...it seems weird to be so earnest about it. Him, I get. His life span is so short. Everything here is so weird.”

“How long is your life span?”

She just looks at him with no intention to answer.

She’s totally right. This place is so weird. You can be gone for minutes, and miss out on so much. In fact, you could be in stasis for the same amount of time as civilization had existed up to the point that Curtis first left. Empires would rise and fall. Wars would be fought. “Come on, let’s stop being depressed.”

“It’s the last day of the year, did you know that?”

“I guess.”

“He was supposed to be awakened, but the hatch never opened.”

“Maybe we could try to open it.”

“I already did. It didn’t work. It requires an access code. These people are so distrustful. I’ve never understood that. Where I’m from, our ancestors fought wars so that one day, we could live free from conflict. I don’t think that war is good, but I’m having trouble fitting in here.” Wow, they’re both making a vague connection between the situation they’re in and war. Interesting. There’s something about this girl.

“Well, this isn’t my first time being put in this kind of situation. Maybe it’ll be easier if you don’t try to go through it alone. Let’s do something fun together.”

“Something like what?” she asks.

“Well, a lot of this facility is off limits, but there’s one area I know is open.”

“Let me guess, your bedroom.”

He laughs. “No. Come on, I’ll show you. It’s a doozy.”

Cheyenne follows him into the elevator, which she never thought to try, because everyone says that it just goes up to the surface, which doesn’t even have a breathable atmosphere. That turns out to be okay, because in the mostly empty room at the top are two vacuum suits, which a little robot helps them put on. As she explains to Curtis, she’s seen space from ships and space stations before, but never like this. It’s wild, hopping along this planet, kicking at the space rocks. Because she’s traveled back in time to a completely unrecognizable calendar, and she’s been in stasis a lot of the time, the date is irrelevant. But, if she adds up all the time she has spent outside of stasis since arriving, it’s been nineteen days. It’s her birthday, and this is the best gift she’s ever received.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 24, 2398

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Different countries have different laws and conventions, but the most common number to use is fourteen. Though not yet an adult in these jurisdictions, this is the age when an individual is considered legally free to choose their own religion. It’s difficult for the state to regulate what a given religion can do to and with their children, but certain morally universal laws have been passed to prevent abuse or any infringing on those children’s rights. Basically, yeah, you’re free to express your own religious practices, but if you indoctrinate children into believing the same without providing them with the proper education regarding alternatives, then you’re being a hypocrite...and that’s illegal. They have the right to figure that out themselves, and once they’ve been alive for fourteen years, society expects them to declare their beliefs. Of course, they convert to something else later, but people generally believe that—assuming all anti-indoctrination laws have been followed—they can make a well-informed decision at this point. Carlin McIver is at this age now. Today is his birthday.

There is nothing the team can do to solve the Meredarchos-Erlendr problem. Sure, Leona is a highly trained agent, and Mateo technically works for the same covert governmental organization, but that organization has many other well-qualified agents, operatives, and analysts. Everyone on the team is at the Lofts now, which currently excludes the late Cheyenne, her friend Bridgette, Heath, Vearden, and Arcadia. So there aren’t all that many people at the party, but the ones that are here are committed to making Carlin feel special, safe, happy, and ready to make his choice. They’re all sitting together in the common area on the second floor, eating his favorite foods, and trying to keep the mood light. It’s not working. Alyssa is being strong for her younger brothers, but they’re still struggling. Carlin is particularly upset, as he felt it was his duty to protect Trina from harm. He’s not angry at the team for letting her go. He’s angry at himself for letting them let her go. Again, he’s not an adult yet...but there is a loophole.

“Tamerism,” Carlin says quietly.

Not everyone heard. They’re still smiling from their respective conversations. “What did you say?” Alyssa asks him.

“I choose...Tamerism,” he elaborates slightly.

“Very funny,” Alyssa says.

“I’m being serious. I’m fourteen now, I get to choose, and I choose...Tamerism!” He’s raised his voice, but isn’t yelling yet.

Alyssa scowls. “You are not going to be a Tamerist!”

The visitors to this reality look over at Marie, who shrugs. She hasn’t heard of every single sect of every single faith.

“I have to protect my family, and this is how I do it!” Now he’s yelling.

“That is not how you do it, because we are a nonviolent family!”

“You said that all these people are our family now,” Carlin reasons, indicating the team.

“They are, and they’re working very hard to protect us,” Alyssa volleys. “And I know what you’re going to say; they’re using violence. Yes, to a degree, but that’s not what you’re going to do.”

“Forgive me for interjecting, but what’s happening here?” Leona asks.

“This country has maturity milestones. You can work at thirteen. You can choose your religion at fourteen. You can drive at fifteen. You can vote at sixteen. You can marry at seventeen.” She takes a beat. “You can fight at eighteen.”

“Okay...he’s not eighteen.”

“You can fight at fourteen,” Alyssa goes on, “if your chosen religion says that you can, and Tamerism is the only major one that says that. And it has to be one of the majors, because they’re the ones who get resources from the government. The problem is that Tamerism is fucking insane! The things that they believe, the things that they fight for...”

“I can fight for whatever I want!” Carlin claims.

“Once you reach a certain level,” Alyssa argues, “which takes, like, a year. Until then, you go where they tell you to go, and you kill who they tell you to kill.”

“Some people accelerate in the program.” Carlin crosses his arms in a huff.

“You are not going to join Tamerism.”

“You’re not allowed to say that to me!” Carlin cries.

“Seven witnesses will assure the authorities that I never actually said that.” She’s confident that everyone here will lie for her, except maybe Moray, who may be a little too young to understand the consequences. When the state says that you can choose your religion, they mean that no one can stop you, not even a legal guardian.

Carlin tightens his arms around himself.

“You want to join the mission to find those evil men, don’t you?” Alyssa guesses.

Carlin nods his head.

She nods back. It’s time for some tough love. “That’s not practical. By the time you level out of obligatory service, they’ll be found and dealt with. Don’t throw your life away. Tamerism is one of the hardest faiths to convert out of. They get dirt on you, they blackmail you. You don’t genuinely believe what they believe. They’ll know that, and they won’t let it slide. They’ll act like they do, but then they’ll slowly brainwash you.”

“Hold on a minute.” Ramses jumps up. There’s a little whiteboard on the refrigerator. He wipes the party shopping list away.  “How do you spell that, Tamerism?”

“T-A-M-E-R-I-S-M,” Alyssa answers.

He writes it up in black marker. “Marie, how do you spell the one that your husband is in, or was in, or whatever?”

“Daltomism. D-A-L-T-O-M-I-S-M.”

Ramses writes that one up there two. He breaks each word in half using a red marker, and adds different letters to the ends. Tamerlane. Dalton.

“Tamerlane Pryce and Dalton Hawke?” Leona asks. “Two of the biggest religions in the world were founded, or perhaps inspired, by two people that we know personally? How did I not notice this before? Why did I not research the religions for clues?”

Mateo stands up, and regards the whiteboard. “I wonder if my cousin, Danica has one too.”

“Oh.” Marie approaches the whiteboard. She writes the word Anicari in black marker, and then adds a D to the front with the red marker.

Mateo nods as he’s staring at the names. “We need to make a list of every religion in the world. Something fishy is going on here. There may be more time travelers that we weren’t expecting to be involved.”

Leona retrieves her tablet from her bag.