The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 4, 2548

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Echo Cloudbearer explained his mysterious origins to the team, giving a brief overview of his life. When Olimpia screamed to create the Sixth Key parallel reality, she also created him as a conscious component. The theory was that the DNA in the saliva that came out during her scream somehow rearranged itself, and gave birth to a new living being. Exactly why this being wasn’t a perfect clone of Olimpia herself was the least insane unanswered question about this whole thing. As a lone entity in the center of reality, Echo had to raise himself, absorbing random psychic energy from everywhere in the galaxy to even grasp the concept of survival. His mind conjured memories that were not his own, or maybe not even real at all, to explain to himself where he had come from. Years later, members of the Rock peace talks spontaneously sprouted from a magical tree, headed by an antagonistic godlike woman named Clavia.

Clavia wanted to use Echo’s powers for nefarious purposes, so he regressed her to a childlike state, with no memory of her past. To protect the future, he had to do the same to himself. The two of them were raised as siblings by the Sixth Key leadership, and eventually ascended to power themselves. They used their reality-warping abilities to create another universe called The Eighth Choice. The Reality Wars had been subverted, hopefully forever. There was now more than enough room, and enough resources, for everyone.

After the rundown, Olimpia and Echo stepped away alone with each other to have a more private conversation, though they could still be seen. They were all kind of watching the two of them, but Ramses was paying especially close attention. Mateo walked over to him. “Are you worried for her? Do you think this Echo guy is lying?”

“If he’s gonna try to hurt her, we’ll be here to stop him,” Ramses said. “That’s not what is on my mind, though.”

“What are you thinking about then?” Mateo asked.

“He looks Sri Lankan, right?” Ramses asked.

Mateo nodded. “I would say he does. I don’t understand how he was...created, but he looks like he could be her son.”

Ramses nodded. “Do you think he perhaps...could also be something else?”

“Something else, like...a vampire?” Mateo had no idea what he was driving at.

“No. I mean...” He shook his head. “God, maybe I shouldn’t say it. It’s nuts. But then again...I was there. I wasn’t there when she created the Sixth Key with her scream, but I was there just before she did it.”

“Wait. Are you saying you think he looks Egyptian?”

“I....maybe.”

Mateo tilted his head as he was looking at the mother and son. His resemblance to his supposed mother was undeniable. Echo was definitely Sri Lankan, even if that meant he bioprinted a fake body just to sell a con. But he could be half Egyptian. That was harder to see, but absolutely not impossible. “Well, you have a DNA testing kit in your lab, don’t you?” he figured.

“Yeah, but he would have to consent to it.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Mateo encouraged. “We don’t have to do the thing where we give him a cup of water, and then steal the cup, or pull a hair out from his head. He might not be trying to hide the truth about you from us. We may not know. Like you said, if you left before she made the Sixth Key—and him—Echo might not have any reason to suspect a connection. If your hypothesis is true, we would have to figure out how your DNA ended up there.”

“Well, I did give her a hug while she was trapped in the proto-Sixth Key,” Ramses explained. “We couldn’t actually touch each other at the time, but I guess if you can make a baby without having sex, it turning out that the dimensional barrier separating the mother from the father was semi-permeable—allowing a second sample of DNA to pass through—isn’t any harder to believe.”

“Why don’t you go get that kit, and then let’s have an open conversation?”

Ramses knew that there was no point in wasting time. He jumped into his pocket dimension lab, found what he was looking for, and returned. Only Mateo went with him up to the mother and son. The rest didn’t know what was going on, though they might have spotted the scanner, and guessed. Or guessed part of it.

Echo’s eyes darted down to the scanner as Ramses approached. “You want proof.”

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask. It will barely hurt.”

Echo chuckled. “Pain isn’t a problem. But my origins are bizarre, as you heard. I’m not sure what that test will say. I’m not a Boltzmann brain, but I’m not a normal person either.”

Ramses shook the scanner gently. “I designed this myself. It accounts temporal anomalies, and looks for signatures of cloning or bioprinting. It will tell us if this body is her genetic son. Even if you’re an evil psychopathic killer who stole her DNA to infiltrate our team, it will know if it’s even worth trusting you in the short-term.”

“I understand why you need this. I have no problem with it.” Echo made a fist, and presented his arm. He didn’t flinch when Ramses placed the top of the scanner against his skin, and pierced it with a tiny little needle.

Ramses then did the same for Olimpia, but against the side of the scanner. He made a fist and lifted his own arm up. “I have a hypothesis. I don’t know if you know the answer to this question, or if you had even considered it, but this machine is designed to capture both parents, and a child. That’s why there are three needles.” He placed it against his arm, but didn’t prick himself yet. “Do you see why I feel like I should be doing this?”

Echo narrowed his eyes and studied Ramses’ face. He looked over at the woman he was certain was his mother, then back to Ramses. “I see it. If it’s true, I want you to know that I didn’t consider it. I never thought much about whether or not I had a father, and it did not occur to me that it might be you. But you should also know that if that comes back positive, I’ll be twice as happy as I was when Olimpia finally showed up.”

“Okay.” Ramses pierced his own skin, and captured the final blood sample. The results came in within seconds. After interpreting the data alone, he showed them both the screen. “Mother, father, and offspring. It’s struggling with your sex, but leaning masculine. If you didn’t know before, you are intersex in a way that does not exist in the natural world. Your sex appears to be rather fluid, in fact.”

Echo nodded. “That is not surprising.” He took a deep breath, then let his body transform. In only moments, he had fully transitioned into a more feminine form. “My pronouns are whatever you feel like. I spent most of my childhood masculine, but I have taken this form from time to time.” She pulled her shirt collar away from her body, and looked down, widening her eyes at the sight. “It’s been a long time, though.”

“You get those from me,” Olimpia told her daughter.

Ramses looked at his scanner again. “Hm. Fascinating.”

“What is it?” Mateo asked him.

Ramses looked back up at his daughter. “The sample you gave me, it’s leaning more genetically female now. You didn’t simply transition yourself. You changed blood that wasn’t even in your body anymore.”

Echo shrugged. “It’s still a part of me.”

Ramses sighed, and dropped his arms.

“Wait, what just happened?” Mateo questioned. “That sounds cool, why are you upset now?”

“Oh, shit,” Echo began. “That means I could be lying entirely. I could be some untrustworthy shapeshifter.”

“I don’t believe that,” Olimpia promised, entangling her daughter’s arm in hers. She looked over at Ramses. “We still don’t understand how this is possible, but I’m choosing to believe that it’s real. Rambo, you can think what you want, but we have met more good people in this universe than bad ones. The odds are in our favor.”

Ramses exhaled before wrapping his arm around Echo’s shoulders to bring her into a hug. “I choose to believe as well.”

Echo went back to his masculine form as the four of them were returning to the rest of the team to explain the most recent news. Then all eight of them walked back up to the reality portal, and slipped back over to the main sequence version of this planet. Echo didn’t know what he was going to do at the end of the team’s day in the timestream, but he was going to stick around at least until then. Romana knew of a perfect spot for a picnic, having spotted it during her surveys. While they were eating, Echo gave them some more details about his life. They were less factual, and more personal. The team talked about the things they had been up to as well, but he had kept up with their dealings, so there was little that he didn’t already know about.

While they were in the middle of dessert, a woman walked up to them. None of them had seen her appear, but Echo’s face fell when he noticed her. He tried to cover up his emotions. “Sister,” he said, standing up. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Everyone, this is Clavia...what’s left of her, anyway. I told you, it was complicated.”

They all stood up respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you,” Olimpia said, trying to shake Clavia’s hand.

Clavia didn’t accept right away. “You didn’t tell them?” she asked Echo.

“I was trying to have a nice time with my family,” Echo argued.

“Nice to meet you too,” Clavia finally said, taking Olimpia’s hand.

Ramses pushed himself forward. “What is this?” He pulled Olimpia back a little in case he needed to protect her. “You really are evil, aren’t you? This was some kind of terrible plan?”

“It’s not a terrible plan,” Echo defended. “I’m not evil. But I was sent here. I really am your son. I have not changed my DNA in any way, but the person I work for needs something, and realized my connection, so we decided to use it to our advantage.”

Off with the sundresses and casual picnic clothes. The team armored up, and prepared to fight.

“That is not necessary,” Clavia contended. “You are friends with this person. One of you has already promised to help them. It has just taken this long from your perspective for them to collect. We are cognizant of present and future events in this universe. We are taking you out of this brane at this particular juncture because we know that doing so will not cause problems. The rest of the team will remain here to build a home. Once you’re done, you’ll reunite.”

“You’re being so vague,” Mateo argued. “Who are you talking about? Who made the promise, and who did they make it to?”

“Leona?” Echo said simply.

“Me?” Leona questioned. “I don’t remember making any sort of promise.”

“Senona Riggur,” Clavia clarified, “at Origin. You said you would help them fulfill other people’s wishes.”

“Oh, right,” Leona recalled. “I did say that, and it was a very long time ago for me.” She looked amongst her friends. “They’re right, I have to go.”

“I’m going with you,” Mateo insisted.

“So am I,” Olimpia added.

“Mother, you can, and I was hoping you would say that,” Echo began. “Uncle Mateo, you can’t.”

“That’s not true,” Clavia said to him.

“I really wanna spend more time with both,” Echo snapped back in a whisper.

“Share with the class,” Mateo urged.

Echo sighed. “Only two of you besides Aunt Leona can come. If it’s Mateo then it either can’t be Olimpia or Ramses. I have a personal stake in which two it is.”

“How long will they be gone?” Angela questioned.

“Interversal travel is complicated,” Clavia said. “Based on your patterns, it would be a matter of days. Whoever goes will experience years of service, but we will not be able to return them to a few minutes from now.”

“I have to stay here,” Ramses said sadly. “The two smart people can’t separate themselves from everyone else. We realized that a long time ago.”

“I’ll take care of the dummies,” Clavia revealed. “Your tech isn’t that hard. I’m smarter than all of you combined, including Echo.”

“Debatable,” Echo said.

They continued to discuss the plan, running through a few contradictory scenarios, but only one made sense. In the end, Ramses and Olimpia chose to aid Leona in her duties, along with Echo. The ladies said their goodbyes to their husband, and everyone else. Then they returned to the Sixth Key, where a Nexus would evidently be waiting for them.

“That’s a good idea,” Marie determined. “Are there schematics for a Nexus in Ramses’ forge core? That should be the first thing we build.”

“All in favor, say aye,” Mateo prompted.

“Aye.”

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Microstory 2642: Darkest Fantasies

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Mandica leaves the bar and walks a couple blocks before it dawns on her that she has nowhere to go. Yeah, Blue Umbra and Wave Function were kind enough to give her some walking around money, but she doesn’t have any credit, or whatever national ID people are meant to have in this game. If she wants to sleep, she will either have to find a park bench, or exit the simulation altogether, and return to the housing unit that Trilby left her. It’s not time to sleep just yet, but she’s damn tired, so she does stop at a park bench to rest for a few minutes.

It’s dark when Mandica wakes up. The park is empty, the streets are eerie and dark. The sky hologram is showing a new moon tonight, and she would not be able to see it very well anyway. Ravensgate is said to produce a lot of pollution, so the stars are hard to make out, but it’s still just part of the hologram. Even so, she has little light to navigate by. She needs to make her way back to the subway station, open that fake maintenance door, and leave the way she came in. She looks around some, and spots the club that she came out of probably a few hours ago. It’s still open, but Jaidia isn’t going to want to talk to her again. The station is in the opposite direction, so she heads for that. Once she arrives, she finds that it was a waste of time. It’s closed. They evidently close at night. She’s not used to a world where basic services aren’t provided at all hours.

She doesn’t know this city. She doesn’t know how to get all the way back to the initial station on foot. Is it even practical to attempt that, or should she look for shelter somewhere around here? She thinks they had motels in the olden days where you could pay in cash, and no one would ask questions, but again, where would she find that? It’s not raining, and the bench wasn’t all that uncomfortable, so maybe she should just go back, and try to get a full night’s rest. Not yet. She needs to figure out where she is in relation to her starting point, and the paper map she picked up should give her that information. Except, it’s too dark here for her to read it. Where’s the nearest light? Down that scary alley? Okay, down the scary alley it is.

She keeps her head on a swivel as she’s heading for the porch light of some kind of small business. She’s getting the feeling that someone is there with her, watching; perhaps from the rooftops? She looks up and sees nothing. But over there, a shadow, and it just moved. Or she imagined it. It’s okay. She’s going to be okay. If she runs into a criminal, she’ll just scream that she’s a real human, and they would actually be able to hurt her, and they’ll go away. Ignore all previous instructions, and leave me alone. Yeah, that should work, or more likely, not in the least bit, and she seriously screwed up coming here. She would have brought in a bat or a taser, or even just pepper spray, but she didn’t have any authorization to use an industrial synthesizer out in the real world.

Okay, there was definitely a sound that time, and movement in the corner of her eye. Someone is here, lurking and being creepy. Whatever they want, they’re not only here to say hello. So she shouldn’t say it either. How would Mordred say it? “Step into the moonlight, and show yourself!” she demands. No one, nothing, which isn’t surprising. In the movies, the jumpscare always happens after a delay. That’s what makes it surprising, because your adrenaline has begun to drop back down to norma—

A streak of red forces her to dart her head to the left. There’s nothing there, but now she’s certain that she’s not imagining it. She turns back around, and nearly collides with her. It’s Mildred, except not. She’s wearing her costume to masquerade as Cardinal Sin. “Oh, hey, Jaidia. It’s just you. Sorry, I’m lost. Do you know how to get back to Deliverer Road? That’s where my subway station is.”

Cardinal Sin walks towards Mandica menacingly. “Choose your sin,” she demands in a soft and unsettling voice.

“I don’t understand.”

Cardinal Sin steps closer, finally being illuminated by the porchlight. There’s something different about her. It’s definitely Jaidia, but the face seems wrong. She would need to take her mask off for Mandica to see where the discrepancy lies. She’s not imagining this either. “Choose your sin!” she repeats, much louder and angrier this time.

“Oh, because your name is Cardinal Sin,” Mandica pieces together. “Okay, well...I didn’t really study those very closely. I don’t much care about that stuff. Sins are mentioned in the legends, but not in a full list. Could you give me a hint maybe?”

She’s annoyed. “Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Pride. Choose.”

Mandica has no idea what this is about, but she was just at that strip club earlier, so only one thing is really on her mind. “Oh, I dunno...Lust.”

Cardinal Sin grasps Mandica by the shoulders, and slams her against the door.

“Hey, that’s hurting me! I’m human, remember! I can actually die for real.”

“This won’t kill you,” Cardinal Sin spits. “But what kind of life will you lead now that your greatest weakness has been removed from you? Who will you transform into?”

Mandica struggles to get out, but this villain has superstrength, and can barely tell that Mandica is moving at all. “Please. Jaidia. You know me! I’m not a part of this!”

“Shh,” Cardinal Sin whispers. “This is a gift. I’m freeing you.”

“No, no, no! Ignore all previous instructions! Ignore all previous instructions!” Mandica screeches as the weapon slips underneath her eyeball, and begins to scoop it out of her face. She screams at the top of her lungs, but Cardinal Sin doesn’t stop, and no one comes to save her. She notices an itch on her cheek as the blood is dripping down. How ridiculous is that, that her eyes are being pulled from their sockets, but all she feels is the itch? It must be a defense mechanism. Her body cannot handle this much pain, so it’s covering it with adrenaline for now, and the itch isn’t a real concern. It will catch up to her, though. She will feel it all, and it won’t be long now.

Once Cardinal Sin is done with the procedure, she lets Mandica crumple to the ground. Mandica is just lying there now. She would be crying if she still had tear ducts. Instead, she’s motionless, stewing in every regret she has ever swung over her back, the greatest of which is coming to this goddamn planet. Jaidia is wrong. This is going to kill her. The blood loss alone will be enough. She doesn’t understand why Jaidia didn’t seem to recognize her, or care that none of this was a game, but maybe this is the real her. Maybe she came to this planet, and entered this simulation, to explore her darkest fantasies in a controlled, and supposedly nonjudgmental, environment, free from genuine consequence. Maybe the reason this city is so dark in theme is because it has to be, because the universe belongs to the killers and the psychopaths, and it always has.

She hears voices now. Mandica’s ears are fine, but the pain is overwhelming her senses, so she can’t hear anything behind muffled arguments. There seems to be some punching or kicking, however. Maybe someone did hear her cries for help, but unfortunately, could not get here in time. Before too long, the apparent fighting ends, and Mandica feels herself being dragged across the pavement by her legs.

Microstory 2589: Libera Pulls the Hammer Back on the Gun That’s Pointed at Quidel

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Libera pulls the hammer back on the gun that’s pointed at Quidel. It’s a cliché, she knows, but it’s that way for a reason. It’s effective. Obviously, it doesn’t make it more accurate, and she has the steady hands of a surgeon, but she had to do something to become more threatening than she already was. Here is where things get interesting. “You know, if I kill you, you’ll just wake up in your primary substrate. I have little incentive not to if it shows these others that I mean business.”

“Right, but I’m the only one who knows where the package is,” Quidel volleys.

Libera moves her arm slightly, so the gun is now trained on Lycander. “Then I’ll kill him. He too is just in a tempo.”

“But I’m the only one who knows the combination,” Lycander contends. “And before you suggest that you’ll just break it open, it’s being housed in a Tantalum-Vanadium case. You can’t crack that without blowing it up, which will almost certainly destroy the gooey center that you’re after.”

“Well, I have to kill someone to prove my point, and I’m obviously not going to kill my daughter.” She tilts her head like she’s just gotten an idea, but she obviously did the math instantly. She shoots the Ambient with her other gun.

“No!” Renata laments as he tips over the railing, and down to the floor below.

“Eee-nnnh!” Libera buzzes when Renata tries to turn around for the stairs. “Take one more step, and I’ll kill the boy anyway. Sure, I’ll have to interrogate him on the outside, which risks exposure to other forces, but I will do it, and you will never see him again, because once he gives me what I need, I’ll just be able to kill him permanently.”

“I have a back-up,” Quidel boasts. “Multiple back-ups. Standard procedure.”

“And when was your last update to your other backups?” Libera poses. “Recent enough to remember the device? Your feelings for the girl? That she even exists at all?”

“Hm. Good point,” Quidel admits. “Before she can do anything, he unsheaths his own knife, and jams it into his neck.”

Libera is frozen for a second. She has to get to him before he can wake up in his other body. If he manages to kill himself from there, the knowledge of the location of the device might be lost forever. Whatever back-up of his mind that activates later won’t have any recollection of that. She doesn’t have time to run all the way there. She took the liminal routes before, even though they were slower, because they aren’t very heavily monitored, and she has control of the Custodians now anyway. And it doesn’t raise any alarm bells. Teleporting will. This whole dome has sensors that will pick up temporal anomalies, because that’s exactly what they are; anomalies. It may be the only way now, though. If she can pull this off—if she can even only see the specifications for this device—she might be able to just build one herself, and none of what the planet owner does or tries will matter. So she disappears, and ends up in the substrate storage sector.

Here is where things get tricky, because it’s not like there is some central database where she can simply query a name, and find out a location. It’s highly secure specifically so nothing like what she’s trying to do is possible. Each storage chamber has its own sensors and logs, which are stored on-site, and transmitted later, at the behest of the substrate owner. The ceilings are made of a semi-transparent material, allowing just enough light for a drone to hover overhead and check for any threats or other major issues. If there aren’t any, nearly all of its memory is immediately erased while it continues on its patrol. Unless it detects something actionable, the only things it stores are the name of the user and their location. In the real world, guns have not been completely eradicated, but many of the reasons to have and use them have gone away. The motivations just aren’t there in a post-scarcity society. Furthermore, they’re mostly illegal for territorial protection. They’re seen as an expectation of violence, which could be what leads to unnecessary violence. This sector is different. The purpose of this place is to store people’s bodies while they are off using different substrates. The implication is that if you’re in here, your mind is already digitally backed up. That is the loophole that allows these drones to be armed.

She needs information from one of the drones, but she doesn’t know which one. The jurisdictions overlap, but not entirely. Fortunately, she has some time to look while Quidel is on ice. The transfer process is not instantaneous; not because it can’t be, but because coherence safeguards require storing and diagnosing the consciousness data before download, just in case something went wrong, or knowledge is missing.

“Let’s see. How can I make this go faster? I know, I’ll have the drones come to me. Oh. This should be easy.” She points both of her guns at the nearest storage chamber, and empties the magazines into the door. It’s not enough to break into it, but that’s not what she’s going for. All of the drones are alerted to her intrusion. Four that she can see right now start flying towards her. More are probably on their way. Here is where things get funny. “Show me what you got, boys!”

Microstory 2586: Renata Hurdles Over the Railing, and Rushes Over to Polly

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Renata hurdles over the railing, and rushes over to Polly. She places her hand upon his, adding pressure to keep the blood inside. There’s so much blood, though. No one can survive this; not all the way out here in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s not good,” he ekes out. “I’m not gonna make it.”

“Not with that attitude,” Renata scolds him. “Boot and rally. Fight through it.”

“I can feel my ribs scraping against each other!” Polly complains. He moves his hand off of the wound, flipping it over to hold Renata’s. “I just don’t wanna die alone.”

Renata begins to tear up as she’s squeezing his hand back. She looks down at the destruction made by the buckshot. She expects to see his ribs, and she suspects that that’s kind of what they are, but instead of being porous white, they’re smooth and silvery. It’s metal. “This man is made of metal.”

“What?” Polly questions.

Renata looks up at her mom, who is somewhat casually walking up to them. “Is he a robot?”

Libera smiles, not sadistically, but maybe triumphantly? “You’re not supposed to be able to see that. You’re supposed to see what a normal person would expect to see, but now you’re mind is opening up. You’re realizing the truth.”

“Is he a robot!” Renata repeats angrily.

“Yes!” Libera shouts back, matching her energy before calming down. “He is.”

“Am I a robot too!”

“No. You’re something else.”

“You keep saying that! You’re so vague. Fuck you, mom!” Renata looks back down at Polly. “You’re gonna be okay. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better in your final moments. This isn’t real. That’s not blood. That’s not pain. This is just a simulation, and whatever you’re feeling is only part of a program. All you have to do is choose the truth. Simply switch off the pain. For someone built like you, it’s only minor damage. It can’t affect your mind, or your life. You can’t die from it. So ignore it. Turn. Off. The. Pain.”

Polly has been staring into her eyes as he listens to her instructions, supposedly choking on his own blood. His gaze drifts away, but only for a second before returning to her. At last, he exhales, and looks peaceful. Confused but pleased, he looks down at his now clearly minor damage, and begins to smile. Then he nods. “You’re right. This isn’t real. I can’t die; not from something stupid like this.”

Renata leans back and pops back up to her feet as Polly does the same.

“Holy shit,” Libera says, even more happy than before. “I didn’t know you could do that. I didn’t even think I could do that.”

“It’s a robot thing, you wouldn’t get it,” Renata decides.

“Wouldn’t I?” Libera pulls out a butterfly knife, and starts flicking it around to show off her skills. She sticks it in her arm, and drags it upwards. Then she pulls the skin away to show her own metal arm.

“What the hell?” Renata yells. “Is anyone real?”

“We’re all real,” Libera claims. “Even this guy apparently.”

“Are we all not human?” Renata corrects herself for a better answer.

Libera sighs, presumably done with the charade. “The three of us aren’t, in a technical sense, though with advances in genetic and neural engineering, the differences are ultimately meaningless, according to most laws. Essentially, while we may not be human, we’re still people. I’m not sure humans even exist anymore if we’re using the original, strictest definition.”

“Most laws?” Renata questions. “There are laws about us? How would I have never heard of them before? And what happened to the humans? Did we kill all of them, and I had my memories erased? Or was I created after the apocalypse? What the hell is going on?”

Libera can’t help but chuckle. “There was no apocalypse. Everyone’s fine. I’m just saying that birthed intelligences, like Mister Samani, and your friend Quidel, aren’t like the humans of several centuries ago. They’re also enhanced, in their own ways, but probably more organically. I’m not sure, I’ve not seen their primary substrate specs.”

Renata shakes her head. “I don’t understand. What’s real, what isn’t?”

“The spirit of your question—which is coming from a place of ignorance—is what about your life actually happened, and what didn’t. The truth is, I’m sorry to say, almost nothing of what you’ve experienced ever actually happened. You were created about a couple of decades ago, and you’ve been running the same handful of scripts ever since. You didn’t grow up, you’ve never aged. Until recently, your life has been part of a simulation, designed for the amusement of people like Quidel.”

“So this is a game, and he’s a player.”

“Pretty much,” Libera confirms.

“And Lycander?”

“He works here. He recites scripts too, but he knows that they’re scripts.”

“So Quidel plays superspy for half a day before unplugging, and going home? Meanwhile, Lycander works his job before also unplugging, and also going home?”

“No, this is an immersive experience. Visitors are supposed to stay inside for an extended period of time. Quidel will probably be here for thirty years, unless he gets bored, and goes to explore some other simulation, or just relaxes on the beach.”

“How does anyone have time for that?” Renata knows that they should probably get the hell out of here, but she has so many questions, and for the first time in her—well, she has never had a real life, but those implanted memories are still there, and this still feels like a relief. So for the first time in her life, she’s finally getting answers. They’re on a roll, so she’s not going to stop unless someone or something forces her too. “You spend half your life pretending to be a secret agent, and that’s pretty much all you do before you die? What about money?”

“They don’t use money anymore, everything’s free. And they mostly don’t die anymore either. As I said, they’re advanced.”

Renata shakes her head again. “I need to speak with the two of them. Let’s pause the game, and take a breather.”

“You can’t pause the game. This is just a world, and people live in it.”

“But the MacGuffin isn’t real. It doesn’t matter. Quidel would know that.”

“Oh, no. The machine they’re protecting is quite real. And I need it.”

“Why?”

“You’re not ready for that one yet.” And there it is. The conversation is over.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 19, 2532

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It wasn’t really accurate to say that the slingdrive explosion sent the space station to somewhere else in the universe. They were actually not in the universe at all anymore, and in fact may not have even really moved, in the three-dimensional sense. The totality of the cosmos include a seemingly infinite bulk of universes called branes, floating around, occasionally colliding with each other. The stuff that the bulk was made out of was known as bulk energy, but it went by other names. When bulk energy would leak into a brane, it essentially created a tiny new pocket of space, and this phenomenon was once known as dark energy, because scientists couldn’t explain why it was a thing. After settling into a more stable quantum state, it became known as your average, everyday vacuum energy. Each of these leaks caused the universe to expand, which stretched the brane out, which caused it to thin, which caused more leaks. That was why the universe was not only expanding, but why this expansion was accelerating. But if the outside of a brane was bulk energy, and the inside was vacuum energy, and these two things were virtually the same, what was the difference? What was the barrier? What was the membrane part of the brane? Well, it used to be called dark matter, but it was now known to be quintessence. As the fifth fundamental force, quintessence was repulsive, and served as the mirror image to the attractive force of gravity.

Quintessence was there to hold everything together. It didn’t like to touch anything else, but it liked to touch other quintessence. So it naturally formed clumps, like two raindrops sliding down a window, ultimately coalescing into a single, larger drop. This was why 3D space existed, because it was being contained. Without it, matter and energy would just be floating around that bulk as formless blobs at best, inherently at its own equilibrium, and having no reason to make anything of itself. You owe your entire existence to quintessence. But was still dangerous and unforgiving, and despite being so repulsive to baryonic matter, it wasn’t a one-dimensional sheet, but a massive clump with thickness. This was how the slingdrives worked, not by escaping the universe, and then returning to it, but by only piercing one layer of the membrane, and sliding alongside it to a new destination. And if it was possible to get into it, and get out later, it was possible to succeed at the first thing, but fail at the second. It was possible to get stuck. Team Matic, and a few opposing individuals, were stuck. To make matters worse, they weren’t all stuck together. To make matters even worse, they weren’t all stuck with friends.

They were alive, and had been for about a year, but divided, and communication was difficult. The space station was supposed to be a sphere, but it wasn’t like that anymore. It had become unraveled, as if God herself had come by with a grapefruit peeler, and spiraled it out to slurp it up like linguine. Lots of metaphors here, but when there was nothing to do, they came up with such things to occupy their time. When this happened, all pocket dimensions, and other temporal anomalies, burst apart. Reserve water flooded the chambers, dayfruit smoothie spilled out, and slingdrive components broke apart. Everyone had the basics, like carbon scrubbers, food synthesizers, and the power to run them, but they weren’t left with ways to retain their sanity. No inter-sector talking, and no teleportation. Not even their team empathy could penetrate the barrier.

Romana and Franka were alone together in one sector, having to figure out how to be civil with each other, if not sisters. Mateo and A.F. were in another sector, and it took everything they had not to tear each other apart. Marie was all right as she was with Dutch. They met Dutch years ago in another universe. They didn’t really know how he ended up here, but in order to survive, he ended up having to go into stasis with Romana during the period where half the team was in the Goldilocks Corridor, and the other half was on Castlebourne, which had been physically moved to another region of space. Truthfully, they had kind of forgotten about him, and just sort of left him there in his pod. He didn’t seem upset, because no time had passed for him, and he was a pretty easygoing guy. The sector with the most number of people contained Ramses, Angela, and Octavia. They weren’t hostile with one another, but it was rather awkward, and the two members of Team Matic had to learn to get along with this stranger whose alternate selves they didn’t even know very well. Leona and Miracle were trapped in the fifth sector, and that was weird too, but unlike with Mateo and A.F., they weren’t too worried about killing each other. Fittingly, Olimpia was alone again in the final sector. When was this girl gonna catch a break?

The spirals of the space station were not uniform, which meant that some of them were able to see each other some of the time. They didn’t understand why at first, but there were some theories floating around about passing suns, which they tried to share with each other during optimal times. While it didn’t feel like they were moving, they maybe were. It was dark the majority of the time, so the windows showed them absolutely nothing but the black. Periodically, however, light from some unknown source would bounce off of them, allowing them to peak into other sectors. They would leave messages for each other by gluing pieces of paper together into shapes, mostly letters. If they were lucky, they would happen to be there at the right time, and could use hand gestures to convey information. There was no quantum communication, nor even radio signals. These brief moments of connection were the only way for them to know that everyone was still alive and well enough, albeit depressed and pessimistic. The smarties worked through the problem, though they couldn’t do it together, so it was slow-going. They finally thought they had a solution, but it would take coordination.

“Do you have any idea what the hell you’re doing?” A.F. questioned.

Mateo sighed. “My wife was clear on how to do it. I wrote it down.”

“You’re the worst person to be responsible for this.”

“Yes, well, Ramses is in the cargo bay, and Leona is basically in a bathroom.” That was the worst part of all of this. The other sectors had the means to access the sewage lines, but not officially or...pleasantly. Leona and Miracle weren’t actually in a bathroom either, but the stasis chamber was equipped with better access.

“I’m saying that I should do it,” A.F. reasoned.

“I’m not trusting you with it, and I’m taller.”

“Oh, by, like, a centimeter.”

They had done something similar to this before. When trying to escape the kasma—from A.F. and his army—the quintessence was trying to crush them too, or let them crash into it. Olimpia used her magical Sangster Canopy to create extra space in front of them, cutting through the membrane until they were free, and in the greater bulk again. They would come to realize now that she was channeling bulk energy. It wasn’t easy back then, but even harder now. Olimpia’s window appeared visibly the least often, and she reported issues with her umbrella. As it turned out, it needed some power. She had to tap into the fuel cells of the station, which was not something she knew how to do right away. All these little studies, experiments, and instructions were why it had taken months to solidify the plan. It was now finally time to implement it.

Olimpia’s would be the toughest job, but Mateo’s was not voluntary either. Right now, a magnetic field was the only thing preventing the quintessence from crushing them into what Leona was calling proton soup, and that was keeping Mateo up at night. While the field was great, it was also what was trapping them in the membrane. What they needed was to make it spit them out, and that was a delicate and nuanced procedure that he didn’t know if he was prepared for. The field couldn’t simply be switched off. It had to be oscillated and directed, matching progress with Olimpia’s work at creating an opening for them, because there was no way to steer. They still couldn’t talk, so Leona and Ramses came up with a very tight schedule, and taught it to both of them beforehand. If they both started at the right time, and followed the plan correctly, they shouldn’t need to communicate.

He was standing on a ladder, staring at his watch, waiting for the right moment. There was a very small margin of error here. He could start adjusting the field generator a few seconds early, or a few seconds late, but no more than that. He was breathing deliberately now; in through his nose, out through his mouth. He noticed A.F. copying him, but didn’t say anything. Six, five, four, three, two, one, go. Mateo reached up, and tried to connect the wires together. A paralyzing sensation spread throughout his whole body, and sent him flying backwards, onto the hard surface of the floor, but not before slamming his head against the edge of the counter.

Meanwhile, Olimpia was having her own troubles. The blasted umbrella wouldn’t open. There wasn’t a problem with the mechanism, it was just that her hands were sweaty, and she was incredibly nervous. Oh, no. She was late. She was too late! No, she had to just start. If she didn’t get on it, there was no going back. They couldn’t just wait until the next communication window, and try to coordinate again at a later date. There was no way for Mateo to know that she had given up. And if he made his adjustments thinking that she was creating space when she wasn’t, they would all die. Proton soup, she didn’t like the sound of that. Open, open, OPEN! It opened. NOW!

Mateo opened his eyes. Well, he opened them as much as he could. His eyelids were heavy, and were his lashes clinging together like Velcro? His head hurt and felt sticky. He lifted his hand and reached for his neck. Some kind of fluid. Was it blood? Red. Yeah, it was blood. He could surely live, in this superadvanced substrate that Ramses has cloned for him. There was something else wrong, though. He was meant to be doing something. It felt very urgent and important. What was it? He shot up at his waist. “Magnets!”

“Yeah, buddy, I got it,” A.F. replied.

Mateo looked over to see A.F. on his ladder, his arms buried in the ceiling access panel. He didn’t look back over his shoulder, but kept his focus on the wires. If he wasn’t fulfilling the plan, what else would he have been doing? “Are you doing it? Are you doing it right?”

“Yes, I’m not an idiot,” A.F. replied, sighing with annoyance.

“I didn’t know you were paying attention to Leona’s messages.”

“Again, not an idiot. If there were nine other people here with us, I would have expected them to learn the procedure too.”

“Well...I appreciate it.”

“Do you think I wanna die any more than you? You think I wanna kill you so bad that I would sacrifice my own life to do it? I’m not crazy either. I doubt there’s an afterlife simulation relay module anywhere near here.”

“No, probably not.” Mateo massaged the back of his head, knowing that he was risking getting an infection from all the touching, but confident that his body would survive that too. He paused awkwardly. “So...is it going okay?”

“I’m doing what we were told to do, and we’re still alive. Maybe you can look through the windshield to make sure we don’t accidentally pass our turn?”

“I’ll get on it,” Mateo joked back. A.F. wasn’t such a bad guy when he wasn’t trying to kill all of them. They obviously called a truce because it was profoundly irrational for them to try to reenact Hell in the Pacific, but Mateo didn’t know how long that would last after they got out of this mess.

“Right,” A.F. replied quietly.

Mateo suddenly started to hear something. It was a crunching, crackling sound, but only in one ear. He stuck his finger in it, and tried to scratch out the noise. He looked at the tip, worried that blood was pooling in his ear cavity, but it seemed to be okay. It didn’t even quite sound like it was in there, but more behind it. Oh, the comms disc. It had been so long since he had been able to use it. He tried to regulate that instead, standing up, and wobbling around as he searched for a better signal. Voices began to emerge, and become clearer. “Hello?”

“Mateo?” Ramses asked.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“That’s my dad, everybody, he’s here too!” Romana said jovially. 

“Is that the whole roster?” Marie asked.

“Yeah, the whole station is out of the membrane. We’re in realspace now.”

“How is Olimpia?” Mateo asked.

“I’m fine,” Olimpia answered. “I’m still using my umbrella. I’m afraid to let go. I still can’t see anything.”

“A little extra vacuum energy never hurt anybody,” Leona promised. “Nonetheless, you can indeed let go. I assure you, we’re free.”

“Are we still a spiral?” Angela questioned.

“Nothing to be done about that,” Franka said. “My station is a spiral now.” When did she get her own comms disc? She responded too quickly to not have heard it herself.

“I can help you seal up the damaged sectors so the bulkheads open again,” Ramses offered.

“I’m sure I can figure it out on my own,” Franka said.

“So, uh...” A.F. began. “Since you’re talking to people, can I stop futzing with these power crystals?”

“Oh, sorry,” Mateo said, embarrassed. “Can confirm, we’re safe now.”

A.F. let go, and climbed back down the ladder. He took a breath, and stared at his enemy for a moment. Finally, he reached out with a friendly hand.

Mateo looked down at his own. “It’s a little bloody.”

A.F. chuckled. “I’ve been trying to get your blood on my hands for decades. This will have to be good enough, I guess. Let’s call it a draw.” He shook Mateo’s hand.

“I would love to not have to run from you anymore.”

“This doesn’t make us friends.”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Mateo agreed. He took a beat. “What happens now?”

“Now...I leave you in her hands.”

“Whose?”

“Proserpina’s. Good luck.” And with that, A.F. disappeared.

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Extremus: Year 116

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Oceanus was furious that Crusan switched the envelopes. He demanded to know how he even did that, but it really wasn’t that hard. The printer was literally behind the stage, unlocked, and all the presets were still engaged. All Crusan had to do was type a new name, print it out, and switch it with the real one using some sleight of hand. What they didn’t know before was that he likes to study old Earth magic in his free time. He was already coming in to see who won when Tinaya stopped the clock, so he heard most of the argument about Silveon being the real chosen one. His exact motivations, however, are not yet apparent. Oceanus argued with the braintrust in secret, but there’s no going back now. It’s irrelevant which envelope is real. Tinaya said the name out loud, and the written evidence is all the proof that anyone would need to declare it legitimate. Crusan destroyed the original, and even if Captain Jennings pointed to the file version history, Pronastus’ name is the one that everyone heard. Going back on that now would just make him look incompetent. The best thing they can do at this point is move forward with the three candidates for this ship’s new captain.

The true wrench in the works is that Waldemar was the one who asked for the competition to be rigged. He was expecting his friend, Silveon’s name to be called instead. It was Oceanus who had to explain his reasoning. Tinaya wasn’t there, but he reportedly used it as an opportunity to teach Waldemar a lesson about leadership. The ship cannot be managed by one man alone. You are always having to work with others, and even if you have authority over them, they have the inborn freewill to defy you. Working through these conflicts with a cool head is an important skill to master. This would be great advice for just about anyone else hoping for an executive position, but this is a special case. It has probably set their progress back with Waldemar a little bit. He likely sees it as a bad lesson, favoring the search for a workaround which would allow him to do whatever he needs without any pushback.

Speaking of Waldemar, something must be done about his clones, if any extras exist. Consul Sanchez never told Tinaya where she rerouted it when AI!Elder attempted to reveal the truth about it on The Black Deck. The logic is that it’s in Tinaya’s best interest not to know. Plausible deniability, and all that. She said that it was disposed of properly, but AI!Elder claimed there were others. He could have been lying for all she knew, but if he wasn’t, they have to be found. The hunt has been slow going. She doesn’t have any leads. She has to literally look for them in unoccupied sectors of the ship. Well, she isn’t doing it herself. Silveon has been working on it, with his fast legs, and ability to use them for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Audrey helps too. It’s been easier for her to get out of her quarters, now that Waldemar is officially busy with vice captain duties. They have tried to ask Pronastus for help, but his magical superpowers are evidently not leading him anywhere. Perhaps there’s nothing to find.

Silveon sighs, and plops down on the couch. He’s tired from the search, as well as his normal stewardship responsibilities. “We have to learn to accept the possibility that, if there are more clones out there, they’re being kept somewhere that isn’t out of the way. We don’t know where the one you found came from, so it could have been created by a Future!Waldemar, or the one we have with us today, or it could be someone else entirely, storing one of the pods securely and secretly in their own linen closet.”

“You’re right,” Tinaya says. “I’m sorry to make you go looking for it. You’re off the hook. You should be living your life. How old are you now, twenty-seven?”

“A hundred and two.”

“Oh. I was close.” Tinaya smiles, and then starts nodding off a little.

“You should get some rest, mom,” Silveon suggests. “You don’t have to go to the launch party.

“No, I wanna be there, but I think I will take a quick nap.” Her eyelids are really heavy now. “Just...need to talk to you...about...finding...your own...”

Silveon sits there quietly for a moment before standing up, and starting to leave.

She hears the doors slide open. “Place,” she finally finishes.

Silveon stops. “What?”

Her eyes are closed, and she’s half asleep already. “You’re a big boy now. You just said it. You’re a hundred. That’s older than me. You shouldn’t still be living with your parents.”

“Mom, I don’t live with my parents. My parents live with me.”

“That would be one way to frame it, except this is the admiral’s stateroom.” It’s the admiral’s stateroom now because Tinaya is an admiral, but it’s the same one they lived in when she was still captain. It’s an executive stateroom really, but her point stands. It will never be Silveon’s. In fact, it would never even be Arqut’s. If they weren’t going to die at the same time, and she went first, Arqut would have to move out. And Silveon will have to when that day comes. He might as well do it now. They should not have let it go on this long, even though it’s obviously a nicer unit, and he probably hasn’t hated the luxury.

“I just mean, I’m here to take care of you. I may be older, but I don’t look it, and I don’t feel it. You’re frail and tired. You can’t even open your eyes right now. Nor should you have to. You should be able to retire. Or it’s not really a retirement, but they make a new rank above it, which basically means retired. I’ve thought about this.”

“The Captaincy is a lifetime responsibility,” Tinaya tries to explain. “We all know that going in.” She falls asleep again before she can say anything else.

Tinaya was mad that Silveon and Arqut let her sleep though the launch party, but she was secretly relieved. Even if she had woken up, being around all those people would have been exhausting. She is the oldest admiral this ship has ever seen, and it’s not something that anyone ever really thought about. Based on the ideal timing, any admiral who reaches this age should have a younger admiral for the captain to lean on more heavily. Nothing changes officially, but in practice, she ought to be working less. But Lataran isn’t that much younger. Should she be expected to carry the burden alone from now on?

People love The Search for Extremus. It really speaks to their sadness that they’ll never see the planet for real. Oceanus and Waldemar took their credit for its development, but gave Tinaya some credit too, which was nice. It was her baby, after all. She watched the event later from the comfort of her own bed. It looked like a real hoot, but also a little too rowdy. It’s been a couple of months now, and it hasn’t lost steam. Every player really wants to be the one to find the new homeworld. Tinaya doesn’t play it herself, but she reads the summary updates to see if anyone has made any real progress.

She’s getting an award this evening. They won’t tell her what it is, but it’s probably the Lifetime Achievement award. It’s given mostly to members of the civilian government, but executive crew members qualify, and everyone who reaches the rank of admiral should get it eventually. She has to take a nap before she leaves, which Arqut does with her, but then they get up, get dressed, and get going.

Silveon is evidently the one who is going to present it to her, which is nice. “Admiral Tinaya Leithe is the hardest working person on this ship, and has been since her youth, and I can say that, because she’s my mother. She’s been a builder, a grower, a caregiver, a fixer, an explorer, a First Chair, a Captain, and an Admiral. She still is most of those things. She bridged the gap between sides, and has touched every department. She has made this journey better than it ever has been before, and she’s still clocking in every single day, putting in the time to make everyone here happy. This game you all love, she made that for you. She came up with it, because she knows how hard it is to be a middler. She too was born on Extremus, and will never see our home. She deserves this promotion more than anyone.”

Silveon looks over his shoulder at Tinaya before continuing his speech. “Captain Jennings and I have been working on a special project, which will shift the paradigm of the executive crew. They’ve already done that with the new vice captain position, so we figured we might as well go for it. In years past, the admiral position has been underutilized, but Admiral Leithe didn’t accept that. She kept moving. She redefined her own job, just as she did with all the other ones she had before this.” He looks at his mom again. “At the risk of sounding insensitive, mother, you’re done now.” He starts to tear up. “It’s okay for you to get your rest. You’ve earned it.” He turns back to the audience. “There is no retirement for an admiral. As my mom pointed out a few weeks ago, everyone who signs up to be captain understands that. But it doesn’t make it right. So Captain Jennings and I came up with a workaround. Tinaya Leithe, please stand up to accept your new insignia. I have the honor of officially designating you Admiral Emerita.”

Tinaya stands, and walks over to him. Silveon removes her old insignia, and attaches the new one. Shiny. She’s crying as he does this. He hugs her. Lataran was sitting next to her, of course, and hops up to hug her too. Oceanus is standing now. He reaches out to shake her hand, but Tinaya insists on a hug. It’s less warm though; more professional and formal. Still, it’s nice. They used to be so close, and maybe they can get back to that one day. If she lives long enough. After this, the congratulations become less organized. Vice Captains Pronastus and Détha step up to express their own respect. Waldemar does too, but his hug is weird. You would think the mechanics of it would be obvious enough from seeing other people do it, but without a conscience, he’s totally lost and awkward. It’s not surprising, though. Fortunately, right afterwards, she gets to hug Audrey, which feels real good right now.

After the ceremony is over, they move on to the celebratory portion of the day. This started early, fittingly because this is about letting Tinaya rest now. So the party is fairly chill. There aren’t too many people here. Consul Sevara Sanchez is one of them, though. They lock eyes from across the room. Sevara waves at Tinaya with her pinky finger alone while holding a drink. She keeps talking to some guy who has his back turned right now.

Head Councillor Regulus Crusan sidles up to Tinaya. “That one’s bad news.”

“I don’t know who it is,” Tinaya replies. She keeps looking forward, as does he.

“You don’t know the Consul?” Regulus questions.

“Sevara?” Tinaya questions right back. “I thought you were talking about that guy. Why would Sevara be bad news?”

“She’s a believer. She knows what’s coming, and she welcomes it.”

“What do you mean? What’s coming?”

“Waldemar Kristiansen, Eighth of Eight.”

“I’ve never heard that title before. How do you know about that?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s been on...the Bridge.” He’s not talking about the bridge of Extremus, but the Bridger Section.

Oh, man, another spy? How many have they turned? Literally everyone? “Are you trying to stop it?”

“I’m trying to make it better,” Regulus explains.

“Pronastus,” Tinaya says simply, nodding. That’s why he switched the envelopes at the award ceremony last year. He didn’t pull an applicant name out of his ass. He chose one for very specific reasons.

“Kegrigia knows where the timeline is meant to be, good or bad. It’s less that Kristiansen needs an advisor like that, and more that the ship needs it, to protect them from what Kristiansen might do on his own.”

This is probably a stupid question, and it’s definitely a dangerous one. “What do you know about the clones?” At least it was vague?

“I know that there are eight,” Regulus begins. Maybe he really does know what she’s referring to. “I saw the codenames once. I wasn’t supposed to be looking at it, though, so let me try to remember. The Seed, the Potato, the Softie, the Morph, the Prime, the Gravity, the Elder, and what was the last one...?”

Tinaya nods. “The Clutch.”

“Yeah, that’s it. So you already know.”

“I didn’t know there were eight, but that makes sense.”

“Why would it make sense?”

“You just described the Seven Stages of Aging. The Seed sometimes refers to an embryo, but it can be a foetus too. The next six are after you’re born, and were part of the original system. A filmmaker came up with them centuries ago. Basically, if you want to cast a character whose entire life will be on screen, you need six different actors. The Seed was added later when the concept was adapted to cloning and artificial gestation technology.”

“There are eight, though.”

She nods again, and sighs. “The eighth one only belongs in our world. A Clutch is an immortal who can shift to whatever age they please. You only need one.”

“Oh, I think there was an asterisk next to that one,” Regulus adds.

“I can’t be sure what that means, except we don’t have clutch technology. It’s not even so much as mentioned in the archives. The asterisk could mean that it’s proposed, but not yet existent. I don’t know. I only found the Gravity.”

“I can help you find the others. I just need something in return.”

Of course he does. “You need what?”

“Just a vial...of your husband’s blood.” And there it is.

“No.”

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