Showing posts with label break. Show all posts
Showing posts with label break. Show all posts

Saturday, December 21, 2024

Extremus: Year 95

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
Lataran doesn’t call much, but when she does, it’s usually pretty important, albeit not typically an emergency anymore. Tinaya finishes up her scheduled duties, and then walks down to Admiral Wing at a deliberate but unhurried pace. She reaches up to ring the doorbell, but the door behind her opens. “Oh, hi.” What are you doing over there? What’s in that room?”
“Your future office,” Lataran replies with a smirk.
“Huh?”
“When you’re an admiral,” Lataran says as if it’s obvious.
“I thought we would share,” Tinaya explains, gesturing towards the other door.
“You think they would only build one office for all admirals?” Lataran questions. “Captains are supposed to sit down young, and sit back up when they’re still young. There should conceivably be three admirals at once. The much smaller third one, plus an extra space, are down that hallway.”
“Oh.” Tinaya tries to step into her new work space, but remains blocked.
“Don’t just walk in. That’s so unceremonious. I’m here to give you a tour.”
Tinaya drops her face into a sinister grin.
“No, don’t.”
She deepens the grin, then makes a short-range jump to the other side of the wall. She expects to find an office much like the one that Lataran has been working out of, but it’s much different. For one, it’s at least three times the area, and that’s just on the one floor. There’s also a mezzanine that wraps around the whole perimeter. Was this really meant to be an office, or some sort of shared recreational space? It would sure work for that. Part of it is made out of metal and metamaterials, like one would expect out of a transgalactic starship, but there’s also an artificial grass path that weaves through an impressively complex flower garden. It takes her a moment to notice the fountain, which leads to a very narrow stream before being pumped back up through the system. There are several trees known for thriving in indoor environments, but also a couple that are generally limited to the outdoors. Hopefully the Japanese maple and crape myrtle were genetically modified to stop growing before they reach the ceiling. Speaking of the ceiling, hologram viewscreens curve up the wall to meet each other in the center. They were surely an aftermarket add-on that was never in the original designs. Lataran has to have put a ton of work into this project, even if she commissioned someone else to build it all for her.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t involve anyone else. An admiral is not allowed to give orders, so I did it all myself. It’s taken me years to get it to this point. I gave myself a buffer year, but obviously didn’t need it, and was too excited to wait to reveal it to you.”
“This is for me?” Tinaya questions.
“It’s for us,” Lataran clarifies. She glides over to the workstation sector, where two desks are sitting perpendicular to each other on either side of a corner. “Here, the next captain can see both of us at the same time when he needs help.”
“Or she,” Tinaya reflexively corrects. “Or they, or whatever.”
“It’s gonna be a boy, I can feel it.”
Tinaya chuckles, and steps deeper into the office to admire the garden. She takes a deep breath, accepting the sweet scent of the jasmine overpowering all other flowers in the room. There is lavender here too, as well as... She smiles, and gently runs her fingers along the petals. “Lilacs. Nice.”
“She’ll never see ‘em, but I figured I might as well remind you of one of your friends since she’s one of the few people you know named after things.”
“I appreciate that. I can’t believe you did all this.” It’s a little bittersweet, seeing the fruits of Lataran’s solo labor, knowing that in another reality, they worked on it together. But it probably would have been too much, and couldn’t have gotten done, due to her split focus with Silveon, Waldemar, and the ship as a whole. This was likely the best call, and a very lovely gesture. “I love you, Admiral Keen.”
“I love you, Captain Leithe II.” To Tinaya’s knowledge, she’s the only one on this tin can to call her Leithe II. People don’t really talk about the fact that she’s a legacy, and Tinaya doesn’t think too much about it herself. Truthfully, she’s always identified more with Admiral Perran Thatch, who wasn’t even ever a captain. What will it feel like when she reaches his rank, and if he were here today, what would he think of her?
“There’s one more thing that I need to show you,” Lataran says after giving her friend some time to soak in the beauty. She deliberately closes and locks the door to the hallway, even though not many people are authorized to be down here, and even fewer ever actually exercise that authority. She leads Tinaya up to the mezzanine level, and over to what appears to be a random spot along the catwalk, though it does seem to be intentionally behind the canopy of the maple. Lataran carefully looks around, apparently paranoid about looky-loos. No one could be here right now, though. There’s a self-contained teleportation controller on all high executive areas, like this and the captain’s stateroom. You can’t just show up unannounced.
“What are we—”
“Shh!” Lataran scolds in a loud whisper before transitioning into a regular whisper. “This is illegal. Very illegal.” She looks around once more, then kneels down to tap on the wall where it meets the floor. Glyphs glow faintly upon contact, but disappear quickly. After she’s finished inputting the secret access code, a square on the pathway disappears, revealing a hole leading to a very small room below. It’s more like a pod, but maybe for a few people. Minimal lighting flickers on automatically.
Tinaya looks over the edge of the catwalk. She recalls seeing the space under this from below. There’s no room here; it’s just more flowers and fake grass. The pod room must be in a pocket dimension of some kind.
“Trickle charged power reservoir, sourced gradually from the grid,” Lataran still whispers as she’s climbing down the ladder. “Undetectable as long as you don’t operate this too frequently, or for too long.”
“Operate what?” Tinaya asks, respecting the whisper.
“Come down here. And push that green button to close the door.”
Once Tinaya’s at the bottom, she looks down at the floor, and realizes that they’re standing in an undecagon, which is the same shape as the Nexus chamber, though that one is much larger. It’s an atypical number of sides to use for a room, so it’s either only an homage to that, or something more. “What the hell is this?” she questions, hoping that it’s the former.
“Backdoor Nexus access. From here, you can go back and forth to Verdemus without anyone else knowing. I know you left some people there.”
“This is illegal.”
“D’uh, I said that earlier.”
“I thought you just had alcohol down here, or something?”
“What? Gross! No. Omega built this here in case the main Nexus building were ever compromised by a corrupt government, or just some asshole.”
“How is this even possible? I thought that these machines had to be built to exact specifications.”
“They do,” Lataran agrees, “but once you do that, you can add satellite locations. Omega says that one of the floors above the control room serves the same purpose, but you can’t get there unless the gods let you in, or some shit. They have to like you, unless you wanna build your own backdoor, which is what he did here.”
“This isn’t okay, Lataran.”
“Okay, have me arrested,” she goads in a mocking voice.
Tinaya sighs. “You know I can’t do that. But I can’t use this either.”
“You don’t have to, but it’s here, and you had a right to know, and now that you do, you can decide whether anyone else does, like your husband, or your successor.”
“Okay, I’m leaving.” Tinaya reaches back up for the ladder. “Thanks for telling me. Let’s never talk about it ever again.”
“Very well.”
They start to climb back up until Tinaya finds herself face to face with Spirit Bridger. “Oh, crap.”
Oh, crap, to you too,” Spirit jokes.
“Sorry, I just didn’t expect to find you here,” Tinaya says as she’s pushing herself back onto solid ground, and helping Lataran up behind her. “You were on Verdemus.”
“I was,” Spirit confirms, “but as you know, we have this little thing called a Nexus, which lets us travel back and forth.”
“That’s only become more regulated, and more difficult to pull off over the last few years,” Tinaya contends.
“Until now.” She jerks her chin toward the baby Nexus below them, the entrance of which waits a few more seconds before sealing itself off with its metamorphic nanites.
“You came through here?” Lataran searches through her armband. “I should have received an alert if anyone had done that, and there are a number of redundancies.”
Spirit smiles and slides a finger along the wall next to her. “There’s a direct power connection between the main Nexus and the satellite. We can appear anywhere along that pathway. The fact that you ran it along the scope of almost the whole ship means that’s just about anywhere. Can’t go back from anywhere, though...hence, I’m here.”
“That’s a security flaw,” Lataran points out.
“Indeed,” Spirit agrees.
Lataran looks back down at the floor. “I need to speak with Omega about that.”
“You’re too busy,” Tinaya reminds her. We’re approaching the transitional period, where we’ll end up with a new captain. Spirit can go coordinate with the Strongs to patch the vulnerability. Right, Spirit? You were going back there anyway.”
“Precisely,” Spirit replies.
“Then it’s settled.” Tinaya faces Spirit. “Play it close to the vest, please. We’ll keep the circle tight on our end too. Now, I gotta go. Silvy is getting out of school soon.”
“How’s the little bug?” Spirit asks.
“Precocious,” Tinaya replies, being honest, but still protecting yet another secret.
They say their goodbyes, and then Tinaya does head off to greet her son in the stateroom after school. But then she hands him off to Zefbiri shortly thereafter. It’s date night tonight. A normal couple with a five-year-old child would have to take breaks like this to make sure they don’t get burnt out on parenting, but while they don’t live with the same worries, they do have others. As Silveon grows, he becomes more and more capable of caring for himself, and inches closer and closer to whatever age he truly was when this started, but for now, he needs breaks too. He can be more himself with his parents, but he also has to be a certain way around them. It’s just different when it comes to his aunts. Zef was made aware of the situation a couple years ago. It didn’t make much sense for them to rely on her for guardianship responsibilities when she didn’t even understand who she might one day have to raise. Tinaya and Arqut are also aging, and could honestly be gone someday soon. The whole point is to be prepared.
The two of them are smiling at each other from opposite sides of the table, taking small bites here and there. A white tablecloth is covered in small plates which once held a dozen courses, each one a fairly small portion. A thistle bot has been serving them, and all the other guests are NPCs, which he programmed to ignore the humans. Thistle is still in the closet as a true, independent intelligence, and has been doing well. He can keep a secret, so they sometimes come to this simulation room for private conversations which can look like anywhere. This particular conversation has been pleasant, noncontroversial, and currently in a lull. Tinaya can tell that he wants to say something. “Go on, love. What is it? I know there’s something on your mind.”
He nods, and averts his gaze a small degree to the side. “Do you remember when I disappeared, and had that adventure on Earth in the future?”
“Yes, I remember. I’m constantly worried that that lemonhead will decide to steal you away from us again.”
“I took precautions,” Arqut insists. “It’s not about that. It’s about what happened to me while I was there.” He prepares himself. “I absorbed a ton of temporal energy, which I believed would harmlessly evaporate from me over time. We believe that that’s exactly how it would have worked had I stayed on Earth, but this...ship is a capsule, built with an incidental barrier of temporal energy of its own, zipping through space at hyper-relativistic speeds. There was nowhere for it to evaporate. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt, but I’ve been in contact with Dr. Cernak and Sabine Lebeau. It seems that my body has been metabolizing it, and altering me on a genetic level. They’re calling me a chosen one, though I may be something entirely different since the energy I took came from an eclectic group of time travelers, so we just don’t really know.”
“What does this mean? Can you...do something?”
“Don’t freak out.” Arqut sits very still. As his wife is watching him, the wrinkles in his face flatten out. His skin gets its glow back, and his hair turns dark once more. In seconds, he looks as young as he was when they first met.
You’re a retroverter,” Tinaya determines.
“Hopefully,” he says. “Obviously, I can do it to myself, and Sabine and Radomil are working on making it transferable. They’ll figure it out, and when they do, it means that we could start over. We could raise our son as twentysomethings; healthy and lively again. We may even be able to live forever. I know, I should have told you sooner, but this could be so good for us. What do you think? Are you interested?”
Tinaya daintily taps the cloth napkin against her lips before calmly laying it across her most recent plate. Still, she waits to respond, first staring him in the face for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, she quite confidently says, “no.”

Thursday, October 17, 2024

Microstory 2259: Hello, KC Metro

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
If you’re a national or international reader, you may not have heard of a TV show called Hello, KC Metro. In this region, we have a local television station that focuses on local programming. It includes the weather, news, documentaries, and syndicated scripted series that feature known Kansas City natives. For five hours from 7:00 to 12:00 every weekday morning, a talk show featuring a variety of hosts and guests discuss all sorts of topics. If you’ve ever done anything noteworthy in the area, or are from the area, chances are you’ve made an appearance in one form or another. They’ve asked me to be on many times, but I’m not great in front of the camera, so I’ve always respectfully declined. Even local content creators have their stuff shown sometimes without them actually being present in the studio, and they’ve read my social posts on there without me having to be involved directly. If you want your story to be seen by the highest number of people, you’re gonna want to get yourself on the program between 7:30 and 8:30 central. This is after people have woken up for work, but before they’ve actually left for work. Of course, people work at different times, but 9:00 to 15:00 is kind of standard. For the show, 11:30 to noon is a decent time to be on too, because people might watch it during their lunch break, but that’s a lot less standardized. You probably see where I’m going with this. Dutch isn’t much for writing, so he doesn’t have his own blog, but people are really interested in hearing his tales of interdimensional travel, so he agreed to go on Hello, KC Metro, where he spoke with host, Cosmina Branković for nearly forty-five minutes this morning. He talked about what he was up to in Stoutverse, even the things he did that he wasn’t super proud of. I won’t get into that here, because it’s 2024, so you can watch the whole thing online. I know that it was hard for him to go into all that. He wasn’t being tormented or abused, but it wasn’t all fun and games either. I’m very proud of him for being honest about his part in what those people wanted to do with something that he could not control. I know none of that makes any sense if you didn’t see it, so I guess you’re just going to have to go hear for yourselves.

Monday, March 18, 2024

Microstory 2106: Die, Or Get Caught

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I’m giving in. I have to do what they tell me. These people set me up with my new identity, a place to live, and a way to protect myself from being found by authorities. Either I pay them back with whatever they want me to do, or they expose my whereabouts. They didn’t specifically say that that’s what they were going to do, but they’ve frequently reminded me what they did for me, so I can read between the lines. I never had any illusions that this relationship wasn’t transactional, but I was under the impression that they were going to let me get on a little payment plan. With my job and simple lifestyle, it would not have taken long to finish paying it off. They never said that the favor they’re asking of me replaces the money, though, so I’m pretty sure that they’re still expecting the cash anyway. I still don’t know what I’m going to have to do for them, but I have a when and a where. I was hired to work second shift for my regular job, which goes from 8:00 to 16:00 now that we only have three janitors on the team. As soon as I get off work, I have to make my way downtown using public transportation. They don’t even want me to stop and grab something to eat, but they say that I will want to be fed. I ate a big breakfast this morning, and I’m going to have an early dinner before my shift ends. We’re allowed to take a thirty-minute lunch now, and it can be at any time, as long as there isn’t something time-sensitive that needs to be cleaned. I think I can hold out until the very last minute. My alternate self back in my home universe fasts for fifteen hours every day. It shouldn’t be too hard for me. Hopefully, whatever the secret job is won’t take too long, and I’ll have time to eat something before bed. I’ll let you know how it went in my post tomorrow. Unless I die, or get caught, then you may never hear from me again. My new “bosses” never actually said that I would be involved in something illegal, but we met when they did something illegal for me, so I guess I’ve been assuming that this whole time. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and they just want me to mow someone’s lawn, or babysit their kid for a few hours.

Friday, March 15, 2024

Microstory 2105: Maybe I Should Leave

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It’s been one of those days. I told you in the last post how the scheduling works at my new job. When they first explained it to me, my first question was the obvious one, which is what happens when two people have to be gone at the same time? The answer was that this never happens, so they didn’t have a protocol for that. But of course, this being my life, it happened immediately. I’m not even finished with my training, but we’re already down to three people. One of the other janitors had a family emergency, which necessitated him driving halfway across the country at a moment’s notice. He reportedly didn’t even have time to pack anything. The old man, meanwhile, has fallen ill. He’s awake and alert, but he’s in no condition to be moving around, and doing this kind of work. The bosses are actually making him stay in a special room for treatment. I guess this place has its own little health clinic? They didn’t tell me anything about it, so I don’t think it’s for just anyone to use when they need it. So now it’s just me and the girls. Their initial plan when this happened was to have one of us take a double shift, and maybe someone else takes it the next day? That’s too much math. The reason four of us work on one day is because 24 divided by 6 equals 4. But 24 can also be divided into 8, and that makes 3. To cover the time, we’re each just going to take longer shifts, but we each get a 30 minute lunch break now. This is the way things often work in other universes, and even in other places on this world, so it’s not like I’m reinventing the wheel here.

I’m glad that they’ve taken my advice, because I feel super responsible for all of this. It may sound ridiculous, but hear me out. I’m starting to really worry that I’m the cause of all these issues. Things have been changing since I showed up on the scene, everyone thinks so, even if they’re not making the connection to me. Issues are arising that were not a problem before. It’s not always obvious, like when I first came to this world, and kept getting sick. Someone went missing after I started working at the nursery, and now this? I know, it sounds self-aggrandizing to think that everything is all about me, but come on. I understand that I felt like this before, and there actually weren’t any other missing people, but I’m not making everything up. I dunno. Maybe I should leave this town, and move to another to see if something weird happens there too. Of course, I can’t just run off right away. These people are counting on me. We have to find at least one more person to fill out the roster, and maybe another person after that, and if I go, then they’ll have to look for a third. I’m in such an awkward position. I better get some sleep, and see if I come up with any better ideas in the morning. The people who set me up with my new life are asking me to work for them too, which complicates things even further. I have a feeling that my situation is about to get a lot more difficult.

Tuesday, February 13, 2024

Microstory 2082: Too Happy Here

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The meal with my landlord went great. I’m glad I went with the easier recipe, though I may try to challenge myself more next time. We’re going to try to have dinner together twice a week from now on, though when I get my own place, that may change. I made enough so we could have leftovers today, and I couldn’t wait to eat it because it meant that I could sit in the break room for thirty minutes. It’s heated. The nursery is a mostly outdoor spot, as you can imagine. There’s a building, but it’s chock full of plants, particularly ones that I’m allergic too. I try not to spend too much time in there. I seem to be okay outside, or when I’m in the greenhouses. That’s where we spent the majority of our time. It’s snowing and blowing, so it sucks to have to work outside, but it also means that not many customers show up, so we don’t have to do much outside. The boss doesn’t like us to just be sitting around doing nothing, because there is always a plant in need of attention, but she exempts us from that rule on days like this. She volunteered to stand guard while we hung out, but we had our radios on hand. All she had to do was press the button three times, and one of us would run up to help. If she had clicked it four times, that would have meant that two of us needed to go. It didn’t happen much, but when it did, I always agreed to go back, since I’m still the new guy. She’s not going to spend too much time training the temp, because he doesn’t seem to be too happy here, so we don’t think he’ll ask for a permanent position. She’s still looking for someone new while the authorities are looking for our missing coworker.

Tuesday, February 6, 2024

Microstory 2077: A Break of Such Length

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I don’t want this blog to only be about my job at the nursery, but that’s really all I have going on. I don’t have any hobbies or interests, not on this world, anyway. I suppose I’ll start to get more into gardening, won’t I? It might be weird if I do the same thing in my free time that I do for work, but that may be all I really have. Someday soon, though, I’ll be able to afford my own place, and with it, my own computer. Then I can get back into writing. Until then, I can only work with what I have. Speaking of work, today I was there for only a single shift, from 06:00 to 12:00, instead of all the way to closing at 19:00. That’s the normal duration of a workday around here. People tend to work six hours a day, five days a week. That adds up to only thirty hours per week, instead of the forty where I’m from. Plus, every business in this country—no matter how small—is required to pay for a half hour lunch. A break of such length is required to avoid mistreatment of employees, so it only made sense to the legislators to make that part of the wages. Some businesses are allowed to do it differently by paying half a person’s wage for a full hour lunch break, because it makes the timekeeping easier, but others have you clock back in after your official lunch is done, but then stay on break. That sounds more annoying, and doesn’t allow you to go anywhere for the whole time. The nursery is right on the edge of town, so there aren’t a whole lot of places nearby, but one restaurant serves a particularly eclectic set of dishes, so it’s easy to go there more than once without feeling like you’re eating the same thing every time. It’s a little expensive, but I always get the cheapest thing on the menu. Once I get my own place, I won’t have to worry about borrowing my landlord’s kitchen, so I’ll really try to start making my own lunch. We’ll see how that goes. I’m lazy, so I get tired of that sort of thing.

Thursday, November 2, 2023

Microstory 2009: Ohio

Both of my dads are really smart, and everyone in their families are smart too. While my papa was still in high school, his sister was older, and went off to college. She chose a place in Ohio. It was really fancy, and only for really smart people. There are probably really good colleges closer to where they lived, but she wanted to go there. I forgot to ask her what it was called, and she was too busy tonight, which will be last night by the time you see this. She had too much stuff that they couldn’t fly it all out there, so they drove the whole way from Idaho. They left early, so they could make it a road trip. It took them over three days to get all the way across the country, but they could have done it faster if they had really wanted to. They drove through five other states besides Idaho and Ohio. Remember, my papa had already been to Wyoming and Nebraska, but not Iowa, Illinois, or Indiana. Papa didn’t count that as going to those states, though, since they drove through them so quickly. He even thought that his family didn’t stop once the whole drive through Indiana, though dad thinks they probably had to stop for gas and a potty break at least once. Anyway, Aunt Cooper had to go back and forth from home to her school a few times every year in college, but papa never went back. This was the only time he was there, and he stayed one night in a motel before his parents drove the three of them back to Idaho, so Aunt Cooper could be alone and start learning. I’m still too young to be thinking too much about college, but I really hope to go to somewhere here in Massachusetts. Maybe even Harvard if my grades get a little better.

Tuesday, August 29, 2023

Microstory 1962: Arrival

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OSI Director Lotte Washington: Hello, I’m OSI Director—
Henley: Lotte Washington. You’re early. Agent Flynn was meant to escort you from the parking garage.
Director Washington: Yes, my schedule changed. I have too much to do this afternoon, so I decided to come before lunch. I hope that’s okay.
Henley: That’s quite all right. My name is Henley Grahame; receptionist. We would normally print out a badge for you, but we don’t have a machine yet. I have created this check-in list, though, so we’ll be able to keep track of who comes in and out. I don’t want you to worry about our security.
Director Washington: It’s fine. Just point me in the direction of Agent Parsons. We have some urgent business to take care of.
Henley: Yes, of course. Right away. Uhh... *fumbling with the phone* No, that’s not it. Let’s see...page, zero—no, wait. First it’s star, then page.
Director Washington: You don’t have to make an announcement. I’ve taken a cursory glance at the floor plans. I’ll just go up to his office.
Henley: No, wait. That’s not part of our procedures. I swear we’ve come up with them, I just need to find the binder I’ve started. Anaïs! Your name is Anaïs, right?
Anaïs Altimari: *sees Director Washington* Oh, it’s Agent Altimari, Miss Grahame.
Henley: Right. Of course. Would you please take the Director to Agent Parsons’ office?
Anaïs: Certainly. Right this way, sir.
Director Washington: I really can find him myself. But very well, lead the way.
Anaïs: *runs into Timotei* Oh, pardon. Mr. Barber, this is OSI Director Washington.
Timotei: *shaking her hand* Nice to meet you. Timotei Barber, formerly incarcerated, now Head of Procurement. Let me know if you need anything.
Anaïs: *scowling at him* Thank you. You can get back to work now.
Timotei: I’m on lunch. I just can’t take it in the break room, because Navin is sleeping in the other room, and I like to watch my stories while I eat my beans.
Anaïs: *horrified* Oh, he—
Director Washington: ...has anemia. Yes, I’m aware. It’s quite all right. I just need to speak with Agent Parsons. It’s becoming rather urgent.
Timotei: Aren’t you here to take a look at the building? I could show you around. There’s a stall in the restroom that doesn’t quite close.
Anaïs: That’s not why she’s here, Mr. Barber. We’re looking for Parsons.
Timotei: Perfect! I just saw him in the bathroom.
Reese: I’m here, I’m here! Director Washington, welcome to the Department for Exogenic Affairs Headquarters. I trust that everything has gone okay so far?
Director Washington: It’s been fine. You appear to have a good team. You’ll need that soon. Is there somewhere you and I can talk, with Miss Tennison and Mr. Miazga?
Reese: Yes, of course. Please follow me to my office. Thank you Agent Altimari, and Mr. Barber. You can get back to work.
Timotei: I’m on lunch!
Reese: *dismissively* Okay, bye!

Monday, June 19, 2023

Microstory 1911: Shift Laws

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Senior Guard: Jail Guard, could you come into my office?
Jail Guard: Yeah, boss?
Senior Guard: I noticed that the male jail cell is empty at the moment.
Jail Guard: Oh, you’re right. It is, isn’t it?
Senior Guard: Why do you think that is?
Jail Guard: Looks like they broke out, sir. Happens about once a year.
Senior Guard: True. Care to hazard a guess as to the number one way detainees and inmates find themselves capable of breaking out of whatever lock up facility they’re in?
Jail Guard: Bad craftsmanship?
Senior Guard: Help from the inside. You were posted at that cell earlier today.
Jail Guard: I suppose I was. I did have to go out for coffee.
Senior Guard: How long were you gone?
Jail Guard: Only about ninety minutes.
Senior Guard: [...]
Jail Guard: I didn’t help them escape. I just didn’t watch them.
Senior Guard: Of course. Were you aware that the law states that at least two guards are required to be posted at a holding site where five or more detainees are being held?
Jail Guard: I think I did know that. Does that mean you erred?
Senior Guard: It does not. My roster is sound. It was a proctor who brought in the fifth detainee, which means it would have been the proctor department’s responsibility to supply your backup. Just for confirmation, did they fulfill this requirement?
Jail Guard: They did not. I was alone.
Senior Guard: And you are allowed to leave for food, beverage, and personal hygiene reasons once every two hours, correct?
Jail Guard: Correct. That is also the law.
Senior Guard: When you left for coffee, and...personal hygiene reasons, had it been two hours since your last break?
Jail Guard: *frowns* No, it had only been about an hour.
Senior Guard: No. No, look at this, see? You logged your break at 17:00 earlier this evening. I have it right here on the records. Those are your initials, aren’t they?
Jail Guard: Impossible, sir. I eat my dinner at exactly 18:00. I’m on a particular diet.
Senior Guard: Yeah, I remember, but something was different about today. You were so hungry, you took a break at 17:00, and then at 19:15, you needed another break, and since you were alone, you had to leave the detainees alone. And that’s not your fault. It’s not my fault either. It’s the proctor department’s fault. Do we understand each other?
Jail Guard: I think so, sir.
Senior Guard: *sighs* I know you have trouble remembering things sometimes, so when the fugitive department questions you regarding this matter, just tell them that you do not recall, and ask them to defer to the records, because you may not know much, but you know that the records are one hundred percent accurate. Okay?
Jail Guard: Okay, I think I can do that.
Senior Guard: Perfect. Now go finish your shift. They won’t come until tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 28, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 25, 2398

Alyssa has been driving all over the region of central-Western Kansas which her brothers discovered to be a black hole of religion. Everyone in the area reports no religious affiliation. She’s interviewed a few dozen residents in several towns, and they all seem like normal people. They don’t act culty or cagey. None of them refused to answer her questions, except for a few who were late to an engagement, or otherwise preoccupied. They didn’t apparently move here with the intention of being in a community of like-minded atheists. Most of them didn’t even notice. Everything here seems completely above board, which means that something has to be lurking in the shadows. There is a force at play here that keeps itself secret; there has to be, or all the time Carlin and Moray spent researching the phenomenon was a waste. She doesn’t want to believe that. When they return from their space trip, she has to show them that she followed through on their suspicions, and found something worthy of investigation, even if it’s a bad thing. Even if it’s a good thing, for that matter.
Now that she’s failed to come to a conclusion, she decides to switch tactics by exploring the literal center of the religious black hole. She rechecks her coordinates. This is the center of her brothers’ map, and it’s the location of one of the presumed time travelers that Ramses detected with his big brain scanner. That can’t just be a coincidence, but this also can’t be what she’s looking for. This is the center of all of it? It’s nothing special, or at least it doesn’t look it. Maybe it leads to a giant high tech underground complex, like the one under her farm. This could hold the key to the answers they’ve been asking since they arrived. She’s standing under this dilapidated shack on stilts in the middle of nowhere. Surely no one lives here, that would be ridiculous. Then again, stranger things have happened to her already.
Alyssa doesn’t see any no trespassing signs, and again, this would be a terrible home for someone, so she decides to take a risk, and get a closer look. She climbs the ladder all the way up, and into the tower shack. The inside looks like a shack as well. It’s pretty clean, with no debris or equipment, but she ought to watch her step, because some of these boards may not be stable enough to hold her weight. It’s a long way down. There is nothing here, except for one window, and a mirror. The mirror is hanging there on the wall, so completely out of place. It’s not old and dusty, but new and pristine. Alyssa stumbles back when she realizes that she doesn’t have a reflection, but she doesn’t have time to figure it out. She was right about the instability of the floor. One leg crashes right through it, leaving the other leg at her side, causing her to hit herself in the crotch. She tries to get her breath back, but she can’t. The pain in her groin is almost too much to bear. Not only did she hit it hard in the fall, but now she’s doing the splits, which is not something she’s trained for.
She doesn’t want to move, because she’s afraid that any motion will cause the whole structure to fall apart, and then that will be the end of Alyssa McIver’s life. She’ll never see her brothers again. She’ll never fulfill whatever future Mateo and the team believe is waiting for in the alternate reality where they’re from. Okay, she packed climbing equipment. Kansas doesn’t have mountains, but it’s not as flat as the coastal elites believe. We do have edges, and it is possible to fall off of them, and it just made sense to be prepared for such an eventuality. If she can just spin her backpack around, and open it up, she might be able to find a rope, and throw it over something here.
As she’s starting to do that, she sees something move out of the corner of her eye. Is that—no. There’s not a hand coming out of the mirror like a Japanese horror film. It’s not being followed by the top of a head. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. This is not happening. She has to get out of here. How long will it take to hit the ground if she falls right now? Is there time to spin this backpack around, open it up, find the rope, and throw it over something? Probably, right? Let’s see, take the square root of her weight, and multiple it by the height of the shack. Carry the one, and no, she doesn’t have enough time. She’s either going to fall to her death, or get eaten by the ghost monster coming for her. Neither one sounds appetizing, but the ghost monster may spare her life if she spreads the message about how they died to as many people as she can, or something like that.
The figure finishes climbing out of the mirror, and does a front roll down the wall. Then she stands up, and reaches out a hand. “Let me help you.”
“Who are you?”
The woman doesn’t want to answer. “Don’t worry about it, just take my hand.”
Alyssa lets the stranger pull her to safety. Together, they jump over to the ladder, and make their way down to the safety of the ground. She finally recaptures her breath. “This is the center of unusual religious activity. Are you the cause of that?”
The stranger doesn’t want to answer that either.
Alyssa sighs, and takes out her tablet. “Nerakali Preston.”
“Huh?”
“Meliora Reaver, Xearea Voss, Ariadna Traversa.”
“What is this you’re listing?”
“Sanaa Karimi, Aquila Bellamy, Amanda Moss, Cambria Buchanan, Susan Glines, Natasha Orlova, Ellie Underhill, Téa Stendahl...”
“Are these meant to mean something to me?
“Ida Reyer, Aura Gardner, The Officiant, The Overseer, Tonya Keyes, Dr. Mallory Hammer, Danica Matic, Dilara Cassano, Marcy Calligaris!”
“Stop! I don’t understand!”
“I’m listing names of people that you could be, because when I land on your name, your microexpressions will tell me that it belongs to you. I have dozens more to get through, unless you would like to speed this up and tell me who the hell you are!”
She doesn’t speak.
“Quivira Boyce, Catania Porter, Bhulan Cargill—there! There, that’s it. I bet you didn’t think I’d find it, but you’re Bhulan Cargill.”
“That’s Mateo Matic’s list, isn’t it? That’s the cleverest thing that man ever did.”
“Are you the cause of the religious black hole?”
Bhulan still won’t answer that question.
“Daria Matic, Dodeka Sarkisyan, Lita Prieto—”
“I thought you already figured out what my name is.”
“Now I’m just doing it because it seems to annoy you. Answer my questions.”
Still nothing.
“Khuweka Kadrioza, Hogarth Pudeyonavic—”
“Fine. Yes. I’m the cause of what you’re calling the religious black hole, but not by choice. I’m just a prisoner here.”
“Who did this to you?”
“That I don’t know.”

Tuesday, December 27, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 24, 2398

Mateo and Ramses made a conscious decision to not exit the Facsimile pocket dimension right away. This world has been abandoned for centuries, but certain things they know of were designed to stand the test of time—specifically, anything in The Constant. The version of the Constant in the Third Rail started out as the same as the one in the main sequence, but they split from each other at some point. There should have been two separate elevator shafts, two separate kitchens, two separate libraries, and two separate Danica Matics. The Facsimile, on the other hand, is an exact copy of the way the world was at its last save point, which was reportedly around Christmastime 2022. The only things that don’t get copied over are living beings, particularly people. Plants seem to do okay, but nothing that moves on its own was duplicated. They didn’t know who made the Facsimile in the first place, but they believe they met the man himself yesterday, who ended up being trapped there this whole time by The Cleanser.
Now they’re on their way to Lebanon, Kansas. It would have been a short trip, giving them plenty of time to return to the dimensional exit by the end of the day, except that there aren’t any working vehicles in the world. Nearly everything runs on fossil fuels, and gasoline breaks down over time. They could have found an electric car somewhere, but they wouldn’t have been able to charge it, because power stations run on...fossil fuels, and all the solar panels they happened to come across had fallen apart due to lack of maintenance. Bicycles still worked, though they couldn’t just grab two off the street. They had to first make their way to the nearest bike shop, and go all the way to the back, to the ones that had suffered the least amount of exposure from the broken windows.
They found some really good models, but according to Ramses’ calculations, the ride would take over 21 hours straight. It was the middle of the night, which made it more difficult to see, but at least they didn’t have to worry about traffic. They pedaled for a few hours, took a rest, then pedaled a few hours more. They kept going like this for the better part of two days, and they’re finally here. If there’s nothing underneath that can get them back to the exit in a reasonable amount of time, they’re kind of going to be screwed. The elevator has to operate, and they have to get down there for some help, and an advantage that they never could have hoped for before. If this doesn’t work, they’ll have to wait a whole other week until the next window opens. When they left, everything seemed fine, but a lot can happen in seven days. Things might have taken a huge turn, and it would only get worse. The moment of truth. Mateo presses the secret call button, and crosses his fingers.
“You know it won’t be another week, right?” Ramses says after they hear the motor humming through the walls. “It would be two more weeks by bike. It took us two days to get here, which was fine in the beginning, since we started at midnight, but now we’re starting late on the second day. When we get out of here, it will be the eighth of November.”
“That’s assuming we can’t get back home tonight.”
“Right,” Ramses agrees. The doors open, and he steps in. “This is a good sign.”
They ride all the way down to the bottom. The lights are already on inside, anticipating their arrival. “It looks empty.”
“Computer, report,” Ramses orders.
No response.
He shrugs. “Worth a shot.”
“We don’t have time to search.” Mateo breaks the glass with his shirted fist, and pulls the fire alarm. The alarm still works too. They take another break on the couches while they wait to see if anyone runs up from deeper in the facility. It’s a big place, it might take a person a while. After ten minutes, though, they’re just wasting time. Mateo cancels the alarm, and follows Ramses to the control room.
Ramses starts fiddling with the computer. “It’s blank.”
“What’s blank?”
“The hard drives; everything.”
“They’ve been wiped clean?” Mateo asks.
“No, this is more like how they would look if you bought the computer today, and haven’t used it yet. I guess there are some things that the Facsimile can’t copy.”
Mateo tilts his Mr. Spock brain. “This place is run by an AI, or it’s supposed to.”
“Yeah.”
“That would not be a living organism, but it would be a consciousness. If the Facsimile can’t copy people, it probably can’t copy other forms of intelligence either.”
“Hm. Yeah, you’re probably right. Damn, I was hoping to find some great tech, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”
“This place is huge. Surely there’s something we can use. Let’s go take a look around after all. We need to find some kind of car, or something, anyway.”
They each take a radio transceiver, and split up to search the premises, hoping to come across something both useful, and which they can take with them back to the Third Rail. But only Ramses is going to be doing that. Mateo already knows what he’s looking for, and he’s about fifty percent sure that it’s here. He goes back to the lounge area, and approaches the wall with the sledgehammer he found in the garage. Hoping that Ramses has gotten himself out of earshot by now, Mateo starts banging. It’s not long before he’s through the wall, and can reach the secret door behind it.
Ramses runs back in, having apparently heard one of the last swings. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What do you think?”
“There’s not gonna be another you in there.”
“Wanna bet?”
Mateo pulls the rest of the wood panels away, and opens the door. Inside is the stasis pod he was told he woke up in months ago in a different version of the Constant. It’s occupied, so maybe it’s not such a different version, is it?
“This is just going to make things complicated,” Ramses warns.
“He’ll remember what happened to him in the past. We need answers.”
Mateo deactivates the pod, and lets the other Mateo out. Fax!Mateo steps out. “Is everybody who came down here in this room right now?”
“Don’t worry about that,” the regular Mateo says. “It’s not going to implode.”
Fax!Mateo narrows his eyes at his other self. “Report.”
“No, asshole, you report. The memory of my time down here has been erased. Before it happens to you, you’re gonna tell us. What did you see? Who did you see?”
Fax!Mateo looks behind him at the pod control panel. “October 24, 2398. Sorry, it’s not time yet.” He runs off.