Microstory 2328: Earth, December 9, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

The system works! I received your canned response, telling me that you were going to wait to write back until I had a chance to speak with dad. Well, that’s what happened. He finally came home a few days ago after having been gone the longest amount of time in my life. I gave him one night to sleep off the jetlag, but then we spoke over breakfast the next late morning. We sat down at the table together, but he knew that it was coming, and neither of us ate much of anything. He admits that his wife—your mother—came to him 36 years ago with the idea to raise us separately. They were going through a divorce, and his work was going to take him across the continent anyway. She had this opportunity to be part of the first manned mission to Vacuus, and didn’t want to go without any family at all. She framed it as her idea, but my dad has always been pretty convinced that another man talked her into it. Funny thing is, this other guy ultimately failed the mission qualification tests, so he ended up not going anyway. I’ve not gotten a name yet, but I would like to find out who he is, and what happened to him.

So anyway, it sounds like it was partly a social experiment, and partly the solution to the calculus of there being two parents in need of at least one child each, and having two children to divide into the solution. He says that he doesn’t remember why she got the girl baby, and he got the boy baby, but I don’t think that part really matters. He claims that he regretted the decision immediately, but your ship had already launched. If that’s true, why didn’t he tell me about you earlier? We could have known each other since we were kids, and had some sort of relationship growing up. Yet he played into the experiment. He could have made things a little better, but chose not to. Not only did he deprive us of each other, but himself of you, and you of him. He could have known his own daughter, and now you’re an adult, but a total stranger. I also missed out on the chance to know my own mother, though you would be a better judge as to whether that’s a bad thing, or not. He was too tired to give any more details. He didn’t really paint himself as the hero, but it’s clear that he considers her the villain. Again, he did have some control. There must have been some argument that he could have made in a court of law. Your mom had to volunteer for the Vacuus mission. They weren’t begging for her to sign up. Maybe that’s not true, though, because as I said, I never had the chance to know here. Before she died, what—if anything—did she say about how this started for her? I’ll try to find out more information for us later, but I wanted to reply as quickly as possible, so you would have time to consider and process it. To be honest, it was a rather disappointing conversation. When I think back to my conversation with him, I realize that he said as little as possible without allowing me to accuse him of being totally evasive.

Let down on Earth,

Condor

Microstory 2133: Sweet in an Alarming Way

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Though the tests suggest that I’m recovering from my infection, I just had a bizarre experience this morning. Prison food is mostly bland. I think it kind of has to be, because that type of food is easier to work with, and you don’t have to worry about people not liking the taste, because everyone hates it. I don’t love that, but it’s been easy to keep down, because that’s all they’re giving me. I’m much better at following rules when I’m being essentially forced to. When I was dieting, trying to maintain my food plan without cheating was really difficult, because I was always only truly accountable to myself. I wasn’t dating anyway, so it didn’t matter how I looked to others. Anyway, the taste was strong with my breakfast, and I can only guess that the fungus is messing with my taste buds. It was just a bran muffin with oatmeal. That’s it. The oatmeal wasn’t even heated up in milk; just water. Pretty boring, wouldn’t you say? No one loves that kind of food, even if they eat that sort of thing all the time. The first thing I noticed was the smell. I can’t really describe it to you. Because of my seasonal allergies, I never developed a good sense of smell, so I don’t have a very good frame of reference. But it was rancid. Still, I ate it, because I didn’t have options. The oatmeal had no smell at all, but it tasted sort of sweet in a really alarming way. There was no flavoring added to it. It was meant to be plain. This all reminds me of a time in college when I thought the pastries I bought had gone bad, but then I realized that I gargled some mouthwash not too long prior, so that was what was weird about it. Still, I remember worrying that the thin fibers in that chocolate chip muffin looked like spiderwebs, so I threw it out to be safe. I feel all right this time, so I don’t think it’s just that the food went bad, or that there were any spiderwebs, but I’m not a doctor. I suppose it could actually be that I was poisoned. Maybe I should be more worried about that possibility. The doctor isn’t worried about it, and just shrugged it off as a fleeting symptom, which should go away when the fungus does. In the meantime, I’m gonna keep working, staring at the wall during breaks, and occasionally hanging from the pull-up bar. That’s as much as I can do. When I was a child, I set the record for the highest number of pull-ups, but now I can’t do even one. To be fair, I’m about three times the weight, and I don’t work out anymore. At one point, I was doing gymnastics three times a week, so my life is very different now, even excluding the whole jail time thing. I refused my lunch today, because I was still freaked out and nervous, but I’m going to have to eat something soon, so I’ll let you know tomorrow if the issue has persisted.

Microstory 2043: West Virginia

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After we got back from Ethiopia, my fathers started talking about all of the other places that they had been too. They ended up getting out an old map that papa’s mom used to hang in her home office. They hung it in the basement, and each of them picked a color of stickers, and started marking where they had been to. My dad has been to several states, but my papa’s stickers were all over that map. They realized that there were not many states left that he hadn’t been to yet. The closest one was Pennsylvania, but he decided to make a trip to West Virginia instead. He and my dad wanted to go down there for their anniversary, because it was really close to that museum in Virginia where they had first gotten to know each other. I went on the trip to West Virginia too, but I was 8 years old already, so I could take care of myself a little without too much help. I let them spend some time together without me. I even went to a puppet show next door to the bed and breakfast alone. We only spent one night there, and then we went back home, because I had to go to school on Monday.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 21, 2399

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Alyssa left for a few hours, claiming that she was going to ask Dalton to agree to a meeting with Team Matic. When she came back, she apologized for not being able to make it happen. He was apparently still upset with her for losing the Dilara Cane, and only maintains any sort of relationship with her because he still needs her to be in charge of the Omega Gyroscope. The good news is that Alyssa has so far been able to keep to her word. She didn’t leave the Superscraper ship after relaying the news, and spent the night here. She had a lot of work to do before, but most of that is over now. Things should be working on their own without requiring constant attention.

“Thank you for trying,” Mateo says to her during breakfast. “I’m not sure I said that to you yesterday.”

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. That’s not me.”

“It literally wasn’t. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all done stuff like that. Ramses sacrificed himself out of his guilt for what he had done. Don’t let that happen to you. We’re a team, and we can get through anything. Together,” he adds.

She smiles. “Where’s Leona.”

“She’s getting ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“For our response to Dalton.”

“Hmm. What response would that be?”

Leona walks into the kitchen in her Shabatica best. She’s wearing a pretty floral dress that shows off her figure, but isn’t revealing or distracting. Her hair’s been done up all nice, and she’s wearing a modest amount of concealer makeup. “You told me to not wear blackface, so I’m not.”

Mateo shakes her head. “I still think it’s going to work. They just need to see what you can do.”

“Who needs to see what she can do?” Alyssa questions nervously.

“The Meeting House,” Leona replies. “I’m going to reveal myself as an illusionist.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You’re right. I hadn’t given it any thought. I’m just doing this on a whim.”

“I thought we were friends again now,” Alyssa says.

“That’s how I talk to my friends sometimes. You’ll learn.”

“She’s anxious about it,” Mateo tries to explain. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Leona says dismissively. “People already saw this building appear out of nowhere magically. They just need some details.”

“She’s too anxious to be honest with herself about it,” Mateo adds.

“That may be, but do you think your remarks are helping?” Leona asks him.

“What exactly is the purpose of this?” Alyssa asks.

“Do you think that Dalton would change his mind if you asked about us again?”

“No.”

“That’s why.” His initial reaction was totally predictable. She didn’t think that he would go for it. If Dalton wanted to talk to them, he would have shown up anytime in the last year. This was just a wave hello. It was pleasant. It was nice. He’s going to wish he had answered it. The next move might hurt a bit. He’s the god here, and if someone makes an appearance, claiming to be just as powerful, that would cause quite a stir.

“I don’t understand,” Alyssa admits.

“We want his attention,” Mateo elaborates. “We’ll get it.”

“Are we not worried about the repercussions?” Alyssa presses. “The side effects?”

“It’s like the man said,” Leona begins, “they’ve already seen the building. If a house had appeared out of nowhere, we could have chalked it up to a magic trick. But a gigantic spaceship that’s taller than any building in the world by a hundred meters? In the middle of downtown New York City? Try explaining that away. The secret is out, and even if it wasn’t, it soon will be. The world is about to be destroyed, and everyone here is going to need to be moved to an entirely new universe. We have a term for that in the main sequence. It’s called The Edge, and it marks the year when everything changes. I think it was off by a few months, because this is happening, and it’s happening soon.”

“Okay,” Alyssa decides. “You do you. Can I come, though?”

“Absolutely,” answers a voice in the doorway.

“Imani Pettis, meet our good friend, Alyssa McIver. Alyssa, Imani.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Imani says, stepping into the room, followed by Heath.

“Likewise,” Alyssa returns.

“Do I look okay?” Leona straightens her dress at the hips.

“You look perfectly acceptable,” Imani says, but she doesn’t sound happy.

“Oh, no. What’s wrong?” Mateo asks.

“I’ve been praying on it, and I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.”

“To be quite frank,” Leona begins, which is never the best way for her to start a comment to someone of which she is asking a favor. “Assuming Dalton is a real god who can hear your prayers, he’s the one we are trying to summon. If he doesn’t want to be summoned, of course he’s going to tell you that we shouldn’t do it.”

“First of all,” Imani replies, “Dalton is not a god. He’s a leader, and his power is undeniable. Secondly, what Dalton would want is paramount. If he doesn’t want to come, that is his prerogative, and nothing we do can alter it. Especially not you, since you are an unbeliever. That is why I’m allowing you to do this, because if he appears, our prayers will have been answered in that regard. If he turns out to be a fraud, then we will welcome this revelation, because it will be the truth, and the entire purpose of our religion is to seek the truth. That brings me back to my final point, which is that I’m not canceling your appearance. I’m merely postponing it. I was worried about it before, because it was such short notice. I realized that it will be better for us to do it on Friday. That will give us time to spread the news, and for people to make arrangements.”

“Oh,” Leona says. “Thank you.”

“Plus,” Imani continues, “we only broadcast services for the occasional very special event, usually to turn unbelievers such as yourself towards the light. We need time to test the system before we do that, because it has been some time.”

Leona lowers her head. “This was very thoughtful of you,” she says contritely. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“It’s quite all right. I would ask you, however, if you could...maybe...?”

“Show you again?” Leona guesses.

“If it’s not asking too much,” Imani says, uncharacteristically shyly.

“I’ve been practicing.” Leona winks at Alyssa. A beam of light shoots out of her chest, followed by another, and many more. She’s a humanoid beacon of light, and then she’s just the light. When it recedes, she’s made herself look like a growing oak tree.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 27, 2398

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Ramses and Alyssa went into town for an extended lunch, and extended it further with a walk in the park. They returned to Danica Lake a few hours after leaving Leona to her solo mission. He dropped a single probe in the water. They sat in the trunk of their SUV and ate ice cream while they waited for confirmation that the Bridgette was gone. The probe didn’t detect any technology down there, so Leona’s plan seems to have worked. They waited for another hour after that, because...time travel, but she never came out, so they just drove back to Kansas City, hoping that she would be there. She wasn’t, so they are trying to move on without her, and be patient. Temporal navigation is an inexact science. She and Mateo may just be in the middle of overshooting the mark, and they’ll be back in a few days. If they never return, the rest of the team is to assume that she made it to her destination, and they’re living in the past together. That’s Plan B. Of course, she may have failed to find him at all, and it’s all gone to shit, but it’s best not to dwell on that possibility. It’s unhealthy.

Ramses woke up this morning, realizing that he hadn’t seen Marie for a while. She didn’t say that she was going back to SD6, but he called Winona anyway, and she claimed to have not seen her. He called Arcadia next, but she had no idea where Marie could be. Vearden and Arcadia are in their new home in the suburbs, but it’s not an ideal situation. She walks around with a disguise to prevent anyone from recognizing Leona’s face, and they have two live-in SD6 operatives who protect her at all times in shifts. They still don’t know how they could get her and Leona out of this predicament. She has a lot of fans in this world, but just as many enemies, including those who couldn’t care less about her politics, but would like to cash in on the bounty that’s on her head. Hey, maybe that’s why Leona can’t come back. The chances that she undershot the mark is just as likely, and she’s been hiding out somewhere all this time. If he can solve the bounty problem, it won’t matter anymore. But how?

Alyssa tilts her head, and thinks about it. “Hm. No...” she says to herself.

“What is it?”

“Nah, we couldn’t do it, it’s not even worth mentioning.”

“We’re brainstorming here, sister, No bad ideas.”

“Well, I’ve not been with you guys all that much, but I’ve already seen you switch people’s minds to different bodies to trick other people on multiple occasions.”

“You’re right, that wouldn’t work. We don’t have any extra bodies hanging around, except for Leona Reaver’s, and that doesn’t actually change anything. Plus, Arcadia needs that body right now to gestate her baby.”

“I’m not suggesting we move either of them to Reaver, but that body would be involved, assuming you could work your magic with that weird mini-consciousness you created a long time ago.”

“What are you talking about?” he questions.

“The problem is that people want Leona dead, but only one or two people can actually kill her, and collect that bounty, right? If she dies, people will stop trying to come after her, because they’ll be chasing after a ghost.”

He stares at her. “That’ll never work. We can’t kill the Leona Reaver body, it will just jump back to her reality of origin, and then jump right back here. I mean, the group that set up the bounty will expect proof of death.”

“You’ll have proof,” Alyssa contends. She uses airquotes, “kill her in a very public way, let her body go through that weird time loop cycle, and then delete the consciousness to make it vacant again. A body without a mind just looks like a dead body, doesn’t it?”

“Well, if we’re just going to give up the body for proof, why do we need to pretend to kill her at all?”

“Technically, you wouldn’t, but...think about the people who are going after that bounty, and the people who are rooting for it. They want to see her suffer. They want the spectacle. It will make it harder to disprove if they both see it happen, and see the outcome. They want to watch her walking around alive, and then...stop being that way.”

“And what happens to Reaver’s body afterwards? I’m not asking, I honestly don’t know; we would have to pay a corner, or something.”

She shrugs somewhat dismissively. “You don’t have to pay a coroner. The government has their own, enough of them know our situation.”

“I dunno, does that really help Arcadia? She would still have to wear a disguise.”

“True, but I think that it would be safer since people will not be looking for that face anymore. If someone is suspicious of the girl in the store wearing sunglasses, she’ll be like, oh, I get that a lot. Don’t be racist. Plus I’m preggers, look at me.”

Ramses chuckles. “She did have a cute little baby bump last I saw her.” He breathes in deeply. “This isn’t a bad idea, it’s just not a very exciting one. It’s pretty morbid, really. You’re suggesting I go out in public and pretend to murder someone very believably. Even if the government can get me out of jail—”

“You? Who said anything about you doing anything? No, it would be someone from the government; a trained assassin. Don’t forget to use all of your assets.”

“There are a lot of moving parts here, it’s not something we’ll be able to accomplish today.”

“Then let’s work on it. I’ll call Winona.”

“I don’t want to get her involved just yet. Short of being able to contact the real Leona about this, we have an obligation to at least ask Arcadia how she feels about it.”

The two of them leave the lab, and head for the suburbs.

One of the personal security guards answers, kind of surprising them with regular clothes, but they obviously don’t want to arouse suspicion. He’s probably pretending to be a cousin, or something. “Come on in, Mister Abdulrashid,” he says, stepping aside.

“Thank you.” They haven’t met, but they must have all of their photos on file.

The couple is sitting in their breakfast nook with their pancakes. She’s holding her stomach. It’s not that big yet, but not as slight as Alyssa expected.

“Hey, what’s up?” Vearden asks

They sit at the table next to them, and go over the beginnings of their dastardly plans. They both listen intently, and don’t interrupt. When it’s over, Arcadia nods understandingly, and stands up to look out the window. “Are you asking for my permission, or my opinion? Or are you just letting me know what you’re going to do?”

“The first two things,” Ramses replies.

She looks over her shoulder at him. “I’ll agree under one condition, and it is non-negotiable.”

Now he’s real worried. “What’s that?”

“Don’t make one of your weird mini-mind things. Make my father do it.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 11, 2398

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Eleven hours later, the away team was over eight thousand kilometers away. Ramses performed a water landing, then kept The Olimpia in boat mode so they could dock at the marina. A taksi took them over to Bishopsworth Resort, where they spent the night. The concierge was insistent on knowing what time they would be fully awake and dressed in the morning. They were already feeling jet lagged, so they chose 10:00, and when the clock chimed ten times, a crew of waiters burst into their room unannounced, and began to serve them their welcome breakfast. It was shocking, and annoying that no one thought to tell them what would be happening. Perhaps they just assumed everyone would know. They failed to do their research, or rather, Heath did. No matter, the food was good, and they needed to fuel up before the mission. When it was over, they opted to walk back to the marina, where they climbed into their boat, and headed Southeast.

Three hours later, they have made it to reform.belief.paint. They can see all around them forever, but there’s nothing but water, water, and more water. “Does anybody feel anything?” Marie asks. “Do we get the sense that we can teleport again?”

“Not in the least,” Ramses answers.

Apparently the one with the strongest connection to any source of temporal energy, Mateo shuts his eyes and tries to jump all the way back to the entrance to the boat, but he doesn’t move. “Nothing.”

“Hm,” Ramses says. “If anywhere in the world would have it, I would have thought here.”

“Why is that?” Mateo asks. “It’s not really any more special than the pyramids, or Easter Island.”

“Because most of the British Isles are just gone?” Marie says. “That’s weird. It sure as hell sounds like some kind of temporal anomaly. The Great Pyramid of Giza is just sitting there, where it’s supposed to be. We’re not even really sure why it’s special in the first place. But the fact that most of Great Britain doesn’t exist, but some parts of it do...that doesn’t make much sense.”

“True,” Mateo agrees.

“Well, we can’t have come all this way,” Marie begins, “and not at least try to find some clues. There’s only one logical next step.”

Ramses nods, and takes them down as far as this thing can go, but still don’t reach the bottom. If there’s any temporal energy tied to the location of Stonehenge, it’s under too much pressure. It looks like this little side mission is just a dead end. Leona drew a border on the virtual map, so they can maintain their proximity to their target. Mateo keeps trying to jump every once in a while, but nothing happens, not even a hint. The trio keeps thinking that maybe something will surprise them just before they give up, but they continue to sporadically utter defeatist phrases at each other—like “there’s nothing here” or “this is dumb”—yet still nothing changes.

It doesn’t even necessarily have to be time-related. They could resurface to find a band of pirates who want to take them hostage, or a shady government helicopter who has been following them around since the parking lot. But when they break the surface, they find it just as it was before. Water, water, and more water. “I think I’m gonna call it,” Marie declares. “This was a waste of time.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ramses contends. “We had to come here. If we hadn’t, we would have wondered about it. Now we can check it off the list. That’s the whole point of these little missions. We only have to find one thing that helps us get home.”

Marie nods, appreciating the sentiment. “Let’s go back to the island. We might as well be able to tell Heath that we did the bike tour. He was pretty excited about the prospect of us doing some real vacationy stuff”

Mateo heads towards the stern as Ramses is turning the Olimpia around. Recessed in the walls of the two back cubbies are footholds that lead up to an emergency exit in the ceiling. He opens up the hatch, and climbs outside. He stands on the roof, and continues to look around, hoping to see an ominous dark shadow of a giant creature as it swims underneath them, or a brilliant green whirlpool, or maybe a beacon in the distance. That would be satisfying enough, to rescue a random castaway. But as before, he finds that there is nothing special about this place. It’s just the middle of the ocean on the most boring version of Earth yet. He’s not yet lost hope, because they still have many other locations to test, but it’s sure not a good start. Though, to be fair, it’s not really a start. Magic exists here; The Constant proves it. As Ramses was saying, they have to keep trying, and keep checking things off the list.

After they’re sufficiently far from awaited.passively.landings, he climbs back inside, and hangs out with the other two until they get back to the resort. There they stay for two more nights to finish out their reservation. Island culture is a little bizarre and confusing at times, but overall a lovely experience. Next stop, Munich.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 18, 2398

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The McIvers agree to continue hosting Team Matic, but at their real house this time. They don’t have a fancy schmancy infirmary there, but it doesn’t look like that’s what Mateo needs. He just needs rest, and when he wakes up, fluids. There aren’t as many rooms in the farmhouse, but it’s comfortable enough, and the team is grateful. From what Leona can surmise, Mateo spontaneously traveled into the past, where he met up with his cousin, Danica. For whatever reason, she found it necessary to store him in a stasis pod for however long, strip The Constant of all sensitive materials, and leave a single clue as to his whereabouts. Once the trail was at its end, the bunker was programmed to self-destruct, giving Mateo—and anyone else down there—just enough time to escape.

Leona knew that her husband would be found inside that particular wall, if anywhere, because that’s where she found him back in the early 23rd century. He was removed from time, brought back dead using a sort of Rube Goldberg contraption of temporal objects, and resurrected with a final special object. The line from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, “meet me in Montauk” told her that it was the key to finding someone again who she had once forgotten. Mateo should be able to fill in the blanks when he’s better.

“He’s awake!” Trina calls out for the whole house to hear.

Leona was eating her breakfast. It was supposed to be a soup, but she was distracted, and accidentally skipped out on the milk, and most of the water. It’s good, though. She places her bento box in the refrigerator. Then she walks up to the bedroom.

“Lee-lee, what happened?” Mateo asks her after Trina leaves.

“It’s your job to tell us,” Leona says.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Mateo tilts his lizard brain to think. “I was driving out to see if I could find the Constant. Sorry I went alone.”

“That’s the last thing?” she questions. “That was nine days ago.”

“Oh. I jumped forward in time? Then it’s true, and I was right, the Constant is still there, and houses temporal energy. How far are we from it?”

“It was there,” Leona begins to explain. “It’s been destroyed.”

“Why?”

“Do you remember not too long ago in the main sequence, when we ended up in that version of the Constant? Danica told us about a sort of reset protocol if the facility were ever compromised.”

“Yeah, of course. She did that?”

“Evidently, she did it halfway. She said that a new Constant would spring up in its place, and she would be replaced by an alternate version of herself too. But this Constant is just gone. There’s a lake where it used to be. You seemed to know it would happen. You called it Danica Lake.”

“When did I say this?”

“Yesterday. You fell down the elevator shaft, presumably went back in time, was placed in stasis, we found you, and then the whole thing imploded.”

Mateo tries to remember. “We need Nerakali.”

“That’s an understatement, but you passed out shortly after the event, suggesting that your memory loss was predetermined, and nowhere near an accident. It may have even been consensual.”

“I’m sorry,” Mateo says, shaking his head. “I wish I could remember why I don’t remember.”

“You can’t apologize for something you don’t know that you did, or why you did it. I blame you for nothing. I don’t really blame anybody. We’re all okay now.”

“Except for Marie.” Heath is standing in the doorway.

“Except for Marie,” Leona echoes.

“We’ll always have Croatia,” Mateo says, determined. “I won’t let anything happen to her. I’ll always protect my team.”

“You should know,” Heath says, hobbling forward. He’s hurt again—not still—having twisted his ankle when the elevator car came crashing down. It was the only injury. “You should know you saved my life. I’m not a traveler. What happened to you when you went back, may not have worked for me.” He frowns. “I probably would have just splattered onto the floor.”

“I would say you’re welcome, but according to..my wife,” Mateo says in a Borat voice, which he has never done before. “..I can’t take credit for something I don’t remember doing.”

“I never said that,” Leona defends.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Mateo contends.

“You need something to eat.” She kisses him on the forehead. “Were I you.”

“Were I you.”

Microstory 1881: Eyes Out on Stalks

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Before all this social media, if you wanted to get to know a celebrity, your only hope was to catch them in an interview on TV, or maybe see them at an awards show. You could read an interview, yes, or some other kind of article, but they always put their best foot forward, so unless it was a takedown piece, the writer would show them in the best light. That was okay, in general, but it did once place me in danger. When I had a crush on a particular leading man from decades long past—and I certainly wasn’t the only one—it was based on very little information. He was so great in his movies. He didn’t appear in many projects, mind you; he was a choosy talent, but they were all amazing, and he was amazing in all of them. I was young and naive, and I thought I was in love. Of course, I never thought I would get the opportunity to meet the man, and looking back, if only one minor thing had changed about that fateful day, I never would have. I can’t even say his name, it hurts so much to think back on it. I guess you could call it my unfinished business, even though there is nothing I can do about it now, so here it is. My local radio station was offering a promotion. Be caller number 96, and win a date with the hunk himself. They couldn’t call it a date on the official rules as it suggested some sort of romantic slant, but the crude radio personalities sure had their fun with their guesses as to what would go down. I called in, and actually won, and I was so incredibly excited. This was it, I was finally going to meet the man of my dreams. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was under no illusions about the upcoming night. I did not think he would fall in love with me, and ask me to marry him right then and there. But I didn’t care, because I felt honored enough just to be in his presence. I was so wrong.

He didn’t get down on one knee and propose to me on the night of, but he did seem to like me a lot. My mother warned me that he would probably expect sex. That was all right, I was ready, so I sat through the talk so she could make sure I understood that I could always change my mind. I did change my mind and it wasn’t really due to anything specific about him. He had a bit of a weird smell that I imagine he would call his musk, but I could have looked past that. It was just that we didn’t have any chemistry, and I guess he always wore makeup on screen, so I wasn’t all that attracted to him, so after the meet and greet, I just wanted to leave. It was a nice time, and I don’t think I would have regretted it if it had all ended, but he was not interested in ending things. He appeared totally fine that I wasn’t into have sex, but it was all an act. He was determined to get me in bed, whether I wanted it or not. He didn’t just break into my house, and attack me, though. No, that would have been too obvious. It would have been scary too, but at least I could have called the authorities if he had done that. Instead, he was what everyone around me thought was oh so romantic. They never let me call it what it was, which was stalking. He would send me flowers, and show up at my work. I found him in my kitchen once, waiting for my mother to make him some breakfast, like he was her son-in-law. It was so creepy, and I kept having to reject his advances, but he wouldn’t have it. I think he only stopped coming by because he found some new girl to fixate on. I never summed any of this up before, because as bad as it was, his actions were not reportable. I just wish people had listened to me back then, because a couple of years ago, we learned that some other girls ended up being not so lucky.

Microstory 1704: Aquarius

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This is it, it’s finally happened. Out of all contenders, I have been chosen to succeed my predecessor in the highest rank possible for someone of my station. Today, I become the Sovereign Supreme’s Aquarius, and I could not be more honored. I’m too excited to fall asleep naturally the night before, but I need to be well-rested and alert, so I ask my friend to sneak me some polpenroot. It’s not illegal, but the Sovereign Supreme doesn’t like his personal staff using drugs, even for medicinal purposes. When I awaken, I rush up to the palace, eager to begin my duties. The current aquarius is waiting for me at the reservoir, perhaps remembering how impatient he was when it was his turn. In the meantime, he gives me a tour, even though I’ve been here a million times to train. Water is sacred, and I know everything about how we conserve and utilize it wisely. It will soon be my job to collect, transport, and protect the Sovereign’s personal water rations. Of course he deserves the most out of anybody, but he never takes too much. He’s trained his body to survive on less, as we all have. Still, people are envious of his power, and they attempt to steal rations from him more than anywhere else, not only to make their own lives a little easier, but to make it harder on him. I won’t let that happen. No one has managed to steal from the Supreme in over thirty years, and I’m not about to end that trend. My predecessor finishes the tour, and instructs me to go to the Great Hall, where a breakfast banquet is being set up. It’s not just in recognition of me. Many other positions on the royal staff are being backfilled today, and I am only one. I believe mine is the most important job, but I imagine all of the others say the same about their own.

The Sovereign Supreme is pacing back and forth in front of his throne, rehearsing his speech. I watch him in awe. I’ve seen him before, but he looks even more glorious now that I’m a part of his detail. I am humbled in his presence. My predecessor comes in, but he’s not alone. He and a team of reservoir workers are rolling in a tank full of water. It is the most I’ve ever seen in my entire life outside of the reservoirs. These banquets only take place every several years, and attendees can reportedly drink as much as they want, but I’ve never heard confirmation of that. I hope it’s not true, as it would be so wasteful. The people are dying of thirst, and the reason I admire the Sovereign Supreme so much is that he’s fair and just. He understands what his people need, and he does everything in his power to keep us alive. The current aquarius and his team continue rolling the tank to the other side of the hall, and through another set of doors. Curious, I casually follow them in. I’m not sure I’m allowed to be in here, but this will be me in a few hours, so it can’t be that big of a deal. There’s something weird about this room. A beautiful shimmering light dances upon the walls, mesmerizing me, and keeping my eyes from seeing where I’m going. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tank stop. One of the workers warns me to look out, but I don’t hear her in time. I slip on the edge, and fall down. I don’t hit the stone, though. Instead, I fall right into water. What is this, a secret reservoir? I scramble back to the surface, and struggle to stay up before realizing that my feet can touch the tile floor. I stand and look around. I’ve never seen anything like it before, but I’ve read about the way people lived long ago. This was back when they were frivolous and wasteful, and did not have to ration their water. The current aquarius is laughing. “It’s not time to swim yet! Wait until after breakfast!”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 23, 1693

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They weren’t allowed to return to the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. A little side punishment for their insolence was that they would lose all modern convenience privileges. They were going to live in the past, as the past people lived. It was unclear what Anatol and Zeferino were going to do with their ship, but if even one access panel was out of place when they finally got back to it, Leona was going to flip out. Since it was necessary either way to blend in with the natives, they had to find new clothes to wear. They took a quick detour to sometime in the future at The Hub on Tribulation Island. There, Téa was able to provide them with the appropriate attire and accessories for life in the 17th century. They gave her a friendly greeting, and she greeted them back, but they didn’t talk about anything. They didn’t know which timeline this was, or how simpatico they were. It was best just to acknowledge that they knew each other, remain pleasant, and move on.

Once they were fitted, they went back to the past, but not as far as they were before. It was now 1693. It would seem as though they were no longer on any sort of predictable pattern. It was still possible—maybe the jump would always be 85 years—but the most likely explanation was that the time of patterns was over, and they would just go whenever and wherever they were needed. The antagonists would probably still send them ever forwards so they didn’t accidentally interfere with their own past work in the future. At this rate, they would be back to their general time period in only about a week. But again, they didn’t really know anything.

They spent one night here in realtime, so when they woke up, it was April 23, and about time for their next mission. Their breakfast wasn’t very good, but they weren’t allowed the status of noblemen here, so they took what they could get. They were only entitled to eat some bread and cornmeal. Mateo added it to his mental list of the things he hated about the past. Who would live like this? It just felt so strange to him, even though he knew that most people hadn’t heard of time travel, and they certainly didn’t have access to it. He hoped that Leona’s weeklong estimate was right, and they would be done with this before too long. He did not vocalize his feelings, and he figured everyone else was deliberately keeping their complaints to themselves too. If the antagonists realized quite how annoyed they were with this whole thing, they might make it worse. They assumed Angela would be the most comfortable here. It wasn’t her time period, but they were closer to it in terms of technology. She was actually the most uncomfortable, though. Because she already lived through it, and she knew how much it sucked. Mateo kept clocking her reaching for her handheld device in her back pocket. Not only was the device not there, but nor was a pocket. It was presumably illegal for a woman to have pockets, because that would make her life too easy.

They walked down the stone street to get to the other side of the city. It wasn’t that bad, except for the excrement all over that people just threw out their windows. They were worried that, even in these garments, the locals would be suspicious of them. They might not have been holding themselves up correctly, and not everyone on the team had the right skin color. Seven strangers walking together must have looked weird too. For the most part, however, people just left them alone, and focused on their own lives. Their minds were most likely preoccupied with how much they hated living like this as well, and wishing there was a faster way to get across town. Leona was frustrated for similar reasons. So much could go wrong here. It would be far safer if they just lived in The Parallel, and pulled people through like normal. Before he disappeared, Anatol hinted that they weren’t going to use transition windows in the same way that Jupiter and Nerakali had. He was still going to include that power as part of the program, but the rescues were too far back in the timeline to be able to handle such a thing. They were going to have to get creative.

Leona looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then she pulled her sleeve back, and checked her Cassidy cuff. It was still technically operational, but its functionality was severely limited. The screen only showed them where they were, and where they were supposed to go. No maps, no messages, no features. It didn’t even have a clock in the corner. “This is it,” she said, stopping in front of a door.

“It looks like it’s in that direction,” Jeremy pointed out as he was consulting his own cuff.

“It doesn’t show how far away our target is,” Leona began to explain, “but I’ve been keeping an eye on our pace. I’m guessing the person we’re looking for is up against the wall of this apartment. We need this door.”

Jeremy nodded in understanding, still looking at his cuff. “Target is on the move.”

“How do we handle this?” Mateo questioned. “What do we do?”

Not bothering to wait for a discussion, Olimpia pounded on the door.

The little target dot stopped, and started moving in the opposite direction, towards them. An oldish man opened the door. “Can I help you?”

They didn’t discuss what they were going to say to him, so it was awkward for a moment. Olimpia seemed sick of waiting for other people to make the decisions. “You need to come with us right now.”

“Okay, let me retrieve my bag,” the man said. He wasn’t expecting them, but he acted like this sort of thing happened all the time. He left the door open, and walked back down the hallway.

“We have a new target now,” Jeremy announced. “That’s probably where we’re supposed to take him.”

“How did you know we would take him anywhere?” Angela asked.

“Apartment’s not on fire,” Olimpia replied. “He’s just hanging out, enjoying the day. I’m sure he’s not in any immediate danger. The mission is somewhere else.”

“Do you require the leeches?” the man shouted from the back.

“He’s a doctor,” Mateo guessed, remembering that people used to use leeches to get poisoned blood out of the body.

“Yes, bring the leeches!” Olimpia shouted back.

“Doctor,” Leona said just for the group, using airquotes. “Anyway, they’re called physicians. You call him a doctor, he might be confused. His title is mister.”

The physician came back with what he needed for a medical emergency that didn’t exist. Or maybe it did exist. They didn’t know what the mission was, or what its purpose was. Maybe Anatol needed someone else’s life to be saved, and this was his way of accomplishing that without the aid of the two known time traveling doctors. The physicians followed them without question. He didn’t even ask people their names, and they didn’t ask for his. Jeremy took up the rear so he could keep an eye on the cuff screen without getting caught. It was only telling them whether they were heading in the right direction, or not. It couldn’t plot a course for them through the streets, so they had to be real careful with it. Finally, they were past the city limits, and into the edges of the countryside. Still, the physician didn’t seem perturbed. He patiently walked with them, down the dirt road, up the trail, and into the clearing.

“Uhh, we’re here,” Jeremy said.

They spread out a little to look for clues, but all they saw were plants, trees, and grass. “How are we on time?” Dalton asked.

“It doesn’t have a time,” Jeremy answered.

“Well, how long do we wait?” Dalton furthered.

“What are we waiting for?” the physician asked.

“We don’t know,” Leona said vaguely.

“It’s changed,” Jeremy said. “We have to go this way now.”

“What are you looking at?” The physician wasn’t freaking out, but he was growing concerned.

“That’s the direction we came from,” Siria noted. “Are they messing with us?”

“I don’t know,” Mateo said. “It doesn’t matter. They’re holding all the cards. Let’s just keep following it until we end up where we’re meant to be.”

And so the group got back on the trail. They took it all the way to the dirt road, which took them to the stone streets, which took them back through the city, and then right back to the physician’s apartment. It appeared to be some kind of exercise in futility.

“Morning, Mister Stroud,” said a young woman as they were standing at the door, confused. “Who are your friends?”

“Not friends of mine,” the physician said. “Friends of a patient.”

“Oh. Is that where you’ve been for the last week?”

“How do you mean?” Stroud asked.

“You have been gone for a week,” she contended. “We assumed you had business in Chaslow again.”

“I saw you just at dawn,” Stroud argued.

The woman shook her head. “That was very much a week ago, sir. You look tired. You should get some rest. Good day to you all.”

Many returned with things like “good day,” and “good day to you.”

“What did you do to me?” Stroud was upset now.

Leona stepped forward like she was going to give him an explanation. She stood there for a moment before saying, “run.”

Most of the team ran off, including the newbies. They all trusted her judgment. Only she and Mateo remained. “We’re sorry to have wasted your time,” he said.

The confounded physician stared back at the two of them. He didn’t have an explanation for his missing time, and he already understood that they weren’t going to give one to him. The three of them turned to watch the rest of the team disappear around the corner, then the Matics casually left the apartment, and followed them at a comfortable walking pace.

Jeremy managed to get them a single message through the cuff. It was nothing more than a question mark. Leona replied with a simple GO. Stroud wasn’t going to call the coppers on them, or something, but it was still best if the majority of them just quickly returned to the safehouse. Leona and Mateo, meanwhile, were just going to hold hands, and enjoy some time alone for a bit. Once they were back, they explained to the group that everything was fine. The theory was that Stroud was destined to die sometime in the past week, and that it was their job to help him skip over that death. They probably crossed in and out of a transition window in the woods without realizing it. Most importantly, he didn’t realize it. He would never be able to explain, but he wouldn’t want to lose his station, so he would keep quiet about it, and just move on with his life. Hopefully he was now destined to save more lives with medicine.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 19, 1993

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Mateo and Ramses woke up at about the same time the next day. They weren’t a hundred percent sure exactly when that would be, but the powers that be seemed to simply hold the pattern, but in this new time period. It was now April 19, 1993. Little Declan was three years old now, which was probably old enough to start coming up with his own ideas, and operating somewhat independently. He was eating his torus oats, and—why the hell did he just call them torus oats? Was that the shape of the cereal? Yes, it was, but even if he knew that himself, it wasn’t a phrase he would have normally said. He would have just used the brand name, especially since this was all just in his head, and he didn’t have to worry about any legal issues. There was something very strange going on in his brain, but unfortunately, Nerakali wasn’t around to answer any questions. The two of them stood awkwardly in the kitchen entryway, wanting to ask what they could do to help, but not wanting to interrupt Holly Blue’s process.

“Oh, just sit down,” she said. “I made it for all of you.”

“All of us?” Mateo asked.

Holly Blue frowned slightly. “Yes. I built your machine in my lab over the course of the year. There’s not really a way to test it, but it should take you back to the beginning of your pattern. I doubt you’ll need it, though. I had a whole year to think it over, and I’ve decided your relationship with your wife is indeed my business. I’m going to help you to get through whatever went sour, and what better way to do that than with some powdered sugar?” At that very moment, she sprinkled some actual powdered sugar over the pancakes she had just set on the table in front of them. “They must be tired, though.” She lifted her watch, and tapped on the touchscreen, which was not a very 1993 thing to do.

An alarm went off upstairs, followed by a thump.

Holly Blue spoke into her watch, “breakfast is ready. Come as you are.”

Leona appeared from the stairs, followed by Nerakali and Vidar. Mateo couldn’t be mad. He couldn’t hold the high ground here. She had mixed feelings about seeing him. She obviously wanted to see him, or she wouldn’t have chased him back in time, but she was angry about all the effort she had to put into it.

“Now,” Holly Blue began, “my mother...didn’t raise me. I don’t know why I intended to lie to you about that, or why I went back on it in the middle of the sentence. Let’s just call this an original thought. We’re going to hash this out, family therapy style. And we’re gonna do it over a meal.”

“Sweet,” Vidar said, sitting down. “We don’t have to say grace, or anything, though, do we?”

“Dig in.”

That Mateo couldn’t be mad didn’t change the fact that he had no idea what he was going to say to his wife. Holly Blue could have given him a thousand years to think it over, and there still wouldn’t be any words to justify his actions. He didn’t want to defend himself, but he didn’t want to apologize either. Honestly, he just wanted to run away again, perhaps using the new homegrown home stone.

Everyone was really hungry, so they didn’t just sit there in awkward silence, but they didn’t speak either. They just chowed down silently, as if their crazy uncle had just said something ambiguously sexual about his nephew’s fiancée at thanksgiving dinner, but he was helping to pay for the wedding, so no one could argue. This went on for about ten minutes. Holly Blue waited impatiently for someone to break the ice, and then just had to go for it herself. “Let’s just get some background. Mateo, you killed someone?”

“A villain,” Ramses clarified for him. “Two, actually. Erlendr and Arcadia Preston.”

Holly Blue looked over to see Nerakali’s reaction.

Noticing this, Nerakali spoke up, “they had it coming. We all agreed.”

“Yes,” Leona agreed defiantly. “We all did.”

“But you’re not the one who had to do it,” Mateo spat back with rougher turbulence than he had intended.

“I offered!” Leona clapped back.

“This is not going to become a screaming match,” Holly Blue mediated with her inside voice. “We’re talking. If you don’t remain civil, neither of you will get what you want. Whatever it is you want, I’ll keep it away from you. I know that’s vague, but I don’t have a lot of options for punishment here, so please just do the right thing.”

Mateo sighed. “I didn’t want to leave you, Leona. I didn’t plan on it either. I just...watched the life drain out of their eyes, only to be replaced by new bulbs. It was in that moment that I realized I would never be the same. I’ve killed before, but...this was different. This felt...malicious, vindictive. It didn’t feel like me. You married me. I mean, you married the man I was, but I’m worried that he died with the Prestons.”

“You didn’t even try to stay and talk. You just teleported away. I didn’t know where you were going, or when you were coming back, but I was prepared to give you space. Then I noticed your dot on my Cassidy cuff disappear, along with Ramses’. If you were in shock, I would have understood, but you had the wherewithal to shut me out. That was not okay.”

“I know, I’m sor—”

She cut him off, “this is not the first time you’ve run away from me, Mateo. It will either be the last, or the second to last. You understand me?”

He did. He could either never do it again, or if he did, she wouldn’t try to find him. That was supposedly what he wanted, but also, he didn’t.

“Ah,” Holly Blue said. “That smells like a breakthrough. Or it’s the quiche.”

Everyone perked up.

“Settle down,” Holly Blue told them. “Horace Reaver isn’t the only one who’s allowed to make quiche. Jesus Christ.” She stood up to tend to the oven.

“So, are we cool?” Ramses asked.

“The conversation isn’t over,” Leona said, “but I think we can move on from now. I just don’t know where that is. Do we jump to April 20, 1994 after this? Do we return to where we should be, which is December 12, 2280? Do we completely remove ourselves from our pattern?” She started swiping through menus on her cuff. “There’s gotta be a way to do it.”

“Oh, I know what to do,” Mateo claimed. He did?

“You do?” Nerakali questioned.

Mateo started swiping through his own cuff interface screen, which was yet another term he wouldn’t have used himself. He didn’t even realize what he was looking for. He was now in, like, a hidden partition of the memory drive, or something. What? No, that was just technobabble, it was called something else. He was trying desperately to fight against his newfound intelligence with his oldfound stupidity. Oh my God, what a fitting thing to say, a voice in his head muttered. Oldfound? How the hell did you survive grade school? “Who is that?” Mateo cried out loud.

“What?”

“Shut up! Shut! Up!”

“Are you hearing people’s thoughts again?” Leona asked.

They all looked to Vidar. “Don’t look at me,” he defended. “I put up mental wards after the last time.” He tapped his fork against his head. “Nothin’s gettin’ in here.”

Mateo scoffed, completely out of his control. “You sure about that, jackass?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Leona scolded.

“A little bit of perspective, bitch!” Mateo said. But no, that wasn’t him. It couldn’t have. He didn’t use that word, and he sure as shit wouldn’t use it on her. If the shoe fits.—Be nice, honey. That last thing was like a different voice; nondescript, like the first one, but still somehow distinct. It was like there were two other people in his brain, and they were fighting for control of his thoughts and body. This was a psychic attack. “Oh, Sherlock’s got it figured out!” he couldn’t help but say out loud.

“Holly Blue, do you have any idea what’s happening?” Ramses asked.

“I have no clue,” she replied. “But I’m taking my son to the panic room. You all are staying out here. I can’t trust anyone.”

“I’ll find you later, caterpillar!” Mateo shouted to her as she ran off.

“Mateo,” Leona tried to say comfortingly. “Talk to me. What are you trying to do?”

All this time, Mateo’s hand was tapping furiously on his Cassidy cuff. “I’m trying to find something? These things can do virtually anything, but you have to know how to use them.”

Leona looked down at his cuff. “Ramses, get that thing off of him. It’s malfunctioning again.”

Mateo’s hand took a quick break from whatever it was doing to return to the main menu, and send an electrical shock to everyone else’s cuff to stop them from trying to stop him.

“I can’t!” Ramses exclaimed. “He still has the primary!”

“Got it,” Mateo declared in a faux British accent. He finally pressed the execute button. A tiny portal appeared over the dining table. The hundemarke fell right through. Mateo caught it before it landed in the deviled eggs. He triumphantly placed the dogtag around his neck.

They all stood up from the table, and backed away.

“Holy crap,” Nerakali said in fear. “That’s not Mateo anymore.”

“Who is it?” Leona asked.

Mateo grimaced. “Yes, who am I, Wilson?”

“It’s my father,” Nerakali answered. “That’s what he called me. I’m named after a character in a maxiseries called Inspectors. Nerakali Wilson.”

“Wasn’t Makarion in that too?” Vidar asked.

“No,” Mateo’s voice said as Mateo’s legs were standing Mateo’s body up. “He was in Masterminds.” His hand picked up the carving fork from the dishwasher that Holly Blue used for the chicken last night, and threw it straight at Vidar. It stuck in his head, causing him to fall down, presumably dead. “I don’t think I’m gonna paradox his death. I’m just gonna let him lie.”

“Get out!” Nerakali shouted at Mateo’s face. “Get out of his head right now!”

“Oh, I would, darling,” Erlendr responded. “Unfortunately, my body is being used by some asshole in the future who doesn’t even deserve to live.”

“Then at least cede control!” Nerakali ordered.

“No. I had a plan, and you people screwed that up. Well, this is what you get. This is my backup plan. I didn’t see it coming, but here we are. You can have Mateo back whenever Arcadia and I find replacements. Until then, I—what are you doing?” Mateo was struggling to take back control. It wasn’t easy, but it clearly wasn’t impossible either. This was his body, and no matter how strong these psychics were, he would always be able to lay claim to it. Was he strong enough to hold the line, though?

“What’s happening?” Leona asked as Mateo was turning away from them.

“He’s fighting back,” Nerakali explained. “Keep fighting!” she urged him. “They’re stowaways. All you have to do is get back into the pilothouse. You can do this!”

“Then what?” Mateo eked out. “They’ll still be here. I’ll have to fight like this every second of my life unless we can get them out. How do we get them out?”

They all looked to Nerakali, who stood there for a moment. “I don’t know how to get them out. Psychics are generally good people, even Sanaa. They don’t do this; they just don’t.”

Mateo moaned. He could feel Erlendr and Arcadia coming back. He only had one choice. He reached over, and input the exit code on his Cassidy cuff. It dropped to the floor. Now at least when his enemies took back control of his body, they wouldn’t have his friends’ powers. He tore the hundemarke off his neck too. He knew he couldn’t hold on forever, but he only needed a couple more minutes. He forced his legs to keep walking, right towards Holly Blue’s lab. There was a mirror on the other side of the room. Had he been simple ol’ Mateo, he wouldn’t have known what the mirror did, but Erlendr was a genius, and let it slip. This was the home stone she had built for them. She kind of had a thing for mirrors, rather than rocks, so it made perfect sense. With the last bit of strength he could muster, he reached around to the controls on the back, and activated the portal. Then he stepped through.

Leona dropped her own Cassidy cuff, and tried to follow him, but couldn’t.

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