Microstory 2446: Caverndome

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I have no idea how big this place is, or how many corridors and chambers this dome has, but it seems pretty complex and expansive to me. According to the literature, this was a natural cave system that survey satellites and drones discovered while they were mapping the topography of the planet during this project’s early days. Seeing the opportunity, they built one of the domes on top of it. I saw the satellite view myself, and there aren’t any other domes very close to the rocky formations to the northeast of Caverndome, which makes me wonder whether the caves extend far beyond its borders, so they just decided to cut it off, and call it good enough. It certainly is. You could probably spend a whole standard lifetime here, and not see everything. The prospectus hints at the possibility of there being secret passageways and hidden chambers, and given the scope of the network, that’s probably true. I wouldn’t know how to find or access one of them, though. It could be mechanical or electronic, where a wall will part after inputting some kind of code, or it’s a tight squeeze with a big payoff, or it’s just so hard to see through an optical illusion. Some of the walls may straight up be holographic. A lot of people were running their hands along them in case the apparent solid surface gave way to empty space instead. We’re not allowed to bring in our own surveying equipment, which makes sense, because unlocking all the secrets all at once would go against the spirit of the dome. At its heart, this is an ecological dome, which means there aren’t any planned activities. You’re only supposed to come here if you wanna explore and see some cool caves. There is opportunity for spelunking and cave diving, but through the lens of this goal of exploration, not so you can test your mettle, bump your heart rate up, or get your rocks off, so to speak. Don’t come here and be disruptive or annoying. There’s literally a chamber that is specifically designated for echoing. It’s called Olimpia Hall. I would have called it the Echo Chamber, but maybe there’s some significance in the name that I am not cognizant of. If you wanna do that, go there, don’t disturb or undermine other people’s experiences because you were freakin’ born yesterday, and you’ve never heard an echo before. Yeah, it’s cool because of how powerful Olimpia Hall’s echoes are, but it doesn’t have the same effect elsewhere, so stop looking for alternatives. Sorry, I’m complaining about other visitors, when I’m just here to review the dome, but staffing is an issue. I guess it’s not their fault, because like I said, the network is so deep and intricate that they can’t station bots everywhere, but people are taking advantage of that freedom, and it’s making it a frustrating experience, so maybe they can try to find a solution? I dunno, I’ll shut up now.

Microstory 2418: Paleodome

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This is a fascinating historical dome, but I think it can be better. I think they can make it more realistic, and more immersive. What’s the premise here? Well, it’s the paleolithic age, which is part of the stone age. Cavemen are working with stone tools, trying to figure out how to build societies, and engaging in the first (loose) definitions of war. I mean, it depends on how you define war. Were these organized, formal conflicts fought on distinct battlefields? No. But they were more than just two guys swinging clubs at each other during a disagreement. Their language was minimal, but they did make plans, and they did go out to fight together, so I would say that qualifies. The androids have been programmed with very low intelligence, but heightened curiosity, leading them to try all sorts of experiments, many of which don’t go too well. For now, these androids aren’t aware that you’re there. They’re literally programmed to ignore you while you watch from up close. I think they can do more with this. I think they can adjust the visitor’s intelligence as well. I know they do this with that zombie dome, where you can actually be transformed into a zombie. They seem to understand how people can bring themselves back to normal once they’re done with that. I don’t see any reason why the same principles can’t be applied here. It’s cool to watch the cavemen, but I want to be an active participant. I want to feel what it would have been like back then. In this regard, it’s an excellent reenactment. I don’t know exactly what year it’s supposed to be, but it moves in real time. I watched a guy learn how to cut a rudimentary axe-sort of thing out of stone, and that was a unique experience. That android will never do that again. He will never need to learn it again. Fifty years from now, if I go back, he will be “dead”. I’m sure his grandchildren will be starting to conduct their own tests, and learn their own lessons. That’s so cool to me, that we’re watching history unfold—albeit as a best guess based on archaeological evidence alone—and if you miss something, you miss it. There’s no going back to see what someone else saw before you. I think that’s really special. So if you’re interested in getting a glimpse of what Earth was like millions of years ago, you better come now, because it never stops changing.

Microstory 2359: Earth, July 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Thank you for reminding me about the whole study aspect of our separation. I did ask dad about this, and didn’t let him leave the room until he explained everything. At least that’s what I said when the conversation began; he never actually tried to escape. He doesn’t know what happened after you and your mother left. They deliberately withheld information from him. The way we’ve understood it thus far, it seemed like this twisted, nefarious conspiracy with a cabal of evildoers who don’t care about ethics. Dad painted it in a new light, even though I’m not sure he realized it. In reality, it kind of sounds more like an amateur job. They weren’t very well-organized, and they didn’t have much of a plan beyond separate twins, study behavior. Imagine that in a caveman voice, because the more he talked about his limited involvement, the dumber the researchers sounded. After the atmosphere started to become toxic, the only constant in my life was him. No one else was around for any meaningful length of time. There was no one studying me, up close, or from a distance. They couldn’t have. Society was breaking down, and had yet to rebuild itself in a new way. Whoever was assigned to keep tabs on me would have either lost me, or given up. Or, I suppose they could have died. Not everyone made it through that dark period in our history. Dad says he doesn’t have names, and I believe him on that part. I mean, you can look through your own databases on Vacuus, but I can’t find a single study that has anything to do with observing twins across two planets. I think you said it early on, we’re not identical, and we’re two different genders, so right there, the study was already bizarre. There are too many relevant variables to account for, so unless it’s part of a larger case study, you’re not going to gain any significant insights into how twins develop in terms of nature versus nurture. My guess is that they realized as much before too long, and eventually just gave up, leaving us to live our lives however we were going to. I don’t think we’ll ever really know who was responsible for this, or what they were thinking. Some information has been lost on my world, but I do have access to quite a bit of it. A small group of brave people during the toxic buildup dedicated their lives to preserving humanity’s knowledge. Some regions have information that others don’t, but only due to oversights and lapses, not a concerted effort to hide the truth from us. At least not when it comes to this stuff. The people who poisoned the air in the first place? Sure, they hid as much as they could from the people they were hurting, and still do, but they really would not care what happened to the two of us specifically. On the lighter side, I’m glad that you’ve worked things out with this Bray fellow. Let me know if he gives you any more trouble, though, and I’ll beat him up for you.

Enjoying my private life,

Condor

Fluence: Magnolia (Part IV)

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Neither Harrison nor Madam Sriav were where the four of them expected them to be. It was still raining when they went back to England centuries ago, but the area was empty. They figured that Harrison took Briar’s mother, Irene to safety somewhere, but when they looked around, they couldn’t find anyone. “Will he hurt her?” Briar asked.

“I really don’t think so,” Weaver answered. “He knew Mateo and Leona back in the day, and helped them with some of their earlier exploits. He wasn’t programmed for violence, nor does he have any reason to cause harm to her.”

They kept searching, but still couldn’t find either of them. Whatever cave was supposed to magically transport them to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida was presumably pretty well hidden, which would explain why the local villagers didn’t constantly go missing, only to reappear in the timestream a thousand years later. Briar didn’t know much about time travel, so he reasoned that his mother must have survived all of this, or he wouldn’t exist right now. Of course, the other three knew that the cosmos was full of new timelines, sprouting up every time someone went back in time to change history. It was entirely possible that Briar was wildly different in this current version of reality. Just because he was still standing here didn’t mean that everything that happened in the past was identical to what happened where he was from. No one told him all of this, partially because it was a complex and hard-to-teach concept, but also because they were better off not meddling in this time period any further than they already had. If he understood that there was no such thing as fate, they would never be able to get him to leave. He would die of old age in the attempt to locate her again.

They huddled together, and thought of the island of Lorania on Dardius. Here, the weather was a lot less exceptional, which made it difficult to be sure that they had returned to the right moment. Madam Sriav was also nowhere to be found, but Eight Point Seven was pretty sure that little time had passed since they last left. When Madam Sriav was frustrated with having been taken from her home, she kicked flowers, and at one point, sat down to pull pedals apart. Some of this debris was still where she had left it, or nearby. It had not yet been blown away by the wind, or decomposed to the ravages of time. Eight Point Seven estimated that at most, only several minutes could have passed. They were less certain in this case that anyone involved would be safe. They had no frame of reference for predicted events here, nor any clue whether Madam Sriav was destined to do something particular in the future. If she was taken by someone, or otherwise lost, it could be catastrophic, and they would be hopeless to stop it. They didn’t have enough information about it.

“At least we’re navigating pretty well,” Goswin acknowledged. “If we keep this up, we shouldn’t have to worry about ending up in outer space, or anywhere else too dangerous, or even just wrong.”

“That’s still a danger,” Weaver determined. “If there’s no way to put a stop to this, we’ll probably find ourselves trying to use it towards some end. Good luck to us, figuring out what that objective should be, and how to go about achieving it.”

“Are you talking about me?” Briar questioned, offended. “She looked at me when she said that.”

“I was looking at everyone,” Weaver insisted.

“No, you were looking right at me,” Briar volleyed. “I get it, I’m the problem child. You’re all saints, but I’m the no-good dirty murderer.”

“She was looking at you,” Eight Point Seven confirmed.

“Thank you!” Briar shouted. “At least you’re honest.”

“She was looking at you, not because you’re a problem,” Eight Point Seven went on, “but because your motivations are distant from ours. In fact, I’m not sure what they are. What do you want?”

“What do you want?” he asked. “Are you quite certain that the three of your motivations are as aligned as you think?”

Eight Point Seven tilted her head, having been programmed to simulate inquisitive dispositions to better blend in with human cultural communication. “They may not be, but these other two can listen to reason, and they can agree to a decision without necessarily liking it. You were raised alone, in a world of two people. You lack social skills, and I need you to remember, Briar, that that is not your fault.”

Briar blinked excessively, waffling on whether to let the tears welling in his eyes fall to the ground, or somehow suck them back into their ducts. “You’re right,” he realized. He glared at Goswin. “It’s his.” 

“What? What do you mean?”

“We could have saved her,” Briar explained. “We could have kept my mother out of that cave, and away from Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. I could have grown up on Earth, around normal people.”

“I didn’t do that,” Goswin defended.

“Yes, you did. You took us away from there during your little experiment to see who was causing this. By the time we got back, she was gone, having no other option but to seek shelter in that cave. This is all you! You’re why I grew up alone. You’re why I killed Mateo Matic! But I didn’t, did I? You did. You killed him!”

“Briar, that’s not how it works. The timeline has been changed,” Weaver said. “Harrison would not have left her alone to go travel the English countryside. He’s with her on Bida.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Briar argued. “I was there, remember? I never knew the guy.”

“Exactly,” Weaver agreed. “That’s why I said the timeline changed. Our memory of events is different than what happened in this reality. Harrison was probably there the whole time, but none of us recalls that, because we’re the ones who changed it. We originated in a different timeline, and we’re all duplicates now. Our alternate selves are currently somewhere else, having done different things with their lives, if only slightly.”

“So, there’s another me out there, one who didn’t kill Mateo at all?” Briar asked her. “He’s happy?”

Eight Point Seven took a half step forward to indicate that she would field this one. She shook her head. “What you did cannot be undone. They already tried to change it, but you were wearing the hundemarke. That’s why the timeline is likely only slightly different. What happened happened, and couldn’t have happened any other way.”

He frowned and hung his head low. “Oh, yeah. I remember that.”

They all tensed up, waiting for Briar to decide that they should go back to save his mother, and maybe himself, in some other way, but he just stood there. With disaster somehow averted by the truth, they participated in an impromptu moment of silence, each of them lost in their own minds. Goswin stared at the broken flowers on the ground as the wind picked up, and did begin to scatter them down the hill. He ultimately took a breath, and looked up at the others. “Now that we know this about ourselves—that we share some sort of...power—we have to decide what to do with it. What’s our next step? Where and when do we go? This was always a vaguely mandated mission, but I feel like...we can’t just waste this on a beach resort.”

“You mean...what are you going to do with me?” Briar asked.

Goswin took a deep, rejuvenating breath. He got right into Briar’s face, but in a comforting way, rather than a threatening one. “You killed a man. You did it with malice and intent, and you expressed no remorse for it. What I need to know is are you going to do that again, to anyone, for any reason?”

Briar took a long time to respond. He was thinking on it carefully. “I know what you wanna hear, but the truth is that I don’t know. I don’t want to promise you something that I can’t necessarily follow through on.” He looked amongst them. “You three seem to have some idea of what’s going to happen in the universe. You have to understand that I don’t. I imagine that it’s quite easy for you to tell others what you’re gonna do, because you know what you’re gonna be up against. It’s not fair, really, being around such confident people, and being so...ignorant. So small.”

Goswin closed his eyes and shook his head mildly. He could actually relate to this sentiment, having to compare his knowledge of the universe to these other two, especially Weaver, who conceivably knew that all of this would happen, and how it would turn out.

Briar continued, “I can tell you that I don’t want to kill anyone in this moment, and that I have no plans to do it again. And I can tell you that I do feel remorse. I just don’t know how to show it. I think my mother was a little too...patient with me. She did her best to teach me how to feel, but not to make sure that what I felt was clear to others. I’m sorry that Mateo is dead, and that he died by my hands. I really do wish that I could undo it. Now, no matter how many other duplicates of me there are, they’ll always be just as miserable as the real me.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” Goswin told him. “You had good times in your life, I know it. Otherwise, you would be a wild animal. You wouldn’t wish to undo anything, except maybe to make things worse.”

“Maybe,” Briar admitted.

They all looked up to find that they had moved again. They were in a jungle that looked not unlike the one on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida where they tried to experiment with their new joint ability. “Where did we go this time?” Eight Point Seven asked.

Weaver started to work on her handheld device.

“Don’t bother,” Briar said to her. “I know where we are. This is my home. This is where I grew up. I was feeling nostalgic, I guess.” He walked straight for a large tree that had been marked up by tons of hashes. “This is tree eight. It’s my favorite one, because it’s when my mother started letting me mark the calendar unsupervised. I was eleven at the time.” He looked down the line at the other trees with hash marks, which supposedly represented their own years. He appeared to be doing some mental math. “It’s too late. Mom’s dead, and so is Mateo. We can’t change anything now.”

“We should still leave,” Weaver warned. “We don’t want to step back into our timeline. People live here, maybe not in this area, but still.”

Briar nodded, still admiring the eighth calendar tree. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“We all did this,” Eight Point Seven reminded him. “That’s how this works.”

“Yeah.” He nodded again, and managed to tear his gaze away, only to find himself distracted by something else. It was a different tree. This one had no hash marks on it, but there was something very different about it. The branches spread wide despite its currently short stature. The flowers were a stunning shade of blue. It was one of a kind, at least in the immediate area. “What the hell is this?”

“What? What’s wrong with it?” Goswin asked him.

“This shouldn’t be here. I memorized every blade of grass in this area. That tree was never here.”

“As I said,” Weaver began, “we’ve changed things. As we suspected, Harrison was here. He must have planted it a long time ago. Briar, he probably helped raise the other you. I don’t know how you feel about that.”

“I don’t either,” Briar said.

Eight Point Seven stepped towards the tree, and began to examine it closely.

“What is it?” Goswin asked her.

Eight Point Seven leaned forward and licked the bark to absorb some of the mysterious tree’s DNA, which she took a moment to analyze. “Magnolia arthurii. This species was introduced to England by mysterious travelers in the early 12th century, and disappeared from the records shortly thereafter. This is from Earth.” She turned to face the group. “Harrison didn’t just plant it, he brought it here. He might have done it on purpose, or the seed got stuck in his boot.”

“It’s beautiful,” Briar said in wonder. He slowly walked up to it, and reached out. He placed a hand upon its truck, and suddenly froze. The flowers buzzed as if carrying an electric current. Ripples in spacetime emanated from the bark, and into Briar’s face. With each wave, his head jerked back a little from the force, but he never let go of the tree. By the time any of them thought to maybe stop whatever was happening from happening, the ripples ceased, as did the buzzing. Briar fell towards his back, but Eight Point Seven managed to catch him before he crashed.

Is he okay?” Goswin asked.

“I’m okay,” Briar answered for himself. He gently pulled himself away from Eight Point Seven’s grip. He stumbled a bit from dizziness, but he never fell again. “I remember everything now. I remember my life with Harrison. He was my father. That didn’t happen before, but I remember it now. I remember both timelines.”

Weaver walked up to the special magnolia now. “This somehow stores memory, and he activated it for upload.” She turned to face Briar. “Do you have anyone else’s memories, or just those of your alternate self?”

Briar stopped to think about it for a moment. “Just mine, I think. I don’t feel like I’m anyone else.”

“Psychic and at least moderately sentient. This thing is very interesting. Either all magnolias of this particular species could do this, or it changed when it passed through the time cave.”

“Should we...all touch it?” Goswin posed.

“Absolutely not,” Weaver urged. “Don’t go around touching things. That could be one of Leona’s Rules for Time Travel.”

“You wanna stay here, don’t you?” Goswin presumed. “You wanna study it.”

“We could always leave later,” Weaver said out of hope. I don’t think any of the colonizers made it all the way out here. But it’s up to you, Captain.”

Briar seemed to want to stay as well, which made some sense. Eight Point Seven couldn’t care less. “Okay,” Goswin agreed. “We still don’t know exactly what year it is, though, so we can’t be certain how far the colonizers are. Stay vigilant.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 24, 2399

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There is something wrong with Alyssa’s brain. Or her body. Or both. Or maybe there’s something wrong with Leona’s body instead. Ramses’ current theory—with no evidence—is that whoever wants Leona Matic to die had a two-fold plan to accomplish it. Step one: get her into Leona Reaver’s body. Step two: prevent her from leaving that body, or coming back to her real body. To put it another way, they locked her in, and just in case she ever found a way to break free, they also locked her out of her own body. Alyssa is just kind of caught in the crossfire of that. Now that she’s here, she is unable to leave, because it would open a vacancy for Leona’s return, and their enemy does not want that to happen.

Ramses also believes that it’s possible for Alyssa to look more like herself before he comes up with a permanent solution. Time powers are apparently more mental than they are physical, meaning that there’s a chance she can create illusions from here. He said that it can’t hurt to try, so she did a few times, but she never even came close. It didn’t feel like it did when she used her ability before. The way she sees it, it would be like transferring the mind of someone with legs into the body of an amputee, and expecting them to walk again just because they remember what it was once like. Still, she doesn’t want to give up, so when he urged her to meditate in order to reactivate that side of herself, she decided that she might as well. She’s been spending most waking hours doing it, if awake is even the right word. In the darkened room there are only candles, a pillow to sit upon, and a mirror in front of her. She has to force herself to concentrate and not check it every ten minutes. When she does check it, the result is always the same. She still looks like Leona, and that is probably never going to change.

“Okay,” Alyssa says to herself. “You can’t look for another hour. How am I meant to know when it’s been an hour? Well, people who are good at meditating probably develop the magical power to automatically know things like that, so you’re off to another bad start. Just close your eyes, and stop thinking.” She holds there for what may be the hour that she was waiting for, or just another ten minutes. “Stop. Thinking. You think too much.”

“I agree,” comes a voice.

She’s scared to check. Was that in her head, or is someone else in the room? It didn’t sound like Ramses, or anyone else she knows. “Is that you, God?”

“Close. I’m a hawk. Majestic creatures.”

Alyssa opens one eye. She’s not in the meditation room anymore. She has no idea where she is. She opens the other eye. “What just happened?”

“I brought you back. Your reality needs you,” the mysterious stranger claims.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me? No, I suppose you wouldn’t in this body. It’s Dalton.”

“Nice to meet you, Dalton...I think.”

“No, we’ve met. I traced your location. This is where I sent you, and it’s where you’ve been. I mean, it was where you were in the future, but it’s the past now.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How far back in the past are we?”

“About four and a half billion years.”

“This again? Goddammit!” Alyssa laments. “Okay, I have power, but I’m not that powerful. You’re telling me I ended up here just because I was meditating?”

“Must have been a coincidence,” Dalton says. “I’m the one who brought you back here, using the temporal translocator.”

“What do you want with me? I’m telling you, we’ve never met. Perhaps there’s another me in another reality, or something? I don’t know, I’m still learning this stuff.”

“Leona, I know that you—”

“Wait, Leona? That’s who you think you’re talking to? Well, that’s your problem, dude. I’m not really Leona. My name is Alyssa McIver. I’m just stuck in her body.”

“Pshaw. I’m the master of switching bodies. You don’t think I would be able to tell? I did my research. I know who you are.”

“Maybe that’s just who the assassin wants you to think. Something went wrong with the switch. We can’t switch back. Maybe it’s, like, masking our neural signatures; making me look like Leona, even from a brain scan. Honestly, now I’m just pulling words I’ve heard Ramses say.”

“So, you admit you’re lying, Leona.”

“That’s not what I meant!” She tries to remember what the internet said about meditating and centering one’s self. “Look, Mr. Dalton. I’m sure you have perfectly reasonable intentions, but you got the wrong guy. Why don’t we both just go to 2399, and get this all sorted out, okay?”

“No, I can’t. I can’t use the machine again,” he contends. “Even if you’re not really Leona, you’re close enough. If she switched bodies with you, it means she trusts you, which means you can do this job. I found you by hacking into the Omega Gyroscope, so it thinks you’re Leona too, and in the end, that’s all that really matters.”

“What job are you talking about? What’s the gyroscope thing again? I’ve never seen it, so I can’t remember what they said about it.”

“The Gyroscope is a thing that you own, but you’ll lose possession of it in 50,000 years. I can’t let that happen. Someone has to be in charge, or it won’t work. So I’m going to close the door, and leave you in here. You’ll reconnect to it every 49,000 years.”

“What? No. Don’t do that. What the hell are you doing? Let me out!”

“Don’t worry. The toilet and sink are in the corner. Those shelves are stocked with enough food for a month, but you won’t need it. You’ll only be inside for about five days. Try to get some rest, and don’t let yourself go crazy. It looked like you were meditating. You’ll have plenty of time to perfect your technique.”

“Stop!” Alyssa pleads, trying to keep the door open, but ultimately no match for his strength. “Please! I don’t want to be locked in! Please let me out! Dalton! Dalton!” He wins out, and gets the door closed. She starts to bang on it, and the walls, but receives no response. If anyone can hear her, they don’t care, can’t help, or won’t try. Though, if the time bubble activated immediately, it’s already been over a hundred thousand years for that guy. So she gives up, and just tries to teleport to the other side of the door. It doesn’t work. She spends the next hour-slash 36,000,000 years trying again, and looking for any other way out, but this is a cell designed to keep people in, and is probably inescapable. So she gives up on that too.

Four and a half billion years later, the door pops open on its own, and blinding light floods in through the crack. Alyssa tries to open it more, but there’s something blocking it. She pulls the door in, then back out, then it, then out. It’s going a little farther each time, and the sound it makes sounds familiar. Once her eyes adjust to the sunlight, she can see that it must be snow. It’s all over the place, part of which must be preventing her from getting out. She keeps working at it, though, and eventually shaves off enough to slip out. Wait, no, it’s freezing out here. She goes back inside, and retrieves a heated suit from the emergency kit. They’re thin overalls, but warm enough to handle the coldest of conditions. She takes the rest of the kit with her, and slips out again.

Alyssa comes face to face with a bear, growling at her. At least it looks like a bear, but unlike any kind she’s ever seen before, even in pictures. She realizes that she’s in a cave, and this big fella is the one what lives here. She presses her back against the ice wall behind her, and tries to inch her way to the side, but he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want her to be there, he doesn’t want her to leave; why can’t this guy make up his mind? That’s when she remembers that she can teleport now. She tries to make a jump to the cave opening behind the bear, but it’s not working. Whatever was preventing her from escaping the stasis chamber is still doing its thing.

The emergency kit. It has a signal pistol. She carefully sets it on the ground, not wanting to make any sudden movements. She opens it slowly, and sticks her hand inside. She starts feeling around for the gun, maintaining eye contact with the bear. He hates it even more when she tries to look away. There it is. She quickly pulls it out, aims it, and shoots. The flare goes towards the bear, but doesn’t hit it. Instead, its lodges itself in the ice wall, and starts spewing out sparks. This is enough to scare the animal into running away from it. Alyssa takes this opportunity to run past it, and out of the cave. She’s not out of the woods yet, though. When the bear recalls that there’s no backdoor, it follows her, and starts to charge. She has to keep running, but she knows that she’s no match for its speed. She can practically feel its breath on the back of her neck when it suddenly disappears. She instinctively spins around, causing her to trip on a rock, and fall to her ass.

The bear is on the ground a few meters down the hill, a wooden pole sticking out of it. No, it’s not a pole. It’s a spear. She turns her head. A man still has his arm forward in the follow-through. Like the bear, though, there’s something very wrong with his face. He looks unlike any man she’s ever seen. It’s sort of flat and uglyish. He has one brow, instead of two, sitting upon a more pronounced forehead. He’s short and wide, but not fat. He does look like he’s smiling at her, though, so he probably was trying to save her life, instead of just wanting to kill the bear. As he approaches, Alyssa instinctively recoils, so he gives her a wider berth, and goes over to retrieve the spear from the bear. It’s still moving a little, so he serves it a death blow to the neck to put it out of its misery.

“Umm...thank you,” Alyssa says to him, still nervous.

He looks at her quizzically, and faces the direction he came from. He grunts something loudly in a language that she doesn’t recognize. A woman appears from behind the hill, carrying a child. He’s maybe four or five years old. She looks more like a regular person, and the child looks like a cross between the two of them.

“Oh! You’re a primacean!” They’re an ancient relative of humans who lived tens of thousands of years ago. Some believe they interbred with modern humans, while others do not. “I guess this proves those people wrong.”

He looks at her quizzically again, as does his mate as she draws nearer.

“The door opened too early,” Alyssa says to herself. “Oh no, this isn’t good. There’s no telling how far off the mark I am; I’m not a historian.”

The massive language barrier made it difficult to communicate, but she was able to determine that they wanted her help transporting their kill back home. She does, and eats with them that night. What else is she gonna do, fix the stasis chamber?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 22, 2398

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Mateo, Winona, and Tarboda arrived on Rapa Nui yesterday, but they were required to wait in a facility during a 24-hour quarantine period. They came out with a clean bill of health, and are presently arriving at the volcano on the southern end of Easter Island, Ranu Kao. The last time Mateo was here, it was in the main sequence, and things were a lot different. For him, this island is famous for the mysterious humanoid sculptures that are located in a different region. For the people of The Third Rail, this is a nice resort with a rich history that the people who visit here don’t care all that much about. The island has beautiful landscapes, unique flora, and tame fauna, and is considered one of the best places to go if you want to get away from civilization, since it’s so far from the mainland. The statues Mateo remembers were never built here, though. He can’t recall exactly what they’re called, and since they don’t exist, no one can tell him. Perhaps this island doesn’t have any special temporal properties here. It would explain why the crater lake that’s meant to be here is completely dry.

“Is that bad?” Winona asks. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea,” Mateo answers. “Leona should be here.”

“She’s quite busy.”

“Because your father is trying to take over the world with fusion power!” he argues, but he knows that he shouldn’t be too mad about it. Of course the government would want to mass produce the greatest breakthrough in energy production thus far. Leona knew it would happen, she just didn’t realize how little they cared about the rocket they built, which started it all.

“You said there was a secret passageway under the water,” Winona says, taking no offense to his words. “Maybe it’s still down there.”

He just frowns and kicks at the dirt.

“Come on. Let’s go on down. Tarboda, stay up here and keep a lookout.” The pilot nods respectfully. He’s been pretty cool about all this. He doesn’t seem to have ever belonged in that amoral group of mercenaries they met in Bermuda.

They carefully climb down the steep sides of the crater, and head for the bottom. As it was indeed underwater, and pretty dark, Mateo can’t remember exactly where the cave was, but it was somewhere on the opposite side as the ocean. His instinct is that it’s precisely the opposite, so that’s where they start looking. At a quick glance, there is no opening, which makes sense, or someone would have found it forever ago. Still, it can’t require a key, or a map, or an incantation. He also won’t accept the possibility that, like the moai—oh yeah, that’s what they’re called—it just doesn’t exist at all. It has to be here somewhere. All of the other significant places they’ve been to have been at least a little significant in this reality too. He starts running his hands along the walls, looking for anything unusual. “Go that way, please,” he asks her.

She does as he asks, but her heart’s not in it. Neither is his, but even so, they keep working at it. She has one little collapsible shovel, and one machete. She gives him the former to look for unstable spots. There’s so much ground to cover, and they don’t know where it might be on the z-axis, so Tarboda drops ropes down, and manages them from the top of the crater. No one comes to find them doing this. It’s apparently not that popular of a tourist destination, probably because it’s dried up, and they’re approaching the off-season. They work at this for hours. Ramses sent a bottle of Existence water in case he needed to do an emergency teleport, but it’s probably not going to come up, so he just drinks it once his regular canteen runs out. Once that container runs out, he decides that there is no point in going on. “Stop, just stop. There’s nothing here.”

“I know,” Winona agrees. “I’m sorry that this was such a disappointing trip.”

“What’s that you say!” Tarboda asks from above.

“We’re calling it quits!” Mateo explains.

“Oh, okay! I’ll pull you up!”

“No! I’m gonna do one more thing!” He removes his harness, and drops a meter down to the ground. Then he runs over to as close to the center of the crater as he can find. Here, while flipping off the world beyond, he pees. “Now who’s too dry?” he asks the island. Once he’s finished, he turns around, and gives the other two a thumbs up.

“Real classy!” Winona shouts at him.

He pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” Yeah, is right, assuming the question is if he’s tired, hungry, and closer to dehydration than he probably should be for as much as he drank. He tries to start walking back towards his rope when the ground trembles; just a little, but enough to throw him off balance.

“You better come on back!” Winona advises.

“I’ll get right on it!” Mateo replies. He starts again, but the ground shakes again, this time much harder. Each time he stops, the shaking stops, and each time he tries to move again, it moves too. Either it’s a coincidence, or some wibbly-wobbly shit is going on down here.

“Run!” Winona yells at him.

He takes her advice, but doesn’t get very far. The ground caves in under him, starting from the center, and expanding out, but not uniformly. It becomes impossible for him to stay ahead of it when the ground between him and Winona disappears early. Before he can see if enough of the Existence water is still in his system for him to teleport, he falls, and loses consciousness.

He awakens in the tall grass, wet from the morning dew. He’s not aching anywhere, but he’s dizzy and confused, and he can’t see well. His short term memory is gone at first, and has to come back to him in waves as he’s looking around and blinking, trying to fix his vision. The fuzziness subsides, and reveals an open grassy area, and some nearby trees. Winona and Tarboda are both lying there too. He crawls over to confirm their pulses and steady breaths. This is enough to wake them up, and they seem to be experiencing the same symptoms as they work to wake themselves up more.

“Where are we?” Tarboda asks.

“Unknown,” Mateo answers. We fell down into a cave, though, and now we’re back on the surface. Either someone moved us, or...”

“Or what?”

“Or we traveled. Can you both walk?” Mateo asks.

“Yes,” they answer simultaneously.

The three of them struggle to their feet, then struggle some more, like a newborn calf. Once they feel comfortable enough, they pick a random direction, and begin walking. It’s not long before they come upon something that Mateo recognizes. “Whoa.”

“What the hell is that?” Winona asks.

“That is Stonehenge, and these...are the missing British Isles.”

“The whatnow?”

Microstory 1888: Dead Army of Ants

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I once worked in a cave. It was there that companies kept a great deal of their legacy parts and equipment. This was for when they couldn’t sell them, couldn’t reuse them, or just didn’t know how to get rid of them. It was a convenient way to hold onto these things without them clogging up their normal warehouses. Very, very occasionally, one of our clients would send a request for a part to be picked, and it was my job to go do that. It was an entirely different team that stored them on the racks in the first place, but honestly, I don’t know why my specific job existed. Most of the time, I just sat in the office, reading a good book. It was the easiest job I had, comparatively speaking, and I only quit, because I needed to start a family and the pay wasn’t enough to support this goal. It was perfect for me alone, but not me with children. Besides, there were other reasons for me to seriously consider a career. One day, I was finished with the only book I brought with me that day, so I decided to go on a walk. It was surprisingly clean for a cave, and set to a comfortable temperature, unlike what you may be imagining. I ended up in a corner that I didn’t go to very often, because the client who rented out that space didn’t ever need anything. I looked down at my feet and saw an anthill in the crack of the cement. I looked over a little, and saw another. And another, and another. The place was littered with anthills, and rivers of ants traveling between them. I wanted to leave them there, but taking care of the grounds was technically part of the job description, so I had to report it. An exterminator came out to kill everything, but what we learned he didn’t do was clean them up. So those ant rivers were still there, they just weren’t moving. It was an army of dead ants, and seeing their lifeless bodies lying there felt like an appropriate metaphor for life. We were the ants.

They didn’t know that they were going to be wiped out, but they had a concept for death. Or at least they had a concept for failure, or otherwise, they would not have pursued their goals. When the spray came for them, they didn’t scurry into their tunnels, or hold a conference about what to do. They didn’t study the spray, or try to clean it off. They just kept going until they succumbed to the toxin. I guess I don’t know that, I don’t know how fast the spray worked. I just remember it being so surreal, staring at that pile of death. Combined, the ants wouldn’t even make up the mass of a single person, but from their perspective, it was a slaughter. It was genocide. I started thinking about what sorts of things could come for the human race. What kind of proverbial spray could wipe us out? Climate change? Maybe. An asteroid, sure. Then I realized that the spray was a disease, which could probably pretty easily spread from an infected ant to one which had originally escaped the wrath of the nozzle. That could happen to us, godlike exterminator not required. A pathogen could destroy us all, and while doing it, leave everything we created intact. Even our bodies would still be there, littering the streets, and our homes. So I went back to school to ultimately seek a degree in epidemiology, so I could do everything I could to prevent this eventuality. Though it started as a desperate whim, it was the best decision I ever made. It’s where I met my future wife, and an army of colleagues who all wanted the same thing. Once we graduated, we went off to fight against what we believed to be the greatest threat our species faced. Because we didn’t want to not see it coming. We didn’t want to be ants anymore.

Microstory 1705: Aquila

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I sit in the darkness, head in hand, muttering to myself. I have no sense of direction, and no clue how to get out of here. I’ve been in the dark before, but not like this. I can feel it seeping into my eyes, like it’s made of something, like it’s alive. It’s the pressure of being underground so deep, I imagine, or maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. I’m exhausted, but if I want to survive, I have to get back to finding a way out of here. As I get down on the floor of the cave, ready to start feeling my way to some kind of corridor again, it hits me. I fell pretty far to get down to this spot. I’m not too badly hurt, but the drop still must have been a few meters. It’s possible that the only way out is up, which actually means it’s impossible, because there is no way I’m getting back up that high. I don’t know why I agreed to go on this trip to Dark Eagle Caverns, or how I let myself get separated from the group. I suppose I’ve always been lost, and this pit of despair is just a metaphor come to life. Is it even life? That fall could have been farther than I remember. Or I could have landed on my neck. Or I died long ago from something else, and everything I’ve experienced since then has been my own personal hell. I may have never been alive at all, and everything I’ve seen has been an illusion to make me feel small, sad, and alone. This then would simply be a deeper level of the hopelessness that I have never not felt. I realize that it doesn’t really matter. Hell, real life; I still have to do everything I can to get out of here. If that means confirming that the pit is all there is, and my only option is to climb, then so be it. No one is going to find me down here, and even if they did, they would probably become trapped too, so I best just get on with it.

I carefully crawl in one random direction, feeling myself around the rock and moss. Can I eat this moss? Can you eat moss? I’m not that desperate yet, but I tear off as much as I can, and stick in my pocket in case I can’t find it again later when my situation does indeed become that dire. I’ve finally reached the wall again. I am so disoriented that I can’t tell if I’ve already checked for openings here. Irrelevant. I continue around the circle, if it even is a circle. I have no clue what shape this cave is, or how big it is, or how far it goes. I keep feeling the wall, hoping that something will give. I pray for that moment when my hand escapes me and swings forward. It does happen once, but it’s literally a misdirection. It doesn’t lead to a corridor, but a cranny, or something. I’m still feeling around on the wall with my right hand when my left hand runs into something. Apparently, for as slow as I was moving, it wasn’t slow enough. My ring finger isn’t broken, but it doesn’t feel great. I feel around on my left, and realize it’s another wall. I’ve run into another dead end; just a larger one than before. Tired and disappointed, I roll over to my back, and try to sprawl out. My right foot hits a wall too. Did I get that much turned around? No, my left foot hits the main wall. My God, it’s a spiral. I’ve been in a corridor for who knows how long. I could have already gone in a circle a few times for all I know. I guess nothing has really changed. This is as good of a place as any to die. Because of the darkness, it doesn’t really feel any more claustrophobic than it did in the bigger room. The future looks bleak, but I won’t give up. I just need to rest again, and then I’ll keep trying. I fall asleep for an unknowable amount of time. When I awaken, I find it dire enough to try the moss. A few minutes after I eat it, something in my body changes. I begin to glow, and the path before me becomes clear.

The Advancement of Serif: Tuesday, September 23, 2200

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Lochan Madigan was a refugee from another universe. His world was attacked by an alien force bent on destroying all sufficiently evolved life. Instead of literally starting a war, though, they decided to simply sterilize the entire population. It had a near hundred percent success rate, but Lochan managed to slip past those odds. Scientists and medical professionals tried to figure out what made him different, but never came to any conclusion. His ability to resist the pathogen was completely irreproducible, despite everyone’s best efforts. The theory was that they could find success if they discovered a woman with her own resistance, but they never did. He was seemingly one in a trillion. And so he was rescued from his world, and transported through the bulkverse in an attempt to find him a new home. They couldn’t save anyone from that universe, but they could save him, and that would have to be good enough. Thack and her bulk traveler were on their way to drop him off when they received that call about Adamina and Esen, and decided to make a pit stop. When he was stranded here due to Tamerlane Pryce’s intervention, he asked to just stay in The Parallel. “This is as good a brane as any,” he said. “I just don’t want to watch everyone I love struggle, knowing that their legacy ends with them. If I can find someone to love here, then they all live on, in a way.”

Serif and the crew got him set up with a new life on Earth, and then jumped to the future. When they returned, they found him immensely happy. He did meet someone to fall in love with, and pretty quickly sired a son. The boy, Amulet was fourteen years old now, and eager for his own life. Lochan told him the truth about where he was from, and how he came to be here. He grew up fascinated by the whole idea of having adventure. There were billions of worlds in this reality. He traveled to a few of them, but they weren’t exciting enough. They didn’t have death or danger, and Amulet didn’t think that was living. He begged his parents to one day let him join the crew of the AOC.

They were all standing around the central table of their ship, the crew, and the Madigan family. Here was his problem. He was too young now, but if he didn’t put on a Cassidy cuff today, he would have to wait nineteen years. “I’m old enough,” he argued. “There is no standard definition for an adult in this reality.”

“That’s only because people regularly travel to different planets, with different solar cycles,” his mother, Ilaria reasoned. “According to Earth, you’re only fourteen. And a fourteen-year-old can’t go off on his own on a spaceship.”

“Since when?” Amulet argued. “That happens all the time. It’s not about the number of minutes I’ve been alive. It’s about how mature I am, and I think we can all agree that I’m well-prepared, and well-suited to do this.”

“We don’t even know if Serif would want you to be on this ship at all,” Lochan said.

They all looked to Serif now. “This isn’t, uhh...this isn’t a fishing boat. Our job is unfathomably dangerous, and none of us volunteered. We were all recruited, and while we’re comfortable doing it now, I don’t know that I’m allowed to bring in someone else. I’m in charge of the choices the crew makes, and how we handle our missions, but I’m not in charge of the roster, or what missions we take.”

“Well, who is?” Amulet asked.

“Her name is Nerakali Preston.” Serif lifted her cuff, and spoke into the microphone. “Do you hear me? Care to weigh in on this?”

A message popped up on the screen, reading, No.

“No, he can’t join, or no, you don’t want to weigh in?”

Another message appeared, He can’t join. Kill him, before he kills you.

“Ha-ha-ha. What?”

Nerakali’s coordinates then appeared, prompting Serif to tap on it. “I’ll be back soon, I think. But hear me, Amulet. You cannot join us if your parents do not approve. It doesn’t matter what I say without that, so you’ll have to convince them first.” Serif tapped the link, and jumped to Nerakali’s location on the edge of a foggy mountain.

“What the hell are you goin’ on about?”

“It’s like I said, you have to kill him,” Nerakali ordered. “That’s the mission today.”

“He’s just a boy.”

“That boy,” Nerakali began, “is the destroyer of worlds. He is the sickness that pervades. He is the end of all life.”

“Stop speaking in riddles. Tell me what the problem is, so we can come up with a solution together. Is he supposed to be the next Elon Musk, or something?”

Nerakali sighed quite heavily. “The timeline is confusing, and I don’t have all the information, because our memories have been messed with, but I’ll try to explain. There’s a pathogen in 3117. It renders every biological entity sterile. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah, that’s what happened to Lochan’s world. But he’s immune.”

Nerakali breathed slowly now, trying to figure out the words. “He’s not immune. He’s just very, very virile. It’s more like a game of chance. I can’t tell you how the pathogen works, but it doesn’t stop him, because he’s just powerful enough to overcome it. He’s still a carrier. Fortunately for us, he didn’t start infecting everyone he came into contact with since he left his universe, but he did pass it on to his son, and if that son is allowed to reach sexual maturity, he will start spreading it, and you can’t stop it then.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You said the pathogen shows up in 3117. This doesn’t line up with him being here today.”

“It does if you give him that Cassidy cuff. He’ll be in 3117 in no time.”

“Okay, so my options are as follows. I can give him the cuff, and by the time we reach 3117, he will have matured enough to spread the pathogen. If I don’t give him the cuff, he’ll mature in a matter of years, and the pathogen will show up a millennium early. Or I kill him now, and stop the pathogen completely.”

“Yes,” Nerakali confirmed. “In some realities, the pathogen appears around this time period. In others, it’s in the future. You have to create a timeline where it never existed at all. You can end this now.”

Serif started to think over her options. Obviously, killing him was totally off the table. She wasn’t going to do that. Having him join the crew was probably never something she was going to agree to either. Why did Nerakali think that happened? In what reality did Serif make that choice? Perhaps people in the Parallel were different, but where she was from, fourteen was too young to do something this insane. Then she remembered what Thack told her just before she left. Let him enter the cave. “Wait, how do you know how the pathogen gets to 3117? How do you know it’s because he wears the cuff?”

“It’s how the math works out. I don’t actually know it, but it makes sense.”

Serif shook her head. “It doesn’t make that much sense. And I don’t think it’s true.” She kept digging into her memory archive, and trying to solve the riddle. “The time cave on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. It goes nine hundred and nine years in the future.”

“No, it goes nine hundred and nine years in the past.”

“Unless you enter the cave on Earth.”

Nerakali frowned, and looked away, now also solving the riddle. “Why would he go through the time cave?”

“Maybe he doesn’t know it’ll take him to the future. Maybe he’ll just try to get there before we go there for our transition missions.”

“That’s absurd.” Nerakali shook the thought out of her hair. “It doesn’t matter, though. You still have to kill him. He’s dangerous no matter what time period he’s in.”

Serif placed her fingers on either side of her nose, and cupped her mouth. There had to be a way to get through this without anyone getting hurt. “I’m a healer.”

“You’re a nanite healer,” Nerakali contended. “You think the people who have been trying to stop this haven’t already thought of nanites? You don’t have a power so much as you’re a walking nanobot manufacturer with a small-scale delivery system.”

“Maybe I can’t cure an entire population of this,” Serif said, “but maybe I can heal this one person before it takes full hold of his system.”

“If you try that, and it backfires, it could kill you.”

“I thought it didn’t kill people, it just sterilized them.”

“It’s killed before, if it’s too concentrated. It killed Leona’s mother.”

“I have to try,” Serif maintained. “It’s who I am. I was created...for...”

“That’s something you’ve forgotten. Why were you created?”

“Maybe for this. Maybe this has been my purpose all along.”

“In no reality has this happened,” Nerakali claimed. “In every reality, the pathogen takes hold somewhere, somewhen. If this were going to work, I would have heard about it already.”

“Maybe. Or maybe there are some things that even you don’t know.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe. There’s too much at stake here for you to do anything if you’re armed only with a bunch of maybes.”

“Are you ordering me to stand down, Nerakali, or are you warning me that you’re gonna try to stop me? Because I can ignore the first of those, and I can fight against the second. Either way, this is happening. So all you need to do is decide if you’re gonna hold me back, or back me up.”

Nerakali was still reluctant. She didn’t want to kill a fourteen-year-old boy, but she didn’t want to let the whole species go extinct when she had the power to stop it. But that was true either way, wasn’t it? She had the power to stop it no matter what.

“If it doesn’t work, you can always go back in time, and change things. But if you do, then just take him to an unpopulated universe. Don’t kill him.”

This seemed to satisfy her. “Very well. Go make your attempt.”

Serif returned to the ship. Surprisingly, Amulet’s parents finally agreed to let him join the crew in a limited capacity. He would not go on any missions that were too dangerous, and— “It doesn’t matter. Stop talking about this.” She turned towards the boy. “You’re sick. You have the same disease your father’s people had. I might be able to cure you, but if it doesn’t work, you could be responsible for the end of the human race in this universe. If you think you’re old enough to join the crew, then you’re old enough to hear the truth.”

Amulet was frightened, but desperately didn’t want to show it. “Do it.”

Serif stepped forward, and inhaled to prepare to breathe on him, so her nanites could enter his system, and cleanse him of the lingering and dormant sterility pathogen. As she was trying to exhale, a pair of hands appeared between their faces, blocking the air from reaching him. The hands gently pushed Serif away, and she could see who it was. It was an alternate version of herself.

“Whew!” the other Serif said. “That was a close one. You have no idea what I just saved you from.” She started walking around the room, shaking everyone’s hand. “Hi, it’s nice to see you again. I’m Future!Serif.”

“What did you save me from?” Present!Serif demanded to know.

“Not you. Like, us, I guess. All of us, as a species. Your nanites are a key ingredient. Not only do they not cure him, but they exacerbate the problem. The pathogen makes the victim’s body turn on itself, like a cancer. They would attack your nanites, take them over, and use them to spread. You’re immune. Uh, I am immune. And that’s only because I’m...well, at the time, I was—”

“Pregnant,” Present!Serif interrupted. “I’m pregnant.”

“That’s right.”

“And the baby is Mateo Matic’s.”

“Right again,” Future!Serif said.

“Yeah, I’m starting to remember him. It’s all coming back to me.”

“Yes,” Future!Serif noted, “very..interesting. The point is that you’re not a cure. Your baby is the cure. We don’t need your breath, we need your amniotic fluid.”

“And then I’ll be cured?” Amulet hoped. “And then I can join the crew?”

Future!Serif laughed. “Ha! No, that would be stupid. Roster’s full now. You’ll find your place. You’re a second generation spirit, after all.”

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