The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 8, 2460

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

It wasn’t until the next year that Angela came back. She appeared right in Mateo and Mateo’s cell, because there wasn’t any sort of teleportation suppressing technology. She removed her helmet and yawned, then sat down on the bench between them, but she didn’t say anything.

“Did you find it, the timonite?” Future!Mateo asked her finally.

“Nope. That’s why it took me so long. It’s not there. I looked through that rock and dust over and over again, and I’m telling you, it doesn’t exist. I felt like an unlucky contestant on The Amazing Race.”

“You’ve seen that show?” Past!Mateo asked.

“We had TV in the afterlife,” she answered. “We had it before you did.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” Underkeeper was just walking back in, having heard their conversation.

“Uh, I teleported?” Angela said, like it was obvious.

“We didn’t know that you could do that,” Underkeeper began. “Can you two do it as well?”

“Yeah,” Future!Mateo answered.

“So you could have escaped at any time?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t call that an escape. It’s more that we could have left,” Past!Mateo reasoned.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Well, we can’t teleport to the stars,” Future!Mateo explained. “Where would we have gone? These cots are comfortable enough.” He gestured towards them.

Underkeeper persistently rubbed her knuckle against her cheek. “Oh.”

“She did call this a moon, though,” Past!Mateo reminded them all. “There must be a planet around here. Is it breathable?”

“It is,” Underkeeper admitted. “It once orbited the same host star as Violkomin, which is located at the aperture to the kasma. Hogarth has since moved us all to the other side of the universe. We’re as remote as you can get.”

“Wait.” Angela stands up too, even though she’s tired. “If this whole system is distant from others, why do you have to live on the moon? Why can’t you live on the planet instead?”

“This is where we were,” Underkeeper said. “Hogarth didn’t tell us that we couldn’t travel to the planet, but we do not have the resources to make the journey. This moon is composed almost exclusively of silicates. We have found very few metals here. This structure existed before we arrived. That’s not even the biggest issue, though. There’s no fuel. It is almost completely devoid of hydrogen, so we can’t build a fusion reactor. We have been subsisting on the same limited amount of water this entire time, recycling it over and over again. Trying to separate the elements through electrolysis could be a fatal waste, so we’ve not bothered to try.”

“Well, if you have suits, we can teleport you to the planet,” Past!Mateo offers.

“Matt,” Angela scolds.

“What? We’re not gonna help them?” Past!Mateo asked dismissively. “You can see how inhumane this is.”

“Would you really do this?” Underkeeper asked, hope in her eyes.

“Three steps. Get us our suits and PRUs,” Future!Mateo instructed. “Help us synthesize a helmet for my alternate self here. Put yourselves in suits. We’ll jump you all to the planet.”

“How many are there of you?” Angela asked.

“Five Maramon, including one child,” Underkeeper replied. “Four hybrids.”

“Nine total,” Future!Mateo added. “We each can usually only take two at a time. However, you are, umm...” He trailed off uncomfortably.

“Heavy?” Underkeeper guessed. “I am aware of teleportation mass limits. The hybrids are light, as is my nephew; it should even out rather nicely. Two trips wouldn’t be a problem for us, but perhaps for you.”

“With our respective suits, plus any belongings you would like to take with you, it could add up to more than two,” Angela calculated.

“But that shouldn’t be a problem,” Past!Mateo clarified. “To the planet and back again is, what, sixty jumps? Each round trip will maybe take a few minutes.”

Underkeeper went back to her people to discuss the offer, but it was taking too long, so the three humans just teleported out of their cell, found their suits, and started their preparations. Whether they had company or not, they would be leaving today. Past!Mateo kept the helmet since they were not equipped to synthesize a copy. Future!Mateo would be able to handle the vacuum for the minute or so long journey down to the planet. One of the hybrids caught them while they were here. Kalmana, right?” Future!Mateo asked.

“Balbira,” she corrected.

“Didya hear? It’s moving day.”

“This world,” Balbira began. “This is all the other hybrids and I have ever known. Lusia will be excited. Aclima will be indifferent. Kalmana will be suspicious. But they will all...be afraid. You have to understand that we were not created because the engineer was bored. He made us for a purpose. He knew that we would escape one day. Mother has been trying to raise us to subvert his expectations, but some of us have done better with this mandate than others. I, for one, lean more towards his wishes than hers. Lusia is obviously on the opposite end of the spectrum. The three of them have been fighting their true natures. It has not been healthy. If you take us down to that planet, we will finally have access to the resources that the Maramon have been yearning for so our purpose can be fulfilled.”

“I hardly think that Hogarth would let that happen,” Past!Mateo determined. “She left you here for a reason, because it was safe. She would have locked you up, or exiled you entirely, if she believed that you posed any threat.”

Balbira shook her head. “She is not a god, despite what you may assume since she built this universe. What I’m trying to tell you is that you cannot help us. If you do, I will come after you, and you will regret it. I will manage to convince the other new hybrids to fall in line. That’s my strength, which I have been resisting for years.”

“That’s your purpose,” Angela asked, “to attack us?”

“Or to attack all humans,” Past!Mateo figured.

“It’s more complicated than that,” Balbira replied. “The old hybrids had their own specific tasks, which nearly all of them ultimately turned their backs on. There are subroutines in our brains to prevent that from happening again. There will be no stopping us. Hogarth left us here out of mercy, but she doesn’t understand the risk. I’m hoping that you don’t suffer from the same delusion.”

Future!Mateo sighed, and stepped towards Balbira. “Not helping you despite our ability to do so will only serve to ensure that you become our enemies. I, for one, would rather do the right thing today, and hope for the best tomorrow.”

“Sometimes you have to ignore the consequences,” Angela supported, “even when you know what they are. What you end up doing to us may be bad, but we have to worry about what our own actions do to our souls. Death is better than becoming monsters.”

Balbira absorbed the decision. “Very well.” She switched gears with her demeanor. “Each one of us has personal belongings, and you have the suits. We’ll go one at a time, assuming they accept your offer, which they would be fools not to.” She left briskly.

The group unanimously agreed to the plan. They were leaving a lot behind on this world, but were taking enough with them to rebuild. All of the Maramon and all of the hybrids, were capable of surviving the vacuum of space for a brief period of time, but the child and the hybrids were at most risk, and they had suits, so they might as well use them. The three teleporters took them one at a time, as Balbira predicted. After Past!Mateo and Angela both left with the last of their charges, only one Maramon remained, who Future!Mateo was assigned. They were waiting for Angela to return with the shared helmet to make it easier on Future!Mateo. But there would be a delay regardless. “Then you must all three return, and take it together,” the Maramon genetic engineer suggested.

“Sir, you said this thing was over, like, 800 kilograms. That is well outside the mass limitation of all three of us combined. We cannot take it with us. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to start over with whatever this is when you get down to the planet. I assume you have the plans for it stored on a computing device?”

“That is out of the question,” the Maramon argued. This is an extremely complex design, which requires a very particular environment, and very particular materials. Building it again will take too long.”

“I thought that you people were immortal.”

“Different universe, different rules. We’ll live for a long time, but not forever.”

“What is it? What is so important?” Future!Mateo questioned.

The Maramon shut his trap defiantly.

Future!Mateo looked over it. “This looks like a personal pod...except it’s gigantic. There’s a lot more than is necessary. So either you don’t know how to miniaturize all the things that humans have been able to do, or it does more than the average pod does? Am I getting warmer?”

The Maramon crossed his arms, and refused to say more.

Why would he not just say what it was? Because it was something that Mateo would not approve of. He looked down over his shoulder, kind of in the direction of their destination planet. Then he looked back at the giant pod, and back again. “The hybrids. This is how you built them. It’s also a gestation pod, but one with a unique design to fit your needs. Yes, I can see why you would not want to part with that.”

“You can leave me here. I no longer require your help. Thank you very much.” The man would rather be stranded on an airless moon alone than give up his life’s work, and live with the only family he could hope to keep.

“All right.” Future!Mateo said, clapping his hands with finality. “I can see that you have become an unwilling participant.” He took the genetic engineer by the shoulders.” Here we go!” Despite protests, Future!Mateo teleported them both away.

« < » > Table of Contents

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 7, 2459

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

Mateo and Angela suddenly appeared in the Third Rail version of Russia on August 16, 2398, standing next to a younger version of Mateo. He wouldn’t recognize his future self, even if he managed to look behind him in time. They were both in full IMS, their faces obscured by their helmet visors. He had just activated a big teleportation machine, hoping to transport him and a piece of timonite to Lebanon, Kansas without having to actually look for the mineral first. He needed this to save their friend, Trina McIver from being lost in time. The plan didn’t really work, though they did end up finding her anyway. The machine reached critical mass a second later, and took them away, along with two Russian soldiers who were trying to stop Past!Mateo. But they didn’t end up in Lebanon, and this fact was apparent immediately upon their arrival. The ground around them was gray, the sky was black, and the air didn’t exist. They were on a moon, or an asteroid, or something. A pinch of atmosphere managed to come with them to this place, but it did not last. The three men not wearing any special suits quickly begin to die. Future!Mateo couldn’t save them all, but he could save one.

Spacesuits in the past were traditionally slow and difficult to assemble. For many years, it was actually impossible for a wearer to accomplish the feat on their own. For emergencies, it was vital for an Integrated Multipurpose Suit to be designed to be put on quickly, without any snags, and without any help. For the most part, when the armor module was needed, the two inner modules were also needed. But it was technically possible for the armor module to function on its own when there was no other option. It was also the easiest to remove, and the fastest. Future!Mateo swiftly disconnected it, and opened it like a lid. He stepped out, and pushed his past self into it, letting it close up automatically. He then gave him the helmet for a complete seal. Past!Mateo could still be dying, though, because he had been exposed to the vacuum of outer space for too long, so Future!Mateo tapped on the arm interface to release a cocktail of exposure treatment drugs. This solved one problem, but created another, because of course, Future!Mateo was now the one at risk of dying. He could survive out here for a little bit, but not indefinitely. They needed to find shelter.

As Future!Mateo was looking around for somewhere to survive, Past!Mateo and Angela appeared to be talking to one other via radio. He had no idea what they were saying, though, so he just kept searching the horizon. Angela started to tap on her own arm interface. She pointed in one direction. Past!Mateo nodded. The both of them walked over to Future!Mateo, and took him by the arms. They teleported away, into a pressurized environment. Future!Mateo blinked, trying to recover. He would eventually, but he wouldn’t say no to his own shot of the treatment drugs. Angela knew this, so she removed her gauntlet, and placed it on his hand to administer the dermal flash. His health began to return to him, and he was able to speak. But before he could, Past!Mateo had something to say. “Did you think that you could survive better out there than I could?” he asked accusatorily.

“Indeed,” Future!Mateo responded. “My body has been upgraded again.”

Past!Mateo looked over at Angela, who nodded back, confirming that to be the truth. “Well...thank you, then. I appreciate your support. Now...report.”

Future!Mateo took a deep breath. “You need to return my suit, so I can go back out there, and hunt for the timonite in all that rubble.”

“No, I can look for it,” Past!Mateo insisted. “It’s my mission.”

“It’s mine too,” Future!Mateo explained.

“So we fail in the first timeline?” Past!Mateo guessed.

“Well, no. I’m closing my loop. I always wondered how we succeeded, though. Your memory will be erased before you go back with it.”

“You must not have had all of your memories erased, because you’re wearing these suits,” Past!Mateo reasoned. “You knew that we would end up here.”

“No, we just kind of wear them all the time now.”

“We would have brought an extra one if we had known that you would need it as well,” Angela clarified. “Buddy breathing doesn’t work in space.” She turned to Future!Mateo. “I’ll go look for the timonite. You stay here with your self to find out what this place is, where we are, and how to get back home.”

“Homes,” Past!Mateo corrected. “You two and I aren’t going to the same place.”

“No, we’re not.” Angela dropped her visor, and disappeared.

“Where are the others?” Past!Mateo questioned his future self.

“They’re fine. They have their own concerns to worry about. There’s no need to give you any details, but we move past this story arc, and into new ones. The parallel realities are just the beginning of our troubles. The way I see it, your life has barely started.”

“I see.” Past!Mateo examined the architecture of this airlock, as if he were knowledgeable enough to glean any information from it. He started walking towards the interior hatch, which was fully open. Lights turned on in reaction to his presence, though there appeared to be no people here. This facility, whatever it was, may have been abandoned. Or they were just out to lunch. He stopped while he was still on the threshold. “Have you noticed, the doorways are pretty high, as are the ceilings? This was made for tall people.”

“Or they just like extra space,” Future!Mateo countered.

“I dunno. This doesn’t feel quite human to me.”

“No, you’re right about that.”

“Yes, you are,” came another voice. A being was walking down the corridor, and she was definitely not human. She was a Maramon. She wasn’t, however, alone. Four human women were walking with her. “Aclima, Balbira, tie them up.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Future!Mateo said, like she was just offering him a second glass of water at a restaurant.

The Maramon looked like she was smirking, but it was hard to tell with her anatomy. “Kalmana,” she said simply.

One of the humans quickdrew a gun, and stunned them in the face. The suits could dissipate—and even channel—most energy blasts, but they couldn’t protect exposed areas. Still, they resisted the surge, and tried to stay awake. She had to fire once more. The lights went out.

The two Mateos woke up in a cell at around the same time. One of the women was sitting guard on the other side of the bars. She seemed nice, but honestly, so did the others. Hopefully they weren’t slaves to the Maramon. Mateo didn’t know enough about their culture to have any clue why they might be working together. “Hi. I’m Lusia.” She wasn’t bubbly, but professionally courteous.

“Hi, Lusia. This is Mateo. I’m Mateo.”

“I know.”

“Can I ask, why are you working with them?” Past!Mateo questioned.

“She is of my people,” she answered plainly.

“Is she? Do they treat you well?”

Lusia smiled. “We are hybrids. Half-human, half-Mar, but loyal to the latter.”

“To what end?” Future!Mateo asked. He had encountered her kind before, on a few occasions. He had gotten the feeling that those others were the only ones, so this was a new development.

“Our purpose has not yet been revealed to us. We are still training. Mother will explain all when we are ready to hear it. Until then, I’m here to watch you.”

“She’s not your mother, she’s just your creator,” Past!Mateo tried to argue.

“What’s the difference?”

“Lusia!” the Maramon’s voice shouted from another room. “Do not speak to them! Remain silent and steadfast!”

“Oh, no thank you!” Lusia yelled back. Now she was really smiling.

“Lusia!” the Maramon complained, holding the final vowel for several seconds.

“The young do not always do what they are told,” Lusia said to the Mateos. “She really is our mother, and not actually our creator. That was someone else. She’s the one who raised us, and cares for us. We do not call the man who engineered us our father. I just want to show you that I can defy her orders, and not be abused, or anything. I can’t imagine what horrors you imagine we experience in this world. But we’re doing okay.”

Future!Mateo stood up from his bunk, and approached the bars. He leaned back a few centimeters when he noticed her trying to hide her mild fear of him. “I do not have a problem with the Maramon. It seems only that they have a problem with us.”

Lusia widened her eyes to process the information. Then she shut them and nodded slightly.

“So we are in Ansutah,” Past!Mateo assumed.

“No,” Lusia replied, shaking her head. “This is Fort Underhill. June 7, 2459.”

“Really?” Future!Mateo asked, very surprised. “How did we wind up here?”

“No idea,” Lusia said. “Ukodenva ‘Underkeeper’ Unedisalk came here accidentally as well, with the rest of her cadet squad. Our genetic engineer was the son of the man who made the other hybrids. Yes, I noticed your sense of familiarity when I said that. I guess he wanted to follow in daddy’s footsteps.”

“Is Hogarth aware that you are here?”

“She found herself the unwilling commanding officer of the cadets, due to some odd laws that they were clinging onto from the Crossover,” Lusia began to explain. “Things reportedly went well for a time, but they fell apart eventually, and became hostile. A truce was later formed, which basically lets us do whatever we want, as long as we do not leave this moon. Hogarth could not stop us from being created.”

“Are there more than the four of you? Does he intend to make more?” Past!Mateo was more curious than he ought to be.

“Hopefully not.”

“What will become of us?” Future!Mateo asked her.

Underkeeper walked into the hock section. “That has yet to be decided. I’m advocating for you to keep your hands firmly attached to your necks, but I’ll be honest, your prospects are not looking good. The others are not as fond of humans as I am.” She looked upon Lusia lovingly. Perhaps she really was her mother.

« < » > Table of Contents

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 6, 2458

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

There was a scuffle in the hock section of whatever this ship was called. A.F. immediately went after Leona, but he never made it all the way. True to her promise to protect her, Marie stepped between them, and started fighting with him instead. It didn’t last very long. Either one of them could have won, and it could have ended in death, and Leona couldn’t take the chance. She unlocked the hock cell door again, and threw him inside by the shoulders. Once she slammed the door closed in his face, she discovered her mistake. She hadn’t patted him down, or knocked him unconscious. All he had to do was send a quick message to his security team that there was a breach. Their plan to sneak around quietly while no one was the wiser was no longer a viable option. They ran out of the room, and into the next so they could change. They chose faces from their pasts again, who no one here would recognize, because pretending to be A.F. himself wasn’t going to work anymore. As for their clothes, they made them look like the standard uniform of the crew, and just hoped that there were enough of them roaming around here—or enough chaos after the alarms started going off—that they wouldn’t stick out for being unauthorized strangers.

They quickly, but not too quickly, ran back down to the room where their stuff had been held, and retrieved Leona’s gear. She got dressed as fast as possible, and then reestablished her holographic disguise, just in time for a team of three to open the door in search of two hot lady criminals. “Secure this area!” one of them ordered. “The fugitives will come here in search of their belongings.”

“Understood, sir,” Leona replied, looking like a boy she had a crush on in college. He was a film student, on the same track as her for a few semesters before he switched to some other major, and she never saw him again. She always thought he would make a great enlisted soldier. He just had that Starship Troopers look about him.

“Stay here with them, Bartok,” the commander barked before running off with his partner. That was an annoying complication.

Now, for the most part, the IMS did not come with weapons, and as a rule, the team didn’t carry them either. They were a mostly nonviolent crowd, made up of people who would rather sneak in with surgical strikes, and leave without anyone knowing that anything had happened. Even the two of them, who possessed years of combat training, preferred peaceful solutions. Much like one could theoretically hit someone over the head with a frying pan, even though the pan was not designed as a weapon, there was a way to use a built-in nonviolent feature of the suit as an impromptu weapon.

It was called a static discharge, and it was meant to protect the wearer from dust and debris in dusty and debris-filled environments. A very low charge was keeping the outer layer clean at all times while medium intensity charges could repel foreign objects when the area was particularly harsh. Safety mechanisms usually prevented extreme discharges, but these safeguards could be subverted in emergency situations. It might be enough to shield the wearer from a fallen or thrown rock, but it had to be done on purpose by concentrating the energy in one spot. This was no emergency, and she didn’t want to have to use it, but it appeared that they had no choice. Leona rubbed her forearms together to build up and focus the charge. Then she released it into Bartok’s back without a word. He slumped towards the floor, but she caught him before that, and laid him down gently.

“What do we do,” Marie asked, “wait for midnight central?”

Leona shook her head. “A.F. will be free by then. He probably is already. He’s quite familiar with our pattern, and will be expecting that gambit. Our only choice is to get off of this ship, and away from the teleportation dampening field. Fortunately, they’re drifting, so it shouldn’t be too rough of a ride.”

“Are we sure that our suits can handle the equilibrium?”

“No, but we can’t steal a shuttle, or they’ll find it.”

“Maybe we do steal a shuttle,” Marie suggested. “Maybe we let them find it.”

Leona didn’t know what she meant by that.

“We’ll require a distraction. How good are you at those external holograms?”

She was pretty good, having gotten even better since she was first given Alyssa’s powers. She leaned into her knack for creating holograms away from her person. She considered it her specialty. Nearly each one of them had their own specialty. The only one who wasn’t all that great with any of the tricks was Mateo. He would hopefully find his place eventually, but there was no guarantee. Sadly, some people were simply not particularly skilled. Using the nearest workstation, they pulled up schematics of the ship, and made their plan. Leona generated an enemy vessel, which appeared out of nowhere only about a couple hundred meters away. Now, this being made of pure light and all, it wasn’t giving off any energy readings. If someone tried to send a photon torpedo towards it, it would pass right through, and fly off into the aether. The only reason it worked as a distraction was because it was so big and sudden that it freaked everyone out before they could determine that it was fake. While everyone was looking at the port side, Leona and Marie went over to the starboard side.

The two shuttles that they tried to open were locked, but they noticed that the fighters were all completely open, which made sense, because pilots needed to be able to jump into them at a moment’s notice. So they stole one of those instead. But they didn’t get inside of it to do it. Leona programmed it to fly off in one direction, and make basic escape maneuvers when the situation arose. It was vital that it managed to evade capture at least until midnight, or the plan wouldn’t work. With that gone, giving A.F. and his crew the impression that the fugitives were attempting to escape, the two of them turned invisible, and stayed hidden. It was annoying, not being able to use their jump to the future to their advantage, as they had often been able to do in the past, but this slight modification would hopefully get the job done this time.

A year later, they returned to the timestream, still in the hangar bay, but hiding in the corner. Perhaps about every single soldier on this thing was there now, pointing their weapons at the once-stolen fighter jet. Their plan had worked. Everyone thought that that was where Leona and Marie would come back.

“Sir?” one of them asked after several minutes passed, and the jet was still empty.

“I know,” A.F. replied.

“Sir, they must have bailed out. They’re probably floating around out there naked.” He didn’t mean unclothed, but unprotected by a hull.

“I know,” A.F. repeated. “Scan the entire kasma for lifesigns. They can’t get through the membrane without the skeleton key.”

This was a big risk, but there were a lot of people here, and Leona could use that to her advantage. Alyssa’s power gave them the ability to turn invisible, but not to go unheard. Hopefully what she said here would get lost somewhere in the crowd, and A.F. wouldn’t care about who specifically said. “Unless they already stole the key last year!” she suggested in a fake voice.

A.F. did look around to see who had said that, as did others, but no one fessed up. It quickly became unimportant to him, because the voice was right. “Lieutenant,” he said to a woman standing nearby. “Go secure the key. I want two security teams left right here in case we missed something. Everyone else, back to your action stations.”

The thing about being invisible to these people was that they were necessarily also invisible to each other. They didn’t have some additional magic power to see through their own disguises. Leona and Marie had to hold hands the whole time to keep track of one another. The former led the latter down the hallway, following the lieutenant to the place of their prize. It was quite a ways away, down a few corridors, into an elevator, and then down more corridors. The farther they went, the fewer crewmembers they saw around until it felt like an eerie ghost town. Presumably no one was allowed in this area for security reasons. The lieutenant punched in the code, unaware that it was being seen and memorized by two invisible girls. They immediately had more respect for her than they ever could A.F. Her code too was composed of eight digits, but they were all different. It was a good thing that they saw it, because she slipped in so quickly that they were unable to tag along. There wasn’t even a little window for them to see what she was doing in there.

Leona pulled Marie away, and felt her up a bit until she found her ear. “When she comes out, continue to follow her,” she instructed in a whisper. “We don’t know that the key is in the same place as the membrane thickener. We don’t even know that the membrane thickener is on this ship. It could be an entirely separate thing. But the key is in there, so once she confirms that, she might go after the machine itself next, just to be safe. I’ll sneak in here after she leaves. You gather all the intel you can. If you need help, send me the feeling of fear, and if you find the jackpot, send me elation.”

“Understood, captain.”

Leona gave Marie a kiss on the cheek, and then let go of her. When the lieutenant came back out of the room, the two of them accidentally ran into each other in their attempt to begin their separate sub-missions. The sound of the collision caused the lieutenant to turn around in confusion, but she didn’t pursue the issue, instead assuming that she was mistaken. Leona hovered her hand over the keypad, preparing to unlock the door once the coast was clear. She could only hope that Marie was doing okay on her own. A few minutes later, she entered the secret chamber, and started to get a look around, expecting to be alone.

A bespectacled bearded man was sitting at a desk in low-lighting. He stood up, and looked around, but didn’t see anything. This could still work. She could still find the key, and she might even be able to steal it. The name was almost certainly metaphorical, so it could be the size of a semi-truck, but at worst, she should be able to steal the plans for it on the computer. She just needed to wait for this guy to calm down, and maybe go out for a smoke break. He just kept staring into the dimness, before apparently coming to a revelation. “Ah. I get it.” Without looking down, he pulled a drawer open, and reached inside to retrieve a part of HG Goggles. He removed his own glasses, and pressed the goggles against his face without wrapping them around his head. “Mrs. Matic. I heard about what you could do. I came prepared.”

Just in case he was bluffing, Leona waved one hand to her side, waxing on. She waxed off with her other hand.

The man smiled, and mimicked the gesture. “Yes, I’m not lying, I see you there.”

Leona revisiblized herself. “I need that key.”

“I know you do.”

“You do?”

“Everybody needs it. It’s a key.”

“Are you going to give it to me?”

“Doubtful.”

“You don’t look like much of a fighter.”

“You have no idea what kind of weapons I have in my arsenal. Yet I know all about those suits. I helped design them.”

“Did you design the key?”

“Yes.”

“And the membrane thickener?”

“Indeed.”

“Is that here too?”

“It may be.”

“Where do your loyalties lie?”

“They lie with science. She has my heart.”

“Yet A.F. has your soul.”

He chuckled. “I guess. He’s not evil.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Isn’t everybody?”

Leona was done with the banter. “The people of Stoutverse need that key.”

“Oh, it’s for someone else? You’re not just trying to take this one down?”

“Not really. It’s not my concern right now. I’m not certain how vital it is for Salmoverse and Fort Underhill to maintain physical connection to each other. But I know that a race of violent antinatalists are intent on wiping out an entire planet. It’s my responsibility to put a stop to that.”

The man lifted his chin, and studied her face. “You’re not lying.”

“You’re right, A.F. isn’t evil. To my knowledge, he’s only ever hurt me and my friends, and we don’t have much use for grudges. We’ve always only been trying to just get away from him. Any sense of hostility he feels is in service to that end, not any real hatred that we feel. I suppose we may have to deal with him one day, but that day is not today. Please. Give me the plans for the machine, and the key, and then we’ll just leave. I won’t even manufacture them in this universe.”

Now he sighed. “Very well.” He reached into his lab coat pocket, and came back out with a data crystal.

“You just carry that around with you at all times?” she asked, but only after she took it out of his hand.

“The second my boss found you in the kasma six years ago, I knew that this was what you were after. My equipment can detect time travel events. You obviously came back on purpose.”

“You’re too smart to be working for him.”

He cleared his throat, and reached up to the wall. He flipped a switch, and Leona could immediately feel her ability to teleport return to her. “People like me...always work for men like him. Now get off my ship before I sound the alarm.”

« < » > Table of Contents

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 5, 2457

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

Leona and Marie were in hock, and had been for the last five days. They managed to return to their past, in the middle of the kasma, where they hoped to be, but they were immediately scooped up by the Angry Fifth Divisioner’s ship. As he was the one who deployed the technology needed to seal up the membranes of the two sister universes, he could pass through them freely using some kind of temporal skeleton key. They needed that key, as well as the technology itself. They just had to escape first. In the meantime, he was looking for their co-conspirators. He was convinced that the rest of the team members were floating around here somewhere, and had been on the search this whole time. It was only five days for them, but five years for him. He would not listen to reason. Well, to be fair, he had every reason to believe that the others were here too, but after all this time, how could they still be alive?

“Maybe you two had to bail out in your suits, but your friends had personal pods, or an evac shuttle.” He didn’t know that they had come back in time from the future. He assumed that the Transit had managed to escape, but left the team behind for whatever reason. There was no point in correcting him. At best, he wouldn’t believe them, and at worst, it would make things harder for them.

“Well, I think that you would have found them by now,” Leona told him. “They would be emanating heat, and you could detect that heat, right? There’s not much heat in the kasma naturally, is there?” She kept having to baby him, and it was exhausting.

“No, it’s even colder than the vacuum.” He was right about that. Ramses measured the mean temperature to be at 2.16 Kelvin. “So, where are they?”

“We don’t know!” Marie said for the upteenth time. “We got separated.” This was technically true, even though her wording implied that it was not done intentionally.

“So, what do you want me to do, let you out?”

“That would be a start,” Leona replied.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” A.F. asked. “The only thing that was keeping you alive was the prospect of being able to kill you all at the same time. If no one else is here, I’m just going to cut my losses, and kill the two of you alone. I’ll worry about the others later, I suppose. Your execution will be scheduled for tomorrow morning.” A.F. said with confidence.

“Problem with that,” Marie started to point out.

“We won’t exist tomorrow,” Leona added.

“Right.” A.F. tried to figure a way out of this glaring mistake. “Tomorrow, Greenwich Mean Time. It’ll be later tonight local time.”

That was a dumb answer, but they didn’t push it. “Of course, sir.”

“I’ll go make the preparations. Say your final prayers to your god.”

“Yes, sir!” Marie saluted him sarcastically, but he took it genuinely. She watched him leave. “Okay, your plan hasn’t worked so far, so can we just go with mine now?”

“Yeah,” Leona answered her with a sigh. The original idea that Leona had for their escape plan was to hack into the keypad on the cell door. They heard the beeps when they were first locked in here, so they knew that they were dealing with an eight-digit combination. She was able to covertly stick a brute force strip underneath the pad, but in all this time, it had yet to find the right answer. It was probably something absurd, like 99999999. The strip was programmed to try them in order, so that would be its last guess. Unfortunately, it might take up to another year or more for it to get to that point, and they no longer had the time for that.

Obviously, when A.F.’s people captured them, they removed the outer layers of their integrated multipurpose suits, leaving them only with the biometric base. They stashed the response and armor layers elsewhere on the ship. Ramses upgraded their suits in various ways, but they appeared normal, so anyone here wouldn’t have felt any need to take any special precautions with them. They just stuffed them in a drawer, and forgot about them for the last five years. One special feature was the suit’s ability to become mobile on its own. This was possible to some degree in all standard models, but it would still need a user to be wearing it in order to provide physical support. It was meant to allow the suit to carry its user back to safety if they fell unconscious, or to their gravesite if they were dead. The original engineers didn’t think that the suit would have any need to move around completely on its own, but Ramses being Ramses, he did. It could indeed move while totally empty, like something out of a cartoon. It was less inconspicuous than a hacking strip, but it would work.

Marie placed her sleeve up against her temple to activate the remote neural interface, and began to command the outer layers to climb out of their drawer, and walk down the corridors towards them. The helmet was fully attached as well, so it looked like a real person, but that didn’t mean it had the authorization to go where it was going. If someone decided to stop and ask for its ID badge, or something, the jig would be up. Fortunately, that didn’t happen, but making it to them was the easy part. Dealing with the hock watcher was the real challenge, and it was about to begin.

“Wait,” Leona ordered just before the empty suit could enter the hock section. “This isn’t going to work.”

“It’s all we have, LeeLee.”

“Just give me a second.” Leona tried to concentrate, but she didn’t have the power to see remotely. “Here, let me join.” She grabbed Marie’s free hand, and placed the sleeve against her own temple. She closed her eyes to see through the suit’s point of view. “I can do this. Throw your voice into the helmet, but put a delay on it. For everything you say, make it come out of the speaker ten seconds later.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m changing your plan so it actually works. Throw your voice.”

“It’s not my voice. It’s going to sound like A.F.’s.”

“Even better. Ten second delay,” Leona insisted.

The hock watcher opened the little window in the door when the suit knocked on it. “Can I help you?”

“I need to interrogate the prisoners again,” Marie said through the speaker, modulating her voice to impersonate the leader.

“Sir? You’re back so soon?”

“Yes. Open the door.”

“Why are you wearing one of their suits?”

“Because it makes me feel sexy, now open the goddamn door.”

The hock watcher was unconvinced, but that was okay. That was why Leona was here. “I’m sorry, sir, but this could be fake. I’m going to need you to raise your visor.”

Marie looked to Leona for guidance. Leona nodded confidently. She was ready for it. “I appreciate your dedication to the job,” A.F.’s voice said to the hock watcher. Marie raised the visor. Inside the helmet was A.F.’s face, in holographic form, of course. This was why Leona needed the delay. Every time Marie said something, Leona would need to match the hologram’s lips to it.

“Thank you, sir. I just want to be cautious.”

Of course, they didn’t want to make this any harder on themselves than they had to, so from this point on, short answers only. “I’ll remember that for your next evaluation.” Could’ve been shorter. Leona really struggled with that, but it seemed to work. The hock watcher opened the door, and let the deepfake A.F. in. “Go ahead and open it up.”

“Sir? That’s not protocol. You’re the only one who knows the code.” Shit. Really?

“Uhh...use the master code.” A decent guess?

“Master code?” The hock watcher questioned. “Who are you?” He shook his head. “This is a trick. I’m calling security.”

The suit reached up, and slammed the hock watcher’s head against the cell wall. He was knocked out cold, which would delay the security team’s response time, but someone would find him eventually, or he would wake up on his own, and call them then. The fact was they were still locked in this cell, and didn’t know the code. They were going to have to extend this mission even further, and go find A.F. himself.

“Stuff the body in that cabinet,” Leona ordered.

“He’s not dead.”

“He still has a body. Put it in there, please.”

“You do it...Captain.”

“This is your plan!”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one. You should have come up with both Plan A and Plan B. Now you’re going to have to impersonate someone else for A.F., and he’s going to be a lot less accommodating since he’s apparently the guy in charge.”

“Well, we may have had more options if you hadn’t knocked him unconscious,” Leona reasoned.

“I didn’t do that. You did.”

Leona was taken aback. She decidedly had not. Before they could argue any further, though, the door clicked, and swung halfway open. The stared at it for a moment. “Hm. The strip found the code.” She stepped out, and looked at the keypad. Her guess was close. It was 88888888.

Marie saw it too. “All ones would have been easier on us.”

While Marie was putting her suit on, Leona dragged the hock watcher into the cell, and locked it back up. She removed the hacking strip, and tucked it back into her base layer, in case they ever needed it again. They also didn’t want to let anyone know how they managed to get out of here. Hopefully, they would just blame the hock watcher for the whole thing, and not investigate any deeper. “I still can’t teleport. I think the power blocker works all over the ship.”

“Well, you can obviously make yourself look like anyone, so I’ll continue to be A.F., and you be the hock watcher. We’ll go down to get your suit, and then get to work.”

“No, I don’t want to run into anyone else again. Let’s become invisible instead.”

“That’s Olimpia’s forte.”

“We can all do it. There’s a mirror over there for us to practice with. I’m sure no one will be back too soon.”

The door opened, and A.F. walked back in.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2161: All Cons, All the Way

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2

Last weekend was not fun. Sleeping in jail is usually the hardest part about it. It’s always either too hot or too cold, and of course, you have no control over any of that. We can shut the lights off in our cell, but the lights in the hallway are always on, and shining through the little window. The top bunk is better than the bottom one for that reason, but I always let my cellmate have it, honestly because I have a more comfortable life on the outside, so I think he needs it more. I hope he’s not offended by that. At any rate, these are all things that you can get used to once you figure out how to adapt. The reason it was so bad on Friday and Saturday nights is because we had a group of disharmonious newbies. It takes a certain type of personality to be suited to intermittent jail, or to fulltime prison instead, and determining which is something that I don’t, and never will, comprehend. Either the judges meant to make these assessments made mistakes, or there were variables beyond their control. Knowing where precisely to place each guest is probably impossible to get right, and certainly not every single time. I don’t think that each of these guys was bad on their own, but they just didn’t fit with each other, or anyone else. We were all particularly grumpy and anxious, and no one was happy. Again, I think that it would have been fine if the new guys had been scheduled for a different part of the week, or if someone else had been moved to it. I don’t know. There’s no way to know. It’s just something that happens, so you can add it to the list of reasons to not do something that will ultimately get you sent to jail, in case your pros and cons chart isn’t as uneven as it ought to be. All cons, all the way. That’s the way I see it anyway. I suppose if you’re otherwise unhoused, it might be your best option, but that’s a whole systemic issue that I think can—and should—be solved in a myriad of other ways. Well, that’s what made sleeping so much harder last weekend, but it wasn’t the only thing. I thought that I was going to be able to make up for it on Sunday night, but it didn’t work out that way. The fire alarms went off throughout the whole building at around 02:15 in the morning, forcing us all to go outside, and stand in our designated area for almost an hour before we received the all clear. They won’t tell us exactly what happened, but they promised that no one was hurt, and the damage didn’t spread. This means that there was a fire, though, instead of just a faulty alarm system, or a prank. So I guess I can’t be mad that they woke me up, and kept me up. I had to push my work hours back today, but I got everything done, and at least it didn’t happen on a Friday, which would have screwed up my jail schedule. Here’s hoping that I’m not accidentally foreshadowing the future.

Microstory 2126: Called it Hustling

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2

Orientation didn’t do a very good job of preparing me for what jail was going to be like for the rest of the weekends that I’m going to have to go through it. For one, I didn’t have a cellmate before. I knew that I would this time, but I had forgotten what it was like to live with someone else in such close quarters, and in fact, they’ve never been that close for me anyway. I don’t want to say anything bad about the guy, but I have trouble getting along with other people. That’s just a general rule when it comes to my personality. I don’t see the world in a normal way, and that gets on people’s nerves. He didn’t try to hurt me or exploit me, but I don’t think we’re going to be lifelong friends either. I ran into even more personality clashing once I got out into the common area. There are people in there from all walks of life. While individual cells are not co-ed, the facility is as a whole, which I prefer, but as woke as I am, I worry about women being around men a lot more than I would have to in a perfect world. I found myself watching them to make sure they weren’t about to be harassed, which probably only served to make me look like a perverted creeper. That’s not the image that I want to give off to people. They already have a bad impression of me. Word had spread about my special situation. Some of the things that they heard are true, and some of them are not, so I spent a lot of time fielding questions, and clarifying inaccuracies. Even the people who understood what happened weren’t happy with me.

Some thought that I got off easy, and should have been sent to prison, or received some other harsher sentence. Others called me a narc for helping the FBI catch the teenage girl’s abductors, even if they agreed on principle that kidnapping toddlers is wrong. Some were specifically bothered that I was given such special treatment, like the hotel room that the government paid for, or the legal assistance that I got from an employer that I worked for as nothing more than a janitor for a couple of weeks. Most of them, I would say, don’t like that I run this here website, feeling that I’m exploiting them for money, and misrepresenting the justice system. I try to tell them that I’ve not been doing that, but only speaking my truth; and being clear that this is what I have been experiencing, but they don’t see it that way. Some of them have read some of it, and some only heard about it, so they all have their own impressions that I don’t think I can change. I’m pretty sure I’m the most famous person in there, which did not even occur to me. Yes, the number of daily visitors for my site has been increasing, but this service provider doesn’t tell me where these people are, and it certainly doesn’t show who they are, so I didn’t go into jail thinking that I may have to worry about my reputation. There were a few proponents of mine, if you can believe it. They acknowledged that there was nothing wrong with keeping a blog, and that I’m not the only one in the world to do it. A few popular video bloggers have similar stories to share, though usually after the fact, rather than while it’s happening. My advocates called it hustling, and encouraged others not to criticize me for trying to make a buck, which is the most common reason for anyone to be locked up in a place like that, so they should all be able to relate to leaning into one’s strengths. That makes some sense, and I appreciate the sentiment.

I was hoping to just keep my head down, and serve my time without making trouble, but it’s always going to find me. I’m going to be doing this for the next 20 weeks until I’m finished with my thousand hour jail time. It could get better as they get used to me, or it could get worse. Hell, just writing these words right now could just piss people off even more, including those who were kind of on my side before. But either way, I’m not going to stop, because this is part of my rehabilitation. It’s a form of accountability that the courts are exploring for future use. For my part, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’m sure different people would have a different perspective, but taking a lighter sentence in exchange of keeping an accountability blog? That has to be better, right? I should sure think so. Even if you’re not a good writer, that’s got to be preferable. There could be minimums for word count, or something, maybe, but hopefully no limits on grammar mistakes, or requirements for flow. That last sentence didn’t flow well. It shouldn’t be a form of forced education. Some people hate school, myself included. I dunno, maybe nothing will come of it. I should really just focus on my own progress right now. Here are a few updates in that regard. I found a therapist, and will be meeting with her on Tuesdays and Thursday. I’ll also probably be signing up for group sessions on weekends, but I’m not ready to start those just yet. I have regular meetings with my parole officer on Wednesdays, and he’ll work with my work schedule once that’s all figured out. I’ve narrowed it down to two jobs, but by the time you read this, I will have probably decided, so I’ll go over that later this week when we all finalize the decision. I just need a few questions answered before I feel comfortable choosing one over the other.

Microstory 2121: Try to Escape, Blah Blah Blah

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2

I’ve been calling this weekend jail, but the real and official term is intermittent jail. I don’t know about anywhere else, but the people of this Earth decided that they wanted a lot of their criminals to be able to serve their time while still being able to contribute positively to society. Some prisons offer some sort of work program, but this is difficult to regulate, and studies a long time ago discovered a lot of exploitation, and unfair wage practices. The reason it’s called intermittent is because not everyone can do it on the weekends, because that makes the process too complicated. Everyone who works there would be really busy during these short periods of time, and they don’t want to have to do that. It’s actually harder to get a weekend schedule, because that’s what everyone wants, for obvious reasons. I was able to secure it because of my rising readership count for this website. They argued that my blog was a fixture of public interest that had the potential to paint the court system in a positive light. The system is not known here for its negative press, but good publicity is always welcome, and the judge agreed. So here’s what happened. I checked in at 19:00 exactly on Friday night. First, I should say that there are entire facilities dedicated to intermittent jail time, but some of them cater to mixed populations. You may end up as a cellmate to someone who has to stay there the whole time. In this case, we were all there for the same thing, and I think they’re going to try to keep me with the same cell mate each time, though that might not always work out. I have no feelings on this matter yet, as I have not even had a cellmate, because I was in the intake section.

The intake section is meant only for people who are going in for the first time. Well, it doesn’t have to be their first time full stop. If they’re a repeat offender, they have to go through the initial intake process all over again, so some of the people I saw there might have already known what to do. That’s the point of all this, to familiarize residents with the process before throwing them in with everyone else. So I got there at 19:00, and started filling out forms, and confirming information with the intake officers. After that, I was asked to place all of my belongings in a box after they were logged, and hand it to one of the officers while I went into a privacy room, and removed all of my clothes. It wasn’t that private, though, because we were all in there together, which I didn’t have a problem with; I just tend to notice funny language errors like that. It was just a locker room. So I removed my clothes, and put on an ugly multicolored striped shirt and ugly multicolored striped sweatpants. These did not have any pockets, because there is no reason to carry anything, such as—you know—weapons? Why were these striped and ugly? Well, if anyone breaks out, they want them to be immediately identifiable by their attire. It would be crazy for someone to break out of intermittent jail, since you would only have to wait a day or two, but I suppose there might be extenuating circumstances, like a dying loved one, or some other emergency.

After I got my new clothes on, I tucked my regulars in an aluminum tub, along with my other personal objects. I then put that whole thing in a big locker, the combination to which is known to the officers, and not to me. The normal lockers inside the privacy room serve no purpose from what I can tell. They led me down a hallway where I continued the intake process, which involved another physical exam, as well as a psych evaluation. All of this stuff is mostly for the first time you go there, but they warned me that they will periodically make me go through it all again, so I should never try to rely on a consistent schedule. Once I was cleared for lockup, they gave me a quick tour. The facility is not complicated. The common area is a hexagon in the center, which includes a gym, the cafeteria, chairs, televisions, and a few recreational amenities, like a pool table. That’s where the phones are too. On the first side of the hexagon is the Intake Sector, where the entrance is, as well as all the stuff that I’ve been describing, plus I think some offices on the upper floors. The common area is only a few stories high but the other sectors go up fourteen stories. The actual cells are in the middle levels of that first sector. The other sides of the hexagon are dedicated to all of the other cells, which is where I’ll go at the end of this week.

My first two nights here weren’t too terribly bad, but again, we were all in the same boat. Everyone there was scared, nervous, anxious, or just unfamiliar. Once I get placed in gen pop, I’ll start running into people who know the ropes. There could be drugs in there, or fights; who knows? I can’t give you a full impression since I’ve had such a limited experience so far. They did lay out the rules for me, most of which are obvious, like don’t cause trouble, or try to escape, blah, blah, blah. There are some less obvious ones too, like when mealtimes are, and how often I’m allowed to use the phone. There are times when I have to be in my cell, and even times when I’m not allowed to be in my cell, even if I just want to go in there to be alone or sleep. These vary by the sector, and by my current privilege status, so they’ll inform me of those specifics later. They will continue to update me with my status as my behavior continues to be monitored and appraised. For the time being, it felt more like staying in a hotel in Iowa. As we all know and agree, Iowa sucks, so if you have to be there for whatever reason, there’s no other reason to leave your hotel room. It’s not like there could be something that you would like to see or do, so staying in the room is the only rational way to pass the time anyway. I’m sure that it will start to feel more like a prison the more I’m obligated to go back, so stay tuned for my shifting perspective.