Microstory 2445: Dune Buggy Paradise

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Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

This is the largest habitable desert in the world. Now, you may be asking yourself, how could it be any bigger than any other? Every dome is the same size as all the others, isn’t it? True, but this one makes better use of that space, because it operates in three dimensions. We’re talking about multiple layers here. It’s quite ingenious, really. I don’t mean that you can wander about on the bottom layer, and then take an elevator to a higher ones. You have to walk or drive up ramps to get to other levels, and you don’t just multiply the area of one by the number of layers to get the total area. The upper layers are nowhere near as big. They’re like giant catwalks, criss-crossing each other in random configurations, looping around, and dipping down. It’s all very chaotic, and hard to track. Here’s the most mysterious—and I think, best—part of this whole place, there is a layer near the top of the dome which no one has been able to figure out how to reach. There doesn’t seem to be any path leading to it, but we can clearly see it. At the right angles—and with good enough vision—you can even make out a dune buggy parked on the edge. It’s gotta be some kind of prize, but as I said, no one has managed to reach it thus far. Even if you found some roundabout way, like with an extremely long grappling hook, how would you drive it down? It’s about a kilometer higher than the next highest layer. Maybe it’s a joke, or the creators are taunting us. Or it’s just straight up unfinished, who knows? Another special thing about the way this place is designed is what happens when sand from one layer falls over the edge. Well, it doesn’t. It can slip over, but then fly back up to where it belongs. You don’t have to worry about sand falling on your head all the time like rain thanks to people on the higher layers. It’s not just regular sand that they harvested from the surface of this planet. It’s smartdust. It’s all smartdust. I hear tales of people claiming that it has flown around in other instances, and formed ominous shapes, which they interpret as the dust trying to communicate with them. It could be true, though I’ve not seen it for myself, but even if it were, there’s a scientific explanation for it. Smartdust is fully capable of moving around, and forming larger shapes, like tiny artificial starlings. Overall, this is a pretty nifty place. It could be pretty boring, with its one niche being hardly distinct from other domes. There are other deserts, and at least one other racing dome, but combining them here is more than just the sum of its parts. I think it’s worth the trip. You don’t have to race if you don’t want to. You can just drive around, people are pretty respectful about boundaries.

Microstory 2403: Mêléedome

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There are lots of domes dedicated to war, according to the literature. Name a major war from history, there’s probably a dome that recreates the conditions that you can participate in. Some are entirely fiction, and it’s more about the kinds of weapons it features, and the kind of restrictions they have in place. For instance, since humanity progressed beyond most need for war, we never really got space battles. Did anyone else notice that? Fiction is riddled with examples of space wars, and they just don’t happen in real life, even though we’re fully in space now. It’s good, I know, it’s good, but it would be kind of nice to be able to experience what it would have been like, especially free from all real consequences of such war, like death. Sorry, I’m digressing. Castlebourne is rumored to be preparing a fake space war, though it would be several AU from the planet, and as I said, they’re just rumors. Right now, I wanna talk about Mêléedome. I was immediately drawn to the concept. What’s the plan here? What is the structure? There is none. It’s a complete and total free-for-all. You go out there with whatever weapons you managed to get your hands on, and you fight whoever you want. Right now, most of the fighters are NPCs. I mean, with such a low visitor population at this point, it would be boring if they had to rely entirely on us. It can be a little awkward for some, intentionally harming others, even though they don’t feel pain, and you barely do. That’s what’s cool about it; it can hurt a little bit, if that’s what you select in the options. You can’t really die, of course—not for real, anyway—and the pain can’t be agonizing, and you can choose to switch it off in the middle of it, but it’s there. And you can die, in a certain way. How does this work? Well, when you first come to the planet in The Terminal, you’re given a primary substrate, but you can switch to other bodies later. In particular, you can control surrogates. It still feels like you’re there, but these are cheaper and meant to be temporary. You go out there and fight, and if you’re “killed” then your mind just jumps to a new body, and you respawn. It’s a lot of fun. So essentially, you can do whatever you want with no consequences. Even if you do kill another real life visitor, they’ll be fine. I can only speak to my personal experience, but if you’re a fan of chaos, confusion, and utter carnage, this is the dome for you.

Microstory 2281: Their Favorite Bloopin Snooters

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Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3. The story below is also partially AI Generated by Google Gemini Advanced

No updates for you today, so instead, I’ll post a bad story that I wrote while I was still on narcs soon after my surgery just to see how it would turn out.

So, like, there was this dude named Bob, right? Bob the Squirrel. Not actually a squirrel, but he, like, thought he was a squirrel. Don’t ask me why, it’s a long story. Anyway, Bob’s chillin’ in this oak tree, munchin’ on some sewing machines, when BAM! A freakin’ UFO crashes right into the tree next to him. Aliens, dude! Little green dudes with antennas and laser guns. They’re all like, “Take us to your leader,” and Bob’s just starin’ at ’em like, “dude, I’m a alligator. I don’t even know what a leader is.”

But these aliens, they’re persistent, see? They zap Bob with this weird money offering, and suddenly, he can speak fluent Orangutan. Or maybe it was bleep, I dunno, alien languages all sound the same to. Anyway, Bob’s like, “whoa, cool! I can talk to fresh prince now!” And the aliens are all excited, thinkin’ Bob’s gonna lead them to the yogurt coma or somethin’.

But Sam, he’s got other plans. He’s always wanted to go to dream-dream-dream-dream. So he hops on the spiked cartwheel, tells the ghosts to set a course for the happiest place on birth. The renegades, they’re a bit confused, but they figure, “hey, why not? We’re on an intergalactic blood trip!”

So they zoom off to ashtray, and Albert is havin’ the time of his life. He’s ridin’ track, eatin’ home keys, and takin’ selfies with invisible red blankets. The sisters, they’re not so into it. They keep tryin’ to get Ronald to focus on the whole flood paper folder thing, but Grace’s all like, “dude, chill out. Let’s go fall green again!”

Meanwhile, back on laptop, the government’s in a panic. They’ve lost contact with Fulton the Squirrel, their top secret agent who was supposed to be infiltrating the alien dadaship. They don’t know what to do. The emperor have, the generals yellin’ at each other, and the scientists are scratchin’ their butts...

But Mary, he’s oblivious to all the chaos. He’s too busy havin’ a blast at rodeo clowns, hangin’ with Peanut Butter and Arsenic. The edgh, they’re startin’ to get fhd. They miss their rthrth, their weird wetwe pejyyts, and their favorite bloopin snooters.

And as the Unidentified Fillorian Objection disappears in, Bob the Squire, the accidental interhouse ambassador, waves goodbye to all the nothing, ready for his nex adventure. Or maybe he just fell asleep and dreamt the whole thing. Who knows, it’s all.

The end...or is it? Maybe I’m still out there, explorin’ the universe, trying to try to try, and having an existential rices. The possibilities are not, just like this story, which could go on forever if I let it push me around like I usually do because no one can see if drip. But I gotta stop somewhere, so... yeah. That’s it. And then there were two people.

Microstory 1999: False Targets

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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Leonard: Myka, I couldn’t decipher your abbreviated message. What is going on?

Myka: Oh my God, it’s a shitshow. Um, hello? Who is this?

Keziah: Hi, I’m Keziah Miazga. Is this her, Len-Bear? She’s pretty.

Leonard: *uncomfortable* Myka Tennison, this is my ex-wife, Keziah Feldman.

Keziah: It’s nice to meet you. I’ve not yet decided if I’m going to change my name back.

Myka: Okay, well...we have some sensitive information to discuss. Leonard, I’m not sure if she should even be in the building.

Leonard: She’s from another universe, Myka. I think she knows about aliens.

Myka: Still. *waves Henley over* Maybe she could just hang out in the break room while we deal with the mess that’s been made of the day? Hen will show you the way. It’s so lovely to finally meet you, though. Leonard has told me so many great things.

Leonard: That was a little rude, on both of your parts. I do hope that we can be civil about this. I know it’s a complicated—

Myka: I don’t care about that. Reese is missing.

Leonard: What?

Myka: I said that Reese is missing!

Leonard: I heard you. I just don’t understand. How did he go missing? He sent us a group text telling us that he was on his way back from the Capital.

Myka: I know you heard me. I’m just...frustrated. Not only has this happened, but they think that there’s been yet another alien arrival, and the people who have been investigating the whole mole thing all over the government are here, and they say we should be informed of something in that regard. Plus, Navin is having an episode. He’s fine, he’s getting checked out by the medic, but he was trying to repair the broken central heating furnace, which we’re gonna need, because winter is coming. It’s just one thing after the other, and oh my God, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Slow down. Let’s take this one at a time, starting with the easiest. I’m here now, so I can take a look at the furnace. I wasn’t always a parole officer. It’s not a priority, though, so let’s move on. As for the internal investigators, they can wait where they are. I don’t know what all that has to do with us. Now. where are the aliens?

Myka: Wyoming again. Pretty much the exact same place that we found the others. My guess is that it’s a second wave. Or really, it’s the real wave, and the few Ochivari we found were just the little advanced team. According to our satellite, the one that just happened is a lot bigger than anything we’ve ever seen before. The scientists still haven’t measured enough instances to come up with a scale, but based on what few experiences they do have, they’re estimating dozens of arrivals. *takes a much-needed breath*

Leonard: Okay, did you send a team?

Myka: I was the only one here, so yes. I had to make an executive decision. Anaïs is leading recontainment. *consults watch* They’re probably taking off from our airbase.

Leonard: Recontainment? What is that? I’ve never heard of that.

Myka: That’s what they’re calling recon plus containment. I thought you were the one who came up with it.

Leonard: No, it’s confusing. It sounds like we’re containing something that was already contained before.

Myka: Okay, whatever, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Okay, let’s talk about that. What do we know?

Myka: I’ve been on the phone with the Transportation Regulatory Authority, but of course, they’re still investigating. All they’ll tell me is that the plane was last seen making an emergency landing in St. Louis, and then it deblipped.

Leonard: Deblipped?

Myka: Does your version of Earth even have English? Deblip. It’s a phenomenon where an object appears on radar before suddenly disappearing. It blips away for no apparent reason. It’s usually a false target, like a fast-moving bird. I don’t know how it works.

Leonard: Okay, so if that doesn’t happen normally...

Myka: What?

Leonard: Can we access the satellite data? There was a reading over Wyoming, but...maybe there was one over St. Louis too?

Myka: You think the aliens got him?

Leonard: I think it could be worse than that. *shaking his head* We’re always talking about people coming to this universe, but it’s just as likely that people are taken out of it. It may be a daily occurrence, for all we know. Hell, maybe the satellite doesn’t even know what to look for. Departures could show up as the opposite as arrivals. We should ask them to reverse the polarity, or some shit like that.

Myka: Okay. The new science team started working last week. I’ll see what they know. You need to take homebase command.

Micro: *walking up* That can wait. The away team will still be in the air for the next couple of hours. We have another problem. I just got an email.

Leonard: An email from whom?

Micro: Remember when you and Ophelia needed to get out of Memphis? You asked for help from Anaïs’ criminal contact, Moenia. He said that he would do it for a favor.

Leonard: Crap, he’s collecting on that debt now? Today of all days.

Micro: I don’t think he knows how crazy this day is for us. He didn’t say what he wanted out of us, but it does sound time sensitive.

Leonard: *looks between Myka and Micro* Valentine, I need you to take point on this. He’s right, we owe him. Find out what he wants, and if it turns out it can wait, then make him do just that. Tell him we’re busy, obviously don’t tell him why. Read Timotei into it, and take him as backup if it comes to that. Actually, talk to me again once you find out what the favor is. Then I’ll decide if you and Timotei should go anywhere.

Micro: Timotei? He’s in procurement.

Leonard: He’s in procurement, because he was a smuggler. The two of them speak the same language. I think he can handle himself too. If you need a real fighter, though, you’re free to conscript any of the newer agents who didn’t go on the mission. Tell them whatever they need to know. Again, though, keep me posted. *turns back to Myka*

Myka: We have no idea what the hell we’re doing. We’re just winging it.

Leonard: Myka, I have been to two planets, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that everybody is a fraud, and everybody is making it up as they go along. We will get through this. We’ll find Reese, we’ll do whatever needs to be done with the aliens, and we’ll fix the heating. But until then, come here. *takes her in his arms* And somebody call the goddamn president, or whatever he is! I have questions about that jet of his!

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 62,398

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When Mateo went back inside, and rode the elevator back down to the Constant, he found himself once again alone. Danica had apparently come out of stasis long enough to recall him, but didn’t want to stick around for any longer. That was ten thousand years ago, and Mateo has come out of his own stasis, determined to get her alone, so they can have a real conversation.

“Constance, what is the location of Danica Matic?”

“Unable to convey that information,” she replies.

“What is the location of anyone else in this facility?”

“Unable to convey that information,” she repeats.

Perhaps he ought to go about this a different way. “What is the location of the greatest current power draw?”

Constance pretends to sigh. “That would normally not be that much of a problem to answer, but I’m not an idiot; I know what you’re going to do with that information.”

“Constance, please alert Danica to my request for an audience.”

“She knows. She’s declined.”

It’s time for Plan Z. Mateo starts to teleport all over the place, kind of like how he was planning to evade capture when he first woke up, except now he’s trying to get people’s attention. If they truly don’t trust him, they can come out and prove it. He doesn’t just jump from one room to another, though. He goes into the swimming pool pump room, and starts draining all the water. He goes into the gym, and wraps tape over the bleacher controls, so the engines don’t stop turning even once the bleachers are good and extended. He goes to the master sitting room, and just drops books onto the floor.

“None of this is going to work,” Constance claims.

“Well, if you have any better ideas, I would love to hear them.”

Constance waits to respond. “Try this.”

Mateo suddenly finds himself in an area of the Constant he has never seen before. He doesn’t even know what level he’s on right now. Before him is only one room. He opens the double doors to find what he can only assume to be, “a time machine.”

“That’s right.”

“Can this get me back to my time period?”

“It can only take you across its own timeline. I am not cognizant of the temporal limitation, but as I understand it, it doesn’t exist that far into the future.”

“What’s the point of me trying, then? A billion years from now, three billion years from now, I would still need stasis to make it the rest of the way.”

“You won’t actually be using it. You’re just trying to get your cousin’s attention, correct?” Constance asks.

“Good point. Thanks for your help.”

“I didn’t help you at all, I’m forbidden.”

“In that case, screw you, I found this place all on my own.”

Constance doesn’t give him any more guidance, for her own protection. He spends a little time examining the machine. He has to figure out how to activate it without accidentally sending himself to some other time. He was never one of those drivers who could repair his own car. He tried changing the oil once, but didn’t care for it, so he started treating the process of going to the mechanic as a business expense. Still, he’s learned a few things about fuses and wires, and he believes he’s found a solution. This switch right here is blocking the time machine from getting power from the wall, because it’s not in use. All he should have to do is close the circuit, and hopefully that’s enough to set off all kinds of alarms. It’s dormant for a reason, because it goes against Danica’s decrees, of which the no time travel thing is the only one he’s heard so far. Why they didn’t take this whole thing apart upon agreeing to these rules is presently low on his list of questions for her.

There, it’s on, and making a noise. He stands back in case the transport field can extend beyond the confines of the chamber, and waits. After about a minute, he does hear alarms, so he continues to wait for a response. Finally, Danica herself teleports into the room with an angry expression on her face. By now, the sound of the time machine operating has increased. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouts.

“I’m just trying to have a conversation!” he shouts back.

“With whom, Benjamin Franklin!”

“With you! You keep avoiding me!”

“What?” Now it’s too loud for them to hear. It doesn’t sound like it’s that great of a time machine, that’s for sure.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

She shouts something intelligible.

“It’s hard to nardle bardle zouz with all these marbles in my mouth!” Not really what’s happening here, but Mateo makes himself laugh anyway.

She yells something at him again, but he still can’t understand her.

“I’ll go turn it off!” he cries. He goes back to the switch, but it won’t budge. Yeah, he really shouldn’t have turned it on. Constance was wrong about this being a good idea. He tries to get some leverage with his foot, but he still can’t get it to move.

Danica bends over, and places a finger on the switch. She twists her wrist, and looks at him inquisitively. He nods back. She evidently doesn’t know how it works, but yes, turning it down should turn it off. She tries to move it herself, but can’t either. She takes a flashlight out of her back pocket, and starts trying to hit the switch with it. Strike one, strike two, strike three, and they’re gone in a flash.

The force is strong enough to knock them both on their asses, but not enough to knock them unconscious. When the energy recedes, they stand themselves up, and make sure each other is okay. The alarms are still going off, but nothing else has changed. Just then, someone else teleports into the room. After Mateo’s eyes adjust to the change in lighting, he can see more clearly who it is. It’s another Danica Matic, which is no big surprise. This is a time machine, after all.

“Report!” she demands.

“Danica Matic, Concierge to the Third Rail Constant, Day 56 of Year 62,398 after first activation Hadean.”

The other Danica loosens up. “Danica Matic, Concierge to the Fourth Quadrant, December 7, 2398 by standard advanced inhabitant phasing.”

“Well, you got your wish, Matt. You’re home.”

“Not quite.”

“Let’s go talk in the master sitting room,” Quadrant!Danica suggests. “I’ve been alone for so long.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 30, 2388

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“So, this is a retcon,” Leona figured, totally unimpressed—bored even. “We were told that The Artist built three Preston children, but in fact, there was a fourth. You must have been so evil that the others never talk about you, and blah, blah, blah.”

Mithridates chuckled. “No. I wasn’t built, I was born. You think my parents spent centuries not having any children? I mean, even if they weren’t trying, having at least one kid eventually would have been practically inevitable. They don’t talk about me, not because I was too evil—because we’re all evil—but because they were just ashamed that I left the Gallery Dimensions with the rest of the disgruntled workers, instead of sticking by my family.”

“I see.”

“Besides, as far as I can tell, they so didn’t talk about me, that not even my brother and sisters know that I exist.”

Leona sighed, still bored. “Are you gonna...do your speech?”

“My villain speech where I reveal my dastardly plans?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Mithridates smirked. “Don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a speech, er...?”

“Don’t have a plan.” He started pacing somewhat menacingly. “Have you wondered why I’m bringing all of the star systems together, or why I’m taking so long to do it?”

“We’ve noticed it doesn’t make much sense.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t have to. It’s cra-zy.” With these words, he bobbled his head around, rolled his eyes, and spun his finger around his temple. “The plan is to make everybody think I have a plan.”

“Okay, so no plan, but what’s the objective?”

“To make everybody think I have an objective!” He was so pleased with himself for having come up with a gigantic waste of time.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“It’s pronounced Mithridates,” he countered. “You can call me Mithri, though.”

Leona didn’t want to end up in another battle royale with yet another antagonist. The bad guys always lost, but the team always lost a lot along the way, and she was disinterested in seeing that happen again. If the best option was to jump over all of this, and just move on to the plan to return to the main sequence, that was what she would do. “Look, I’m sure you’re quite happy with—” She stopped talking when she noticed that all the holography was back. The water, the tiny island, the hut; they had all returned. The sky was just a regular blue with one sun, but everything else looked as it did before Mithri dropped the illusion. Baudin’s faux son wasn’t around, though.

Mithri was wearing the same female avatar as before, but she was clothed now. He was walking out of the hut. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Where did I go?” Leona asked, pretty sure she knew the answer to that question.

Mithri checked his watch. “Nowhere. You just disappeared exactly one Earthan year ago. Imagine that.”

She reached over, and desperately tapped on her Cassidy cuff. It was off. It was never off. Something was very wrong.

“Oh, yeah, that technology won’t work here.”

She looked back towards the tooth mountain, in the general direction of the Suadona.

“That technology is fine. Your friends are fine. I’m sure they’ve just been hanging out all year, wondering why you’ve not checked up on them.”

“How do you know so much about us? You didn’t ask me my name, or anything.”

“This.” Mithri grabbed a crystal tablet from a little table. He tapped on it, and presented it to her. She could see a website on the screen, which appeared to be a blog of some kind. The top entry read Extremus: Year 38.

“What is it?”

“It’s the Superintendent’s. This is how he tries to get people to read his shit. Nobody does, of course. Well, not in his universe. The sad irony is that thousands read it in this reality, and billions more in other self-aware universes. Unfortunately, he doesn’t earn page impressions from us. It’s just a mirrored site. You could even call it a quantum mirror?”

“So everything we’ve ever done, you already know.”

“No, not everything. Just what he writes about, and I don’t know how accurate it is. It hasn’t exactly been fact-checked.”

“What are you going to do with me and my friends?”

Mithri yawned deeply. “Nothing. I’ve read enough to know that you’re a non-threat.”

“How do you figure? We’ve fought against a lot of people, and we always win...in the end. Some of them even became our friends.”

“I know, and those enemies of yours have one thing in common.”

She didn’t prompt him to continue. He was going to on his own.

He smiled, recognizing her attempt to take some level of control. “They all tried to defeat you. You were right, when someone fights you, they lose, so all I have to do is not fight. Ya know, there’s this saying in your reality; you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take. This sounds right, but it’s not. You miss zero percent of the shots you don’t take. I mean, can you imagine not running for president of the United States, and then being criticized for not being the president of the United States? That’s so stupid. You should only take the shots you think you might make, and also want to make. I’m not saying you shouldn’t try, or shouldn’t challenge yourself, but come on! You and your team are a behemoth, but an underdog at the same time. I’m not going there. So you tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll just do it, because I don’t care.”

“Because you’re an agent of chaos,” Leona put forth.

“I’m an agent of confusion. Which means, if you stop asking me to do anything I’m doing, it will maintain the status quo, because the status quo is there is no status quo. I can’t lose! It doesn’t matter what you say.”

This sounded like one of those stories where the hero runs into a genocidal artificial intelligence, and the only way to stop it is to force it into some kind of logical paradox. There was an answer that Mithridates didn’t want to hear, and she had to figure out what that could be. What would cause him to lose?

He could see the gears turning in her head. “You’re hunting for a loophole, but I assure you, it doesn’t exist.”

“What if I ask you to kill yourself?” She didn’t really want him to do that, but she needed him to illuminate the boundaries, so she could start with a decent frame of reference.

He shook his head like it was no big deal. He approached his hut, where a relatively sharp bamboo pole was sticking a little too far out. With little hesitation, he shoved himself forward, and let it dig into his neck. Blood dripped down to the sand, followed by the rest of the body. After Leona knelt down to check for a pulse, which she didn’t find, a figure started walking towards her from the mountain. It was Mithri in his own form.

“Was that real, or an illusion?”

“This is like a holodeck,” he explained. “The objects aren’t real, per se, but they are physical, and that body really died. I have mind uploading technology, just like you do. Anything else?”

“Don’t ever hurt anyone ever again.”

He crossed his arms, and looked to the sky as he pondered the demand. “That is a loophole,” he finally decided. “Yeah, I can’t do that one.”

“Because you just like it too much.”

“No, because it’s impossible. I mean, think about someone you love. Mateo, your parents; whoever. You didn’t wanna hurt them, but you did, on a number of occasions. You dated the wrong boy, or you failed a math test. That’s not killing them, or punching them in the face, but it did hurt them. Just because they forgave you for these things, doesn’t mean that pain could be undone. No one can live their life painfree.”

“Fair enough,” Leona agreed.

“I suppose you just need to figure out what you want. If you tell me your objective, I’ll come up with the plan.”

She had to laugh at this, but it did give her the idea she needed. “I want you to become an agent of peace in this reality.”

Now he was laughing. It went on a little too long, actually. He literally slapped his knee. “Have it your way, Mrs. Matic. I’ll become an agent of peace. You’ll pardon me for having to take some time to figure out what that means.” He laughed some more.

She closed her eyes, and tilted her head down respectfully.

“Now it’s my turn.”

“What?”

“Oh, this was a back and forth. You asked me for something, so now I get to ask for something. What, did you think it was gonna be unfair?”

She sighed. “I should have seen this coming, but you should have warned me.”

“You hadn’t asked me to become an agent of peace yet. I was still an agent of confusion, so I didn’t tell you, because that’s confusing.”

“Whatever, Mithri. Get on with it. I’m sure you already have your idea.”

“Two ideas,” he contended. “You asked me to do two things.”

“No, I asked you to do one thing. I asked for a response to a hypothetical about killing yourself. I never actually said to kill yourself.”

He thought about this for a moment. “I’ll allow it. You’re a smart one.”

“I have three timelines of experience to draw upon,” she said.

“I have more than that. What you asked me to do is very complicated, and it’s not going to come without its mistakes. I’m sure you expect something similar from me, but what I’ve learned over the tens of thousands of years is that sometimes simple is best. So I’m not going to ask you to do anything crazy. It’s even going to be something that you weren’t going to do anyway.”

“Just say it.”

“Kill yourself, and immediately transfer your consciousness to the upgraded organic substrate that Ramses engineered for you.”

“It’s not ready yet. She’s only twelve.”

“Yeah, that’s the joke. I thought you were smart.”

“I thought you were an agent of peace. Death isn’t peace.”

He shrugged. “Grace period.”

She frowned, now looking for a different loophole. There didn’t seem to be anything to that. He specified which substrate, so she couldn’t use some android body while she waited for the body to finish developing.

“I’ll give you one alternative.”

“What’s that?” It was probably going to be something even worse.

“Either start using your own new body right now, or make the rest of your team transfer to their own new organic substrates within the year. That will give me enough time to figure out what you even mean by peace. I’m not confident I have the right definition in mind, since I’ve never done it before.”

That was probably better, not worse. They would all be fifteen by that point, which would almost make them look like adults. The prenatal growth hormones and antibodies that they were currently floating in was the only stuff capable of accelerating their aging safely, and without side effects. It wasn’t something they could just inject into themselves afterwards. If they wanted to age after the transfer process was complete, they would need someone’s time powers. The team would surely understand that this was better than her being stuck as a twelve-year-old. Still, they had a right to know. “Let me speak with them first.”

“You can talk all you want, but the timer has already begun. If you jump to the future, or leave this planet in your ship—which will restore function to your Cassidy cuff—then you’ll have no choice but to switch to the alternative. Either you’re a twelve-year-old by the end of the day, or they’re fifteen by the end of the year.”

So Leona began to run. She wanted as much time as possible to figure this out. “It was nice meeting you, Mithri!” she called back, recalling Leona’s Rules of Time Travel number fifteen, don’t antagonize the antagonist.

“It was nice meeting you too!” he replied.

Leona hooked herself up to the computer, and entered the simulation. Her friends were all there. They looked relieved to finally see her. She explained the situation to them.

“Why can’t we just run?” Olimpia asked.

“I don’t know what he’ll do,” Leona replied. “He may just void the deal, but he may come after us.”

“The answer is obvious,” Angela said. “Just transfer us. We can be fifteen, that’s fine. It’s late enough in the timeline that people will understand.”

“Wait, Ramses, can’t you do something about this?” Marie asked.

“Can I accelerate growth after birth?” Ramses assumed. “With some time, yeah, probably. I didn’t invent this technology. I stand on the shoulders of giants, and none of them ever invented forward aging treatment, because it could be used as a weapon, and not much else.”

Leona nodded. “Mateo, you’ve been quiet.”

“Angela’s right, the answer is obvious. He didn’t tell you that you can transfer your mind to another body. He said you had to kill yourself to do it. I’m not okay with that. What we experienced was awful...necessary, but awful. You managed to avoid it, and I would like to keep it that way.”

This was true. They all died to end up here, and she never had to go through the same trauma; at least not for a while. All things being equal, that was the difference, so by the end of the day, Leona’s most recent body was dead, and she looked as she did when she was twelve.

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Microstory 1637: Wish Fulfillment

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I’ve not said anything about universes that contain a great deal of people with spirit abilities. Mine is like that, but throughout the bulkverse, we’re pretty rare. In any given brane, you might find one or two spirits in all of history. In Genieverse, there are many, though not quite as many as there are here in Voldisilaverse. The Voldisil are complicated in that we never all get together to make decisions. Each one of us tries to do whatever they believe is right, and sometimes that doesn’t work out so well, but we never decided to form some kind of governmental system. The spirits in Genieverse did. They were all born with the ability to find and recognize each other, and in the hopes of creating a better world, chose to found an organization that would utilize their abilities effectively. All spirits here were the same thing, though to varying degrees of success. They called themselves Genies, as you could have guessed, and I’m sure you’ve heard of them, but you probably know them to be slaves, or evil creatures of some kind. The real Genies can’t manipulate reality, or alter the laws of physics, but they can answer people’s prayers. And answering prayers is what they chose to do. They could have charged for their services, using regular currency, or maybe favors, but they wanted it to be fair. They opened their doors to all, and their only rule was that no wish could contradict someone else’s wish, or interfere with someone’s general happiness. Lots of people wanted the person they loved to love them back, but that would violate that other person’s agency, so it was off limits. It’s unclear whether they would be capable of such a thing anyway. They thought this simple restriction was all they would need, but there were problems, of course. It led them to prioritizing certain people over others—usually on a first come, first serve basis—resulting in an unfair system. It also resulted in chaos.

The Genies were powerful, intelligent, and knowledgeable. If two people wanted the same promotion at work, the person who asked for it first would usually be the one to get it, unless the Genies were aware that the second person was better suited. Well, this came with questions, like what were their parameters for job fitness, and what right did they have to circumvent the hiring manager’s decision? They were trying to become gods, while pretending they weren’t trying to be gods, while just making everything worse for everyone. They didn’t have any rules about how many wishes any one person was allotted. They didn’t think too far down the line at possible consequences for their choices. As long as a wish did not pose an immediate threat, and it was within their power, they made it happen. Society fell apart as people became obsessed with making their lives better without actually putting any effort into that goal. They believed as long as they didn’t ask for too much at one time, they would not be denied, and all of their dreams would eventually come true. It became impossible for the Genies to understand the ramifications of their actions. Soon, contradictions were popping up all over the place, and the solutions never really helped, because they always felt unfair as well. In two years, pretty much everyone in the world was unhappy, and there seemed to be no way out. The only reason it took that long was because not everyone believed the Genies were real right away. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter what they did at this point. No one was really wishing for the environment to be healthier throughout all of this, so the Ochivari came through, and wiped them all out, but it was their last successful mission.

Microstory 1466: Drumpf Returns

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For the next five to seven years, things were really rough on Durus. As great as it was that the world was finally changing, it wasn’t a painless process. The Republic did pretty much die overnight, but its replacement didn’t come until much later. After Hokusai Gimura saved two planets from their destruction, the people rose up, and overthrew the administration. The Thicket spearheaded the effort, but people who had thus far had nothing to do with the revolutionary movement were also in on it. It was not a fun time for anyone who was responsible for maintaining the oppressive government. Regardless of how committed—or secretly against—someone was to misogyny, if he was part of the system, he had to go. Citizens rejoiced for about a week, until reality set in, and they realized that they had no idea what they were going to do now. Every system of government until then had been created to replace whatever was already there. Even the Interstitial Chaos was less chaotic than the name would have it sound. But who could lead them? Remanoir Amrit Bax was nowhere to be found. There was no evidence that he had been killed, however, so the assumption was that he was accidentally transferred up to Earth during the Deathspring. Most of the other former primary leaders were also missing, though, so perhaps there was indeed some kind of conspiracy. Only one man came out of the shadows, and promised a brighter future. Former Sekundas Poppet Drumpf started to appear in front of crowds, making people feel like only he could deliver them from uncertainty. He spoke of his past mistakes, and heavily implied that he had just spent the last several years on some kind of walkabout vision quest in the wilderness, even though witnesses reported seeing him all throughout the city this whole time. He talked about the prison of his own mind, and regaled them with stories of breaking himself out of his old prejudices, as one might break free from a real prison. He fancied himself the Nelson Mandela of Durus, which was offensive on so many levels, but no one could trace this claim directly back to him, so in a lot of people’s minds, he was a changed man. People loved him on both sides, which was quite frustrating. He told them he didn’t want to maintain power forever, but until a new democracy could be formed, he might be the only one with the experience to save them. So they did it. They installed him in a new position called Provisor, so he could help them transition to something better, more progressive, more fair. The truth was that he had every intention of holding onto power forever, and not everyone was fooled by his new beginning bullshit. He only lasted two years before the people of Durus had finally had enough of him. The Provisional Government needed someone they could trust.

Microstory 1442: The Interstitial Chaos

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The world was in ruins after the end of the war with the monsters. Not very many people died when you really do the math, and consider all the destruction that occurred. Still, the government was gone, and their protectors were gone. No one knew what ever happened to the source mages. Many believed they were locked away safely in their hidden pocket dimension, but no one had the ability to go up there and check. The majority of the town mages were still around, but they no longer had powers. Jayde Kovac had successfully sucked up nearly all temporal energy, and used it to defeat the time monsters. Had she not succeeded, all would have been lost, because though some of the monsters did manage to survive, they were few and far between, and it seemed they kind of now understood that there was nothing more they could do. They attacked every once in a while over the course of the next several decades, but for the most part, they remained in the remotest parts of the planet, and didn’t bother anyone. For four years, the Durune humans survived, but they were no longer a cohesive civilization. While it would come to be known as the Interstitial Chaos, the survivors didn’t initially call it anything. It wasn’t considered chaos until later, when history reflected on how life was at the time. In reality, it was a recovery period, where there was no government, but people still worked to rebuild, and find their purpose in a world without monsters or mages. Besides the military establishments, which once sat closest to the monster portal ring, none of the towns were completely destroyed. Enough of each was left standing to justify repairing the buildings, but they would never return to their former glory. People stuck to their respective towns for the most part—excepting those who couldn’t—though they did conduct the occasional trading. Hidden Depths had good mushrooms, and Hardtland good fruits, for instance. Not every town could survive, though. Distante Remoto was left almost completely standing, but they had relied on time powers for their resources, which no longer existed. The people from there headed out, and found homes elsewhere, but they brought a lot of their building material with them, so they were at least contributing something. Peak Valley also fared pretty well, because they too were harder to access, and their enemies simply never had enough time for more than one attack. Their pipeline was damaged, but not beyond repair. There were no internal conflicts, really; at least nothing major. If someone took something from you, you either took it back, or took from someone else. This sounds like it would only lead to true chaos, but the chain always eventually broke, as soon as someone was robbed who just didn’t care anymore. What the people living during this time didn’t realize was that things could indeed get worse from here. They were absolutely not at their lowest. That wouldn’t come until their greatest hope became their worst nightmare.

Microstory 1438: The Penultimate Towns

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Shieldon was the last town they built on Durus that had any special characteristic that could be used to describe it, in contrast to all others. The thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth towns, which were named Milton, Bristol, and, Tidsdel, respectively, were built in 2084, 2086, and 2088, respectively. These three only had a few years in them before the Mage Protectorate fell—not to the war with the monsters—but the end of the war; the final battle. After Shieldon put up their protective barrier, everyone sort of agreed that there were no more new ideas. Except for Astau, there really weren’t any towns that actually followed the standard model. The source mages envisioned a world where they created a town’s mages, and those mages would protect that town’s borders. The unique ideas to add an extra layer for safety and security all came later, during the planning stages of each. Milton, Bristol, and Tidsdel were made to be simple. They were just places that people could live, and be happy, as they would have on Earth. It would ultimately be a relief that they didn’t waste energy trying to figure out how to make these towns special. Society collapsed into chaos shortly thereafter. Of course, they didn’t know this. They just thought that the world was becoming more normal. If they could make Durus look more like Earth, then that could only be a good thing. This desire spoke to the innate goodness in the Earthan way of life, at least when it was at its best. Almost none of the people alive in the 2080s were also around early enough to recall their world of origin. Only Ecrin was old enough to have been there, but she was very young at the time, so she didn’t know too terribly much about it. Still, they read about it in the books that made it through the Deathfall portal, and even though few were conscious about it, that always seemed like their goal. These three towns were finally it. In fact, people were now starting to believe that these would be some of the last towns ever. Back on Earth, that was how a civilization began. Settlements started out small, and expanded from there. At some point in the future, Durus would probably have a city of its own. Some even believed it was only a matter of time before they figured out how to contact Earth, so people could come and go as they pleased. That would turn humanity into a real interstellar species. Sadly, this was not in the cards for them, or rather, it would not be for a very, very long time.

Microstory 1413: King Trashcan

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In the beginning, there was chaos in Springfield, Kansas, Durus. The mayor died immediately, and the council was in shambles. There was no one to lead the survivors; at least no one willing to do it who could command the people effectively. This was the truth as a blacksmith whose real name has never been important saw it. The reality was that Councilwoman Hardt was a military brat who followed in her parents’ footsteps. So she knew how to stay calm in a desperate situation. She was fully prepared to remain in charge of the town while they figured out how to survive in this dangerous new world. Smith had other plans. Being a leader was not in his nature. He was a simple worker who was leading a simple life when the Deathfall happened. He had never set his sights on public service, which made sense, because he never did serve the public. He was selfish, manipulative, and entitled. He didn’t care about the town, or even about maintaining his power. He was just sick of living in his crappy studio apartment, and wanted to spend his days in luxury. Taking charge was the only way to do that now. There was no more money, and no more order. If you wanted something, you had to take it, and be prepared to go up against anyone who stood in your way. Fortunately for him, most of the townsfolk did not see this as their situation. They were horrified and exhausted, but they felt the best way to get through it was to work together. To them, no money meant that everyone was on the same level now. Their naïveté made it easier for Smith to walk all over them, and be the only one willing to do whatever it took to stay on top. He wasn’t particularly intelligent, and he didn’t really ever have any kind of master plan. He just kept trying to take as much as he possibly could while pretending to have everyone else’s best interest at heart. He was good at putting on a show, and even when people pointed out his hypocrisy, there was nothing they could do about it. He appealed to the audience that first started listening to him; the ones that were the most distrustful of Hardt already. Not surprisingly, his most loyal followers were composed of nearly all men. They took the town through passive-aggressive threats, rather than identifiable force. And when someone tried to call them out on it, they lobbed these feelings right back in the detractor’s direction, gaslighting everyone nearby into thinking this person was the crazy one. Most did not care for his rule, and would have rather seen someone like Hardt keep them safe instead, but rising against the establishment was difficult, and prone to failure. His loyalists called him President. His critics called him a tyrant. But history would know him as the worst leader Durus ever saw. He was universally hated, even by the misogynists of later years. He was King Trashcan, and this was the beginning of the despotocratic Smithtatorship.