The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 6, 2519

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The honeymoon was going well. After horsing around in Mud World: World of Mud for a little while, Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia spent the night in the Sovereign Suite of the Palacium Hotel, which was pretty much the most extravagant, opulent place to stay on the planet. Hrockas actually booked it for them for more than a year, so they could sleep across midnight central, and not worry about anyone having used it during their interim year. It was too much, and completely unnecessary, but he insisted. While it was luxurious and beautiful, people really didn’t need such things these days. They mostly came for the fun and adventure, and to do things that they could not do anywhere else. The majority of the residential dwellings were functional and unremarkable, because it wasn’t a big draw for anyone, and there were plenty of nice places to live on other planets.

They were currently hanging out in State of the Art, standing on the shoulder of one of the gargantuan statues that towered over the skyline. Visitors couldn’t typically climb this high up, but teleporters didn’t share such limitations. They were trying to figure out what they were going to do next. The others on the team were right. They needed this, and if they would deign to admit it to themselves, they deserved it too.

“Adrenadome?” Olimpia suggested. They were each looking through the catalog, and tossing out ideas.

“I don’t want to shift substrates,” Leona said. “Nothing life-threatning.”

Olimpia clicked her teeth as she began to swipe away the options she had bookmarked one by one.

“We should just go to Polar Tropica,” Mateo said for the umpteenth time.

“That’s so basic,” Olimpia contended. “Are we basic?”

“Well, I suggested we try the Outer System space battle simulations, but no one wanted anything violent,” Mateo reminded her.

“Still don’t,” Leona confirmed. “Whoa,” she added, looking down at her forearm output.

“What? Something juicy?” Olimpia asked, trying to look over at her readout.

Leona read the message out loud, “you have been browsing the catalog for a while now. Still having trouble deciding? Tap here for a random suggestion, which will come from your preference algorithm. If you linked your profile with nearby friends, this suggestion will be sourced from their interest surveys as well.”

“Tap on that thang!” Mateo said.

Leona shrugged and tapped on the button. A new message popped up that read, temporal signatures detected. Rerouting. Instead of just producing the answer, they were automatically teleported elsewhere.

They found themselves standing next to a wooden wall. It wasn’t cleanly cut, but looked more like bark. The air was foggy and unbreathable. A heavy rain was falling upon them. They activated their EmergentSuits, and continued to look around. “Wow. That could have killed us,” Olimpia said.

“Must be an experimental feature,” Leona mused. “Jesimula Utkin suggested it at a meeting once. Hrockas wasn’t so sure, because he didn’t know how to distinguish time travelers from regular people. I guess they think they figured it out.”

“Not really,” Mateo contended. “The air is toxic. Unless it also knew that we had suits on, I guess.”

“It’s only toxic for us,” Leona agreed. She ran her hand over the wood wall. She reached over to her arm screen, and flicked the data over to her heads up display, which was an easier way to read when her helmet was on. “Derudome. It houses The World Tree, along with thousands of others, but this one is set to reach the top of the dome, and be three kilometers in diameter.”

“So, it’s not a wall,” Mateo stated the obvious.

“No. This isn’t even in the catalog yet,” Leona went on. “I can only see the prospectus because we’re already in the dome, and the satnav found an otherwise hidden link, but it isn’t open to visitors.”

“First!” Mateo shouted playfully.

“Hey, Thistle,” Leona began. “Erase the fog and rain through multispectral imaging. Show us the tree alone.”

The image on their HUDs changed. The fog still had them enveloped, and they could still hear the pitter-patter of rainwater on their suits, but they could now see what the tree would look like on a clear day. It was a magnificent sight to behold. People were really going to love it. Leona was in just as much awe of it, but was also running calculations through her head. How could such a thing be possible? How did it grow so fast? Did Hrockas use time tech? Or had he been working on this longer than she realized? No, even if it was the absolute first dome he started working on, the tree could not be at full height in this short amount of time. And if time tech were involved, he likely would have conscripted Ramses to make it happen.

Leona refocused her vision to the HUD text. “There’s more. It has a planned release date of...” She trailed off.

“When?” Mateo prompted.

“Year 2900,” she said.

“Whew, that’s the long-game,” Olimpia pointed out.

“Wait. Why wait?” Leona questioned. “Thistle, what are the current dimensions?”

“Nearly eight kilometers tall, with a diameter of two-point-four-two kilometers.”

“Yeah, it’s just not ready yet,” Leona determined. “The math is tight, but the rate of growth doesn’t break the laws of physics in a highly controlled environment such as this one.”

Someone else wearing an environmental suit walked up from a couple of meters away, letting themselves appear in the honeymooners’ sightlines without speaking or jumpscaring them first. Whoever it was, their visor was opaque. They held one hand towards Olimpia while the other hand was underneath their own chin. Both palms were face up. They drew both hands together until one was on top of the other, then turned them so both palms were face down. They then extended their hands back to the original positions, except with the hands switched. This was the universal sign for open up radio communications on a hailing frequency.

Leona did as she was asked. “Hello?”

“Sorry, my visor is broken,” Hrockas’ voice came through. “I refuse to wear an IMS on this planet on principle as the whole premise is that it’s infinitely survivable. I didn’t realize the helmet didn’t work right until it was already on.”

“How did you get here so fast?” Mateo asked him.

“I have a teleporter belt,” Hrockas replied. “Ramses built one for me. It needs constant charging, but it makes my daily life easier. Is he here?”

“Just the three of us,” Olimpia promised.

“Good. Not that I wouldn’t want him here. Well, I don’t plan on any of you being here. It’s just that I was worried about my lifesign sensors, but it appears they captured all visitors. You really aren’t meant to be here, though.”

“The auto random selector dispatched us here,” Leona explained.

“Oooooooohh, I forgot about that. It should not have been activated. I’ll have a talk with Jesi’s friend about it. I put the project on hold indefinitely.”

“Fair enough,” Mateo said. “We’re sorry to have imposed.”

“No, it’s okay, you three are fine,” Hrockas insisted. “I just need to include it when we update the security protocols.” He looked up at the tree. He likely couldn’t see it in all its glory, however, as the fog would be blocking most of the view. “Wady’all think?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Leona said. “We were looking for a place to spend some of our honeymoon. This place checks a lot of boxes. I like ecologies. Mateo likes water. Olimpia likes dangerous or toxic environments.”

Hrockas chuckled. “The air is saturated with carbon dioxide. Makes them grow faster.”

“So there are other trees here?” Olimpia pressed.

“Oh, yeah, it’ll be a whole forest when it’s done,” Hrockas said as he turned at the waist to indicate the area in general. “Land for giants, but not with giants. I’ll leave that to Gulliver’s World.”

“Thanks for letting us see it,” Leona said graciously. “I’m sure we’ll be back in about four hundred days, when it’s finally open to the public.”

Hrockas chuckled again. “You can stay as long as you want. The fog makes it hard to see, but hey, if you’re into that, as well as danger, you could always try Foggy Forest.”

“Thanks. After my time in Bloodbourne,” Mateo said, “I’ve decided to stay away from the intentionally scary or unsettling ones.”

“I understand. Have a good rest of your honeymoon.” Hrockas tried to tug on a pull actuator, and flip a switch on his shoulder. “Oh, shit. My teleporter’s drained again.”

“Here.” Mateo approached. “Let me take you to Treasure Hunting Dome, so Ramses can fix it for you. It shouldn’t drain that fast.”

“No, I’ve been using it all day. I really just need to be careful with it.”

“Well, I’ll make him give you a second one during charge cycles, or hell, a third.” Mateo took hold of Hrockas and took them both away. Leona and Olimpia followed.

They were standing in the antechamber to Ramses’ new lab, which he built when he was stuck in the past for a year. After they went through decontamination, the three EmergentSuit wearers receded their nanites, and stepped into the lab. While Olimpia was helping Hrockas remove his bulky suit, Mateo approached Ramses. Something caught his eye, though. He looked over at a gestational pod, which Romana was floating inside of. He fumed. “What happened to my daughter?”

“She’s fine,” Ramses said. “She’s taking a nap. That’s not your daughter. It’s a new substrate for her.”

“Why would she need a new substrate?” Mateo questioned.

“The retroverters,” Ramses began to explain. “They’re not proverters too. Romana asked me to give her an upgrade instead of waiting for time to age her back up.”

“We can find her a proverter somewhere else,” Mateo reasoned.

“That’s not what she wants. You should talk to her.”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Yeah, when you got back. Why are you back so early?”

“It was just a quick detour in between adventures. Now I worry I should stay, or you’ll do something drastic.”

“Mateo. We were going to tell you. We just wanted you to relax first. Don’t make this into a thing.”

“Well, you’ve obviously been working on it for a long time now. She only looks as old as the real Romana does right now.”

“That is on an accelerated timescale,” Ramses clarified.

“I thought that wasn’t safe or stable.”

“I mean, the clone is in a time bubble. Or it usually is, while I’m not here. It’s developing at a normal rate, but from our perspective, it’s sped up. I shut off the temporal field this morning so I could run diagnostics, and make any adjustments necessary...which there aren’t any.”

This made Mateo even more frustrated. “Why can’t you just do that for Romana herself, keeping her in her original body?”

Ramses shook his head. “You’re not as dumb as you pretend to be, so stop asking stupid questions. It wouldn’t work for a conscious individual. She would go insane, trapped in the pod for ten plus years. God!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mediator Leona said, stepping in. “Ramses, don’t be mean. Not everyone is as smart as you, and I know you get annoyed, but you need to keep control of how you speak to others. What might seem like a dumb question to you could sound perfectly reasonable to anyone else.” She too was a genius, but a part of her wasn’t. She recalled a timeline where she majored in Film Studies in college. This gave her a rare ability to straddle both worlds, and be empathetic to all. “Mateo, Romana is an adult, and this decision was inevitable. Look around. Nobody on this planet is a regular mortal being. Some people refused transhumanistic upgrades once they became available, and you know what happened to them? They died. Because that’s literally what they wanted. Their race has all but died out at this point, because fewer in each generation choose to stay as they were when they were born.”

“I know,” Mateo responded. “Intellectually, I know. I just can’t help but see her as my little girl. I never got to raise her. I think I would give her all the room in the universe if I watched her grow up, making small decisions on her own at first, before working her way up to the life-changing ones.”

“Yeah, and that wasn’t fair for you, but at the same time, it’s not fair of you to expect her to let you treat her as a child.”

Mateo said. “I know that too.”

“This wasn’t a rash decision,” little Romana said from the doorway. “I always wanted to be like you. My whole life, I’ve wanted to be like you. I grew up with stories. This...Ashvin thing was just the catalyst that pushed me to finally go through with it. I want this.”

“It’ll be ready in a couple days,” Ramses said.

“Did you hear that, dad? Plenty of time to go back to your honeymoon. I promise, when you return, I’ll still look like a child. I won’t transfer without you present.”

Mateo nodded. “Okay.”

When Mateo showed up the next day, still in the middle of the honeymoon, Romana no longer looked like a kid. She didn’t look like herself at all.

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Extremus: Year 107

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Tinaya decided to not tell Arqut, Silveon, or Audrey about the post-death asteroid that could be waiting for them once they finally leave the ship at the end of their first life. It isn’t something they need to be worried about for now. They still don’t talk to Audrey a whole lot, because it’s riskier than ever, but not impossible. Waldemar isn’t the least bit suspicious, and he’s not all that possessive. He sees Audrey and his friends as props. He really doesn’t care what these props do when they’re not busy making him look like a normal, well-adjusted person fit for leadership. While he ended up announcing his engagement instead of declaring his intentions to restore the civilian Chair system, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t plan on doing that eventually. He holds secret meetings all the time, with all sorts of people, some of whom have obvious political connections on this ship, others who seem unremarkable and inconsequential.

They don’t have time to worry about that today, and won’t for a good long while. Everyone else has become quite preoccupied with the upcoming event.  It’s the halfway mark. The thing to remember about this mission is that the outcome is, by definition, unknown. No one has ventured out to space this far, and they have definitely not gone as far as Extremus eventually will. The mystery is part of the experience, which they all hope their descendants will appreciate, and not resent them for it. The idea of it taking 216 years has always been more of an estimate than anything. There is no clear boundary forming the edge of the galaxy. The galactic halo alone makes it undefined, and with there being plenty of stars in the intergalactic voids anyway, there really is no standard scope of the Milky Way. Someone—no one seems to remember who—supposedly chose the duration to be 216 years simply because they liked the number. It’s impossible to verify that since the figure predates any serious discussion their ancestors made regarding the Extremus mission itself. It wasn’t like some fabled “founder” stood before the cameras, and unveiled a fully baked idea to travel across the galaxy. People started murmuring about it first, with different concepts being bounced around until landing on this one. It was a years-long process.

So basically, July 17, 2378 is only halfway between their starting date and their ending date because they had to make some sort of plan, even if it was always going to be subject to change. It definitely will change, because statistically speaking, there is almost no way that their 215th anniversary rolls around, and they happen to find a viable planet on that very day. Which is okay, because there is also no way that they let this nebulousness stop them from celebrating. Not even the Bridger section knows what happens at the end of the target deadline. It’s written into the charter that no one possesses knowledge about the future that far in advance. They could have hypothetically asked a seer to warn them of how things would turn out, and craft their plans meticulously to account for every eventuality, but that would have gone against the spirit of the endeavor. They don’t want to know what they’ll find, because then what’s the point of looking for it?

They’re arguing. Well, Tinaya isn’t arguing. The council members are arguing with each other while she, Lataran, and Oceanus sit in silence. Their first issue? The theme. What will the theme of the party be? Well, hopefully nothing, because that’s a little childish. Plus, there is no single area on this ship where every passenger and crewmember can congregate. The Attic Forest might be big enough, but there are hills, trees, and other vegetation blocking views, so it’s not a great place if you want to have some kind of presentation or performance. Plus, Tinaya really doesn’t want all those people in her forest all at once, trashing the place. There will be multiple gatherings, some happening at the same time, some happening on different dates. The exact date of July 17 is important, but they’ll be doing things in the weeks leading up to it, and probably after it too. The council will decide on some of them, but passengers can party whenever they want, for pretty much any reason, so other events will be unaffiliated.

Oceanus has clearly grown weary of all this back and forth, but the expression on his face isn’t enough to clarify what’s going on in his head. Not even when he blurts out; “a committee!”

“What?” Councilman Linwood questions.

“Why are you handling this?” Oceanus questions. “You’re the council for the ship, made up of crew and civilian policymakers. You have important business to attend to. Why are you wasting your time on a party?” Hm. It’s not just about the pointlessness of this particular debate.

There is silence for a moment. “You may leave if you wish, Captain,” Head Councillor Spalden says to him. “This is not a mandatory meeting.”

“It’s not just me,” Oceanus begins. “Yes, I’m too busy for this, but what I’m trying to tell you is that you are as well. I’m not saying that members of the council can’t also be part of the party planning committee, or whatever you wanna call it, but it should not be taking up all of your time. This is a different subject of discussion, and therefore requires different voices. Let’s open it up, and invite others to join. Meanwhile, you can move on to more crucial concerns.”

“Would you want to be on it?” Spalden asks.

“Absolutely not,” Oceanus retorts. “I don’t care.” He gives the side eye to Tinaya and Lataran. “The war is my current worry.” The Admirals are aware that there is a war against the Exin Empire, and that it is being fought by the Verdemusians, in whatever capacity they are able. They are not, however, privy to current operational details. It’s not technically relevant to the ship, and more of a diplomatic problem, so they don’t need to know. It sounds like something happened, or is happening, which has Captain Jennings anxious. They’re both curious to learn what that might be, but not entitled to any such answers. “With all due respect,” he adds.

“We recognize, appreciate, and understand the duties of the Captain,” Spalden says, “which is why I invited you to leave, and return to your post. There will be no hard feelings here. The Halfway Party is vital to keeping passengers enthusiastic about our mission, and to pass this enthusiasm down to the next generations. It is not frivolous. It is not irrelevant. It is vital to our survival as a people, and for that reason, I must insist on maintaining our commitment to the matter. Thank you very much.”

“He’s not saying that it’s not important,” Councilwoman Flowers defends. “He’s not even saying that we shouldn’t have any input. He’s arguing that we were elected to manage the safe, secure, and prosperous transportation of our passengers across the galaxy. Our obligation to them covers all matters, as well as ship morale. As morale is but a subset of our duties, perhaps a more focused committee is in order. Not only do we have other issues to deal with, but including people who are not on the council in the decision-making process would actually aid in our endeavor to boost ship morale itself.”

Head Councillor Spalden squirms in his seat. It’s becoming apparent that the issue is not that he wants the council to be solely in charge of it. It’s that he wants to personally be in charge of it.

Tinaya stands. “I move for the creation of an official Party Planning Committee, to be responsible for the Halfway Celebration, as well as any other state-sponsored festivities, which may be conceived of in the future. I would like to include in this motion a provision that Head Councillor Spalden be installed as the first Premier Facilitator of the PPC...final name to be determined by the selected Premier Facilitator.”

“Seconded,” Lataran says.

As Head Councillor Spalden is being called in this motion, he is unable to be involved in any way. He can’t even be present for a vote. Councilman Linwood stands. “Motion is engaged. All other business on the agenda are tabled until further notice. Discussion on new order will be open as soon as Head Councillor Spalden excuses himself.”

Spalden stands, and holds back his excitement. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. They’re all picking up on how he feels, and there’s little chance that they won’t let him do it. Oceanus isn’t the only one who doesn’t care what happens to the celebrations; he’s just the only one in a position to vocalize his apathy.

As Spalden is leaving, Councilman Linwood turns his attention to Tinaya and Lataran. “Admirals, as non-voting members, please excuse yourselves as well.”

Lataran points finger guns at him, winks, and clicks her tongue just before she disappears.

Tinaya nods at the council. “With respect to the Dais,” she says, which is the right way to leave these chambers. She walks out manually.

Lataran didn’t teleport too far. She’s waiting for Tinaya on the other side of the doors. “Anything interesting happen after I left?” she jokes.

“I’ve not asked in a while. How’s Sable?” Tinaya asks as they start walking down the corridor together.

“She’s good. Knows what she wants to do with her life already.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m glad we were able to get out of that meeting early, because there’s something you should see, and earlier is better than later.”

“Okay...”

They continue to walk instead of jumping right to their destination. It’s apparently not all that urgent. Lataran exudes a sense of calm and reserved excitement, rather than anxiety or fear. This thing that she wants Tinaya to see must not be bad. That still doesn’t tell her what it could possibly be, though. They take the elevator all the way up to the top level. It’s evidently something in the Attic Forest. Lataran continues to lead her between the trees and bushes until they can see a group of children. Sable is one of them, but Tinaya doesn’t know any others since her own son has aged out of this demographic.

“This is her Enrichment class,” Lataran explains. Enrichment is a vital component of children’s education. It typically includes studies that are not, strictly speaking, necessary for the continuation of the mission. No science, no engineering, no Earth studies. It’s about art, music, and other creative activities. It’s a generic term at this age. If a student decides to pursue a career in one of these fields, the course options will narrow later on.

One of the kids notices that the Admirals have arrived, and starts spreading the news. They were standing in random spots before, but now clump together in a vaguely orderly fashion. Off to the side, a white sheet hangs over the trail between two trees, which is perhaps ready for an image to be projected upon it? Once Tinaya and Lataran step fully into the clearing, the performance begins. In their best attempt at unison, they cry, “thank you, Admiral Leithe!” They then sing a song, which seems to be wholly original. It’s not a literal interpretation about the past, but is essentially about a cold, lifeless ship being turned into a lush garden full of joy and calm, where all the children can laugh and play. It’s about the forest. It’s about her.

After the son is over, seven-year-old Sable separates herself from the group, clearly intentionally, and as rehearsed. She reaches up and tries to take hold of the corner of the white sheet, but she’s too short. “The stool!” she complains, looking around on the ground. In lieu of looking for the stool, one of the older boys picks her up by the waist so she can get the sheet. She pulls it off of the hook, and lets it drop. On the other side is a garden. Of course there’s vegetation all around, but this is a distinct section, surrounded by stone pavers. The flowers planted here are some of the most vibrant and delicate, such as zinnias, carnations, and blue alyssum. There’s a small water fixture on a small retaining wall. The water splashes into a tiny pond, which spills over the edge of the lower retaining wall, and into a tiny creek that disappears around the corner.

Tinaya tears up when she notices one last thing. On a wooden sign on a wooden post are the words, Leithe Gardens.

“They’ve been working on this for months,” Lataran explains. “Sable only fessed up when I grilled her for coming home late two weeks ago.”

“Oh, boys and girls,” Tinaya says. “Thank you. This is so sweet of you.” It’s nice, after all this heartache—with Waldemar, and baby Silvia, and just everything—to see something so pure and delightful. As a leader, she’s had to endure all too much danger and drama. It’s great to be reminded that life is about happiness, and they’re flying through the black in the search of that; not war or political intrigue. The thought and care that went into creating this masterpiece shows that it is possible to find harmony, and to build a society based on love and community.

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Microstory 2487: Skilldome

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I don’t want to speak for you, but I’m guessing that your life is pretty easy. Everything you need is handed to you, along with a few things that you might just want. There are those who spend their whole lives holed up in their modules, connected to VR or the network. Dayfruit growers provide them with food. Drones deliver their feedstock. Their electricity and water is piped in, and their waste is shipped out. Their personal robot does all their work. I’m not criticising people who live like this. This is just a preamble so you’ll understand what purpose Skilldome serves. So many things that you may or may not take for granted were either not cheap for our ancestors, hardly available, or outright didn’t exist. Obviously, different time periods came with different limitations, and over the years, there are skills that we’ve lost to automation, and engineered simplicity. I’m not saying that you’ll become a better person if you learn how to drive a car with your hands and feet. I’m just telling you that the skill is something that this dome offers. You can also learn how to churn butter, command an animal to plow a field, or write something down with a pencil and paper. It’s hard to describe what these activities are, since there’s such a broad range, but it’s basically everything that people used to have to do to be productive that we don’t anymore. To be sure, there are some things that still hold some merit in our world. You might not have access to a medpod or healing nanites, even today, so knowing how to perform first aid is one of those skills that some people have maintained anyway. But for those of us whose minds it didn’t cross to do it before, if you’re on Castlebourne, come on down and take a class. As far as skills that are less practical in the synthetic era go, like stuffing mail in envelopes, or coding a program in an obsolete computer language called C++, you can do it just for fun, or to have a greater appreciation for modern living. Or come up with your own reasons. There are no requirements on what you have to do when you come here, but if you do come, and you do choose a particular skill, it is asked of you to use the tools you are given, and not “cheat”. If you’re taking a math test, only use one of those old basic calculators that they will provide you with. Don’t just ask an AI to do it for you. That defeats the purpose. I actually saw a guy do this, which was so stupid, because no one was making him take this otherwise pointless test. What you get out of coming here is entirely up to you. Ain’t nobody gonna hold your hand. Nor should they have to.

Microstory 2261: Call Her My Baby

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My license situation in this country, on this planet, has been complicated, to say the least. I do have an identity, though officially, I am not considered an alien from outer space. It doesn’t matter how many people believe me, or even if all the world leaders do, bureaucratic documentation simply does not have a box for that on any of the forms. So anyway, while I was technically certified as a driver here, I was only rated for a normal combustion engine. It required learning a lot more maintenance than I cared to know. I would much rather take it in to a professional, and have them deal with it. Mechanics has never been a strength for me, and more importantly, not an interest. Of course, electric vehicles being what they are, require a different kind of maintenance. It wasn’t easier or harder; just different. I had to go into the dealership, and take a little class, which included a written portion, and practical instruction. Then I had to take a test immediately afterwards. It was a sort of all-day affair, but they conduct these all the time, so there were about two dozen people with me. Most people were bored, because they were a lot more prepared than me, and they were more used to driving over all. I needed a refresher on operating motor vehicles anyway, since it’s been quite a while for me I think. I know I did it a little bit in Havenverse, but we mostly tried to walk or bike, since electric cars weren’t as prevalent there as we would have liked. We couldn’t afford one anyway. So that being done, I was able to finish the paperwork for my purchase, and take my new car home. You’ll notice that I did not refer to it as a she, or call her my baby. This is a machine that I need to get myself around, not a living member of the family. And it’s not just for fun. It’s a tool, to make our lives more convenient in a medium-sized city with some metropolitan sprawl. After Kelly and Dutch take their own classes, they’ll be able to use it too.

Microstory 2221: Advocating For My Patient

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We had an uncomfortable meeting at the hospital. Some people who will not be named have expressed interest in keeping Nick there for the duration of the rest of his short life. They believe that I will not be able to provide him the care that he deserves to be safe, healthy, and happy. Let’s start at the end with that. Nick is happy where he is, and he’s the only one in the world qualified to determine what will keep him that way. He’s not healthy, and he’s never going to be healthy; he’s dying! I know, they’re worried about secondary infections, but let me tell you, that apartment is clean. He kept it clean before I got there, and I keep it clean now. Both of us understand the importance of sanitation, and avoiding cross-contamination. Hospitals are full of other sick people, many of whom can’t do all that much to keep themselves and their spaces clean. I would argue that the apartment is better than that, because we can keep him contained, and separated from anyone who isn’t up to our standards. There are too many others in a facility. Lastly, safe? What do you mean, safe? I know what they mean. They think that his fans are going to come clamoring to see him—for autographs, selfies, or just to get in the way. But you wouldn’t do that, would you? You respect his safety, his privacy, and his need to keep his distance, right? Anyway, I argued my little heart out, advocating for my patient to the best of my ability, and in the end, we won out. We won, because this is the patient’s decision, and he wants to stay where he feels comfortable. At this point in the progression of this awful disease, that’s pretty much all he can ask for. As I’ve been saying, this is terminal, and the prognosis is short. Even if he succumbs to a new infection, it’s not like he was going to live a long and joyous life without it. Now I have another fight ahead of me, but it may not be up to Nick, or he may not care anyway. As you know, he’s my first patient since graduating from my Lifecare Assistant class, and passing the exam. The hospital, and the agency, are considering replacing me with someone with more experience. I can’t say that I can blame them for believing that I’m not ready for this kind of responsibility, but I one hundred percent am. I want to see this to the end, and I hope that Nick feels the same way. We’ll have to see how that goes.

Microstory 2198: Not My Business to Reveal

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I have a bunch of training to do, which I’ve been putting off while I do my actual job. I had other jobs during my life on my old Earth, and a lot of them required that we take classes. The first one I had as a lifeguard had in-service courses that we took while the pool was closed. Since then, jobs have mostly relied on online solutions. I used to like to do these quickly, so I could get them out of the way, but not this time, because I’ve been so busy. I don’t want to badmouth my organization, but you don’t have to remind me every few months to not sell my clients’ data. I don’t really talk about it, but every post I write now is being approved by the legal departments both at my company, and at the jail. That’s why they’re being uploaded later than they used to be, because it takes more time now. They understand that I can’t wait days for a daily blog post to be approved and ready, so they try to get to it right away, but this isn’t their only responsibility, so it can experience delays. The point is, even if I wanted to say something that they didn’t want me to, they wouldn’t allow it. I know, the training is important, but there’s a reason why I’m only getting to it right now, because my current staff has to do their own coursework anyway before we get too deep into the real work. I only did one bit of major work today, but that didn’t take long either. One of my new hires had to drop out for reasons that are not my business to reveal. They hadn’t started yet, so at least I won’t have to conduct the exit interview or paperwork. I will have to find someone to replace them, but it’s all right. We’re going to be able to get through this. I didn’t think that we would make it all the way without issue, which is why it’s standard practice to interview a number of people for one position. I’m not mad, and I don’t think anyone else in my company is. It happens; life, that is. Speaking of which, I better get back to mine. I need to finish this post up tout de suite, so I can get it down the pipeline.

Microstory 2188: Trust in Other People

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Thank you for being patient with me yesterday. How easy it is for us to forget the lessons of our youth. I’ve been trying to take on too much work for one person, and it’s had a negative impact on my well-being so I need to learn to lean on others. Or rather, I need to relearn it, because I already figured it out during college. I was taking a class in the linguistics department called Semantics, but I wasn’t working very hard at it. I didn’t go to class unless a classmate was presenting—because I wanted to show them respect—or if there was a test. I was at a high risk of failing when I discovered that some of my classmates were regularly meeting for a study group. I’ve joked that the TV series Community was probably based on them. Lol, you don’t know what I’m talking about, but that would be really funny if it were true. I wouldn’t know, because I never attended the meetings. I wasn’t invited. They did let me use the study guide that they had curated for the open note exam at the end of the semester. I aced that test, and passed the class with a C. I didn’t learn much about semantics, but I did learn everything I needed to know about humanity. I learned to trust in other people’s expertise, and their efforts. People are basically good, and they’re just trying to do the right thing, so don’t assume the worst in them, or try to take advantage. Share knowledge, and help when you can. You never know when a friend will come in handy. I won’t ever forget that again.

Microstory 2149: A Million of Anything

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As you might have deduced from the title, I’ve reached one million readers. Is that right? Is it deduce, or is it induce? I’ve heard that deduction comes from removing all wrong answers, but that’s probably wrong, and I really don’t know what induction is. Here’s the thing, I have a pretty decent vocabulary, but there are still some concepts that I struggle with. I’m also very logical, but I’ve also always particularly struggled with explaining my logic through accepted standardized terms, like straw man or if and then. I can tell you my logic, but I’m not going to sound very smart while I do it, and I’ll stumble over all of my words on my way there. In seventh grade, I was failing English class. We were on a topic called Greek and Latin Roots and Stems. I was paying so little attention that I didn’t even know what that meant. I’m sure I was daydreaming a lot. I didn’t crack open my workbook once, and in fact, would just leave it in my locker. We had a test the next day so I actually had to call a classmate, who gave me hers to photocopy. It was kind of late at night, and really weird, and humiliating, and my dad was angry with me for it, because like I said, it was twelve or thirteen, so he had to help me with everything. So anyway, I got the workbook, and started looking through it, and I’m like, “this? This is what my teacher has been talking about? I know all this. It says that -ing means continuous action, because of course it does. This is why my teacher called my parents, and got me in trouble?” Needless to say, now that I understood what I was missing, I aced the test, and ended up with one of the highest grades of all classes combined. So I’m pretty good at language.

Still, it’s still not clear to me how you induce something, at least not in any practical sense, and my definition of deduction may come from my strong sense of linguistic morphology, not from how the word is actually used in this subject. I remember intuiting that the word division meant separating objects in half when I was a toddler, which misses the fact that it’s not always by half specifically. Why am I talking about this? Oh yeah, a million readers. A million people read my stories now. Well, a million unique IP addresses access my website on a regular basis. I think it goes by the month, but it’s the middle of May now, so is that based on April’s metrics, or is it just from thirty days ago to now? I’m not entirely sure how to read this section of the blog service. Whatever, I’ll take it, I trust the analytics. For years, this is what I wanted, for people to read my stuff, and to keep coming back for more. I’ve never been great at non-fiction, so I didn’t think it would turn out like this, but I guess I didn’t think I would travel to a different world either. Or different worlds, as it were. I wonder how many readers I would be able to get if people in all of the universes that I’ve been to could navigate to the site as well. That would be a lofty goal, and I should really just be focusing on what’s here and now. Thank you. Thank you for reading. I’m sure my alternate self on my homeworld is super envious of me right now. Oh yeah, he’s pissed. I can feel it. His readership still sits at approximately zero. He would take a million of anything if it also meant a million readers, even slaps in the face. I’m not going to celebrate this milestone, because I have a binge eating disorder, which is triggered by the mentality that positive events should be marked with food, but I’m glad anyway. Let’s see how long it takes to get to two million, and then after that, I think the next one should be five billion?

Microstory 2076: About My Weaknesses

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Obviously, since it’s winter, most of the work we do at the nursery has been in the greenhouses, but that’s not all we can do. Apparently, since there are fewer customers, we’ll be spending a lot of time cleaning, and doing inventory. When I first started, the weather was unseasonably warm, so I was able to get a taste of what it’s like in the spring, but now that the temperature is dropping again, things have started to slow down, at least in terms of customer service. Like I said, there’s plenty to do, but it’s not as stressful, because there’s not as much of a timing issue. Soon enough, our busiest time of year will begin, and I’m getting anxious about it. They do a lot of workshops here, to teach the public about how to care for plants, and which ones to choose for their needs or wants. I can learn all I want about the industry, but I’ll never be good at teaching others about it. I come from a family of teachers, including my paternal grandparents, my aunt, my father, and my sister. I was not born with that gene. I just don’t explain things well, and I have such a shoddy memory that I forget whether I’ve said something already. More often than not, though, that doesn’t result in me repeating myself. I end up skipping crucial information instead because I think I’ve already said it. Then the whole thing just doesn’t make any sense. I was clear with the boss about my weaknesses, though, so I think they’re just going to keep me away from the students. At least I hope that I was clear. Maybe I skipped over crucial information. And anyway, we don’t have to worry about that quite yet. We’re still in the winter slowdown. Peace out!

Microstory 2075: Her Last Period

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Guys, it was a rough day today. It was even harder than yesterday, but it’s no one’s fault. My boss had a family emergency, and had to leave in the middle of the day. On top of that, the other two people who were meant to work the first shift didn’t show up. One of them was sick, so she called in yesterday evening, which we expected to be fine, because even though I’m the newbie, I’m still an extra hand to keep the ship afloat. The other guy just straight up never came in, and we don’t know why. My boss asked me to keep calling him, but he never picked up. She was worried about him, of course, but she also wasn’t super surprised by his absence, so I think he’s just not all that reliable. I also called everyone else who worked there, which isn’t very many people, but none of them could come except for one girl. She’s still in high school, so she couldn’t be there until after her last period. Well, I actually think she skipped it for me. There was a good four hours where I was the only worker in the whole nursery. Fortunately, for a couple of those hours, one of the regular customers helped me out. She didn’t know how the cash register worked, or any of that behind-the-scenes stuff, but she’s an expert in plants and flowers, so she assisted customers for me, which was absolutely amazing. Such a crazy second day. Not boring at all, I’ll tell you that much. As you can imagine, I’m pretty wiped tonight, so I’m going to sign off now, and get back to you on Monday. I suspect that my next post will be pretty long, since I’ll have to recap four days, including this wild one.

Microstory 2005: South Dakota

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When I was 8 years old, my papa and dad took me to South Dakota to see Mount Rushmore, but this wasn’t the first time that papa went there. He went when he was 11 with his whole sixth grade class. Lots of people who live in that area like to do that. It’s this big mountain with four presidents’ faces carved into it. You’ve probably seen pictures. It was really cool at first for me, but then I was a little bored. You would probably have just as much fun with a really good picture. I was just with my dads, but my papa went with his class, even though the school he went to didn’t have very much money. His family was probably the richest in the town, but that is not something they bragged about. They used their money to help people. And one of the things that they did was pay for the whole trip for all of the kids! The teachers wanted the kids to go, and the kids wanted to go, but a lot of the parents couldn’t afford it. So my grandpa donated 3,000 dollars! They only needed $2,500, but he added a little more so they could get a little bit better motel to sleep in for one night, and a little bit better food to eat. All of the families were really happy that the kids were able to go on the trip. The class made this big thank you card for my papa, and gave it to him, even though it wasn’t really his money. Anyway, my papa liked the trip, and he learned a lot about mountains and the presidents there. I don’t think I learned as much as he did, but I’m still glad that I got to go too.

Microstory 2000: All Fifty

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Hello. My name is Desta Jarpez. Thank you for being here for my presentation. Mrs. McKinney told me that I could get extra credit if I did a presentation on my papa. My papa’s name was Aubrey Jardine, and I loved him. Before he died, he went to every state in the United States. He didn’t do it on purpose. That would have been much easier, because he could’ve just driven through all of them really quickly in, like, a few weeks maybe. I think people do that. He mostly just happened to need to go to every state for different things. So for the next fifty slides, I’m going to tell you why he did that for each one. Please enjoy the flags that I used as the backgrounds, and I hope you like my presentation. I worked really hard on it.

Thank you.

Love,
Desta

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 29, 2398

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It came to Leona Matic’s attention that Alt!Leona doesn’t really like to be called that. Before things went haywire in her timeline, she had already developed feelings for her version of Mateo Matic, but they never got married, and she never took his name. She asked to be referred to Leona Delaney, or maybe just Delaney. They both asked Leona Reaver what she would like to be called to distinguish her from her two alternates, and she doesn’t really care. Unless ambiguity comes up, they decide to use her married name in the same way. They all have different last names, so that should make things easier to understand, and prevent any of them feeling less than.

Reaver wanders into the lab. Ramses is out in the field so Leona Matic is the only one here right now. “What are you working on?”

Leona sighs, grateful for the break. “My final report.”

“Report on what?”

“I’m building the government a fusion powered rocket ship. It’s all been on paper and computer modeling so far, but that’s almost over. I’ve completed quadruple checking the specifications, and once it’s approved, it will be ready to be disseminated to manufacturing. Well, I guess I still have more paperwork, because we can’t have people knowing what it is they’re building, so I have to break up the work. One guy will be in charge of fabricating part of the shielding, while another welds them together, but neither will know what the finished product looks like, or what it’s for. Sorry, I’m rambling. This type of work always makes it hard to go back to talking normal.”

Reaver is looking at the document on Leona’s screen, but not really.

“What is it?” Leona asks.

“How did you do this?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“How did you get so smart? I barely passed my high school math classes,” she clarifies. She looks like she’s feeling very self-conscious and unworthy.

“Oh. Me too, early on. But then I got a tutor.” She looks up and thinks about it. “Actually, it was Mateo’s half-sister from an old timeline...but we didn’t know that yet.”

“That’s all it took? One tutor, and you’re suddenly a genius?”

“Quite frankly, Leona Reaver, you’re also a genius. So pretty much, yeah. Frida didn’t just teach me how to solve for X. She showed me how to think about math and science in a new way. She showed me that I already knew all this stuff, but it was trapped in a box of anxiety, self-doubt, and an inferiority complex.”

Reaver continues to look at the document in a half-grimace.

“Do you wanna ask me something?” Leona asks.

“I’m afraid that you’re too busy.”

Leona nods. “Honestly, I am. Work is ramping up, not slowing down. I’ll have to be away from home daily for months, overseeing production. But Ramses is independent, and better educated,” she adds in response to Reaver’s frown. “He’s just as intelligent, but he was born later in the timeline, so he would be a better teacher.”

“Do you think he’ll go for it?” Reaver asks hopingly. “Would you ask for me?”

“He absolutely will, but I think it’ll be better if you ask instead. Show initiative.”

“Okay, I think I will. Thanks...self.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 16, 2398

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Finland. That’s where they want to go. Mateo doesn’t remember a whole lot from school, but he does recall a classmate of his once getting into an argument with their math teacher. The teacher claimed that the shortest distance between two points is a line, and she illustrated this using a geographical map. The student argued that it didn’t matter if the line was the shortest, because it wasn’t the fastest. Going that direction meant trudging through thick brush, and over a lake or two. It meant crossing straight through streets, and climbing over buildings. The fastest route was to get on the freeway, pass the destination just a little until the next exit, and cut through the city. The teacher insisted that this wasn’t what she was trying to teach, and he contended that she should be. Mateo recalls one quote quite clearly when his classmate said, “if what you teach us can’t be applied to the real world, then why are you trying to teach us anything at all?” He failed the assignment, and came this close to flunking out of the class.

To get back home, their shortest route would take them pretty much directly southward until hitting mainland Norway. There they could resupply, repair The Olimpia to its former glory, and contact their friends back in Kansas City with reliable cell service. They can’t do that, though, because in addition to it being the most direct route for them, it simultaneously creates the shortest distance between the island of Svalbard and the United States government, who they know they can’t trust. To protect Amir, and all the locals of Vertegen, they have to take the scenic route. Fortunately, they have a way to create a distraction in the form of Russia.

The Republican Federation of Russia bears an even more tumultuous history here than its counterpart in the main sequence. It has been on the sidelines of nearly every major world war since the first one. Funny enough, it doesn’t seem to experience much direct conflict with other states. It’s just been known to wait until the hostilities between two or more parties begin, and then choose a side. Some xenophobes might chalk this up to them making their choice randomly. A number of political cartoons, comedy sketches, and modern memes feature a blindfolded Russian leader throwing darts towards a map, or some variation therein. The reality is that Russia always chooses to back the belligerents whose victory would spell some kind of success for Russia. Russia chooses Russia is a slogan from a certain social awareness organization that is always trying to help people understand this.

The Russian government holds no convictions, and has no strong feelings about any specific faction. They are probably the least religious nation in the world—or maybe just when accounting for its sheer mass. The presidents have run their nation like a business, accepting benefits to their economy wherever they can find it, be it with a neighbor, a former enemy, or even a terrorist sect. At the moment, the United States is its biggest competitor, because while citizens of the U.S. would deny, deny, deny, their social practices are not without their similarities. They would never work with terrorists, but freedom fighters are just fine, and the difference between the two can often be found only in the nuance of personal perspective. So while Mateo labeled Russia the enemy, they are in fact more like a rival, and the Olimpia’s presence within their territory is no more dangerous than meeting an industry colleague for coffee in the cafeteria on the first floor of their office building.

Still, as stated, this is a distraction. If the team is spotted making their way through the White Sea, this will be all that Senator Honeycutt—and anyone else involved in all this—will focus on. They won’t even consider the possibility that they were once on Svalbard, or make any attempts to retrace their steps at all. It’s been a long journey, but thanks to Mateo’s new knife, not as long as it could have been. They’ve not had to stay on the surface of the water for the whole trip. Short bursts. They can stay in the air for a limited amount of time, which is what has allowed them to cross the distance as fast as they have so far, but they’re running out of power, and they need a new tactic. Leona may have come with the solution. “Well, if you have this thing, why can’t you just replace the solar panels altogether?” Solar power has been providing them enough energy to fly for a little bit, but they use that energy faster than it can come in, which is why they always have to drop back down to the water.

“I don’t know how to work this knife,” Mateo explains. I can’t get it to replace the entire panel. I can either replace part of the framing, or an individual...what did you call them?”

“Tiles,” Ramses helps. “Each time he stabs a panel, it only destroys that specific tile, and spits out a new one. I can’t figure out why efficiency is so low. It could be one or more of the tiles, but which ones?”

Leona takes the knife from Mateo, and examines it. Before anyone can stop her, she downs the rest of her water, sets the cub back on the counter, and tries to stab it. Nothing happens. “What did I do wrong?”

“You accidentally aren’t your husband, Mateo,” Angela says.

“What?”

“Only he can use it. We’ve both tried.”

“Well, I suppose I had to try too, given our connection, and the fact that some of that Existence water is still swimming through my veins.”

“Well, that was my favorite cup,” Angela laments.

“Then you shouldn’t have let me use it.”

Mateo chuckles once. He takes the knife back, and stabs the mangled cup himself, which generates a pristine replacement.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Leona shouts. “Okay, it makes a new one; it’s quantum duplication, whatever. But why does it make an unbroken one? It goes back in time to before it was damaged? How far back in time? How much damage does it correct? What if there was a dent in it that had been there for twenty years?”

“These are all questions that none of us can answer,” Ramses tells her.

“Did you try asking the Rakripa where they got it, and what they thought of it?”

“Yes,” Angela says, looking suddenly tired. “I asked them a lot of questions. Communication was difficult, and I eventually learned that it wasn’t only because our languages aren’t mutually intelligible. They were cagey. They were nice...but they didn’t want us to stick around. So we didn’t.”

Leona sighs. “Where is that lantern thing you were talking about?”

Ramses goes back down to engineering to retrieve it. “I’ve been all over this thing. I don’t think anything else needs to be replaced. What we need is power.”

“And I’m going to get it for you,” Leona says. She sets the lantern on the counter, and arranges her husband in front of it. She adjusts his arms and hands like a sexy golf instructor, or a pottery ghost. “Okay. Go for it.”