The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 17, 2408

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Constance pulled herself together so they could get to work. Being a time traveler in this day and age had gotten even riskier after the Shortlist’s meeting regarding The Edge. They had decided to not reveal time powers to the greater population of the stellar neighborhood. Instead, the authorized technologies would be developed gradually, after the supposed discovery of a new class of physics. They weren’t just going to somehow give everyone the ability to teleport. Such technology would be studied and tested by scientists over the course of years until they deemed it safe to use. And even then, they would institute safeguards to prevent abuse or accidents. The Star Trek franchise showed multiple examples of what could go wrong when teleportation failed. They would rely heavily on these, and similar, cautionary tales. It would be decades before any ship captain could utter the word energize, and be beamed up onto the transport pad. Until then, Team Matic had to be more careful. Because more of the Sol system had been conquered, and there were eyes everywhere.

“We got this now,” Leona said confidently. “Dante, raise the cloak.”

Nothing happened from the perspective of everyone in the shuttle, but they had evidently become invisible.

“Our signals are being shunted through another dimension,” Ramses explained to the group. “We’re invisible to the naked eye, and via all traditional forms of detection.”

“Will they one day be able to detect us?” Mateo asked.

“Not if the Shortlist maintains its authority,” Leona answered. “We’re not giving them this, for this very reason. People like our team need to be able to move freely about without worrying about being spotted by anyone with a strong enough infrared telescope. Though that means, we could hypothetically detect each other.”

“Which is why we’re sending a signal on purpose,” Ramses added. “Pointed directly at Earth. If anyone picks this up, they might be able to help our new friend.”

Max stretched his lips into a slight grateful smile.

“Let’s see who answers.”

They set the Dante on course towards Earth at a moderate pace, waiting for someone to pick up their message. Someone was always on the shuttle proper to receive any response, though it wasn’t necessary.

A few hours later, Holly Blue replied. “Come in Dante, this is Blue Butterfly.”

Leona and Mateo happened to be available at the time. “Go get Ram and Max. They’re in Delta pocket.” While Mateo hopped back to the hatch to access the fourth pocket dimension, Leona got on the radio. “Blue Butterfly, this is Dante actual. It’s good to hear from you again.”

“Leona, is that you? Are you experiencing an emergency? Are you in any immediate danger?”

“We’re fine. We were looking for an engineer. Lucky we found one of the best.”

“I don’t know about that. You need me to build you something, though?”

“Not me. We made a friend from another universe. He’s asked for help saving his galaxy from certain doom.”

“That sounds...important. What does he need?”

“He’s on his way. I’ll let him explain. Can you go holo?”

Holly Blue’s image appeared before her. It was so crisp that it looked like she was actually standing there with her.

Max slipped out of the pocket dimension in the back, and came up to the front. “Hi. I’m Maximino Lécuyer.”

“Oh, hey Max. Yeah, we know each other,” Holly said.

“No, I would remember you.”

“Oh.” Holly Blue winced. “Spoilers. Well, I’ll introduce myself again for the very first time. My name is Holly Blue. Not Holly, not Miss Blue. Holly Blue.”

“Understood. It’s nice to meet you for the very first time again.”

“What was it you needed?” Holly asked.

“It’s called a flipcoat.” He went on to explain how the coat manipulated microrealities. Every fraction of a second, any given individual had an infinite number of possible choices. They could turn left, they could turn right. They could turn left immediately, or they could wait two more seconds. But they were not the only ones trying to make these decisions. Countless others were doing so at exactly the same time. Until their collective decisions were finally made, each possible world existed in a sort of hyperdimension of potential spacetime. What a flipcoat did was gather all of the choices that were going to impact the next decision of its wearer, and force the other agents of change to conform to a single reality. This was the reality of choice of that wearer. If he wanted to turn left, and doing so placed him in the street, then he needed to make sure that the bus driver that was on her way to collide with him made the decision to slow down enough to make a complete stop so that the bus actually didn’t collide with him.

“So, your coat does this all the time,” Holly began to ask, “but you’re not the only one with such a coat?”

“Not traditionally,” Max explained, “but if you made me a new one, then I would be. The rest are dead. Not the people, that is; their coats. I can’t say too much, but our whole galaxy is under constant threat of collapse. I mean that literally. A dark force is trying to destroy us, and the only way out is if someone navigates us to safety. Eventually, we’ll buckle under the pressure.”

Holly Blue nodded. “Tell me more about the coats themselves. What are they like? What do you know about how they work?”

Evidently, no one knew where or how flipcoats originated. No one even knew how anyone went about acquiring one. Apparently, if you were chosen by some mysterious force, it would suddenly be on you, and you would be unable to take it off.

“Where have I heard that before?” Mateo asked. “Chosen by a mysterious unseen conscious entity of some kind.”

“What prevents you from being able to take it off?” Leona pressed. “Can’t you just pull it over your head?”

“It’s, uh...embedded in your skin.”

“What?” Leona and Holly Blue questioned simultaneously.

“Yeah, as soon as it appears, you have a matter of seconds to remove it before spikes come out of it and dig into your skin. It’ll stay there until it dies, or you do. I’ve heard rumors of people being able to remove it before the spikes, but I’ve never actually seen any proof that it’s happened. I didn’t even try when I got my first one.”

“First one? Holly Blue asked. “After it dies, you may get another?”

“Not naturally,” Max answered. “You can steal another, though. It’s complicated, I’m not evil.”

“I’m not questioning you on that,” Holly Blue asked. I am questioning this needlessly bloody locking mechanism that these coats have.”

Leona was questioning it too. It didn’t make much logical sense. There were any number of other solutions to the problem of enforcing flipcoat ownership. The coat could be coded to a user’s DNA, and only operate for them. If they were worried about the theft itself, rather than what the thief would do with it, they could have allowed it to be locked like a chastity belt. Who were the original designers? They must have had a reason to do it like this, even if others would consider it abhorrent. It couldn’t just be random. The wearer selections couldn’t be random either. Something had to be driving them, even if they were just programmed to appear given a certain set of favorable circumstances.

“You look...upset,” Max noted. “I grew up with these, it doesn’t seem weird to me, but I suppose I can imagine how distasteful they could look to some. There are those in my galaxy who never remove their clothes, because it can’t happen to you unless you’re completely topless. Still, there are those who walk around topless—even in the freezing cold—hoping that it happens to them one day.”

“How many people have these, or had them, as it were?” Holly Blue asked him.

“No one knows. It would seem that whoever is in control doesn’t want us to know. The statistics always get...flipped. I think they stopped trying to take a census.”

Holly Blue nodded respectfully. He wasn’t the one in charge of all this. “Well, I can make you something that operates in a similar manner, but it won’t be perfect, and I can tell you right now, I ain’t installin’ no spikes.”

“I don’t think they’re necessary to the operation of the device.”

“I only have one requirement,” Holly Blue went on. “We have to do it in your universe. Firstly, it sounds like the proper physics you live under are different than ours. But also, I don’t really want that kind of technology in my universe at all.”

“I believe that I can get us back there,” Max began, “but I don’t know how you would get yourself home.”

“You let me worry about that,” Holly Blue replied. “Just get to Earth. I’m in Panama at the moment.”

“Really?” Leona asked. That was where the two of them met.

“Yeah, it’s this whole story. Anyway, I’ll send you the exact coordinates.”

“We’ll be there within the hour,” Leona said to her. “Thanks.”

They continued on their way. The cloak was up, but they had never tested it, so there was always a chance that there was some weakness with it. Everything went fine, though. They made it to Holly Blue’s little underground lair in Panama to have a little visit, and then drop off Max. They both assured the team that there was no reason for them to stay. So after dinner, they said their goodbyes, and climbed back into the Dante. They teleported back into orbit, and then farther out to drift towards the edge of the system with no destination in mind. Now they had nothing to do. But they didn’t have to worry about that for long, as per usual. Their worst fears were finally realized when another ship appeared out of nowhere, and set itself on an intercept course. When the Dante moved, it moved. It was definitely no coincidence. Leona tried to call it, but received no response. It was too quick for them to teleport away, so it wasn’t just any random vessel. Their attempts at escape ended when the other party pulled them into a cargo hold. All they could do now was wait.

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Microstory 1930: Rights of the Accused

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Junior Special Investigator: Leonard Miazga?

Leonard: Yes, that’s me. Do you work at the Office of Special Investigations?

Jr. Investigator: That’s not for you to know. All you need to know is that you are under arrest under special extenuating circumstances. Under the Alsten Act, according to Provision 83 of Special Investigations Code One, I hereby detain you for the defense of national security. You are not entitled to representation, and must comply with all demands, and answer all questions. All crimes committed prior to this moment, including those seemingly unrelated to the current accusations, as well as any crimes committed following this moment, shall be taken under consideration when considering judgment, punishment, or any other outcome of your circumstances. Do you understand everything I’ve informed you of today?

Leonard: Not really.

Jr. Investigator: Sir.

Leonard: What’s the Alsten Act?

Jr. Investigator: Sir, please.

Leonard: Please tell me that you recited those words verbatim, and that you didn’t try to regurgitate it using your own words.

Jr. Investigator: We are required to recite your status and rights in the eyes of federal law in order to detain you properly, using the exact same words as they are written and approved by the Office of the National Commander.

Leonard: So when I say that the words were repetitive, nonsensical, and just overall ridiculous, you won’t take personal offense?

Jr. Investigator: No, sir.

Leonard: Are you required to address me as sir?

Jr. Investigator: No.

Leonard: Then just call me Leonard, or Leo.

Jr. Investigator: Sir...Leo, I require you to state in no uncertain terms that you understand your rights as I have listed them for you.

Leonard: You mean the rights that have been stripped from me? Yeah, I guess so.

Jr. Investigator: [...]

Leonard: I mean, yes, I unequivocally understand them perfectly, fully, and perfectly.

Jr. Investigator: I’m going to have to place these handcuffs on you, but you may retrieve a coat, and drape it over your arms to remain inconspicuous.

Leonard: I don’t have a coat. It was summer on my world when I came here, and it’s summer now. I don’t exactly have a credit card to recreate my wardrobe. Besides, I’ve seen that before as a bystander, and let me tell ya, the coat trick ain’t foolin’ no one.

Jr. Investigator: Very well, sir—Leonard. I’ll leave the cuffs rather loose, as long as you promise not to make any attempt at escape.

Leonard: I promise to not try to escape. I’ll get this all sorted out at OSI.

Jr. Investigator: Uh...one more thing.

Leonard: Yes?

Jr. Investigator: Once we get into the car, you’re gonna have to wear a hood.

Microstory 1618: The Annual Coat Drive

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This is a nice little non-depressing story about a lovely version of Earth, which isn’t perfect, but is defined primarily by a wholesome and fun annual event that just about everyone loves. But first, you need some background. There are only a few people throughout the bulkverse who are able to travel across it. Even if you include the people who managed to get themselves on board one of the machines, like The Crossover or The Prototype, the number is strikingly low. The number goes up when you include The Transit Army, and the Westfall experiencers, but it’s still nothing compared to the number of people throughout all of existence. Only a handful of people can do it through other means. Joseph Jacobson is one of these people. He was born to a mutant time traveler named Jacob, and a mother whose nature may be more complicated than anyone can understand, though there’s proof of nothing. Jacob sired twelve sons, and one daughter, and all of them have abilities. They all possess some form of temporal manipulation, but Jacob was drawn to powerful women, so they all also have other abilities. None of them is as impressive as Joseph, though. Before any of this, one of those things capable of crossing the bulkverse suffered a major engine failure that could have resulted in tragedy were it not for the quick-thinking of its crew. Still, there were side effects, and one of these was a simple coat that someone happened to leave in engineering while they were working to stop the catastrophe. This coat was imbued with the ability to travel the bulkverse, but not for just anyone. The only people who could use it were those who had already done it at least once, and even then, they could only go to places they had been before. It’s an amazing piece of cloth, but it’s not all that useful to most. Joseph is different. With it, he can go anywhere he wants, and no one is sure what it is that makes him so special, because none of his siblings can do it, not even the one with whom he shares a mother. The two phoenixes in the family can technically travel as well, but they have to die first, and navigation is sketchy at best. Joseph is the one true bulk traveler, and it makes all of his brothers extremely jealous. For some, it makes them murtherous. That is a story for another time, though.

If these names and situations sound slightly familiar, that’s because you’ve probably heard the story. This family is important to the collective history of the bulkverse, so a lot of people are aware of it. Some see it as part of their religion, or someone else’s, while others know it as fiction. Either way, the story itself is powerful. If the right people produce the right interpretation of the story of Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, it will actually summon him to their location. From there, they can make requests to him. He’s not obliged to follow through, of course but you can always ask. Finding the right way to tell Joseph’s story is difficult, and requires clear intent. Lots of people have put on a show, and nothing has happened, continuing to allow them to believe that it’s all made up. If you know that it’s a possibility that Joseph will appear in the flesh, then you can try to make it happen. Again, it’s not guaranteed, but it’s kind of the only way to get a hold of him. One thing I never mentioned before is that hypnopediaverse has a history of people randomly finding themselves trapped there from elsewhere. I don’t know why, and it’s not that important. The point is that these people once came together, put on Joseph’s show, and were able to summon him to their location, so he could ferry them back to their respective homes. Two of these people told their own story when they returned, and surprisingly, people believed them. Not only that, but they wanted to recreate the magic. So they produced their own version of the musical, and found success. Joseph appeared, and regaled them with stories about his adventures across the bulkverse. Every year since then, the people of that universe have repeated the experiment, not just with one show, but with many. Multiple productions are shown simultaneously around the world, each one hoping to be the one that attracts Joseph Jacobson to them. Of course, once he does show up, Joseph allows his tales to be broadcast worldwide, but the cast and crew that won the contest that year will end up with bragging rights, global recognition, and other ancillary prizes. The true reward comes from the lessons that Joseph unwittingly teaches. Understanding what goes on in other universes has given this one the perspective it needed to make sure it didn’t make any of the same mistakes. They learned to better preserve their planet, and were justifiably ignored by the Ochivari, and the Darning Wars.

Fervor: Escape from 1972 (Part VI)

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“My God, young lady, you look like a whore!” my mother shouts for all the world to hear.

“I beg your pardon,” the woman who was trying to help interrupts, but she’s still being ignored.

“What are you wearing? Why do you look so old? Where did you go?”

I’m fourteen years old, which is only about a year older than my parents expect me to be, but I guess their memory is of me as a twelve-year-old, which is a fairly big difference in a young lady’s development. I’ve had to grow up pretty fast because of the terrible conditions I started in, and when Serkan and Ace took me out of that life, it wasn’t like I started regressing, or anything. I’m still rather mature for my age, and my time in the 21st century has only made me more independent. These two people here may have conceived and raised me—though, there’s no way of knowing whether we’re related to each other, because I’ve yet to see proof of it—but they don’t control me anymore. I scoff at her, and try to walk away.

There’s got to be a way out of here. Okay, let me think. I seem to have the ability to travel through time and space using photographs. That would be fine if I had a picture of 2025, or 1491, but I lost my phone with tons of options from the former, and camera technology didn’t exist as far back as the latter. Hell, I would take it if something could take me back to sometime in the 2020s, as long as it was before the day that I left. No, I’ll even take a week or to after that. Thinking about it even more, I realize that all I really need is a way to get out of what I see now from a shred of newspaper blowing on the ground that it’s no sooner than October of 1972. I would need to find something more current to get an exact date, but that matches up with what I remember about when the famous Blue Marble photo, which I’ve been using as my phone background, was taken.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” my mother spits. By now the other woman has slipped away, not wanting to interfere too much in other people’s lives. I think in the future, people will be less forgiving, because they’ll never know when they’re being watched by video cameras, designed to record social behavior. For the most part, however, a 1972 mother is free to discipline her child however she sees fit.

“Do you have any pictures?”

“What?”

“Like in your purse,” I press. “Or dad, in your wallet? Do you have any picture of me as a baby? Or of anything?”

She’s noticeably thrown off by this, and interprets it as an attack on her character, which it partly is. I’m just looking for a way out. “Well, no, but...”

“Did you look for me? Did you send out a photo of your missing daughter? Or did you just go back home?”

“We haven’t been back home since you disappeared,” my father finally says. He never hit me, but he stayed quiet when my mother did, and maybe that’s just as bad.

“Oh my God, are you still on your ancestry tour? Christ, I had my blood tested. We’re not part African. That was just what your own father told you to excuse himself for being a racist piece of shit. We are British or Irish, though, so you got lucky with that one.”

“Now, you listen here,” my mother begins.

I scoff again, but much louder, as I’m rolling my eyes, and turning away. She grabs my arm. “Let me go.”

“I am your mother, and you will—”

I don’t let her finish. I just narrow my eyes and take a quarter step towards her, my arm fully within her grasp. “If you don’t let me go right now, you’re gonna find out how good 1970s South African medicine is.”

She’s never been scared of me before, and she’s never been scared of anything more than me right now. She releases me, and lets out a whimper so faint, I can’t be sure I didn’t imagine it.

I take a moment to calm down, and try to be as cold as possible. “I left you in Stonehenge because I was done being treated like two chalkboard erasers. I have gone on to see wonders, to meet wonderful people, and to learn new things.” I realize I can’t say anything about being a time traveler, but as I’m speaking, I’m also realizing no time traveler I’ve met has actually said anything about some Time Patrol. Maybe I can tell them the truth, and no one will care. I don’t think I have to, though. “I left because it was best for me, and for you. You never wanted kids, and only did so because you were indoctrinated into a society that expected it of you. I’m pleased to announce that you have fulfilled your obligation. I may have escaped a few years sooner than you expected me to, but I think we all knew it would come to this. I’m not calling the cops, or seeking a journalist to tell my story about your abuse, but I’m also not going home with you. This is my life now, and that is yours. I need to find a newsstand, or maybe a library, so I can make my way out of this country. If you pursue me, in any capacity, I’ll make Lizzie Borden look like Cindy-Lou Who. Are we on the same page?”

They don’t say anything, and I just walk away, not sure who’s more scared of me; my father, my mother, or myself. I do find a newsstand, and discover that it’s the seventh day of December. The latest paper from the states is from the first of the month in New York. I feel like my best option is to at least get back to the states. I don’t know of any time travelers that lived in this time period, except for Detective Bran, who is still a child at this point, but the U.S. still seems like the safest place to go. I pay for the paper, and choose the first headline I see with a picture: Storm Caused Traffic Mishaps.

Maybe that wasn’t really the best one I could use, because I’m suddenly standing in freezing cold weather in late Fall. Several cars are stopped on the wrong side of the road—that is, as long as I’m not still in South Africa. I hear honking and screaming, and the sirens from a trooper. He gets out of his car, and starts rounding up help from other drivers, to get the cars back where they belong. Even though it’s cold as hell, I still have no idea what I’m going to do, so I might as well help too. I get behind one of the cars, and prepare to push. The big strong men also getting ready to push look at me funny. “Call me Rosie the Riveter,” I say to them. One of the men trying to push another car takes off his heavy coat, and gives it to me, which I don’t see as an affront to my feminism. Together, we all get them up the hill, and out of the way. I try to return the coat to the man as he’s getting ready to leave the scene, but he just winks and says I should keep it. He’s older than me, but I don’t get any creepy vibes.

As strange as it must look for a teenage girl to be wandering the highway alone in the middle of the day in November, nobody else gives me any trouble, or offers to help. There’s no telling how long these people were stuck in traffic, but surely they’re all just in a hurry to get home. It was probably mentioned in the article from the paper, but I didn’t bother reading it that closely, and I couldn’t take it with me, because it was run a day in the future. I start walking down highway 20, headed towards civilization, thinking about what I could have done better, confident that I made all the best choices with the cards I was dealt. Goddamn it’s cold, though. If I’m going to be a time traveler, I need to start thinking about not going anywhere without a bag of essentials. I need to keep things like water and cash with me at all times, but the first order of business would be a coat. I stick my hands in the pockets, and find what feels like a piece of paper. I take it out, hoping whatever it is isn’t important to the guy who gave me the coat. It’s a photograph.

At first everything seems normal to me, but then I realize that photos these days aren’t printed on paper like this. You would need a personal computer to do it, which is impossible. Even if you didn’t, the picture itself doesn’t look like anything that exists today. I don’t even know what it is, but it looks like something out of a science fiction movie. I flip the paper over, where it reads, Giant Magellan Telescope, April 4, 2025. “Holy shit!” I can’t help but exclaim out loud. That’s a few days, off but I'll take it. I look behind me, half-expecting the coat’s owner to have followed me there, but the afternoon rush is over, and I’m alone. Worried a time pigeon might come and snatch the picture from my hand, I concentrate on it until my eyes start burning, and I make the jump to the future. Man, that’s a lot easier that I would have thought. In movies, it takes superheroes days to master their powers, if not longer.

I stand and marvel at the telescope for a good long time before someone realizes I don’t belong there, and escorts me off the premises. I discover that I’m in Chile, so I make my way to the nearest internet café. I tell the woman working the counter that I just need a minute to look up directions, and she gladly activates a computer for me to use, free of charge. I try to run a search of J.U. Mithra Labs, but none exists on the internet, which is strange, because I feel like I’ve seen one before. Maybe it’s a weird timey-wimey thing. No matter. I just need a picture of Independence, Missouri, and I’ll figure the rest out later. The most recent I find is a photo that a Local Guide took of some temple with a crazy spire on top, from the fourth of April. Perfect.

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