Microstory 2500: Welcome to the Landis Tipton Breath of Life Foundation

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Welcome. And thank you all for coming to the Landis Tipton Breath of Life Foundation. In a few moments, I’m going to start the video, which will give you a more comprehensive idea of what we do here, and how our principles have guided our vision for the future. You all came to this place either because you are suffering from a debilitating or terminal disease, or you are chaperoning someone who is. You have all already filled out your preliminary applications, and would not be in this room if there were some reason to reject you. So congratulations, you’re about to be cured! Let’s go over some reasons why some people face rejection, so you’ll better understand why you were selected for treatment. First, we handle otherwise incurable diseases only here. We do not treat injuries. No one is here because they broke a leg, or suffered a cut on their cheek. Those are not life-threatening conditions, and conventional medicine should be able to help them. We also do not accept patients for holistic benefits. Someone who just wants to feel better overall will not be given a place in line. Landis also can’t treat what we like to call conditions of state. You may be considered overweight, by popular medicine, your doctor, or even yourself, but this is not an acute or chronic illness, and Landis is unable to make changes to these types of systemic issues. There is simply nothing to repair in these cases. It may be unhealthy, but nothing is broken, and in the end, that’s what Landis can do for us. He can fix what is broken, not simply make something more preferable.

It’s important to understand as well that, while you were granted allowance to add more than one medical issue on your form, Landis is unable to selectively decide which conditions are cured, and which are not. I doubt any of you would like him to leave anything out anyway, but we have to make it clear that if you left anything off of your form, it will not be excluded. If you have poor eyesight, but don’t care about that, Landis’ breath has no way of knowing that, or ignoring it. In fact, if you do happen to have some minor injury along with your illness, that will be cured too. The breath doesn’t choose. It is the program, and our policies, which choose what to spend Landis’ time on, but once you’re here, everything that can be repaired will be repaired. We have yet to find a disease that Landis cannot cure. Our mission is to one day rid the whole world of all disease and pain, but for right now, due to the sheer number of requests, we have to prioritize, and sacrifices must be made. I don’t say any of this to scare you, but to excite you for what’s to come. This is literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I know you’ve all been waiting for your chance to be healed of what ails you, even before this organization was founded. You’ve been through great hardship. I can’t tell you that life will be easy from here on out, but we can at least take this off your plate. Now, please sit back and relax while you watch the introductory video, which will provide you with a history of our foundation, beginning with the mystery of the origin of Landis Tipton’s powers, and explain how we are providing the community with more than just cures. We’re building the future, and finding a place for everyone in it.

Microstory 2472: Anadome

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Let’s talk about the Amish and the Mennonite communities. First, actually, let’s discuss what they’re not. They are not people who simply reject all forms of technology. After all, the plow is technology. It’s millennia old, but its novelty was never the concern. The only concern that these Anabaptists have is whether something supports their community, or harms it. Does it please God, or does it pull you away from Him? Vehicles, for instance, are not the issue. It’s whether that vehicle will be used to take a driver away from their family and community. If it’s being used to transport their wares to buyers, they’ve never had a problem with it, but that is why they held onto the horse and buggy for so long, because it would have been an impractical form of escape. Their way of life has changed over time, but their goals and principles have not. Work within the community, serve God. It’s a pretty simple concept. While religion has all but died out in the galaxy, the Anabaptists have persisted, and that’s because their beliefs inform their practices to a degree that other religions and sects could never have hoped to replicate. Sure, if you were Catholic, you went to service once or twice a week, and you performed your rituals. And maybe every night you prayed over your bed. That’s all well and good, but you didn’t live Catholicism. You just did things here and there, and while your convictions could inform your behavior in general, they couldn’t necessarily survive across the generations, because children come up with their own relationship to God. That was usually encouraged, but it was also the source of religion’s ultimate fading from the world, because people focused less and less on it, and it became less vital to how they lived their lives, and the choices that they made.

Anabaptists were always different, because God lives at the core of their ideals, and their daily patterns. In the past, the Anabaptists were able to maintain their practices by having a symbiotic relationship with society in general. They sold us their goods, and used our payment to support their communities. Centuries ago, however, currency disappeared from modern society, as we transitioned to a post-scarcity economy. A new relationship was developed to prevent the Anabaptists from going extinct. Instead of selling what they make to us, they barter it. In return, we give them whatever they require to survive, be it medicine, protection, transportation, etc. We don’t ask for a certain amount of goods in order for them to get a certain amount of return. It’s not simply symbolic—their customers benefit from the human touch and the craftsmanship, which is hard to find these days—but it’s not perfectly ratioed either. We take care of them regardless of the price. If one community gives us ten chairs one month, but can only make five chairs the next, we still give them whatever they need. That’s not us being generous. That’s how we operate internally anyway. We don’t ask a whole lot out of our citizens, so why would we ask anything out of these fine folk? Over a century ago, some of the Anabaptists decided that they wanted to found a new community on Castlebourne. They wanted to start from scratch. Till new lands. So Castlebourne made room for them. You can’t visit Anadome, and gawk at them. I’m here as an anthropologist, to educate you on what this community is all about. Click below for my full report.

Microstory 2470: The Empyreamax

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Before virtual reality and volumetric immersion holograms, people used to watch media on 2-dimensional screens. I won’t get into the whole history of film—you can look it up your damn self—but suffice it to say that they were extremely tiny compared to what we have here. This is the Empyreamax. It is the largest film auditorium by orders of magnitude. You would have to project a movie on the moon to be larger than this. Towering 22.2 kilometers over the surface, this image covers an area of roughly 5,030 square kilometers. You can see it from anywhere, though of course, the center has the best seats in the “house”. Or should I say they have the best beds? Since you’re looking straight up, regular recliners just won’t do. You can adjust it to your liking, but they lay down completely flat, and let you look straight up at the movie. Obviously, they’re quite comfortable, with the standard firmness adjustments, heating, cooling, and vibrating features. If you’re an organic who still needs to eat, each bed comes with an interface that allows you to order concessions. If you’re not in one of the designated viewing loungers, you can request a mobile interface, and they’ll deliver to you wherever. There’s a Castlebourne-specific three-word address for wherever you happen to be. Actually, one little problem I noticed is that you can input any valid Castlebourne address, and they’ll try to get there, even if it’s on the other side of the planet in a different dome, so I hope they fix that dumb little bug. You can bring your own bed, or sprawl out on a blanket. There are several swimming pools and lakes that you can float on while you’re watching. One couple came in with an autotrampoline. They lay on their backs, and let the motor bounce them as they were watching. It sounds distracting to me, but who am I to judge? As far as sound goes, the options are limitless too. You can connect with your conductive implants, or your internal speakers, or your external headphones. They have ground speakers and pedestal speakers as well, but those are only allowed in certain areas. And that’s because some areas allow for regular conversation, and some are quiet zones. They provide you with an interactive map, so you can find out where you wanna be. While the ground is pretty flat here, they also have some hiking trails, so you can kind of keep an eye on the film while you’re walking with your honey, so that’s just a little thing that I’m not sure people would ever want, but it might as well be there. It’s not like we’re short on space. Again just about everything is up to you. They have a movie playing all the time on the big screen, but it’s not the only one going. They also have smaller screens lining nearly the entire perimeter. Each one is about 100 meters wide, and 40 meters tall, with a capacity of around 750 people. There are 1,699 of these, allowing for 1700 simultaneous shows in total. I’m not sure how many people could be here at any one time, for the big movie, or all of them combined, but I’m guessing it’s a pretty high number, even though we’re not vertical, on top of each other, like other domes. I know it’s old media, but there are some really great gems here. I saw one the other day called The Mystic, and it was basically the best movie musical I had ever watched. Even if you’re not interested in what’s playing, you can request a time slot for a specific title, and use one of the smaller Ultramaxes. One thing I’m not sure is right or not is that you can’t request a private auditorium. You can choose a movie, if there’s space available, but once it gets into the system, anyone can RSVP for a seat, so just bear that in mind.

Microstory 2465: Steampunk Sanctuary

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It’s steampunk everywhere, so I hope you like steampunk! I sure do, but you’re not here to hear about who I am. What you really wanna know is if this place is any good. Does it live up to the spirit of steampunk culture? Why yes, yes it does. Because of course it does. It’s one of the easiest themes to implement, and it doesn’t take much to please the fans. To the ignorant, it may seem like nothing more than an aesthetic. You have brass, and you have steam. How nuanced could it be? But it’s actually a way of life, and one which we’ve never been able to explore at scale. Steampunk communities have existed for centuries, but by the time the technology was available to simulate it in base reality, there really wasn’t any practical space for it. Humanity was trying to rewild the world. We built vertically, and left the majority of the land to the plants and animals. Steampunk survived, but a city based on the concept wasn’t feasible. We could have fought it, and declared independence somewhere, but we understood the reason for shrinking the amount of area that humans were taking up, so we played ball. We limited ourselves to small corners of the arcologies, wherever we could find room. But those modern walls...they were still there, made up of their superadvanced metamaterials. We were only actors in a play, pretending as best we could, but knowing that there was nothing authentic about it. Enter Castlebourne, Stage Right. This is the perfect setting for us; a blank canvas that we can paint however we want. We’re using steam to power our technology, from trains to computing machines. It’s not efficient, but it is fun, at least for us. It’s not for everyone. But the best part about it is you don’t have to live here permanently. You can just visit. You might hate it, and want to leave right away, and that’s fine. Nonetheless, you might find yourself enjoying it a little, and maybe want to stick around longer. That’s great. There’s plenty of room. We have everything they have anywhere else. It just looks a little different. And it’s loud. Some people don’t like how loud it is, but that’s what you get in a world without transistors. I can’t get enough of it. The VR steampunk worlds were great, but nothing beats something you can feel in your real hands. That’s the whole ethos with steampunk. It felt like cheating to immerse ourselves in a computer simulation to live in a world where computers exist without the computer chip. Now we don’t need that anymore. Now we can be ourselves...truly.

Microstory 2464: Hivedome

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There are all kinds of hive minds, and some are more dangerous than others. According to the Core World definition, however, all hive minds are dangerous, because they have the potential to destroy all individuality in the entire universe. I used to think that that was an exaggeration, but I feel differently now. I am a former member of the Baileribo Colony. Founded by a man whose last name you can probably guess, the Baileribo Society first formed in the year 2062. At the time, mind uploading and consciousness transference were still in their infancy, and a true hive mind was beyond our grasp. Archaea Baileribo died before his dream was realized, but the hive mind honors his name to this day. I used to believe in that, but what I didn’t understand was that I didn’t believe in anything. The collective believed in it, and I was forced to agree. I won’t go too much into what my life was like before, but I was born about 300 years ago in a libertarian lunar base. It was a hellscape, and I wanted to get out. Everything was about individual liberties, but nothing was about community. I yearned for something better. Then along came a group of Baileriban recruits, and I was instantly hooked. The promised to take me out of the dystopia, and into paradise. I believed them, I trusted them. Now, I’m not saying that Baileribo is an evil entity, just that it could stand to be more honest and transparent. I didn’t have the chance to learn all the facts before it was too late, and at that point, I wasn’t myself anymore. The Baileriban are telepathic, but the means of telepathy is not something that can be genetically engineered. I don’t know why. It wasn’t my department. That might sound paradoxical, but I’ll get into that. In order to join the collective, they implant a special telepathy organ called a baileriboport, which allows forces you to share your thoughts with everyone. It takes a few weeks to get used to, but then it’s a magical sensation. I won’t lie to you, I was the happiest when I was connected. Then I saw something that I wasn’t meant to. The hive mind isn’t the only entity in Hivedome—which I should have told you before, we fled to recently to avoid persecution by the Stellar Neighborhood establishment. It’s only one layer of the lie. It’s run by a group of individuals who can share their thoughts with each other, but don’t have to. They can block their own signals, keep secrets from each other, and can even disconnect at will. They are the elite. They make all the decisions while making it seem like a group idea. They were walking amongst us without the rest of us knowing. Seeing this truth broke my brain, and allowed me to override my own baileriboport just enough to start behaving erratically. They didn’t know why I wasn’t conforming, but it was disruptive, and I had to be stopped. I wasn’t the first to exhibit idiosyncratic conduct, and I won’t be the last, but I do believe that I’m the only one whose memories weren’t successfully erased after expulsion. Again, I don’t think that the Baileriban have any plans to hurt anyone, and they don’t technically coerce recruits. But they certainly don’t tell you everything. The Castlebourne government has granted me this opportunity to write a review of this permanently isolated dome which no one else has been allowed to speak on, because anyone who knows anything wouldn’t dare reveal our secrets. I implore you, if a recruiter comes to you, remember that they’re not really part of the hive mind. They’re just part of the people who control it from the outside. They can’t be trusted.

Microstory 2463: Overdome

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You can live here. It’s called Overdome, because everything here is oversized. Not only that, but most of them are habitable. I’m talking gigantic shoes, gigantic bookcases, gigantic whisky bottles. I’m not gonna list every little thing (or every big thing, rather) that serves as some sort of abode. What I’ll tell you is that most of the dome is empty. It’s up to you to request what you want if nothing that you envision already exists. You can be as involved in the process as you would like, or totally stay out of it. One woman I met in The Crystal Ball was only staying there temporarily while she designed her dream home to her exact specifications. It’s a 3D integrated circuit layout, obviously with multiple layers, known as a logic cube. You probably take them for granted, but every classical computer uses them to process and store data, and they’ve been doing it pretty ubiquitously since the mid-21st century. She loves them, and she wants her home to reflect that. I suppose I ought to go back a little and explain The Crystal Ball. It’s a giant crystal ball. That’s it. Lol, obviously it’s more complicated than that. Some of the objects here are just for show. They’re more like art pieces. But this one is a real building. It’s one of the biggest here, which is an important note to remember. These objects are not scaled relative to each other. The bookcase is actually smaller than the Crystal Ball, even though it’s the opposite for their real-world counterparts. The Crystal Ball is located in the very center of the dome, and serves as a central hub. You can book a room on a temporary basis, like the logic cube designer, or for a very temporary stay, like a hotel. Or you could just stay there permanently, if it strikes your fancy. It looks just like it should, except you can see people walking around in it. Don’t worry, if you are in a private room, you can adjust the opacity at will. I saw one guy as I was walking down the corridor who had the opacity at 99% for the outside, but it was fully transparent on the interior, so we could all see him change his clothes. Whatever, man. I would recommend coming to Overdome for a look, but it will be up to you if you want to stay. And then it will be up to you to decide if you want something new all to yourself. The possibilities are virtually endless. I noticed one option on the application form that was just a question mark. Apparently, you can select a mystery home. Someone will choose a design for you, and not tell you what it is for the entire time you’re waiting. They won’t even tell you where exactly your lot is located. You sign a contract that promises to stay there for at least a year, and they have all these stipulations about vacation periods, and whathaveyou. I don’t know if they choose embarrassing things, like maybe an ancient tampon, or what, but it could be kind of fun if you’re bored, or just like to live in the anticipation. Me? I can’t wait for my oversized alarm clock to be done.

The Seventh Stage: Rock-Ribbed (Part VI)

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Echo didn’t like the idea of his sister’s body being piloted by an evil transdimensional god-being. Debra knew that he wouldn’t, which was part of her plan all along. They believe that he has the power to conjure entirely new substrates for the six of them to inhabit. He does that—he gives Debra a new body—she’ll do what the rest of them want, and find the person responsible for transporting everyone from the original five realities to their new home in the Sixth Key. She’s not asking for this for her own selfish reasons. She needs it.

Debra is not evil anymore. She’s become a better person, and genuinely wants to help now, which she knows will only make her an even better person. That’s what she learned on the first stage. Diversity and community are the keys to harmony, even though they can lead to conflict. If she doesn’t end up being able to find who the Cloudbearer twins are looking for, it won’t be for lack of trying. Someone that powerful is a master of time and space, and may have the means to shield themselves from being pinpointed, detected, or identified. Still, even with the uncertainty of success, Debra doesn’t think that it’s unreasonable to ask for a new body to call her own. It’s not like they don’t want to give her one. They just don’t know if they can trust her. That’s okay, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to change their minds.

He’s standing there, still weighing their options. “Think of it this way,” she begins.

Echo closes his eyes and holds up a silencing finger. “Shh. Just shh,” he says, shaking his head. He continues to keep his eyes closed while trying to make up his mind for another few minutes. “You don’t have to convince me anymore. I just need to figure out how to do what I’m trying to do.” Though his eyes are still closed, he can sense when she’s about to speak again, and shushes her once more. “I don’t want your help either. I have my own simulations running through my head at the moment.”

Debra sighs louder than she meant to. She quietly says sorry, even though that technically only adds to the ambient noise, and distracts him more. She centers herself mentally, and stands before him patiently and quietly.

After ten more minutes, he opens his eyes, and stares at her with a cold disdain, but also a sense of...determined acceptance, if that makes any sense. “I know what I have to do. Let me talk to Clavia.”life

Clavia passes by Debra on their way to swapping places in their shared mind palace. The former is center stage now. “What do you have to do?”

“Did I ever tell you that I met my mother?”

“What? No. You’re not talking about Judy, right?”

He laughs. “No, I’ve obviously met her. I mean the woman who gave me life. When I put us back to being children, we both collapsed and fell unconscious. We had to sort of reset to factory settings. I don’t know what it was like for you. I guess you and the others were formulating your internal seven stages metaphor. I left my body, and communed with Olimpia Sangster. We actually spent quite a bit of time together before we both decided that it was time to part ways. So I won’t go over everything we discussed, but it was nice to get to know her. Anyway, when I woke up as a kid, I didn’t remember any of it. Judy and Bariq raised us as siblings, doing their best to mould us into well-rounded, productive members of society. It wasn’t until later that I was able to recover those moments with her.”

“I wish I could have been there with you,” Clavia says. “Debra is cognizant of facts about Team Matic, and all that, but they never met. Ingrid and Onyx each knew them only briefly.”

“You might meet them one day,” Echo says with a knowing smile. Perhaps she was there, just at a different point in her own timeline. He goes on, “she comes from a time on Earth when religion had largely faded from society, but it was still around. A lot of factors were at play, of course, but the greatest push towards atheism happened because those who believed in God or gods usually also believed in some kind of life after death. They let themselves die because if they didn’t, they would never have the chance to live in the paradise they were promised. If they had just accepted the longevity escape velocity as a new characteristic of a devout life, superstition might have survived. But these die-hards had children, who watched their loved ones die for nothing, so they switched out, and eventually, belief died alongside the believers themselves.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because, Clavia, we are the gods. We are those who are believed in. And we’re about to give the two undecillion people of the universe everything they could ever need to be happy. If you think we’re revered now, just wait until we check every box in every religion’s idea of a true living god.”

“What are you saying? We should quit?”

“Absolutely not,” Echo insists. “I’m saying that we should leave. There is nothing for us in this new world. We don’t want them worshiping us.”

Clavia laughs. “You think they’re not going to worship us ‘cause we’re not around? I want you to think about that for a moment.”

“I should rephrase. We don’t want to have to watch them worship us. I agree, they’re gonna do it. I’m worried about a massive resurgence in religious belief, but I don’t think we can stop that. We can’t save them, and save them from themselves, at the same time. We can’t give them something tangible to reach out for.”

“It’s the opposite, Echo. We have to be there. We have to act like normal people. That’s what the Tanadama did, and it’s why those two undecillion people even exist. Almost everyone is from the Parallel. Ramses and Kalea are leaders. They’re accessible. If we too are accessible, it will make it harder for mysticism to take root, not easier.”

Echo looks away with a huge sigh. “I know.”

“Then why are you arguing against it?”

“Because I am going to leave, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

“What are you talking about?”

He turns back. “I can make new bodies for your friends, but I won’t survive it.”

“That seems arbitrary.”

“I ran thousands of simulations in my head. It never works unless I do it that way. I can’t make entire people out of nothing. I have to draw upon my own energy, and that will destroy me. I’m just trying to rationalize it by coming up with a way that that outcome could possibly be better for the universe once it’s done.”

“Even if it is, it won’t be better for me.”

“I know,” he repeats. “In a few different religions, depending on how you define them, there’s a story of the first man. His name was Adam. He was alone until God cut him in half and created a woman named Eve.”

“I’m familiar with Genesis,” Clavia says. “Debra is the First Explorer, remember? She watched all the people who wrote that book.”

“Right. Well, it’s kind of like that. But in my case, I have to split myself in sixths, and the result is that I’m no longer an independent entity. I suppose that my soul may live on in the others, but the simulations don’t have a definite answer on that.”

“No. There must be some other way. And if I’ve learned anything from writing several plays, it’s that when someone says there’s another way, there really always is.”

Echo smiles at her. “I’m not going to argue with you about it, but I am going to split myself apart, and give your friends new bodies. I don’t need to survive.”

“No. We just won’t do that. We don’t need to. They’re perfectly fine in there.”

“Debra says that she won’t help us if we don’t set her free.”

“Well, I’ll talk to her. If she knows that it will kill you, she won’t go through with that demand, and if she does, then we can’t go through with it, because she’s obviously lying to her advantage.”

Clavia’s consciousness suddenly disappears as Debra takes over. “Actually, it’s not a matter of being set free, but of getting my toolbox back. I can’t do what you asked unless I’m back to my old, powerful self. Here’s the metaphor. You’re asking me to shoot a target, but you don’t want to give me my bow and arrow. Recreating my body is like giving me the weapon. It’s non-negotiable. I don’t just want it. I need it.”

Clavia takes back control of the body. “I don’t think she’s lying.”

“I don’t either,” Echo replies.

“Hold on.” Clavia’s eyes glaze over as she recoils into herself to hold an impromptu meeting of the Seven Stages. It’s brief. “Okay. Andrei wants to talk to you.”

“Should I go in your mind?” Echo offers.

“Nah, I’m already here,” Andrei says.

“What’s up?”

“What would happen if you only split once? Just one new person?”

Echo contemplates it. “I’ve never run that scenario specifically, but I did try to generate one substrate at a time, as opposed to all at once, and it seemed to go all right until I got to the third one before I couldn’t continue.”

“Then just do that. Run that scenario for real, but stop yourself on purpose.”

“You want me to create a new body only for Debra?”

Andrei shakes Clavia’s head. “She has powers. She needs someone like you to make the kind of body that she requires. The rest of us can wait. There are other options. They’re just not in the Sixth Key.”

“I’m willing to try that, assuming you can convince everyone else.”

Clavia’s eyes glaze over once more. She comes back to speak for the group. “Will this work? Will you survive this?”

“I believe so,” Echo says sincerely.

Clavia breathes deeply, and looks around. “Couldn’t have picked a more beautiful place. They’re standing in the cold, sterile corridor in the finger of one of the matrioshka bodies. They don’t choose specific places to meet. Every time they’re in separate places, and need to reunite, they just think of each other, and rendezvous at a random location. Time itself seems to choose on their behalf, and it has no apparent preference.

He chuckles and transports them away. They’re now in one of the rotating habitats. It’s a lush garden, densely packed with life. In particular, they’re standing next to a very small, clear pond. It’s barely larger than a bathtub. They didn’t create this with any concentrated intent. They didn’t have the time or energy to conceive of every single blade of grass. They built macros from their powers, and programmed the worlds to basically build themselves, starting with a spark, and iterating from there. It was very effective, if not a bit unsettling. If they didn’t make this watering hole on purpose, did it just create itself, or is there another force at play. Is God indeed real?

“All right, Clavy,” he begins as he’s removing his clothes, and stepping into the water. “I’ll see you on the other side. Best put Debra front and center so it’s easier for me to extract the right consciousness.”

“I’m here,” Debra answers.

“Your residual self-image. Focus on it. Or...I guess if you would rather have the body of a tall black man, I’ll make that for you instead.”

“No one’s called me Airlock Karen in a long time, and I was never racist...” Debra pauses. “But no, I wouldn’t like to be a tall black man, thank you very much. My original form will be fine.”

He nods and closes his eyes, leaning back to float in the water.

“Though, I wouldn’t mind you making me a bit younger than I was before.”

Echo smiles but keeps his eyes shut. Like her, he focuses. He tries to count every atom in his body. Every molecule, every cell, and every organ. Atoms can’t really split, or they’ll explode, so the constituent parts of the new Debra substrate won’t really be coming from him. Instead, they’ll be composed of elementary particles that he sources from across the dimensions, and channels through his body. The energy builds in waves, accumulating in the pockets of space between his atoms. Pulsing, vibrating, firing. He can feel a hot pinprick in his forehead. It drives deep into his skull, and comes out the other side. The two ends travel down through the center of his face, and then further down his body. As the chainsaw of time and space cuts through him, the energy tries to escape, but the fundamental forces hold it all together. The two halves split apart, but they’re both incomplete. As one half morphs and transforms into a female form, new body parts take shape on both halves, replacing the bits that each lost.

When it’s all over, they both turn to face each other. Echo is confused. “Debra, this is not what you looked like, even at a younger age. You did want to appear as someone else.”

“Echo?” she replies. “I’m not Debra. I’m Clavia.” She looks down and away. “I’m alone. There’s no one in my head anymore but me.”

“We’re still in your head.” Someone piloting the original Clavia body remains standing on the bank. “You’re the one who has vacated.”

“Who is that?” Clavia asks from her new body.

“Andrei. I’m in charge now.”

“Why did you do this?”

Andrei frowns. “We can’t trust Debra. We only needed her power, and now...you’re the one who has it.” He lifts his chin in an arbitrary direction. “Go save the universe. We can’t hold you back anymore.”

“Don’t you understand?” Clavia questions. “You six gave me strength. Without you, I’m just...a baby.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” comes a voice from the other side of the pond. It’s some guy.

“Who are you?”

“Aristotle Al-Amin,” he answers stoically. “I believe you’ve been looking for me?”

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Microstory 2444: The Sandbox

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This dome isn’t for everyone, but it’s available to anyone. Do you have an idea for a new dome, or an improvement on a preexisting dome? You can come here to conceptualize, pitch, and even engineer these designs. Not everyone here has the educational or working background to translate their thoughts into functioning prototypes, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have their voices heard. I’m not either of these people. I don’t have any ideas, or the means to implement them. But I did want to hear from other people, and they were totally cool with this. Some meetings have closed doors, but it was always very clear. They have a constantly updating map on their prospectus, which shows you when and where the next meetings will be, and whether you’re allowed to just show up to watch and listen. It’s not even always about some crazy and unique concept that’s meant to blow people’s minds. I was at this one pitch from someone from a planet that I had never heard of because it was mostly just a number. She was asking whether they might consider building smaller domes for smaller communities. I can’t tell you whether they’re going to do that, but it’s not a bad suggestion. I’ve always wondered why every dome has the exact same dimensions regardless of the theme. My gut tells me that they constructed all the domes in one go, pressurized them, and only decided afterwards what the purpose of each one was going to be. That would be an all right excuse, but there’s still a lot of land out there that hasn’t been domed over, mostly because the terrain doesn’t allow it, but again, if it’s going to be smaller, that might be okay. Or, instead of that, you could have one large dome with lots of smaller domes inside of it, which might be good enough for what that woman was looking for. Anyway, the Sandbox is for ideas. If you have even only one suggestion, you can send this dome a message, or take the vactrain to it. They seem to be really considering the feedback that they receive. If an idea grows from there, it looks like they sometimes begin building models or prototypes here before making an investment at full scale. A lot of those were kept secret, though, and even the ones I did see, I don’t feel comfortable reporting. You’ll just have to come see for yourself, and find out what they’re willing to show you.

Microstory 2428: Escape Dome

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I’m a little bit biased here, because I’m obsessed with escape rooms. I’m old enough to remember when that was a fitting name for them, because they were mostly only one room. Some of them had different sections, but you didn’t unlock a door, go through it, and start on an entirely different set of puzzles. I watched as they grew and grew, both in popularity, and in scope. Escape rooms became escape buildings, which became escape districts, which have now become escape cities. I always loved puzzles, even as a kid, so this became my thing. I didn’t have a whole lot of friends, and that was on me, but I still wanted to do this. I remember regularly going in alone, and them having to group me with strangers. They were sometimes annoyed by this, but for the most part, they were welcoming, and they quickly realized either way that I was more of an asset than a burden, even though we didn’t have a preexisting rapport. Eventually, I wasn’t going in alone anymore. I finally found my community. The most passionate of us started a little club. The reason I’m giving you all this background is that every single member of this club is still alive, and still together. I don’t know how rare that is, to have eleven friends stay connected after all this time. None of us wanted to move to another planet without the others. No one’s marriages and families broke us apart—though, the rest of us would have understood if they had, and been happy for them. The point is that we’ve been doing escape zones for nearly 500 years, so we know what we’re talking about. I doubt we managed to try them all, but we certainly did the majority. It’s our passion, and I don’t think that’s going away anytime soon. Escape Dome is the largest adventure we’ve ever played. Of course, it’s not just one game that goes across the entire area, but each game is still immersive and impressive. I think I saw that they did have the traditional kinds, which were just the one little room each, and we might do that when three or four of us have an hour to kill. I should clarify, we started out with a club of eleven people, but over time, it’s nearly doubled, thanks to those marriages and families. Not everyone wants to be a part of it, which is fine, but the cool thing about some of these games under the dome is that all twenty-four members can play at the same time. We’ve never been able to do that before, even with the escape districts. Twenty has always been the absolute max until now. Our first two adventures were extraordinary. We kind of thought we had seen everything, but even beyond the larger scale, there were puzzles that blew our mind. The great thing about this concept is that anyone can have fun with it. I’ve heard people say, “oh, I’m just not a puzzle person” but we put them in one of those rooms, and they have a blast. Don’t count yourself out until you give it a try. If you end up not enjoying it at all, hey, you don’t have to do it again. Some of the adventures are designed to potentially take weeks, so don’t start with one of those. Be smart about your choice—which the staff will gladly help you make—and I’m sure you won’t regret it.

Microstory 2362: Earth, August 6, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

It’s true, I don’t need to hear certain details about your love life, but I want you to feel comfortable telling me what’s going on with you. I guess it’s a little strange that we’ve never brought it up before. Ya know, when we talk about the population decline on this planet, people often cite the poisoned atmosphere as the primary cause of it, but the truth is a lot more nuanced. Yes, obviously people died from it, and not just from the gases themselves—there were a lot of related effects, like failures in infrastructure maintenance that made the old cities less safe—but there were less overt repercussions too. The biggest consequence of the end of the old world was how isolated it made us from each other. You used to be able to take a bus to the airport, get on a flight, and be on the other side of the world in a matter of hours. You could travel just about anywhere with hardly any time to plan. Our jets are faster than ever, but the preparation for these flights takes so much more effort. If you want to go somewhere, you better damn well be sure that that’s where you wanna be, because there is no guarantee that you’re gonna be back. Because of all these limitations, and more, it’s much harder for some of us to meet someone. People are having fewer kids than they did in the past, because they have a hard time finding suitable partners. I won’t even get into population control mandates, but the only things keeping us from bursting at the seams are the people who do the transportation jobs like we used to have, and those building new settlements, or expanding preexisting habitats. This is all to say that I’ve not had much luck on the relationship front myself. I’ve moved around more than most. Our clients had to move too, but once we placed them at their new homes, they were free to settle down, and develop bonds within their respective communities. We just kept moving. I’ve gone on a few dates here under this ocean dome, but none of them has led to anything special. I’m not opposed to it, but we’re not getting any younger, so I’ve kind of learned to not get my hopes up about it anymore. I’m glad that you’ve found someone with the potential to last. I don’t think your age gap is all that big of a deal. And what are ya gonna do, let it get in your way? I say, love is love. As long as you’re consenting adults, and neither one is exerting any unfair power over the other, you should be allowed to do whatever feels right. But I’ll warn you, so you can warn him, if he hurts you, no interplanetary void is wide enough to keep him safe from my wrath. Okay, I’m done being overprotective again. Hey, dad didn’t tell me what he put in his latest letter to you, but I hope you’re pleased with it, and feeling okay. Tell me however much you want.

Love ya,

Condor

Microstory 2268: Change is My Status Quo

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Welp, yesterday, while you thought all I was thinking about was my meeting with the President, I was actually out doing volunteer work. I was once again rolling up my sleeves, and building houses with Homes for Humankind. I didn’t tell anyone that I was going to do that, because I didn’t want there to be yet another media frenzy, and I’m happy to report that it worked. I put in the work with everyone else, and for hours, didn’t have to worry about all these threats to my life. My security team was there, but instead of standing around in suits and sunglasses, they wore regular clothes, and volunteered too. All of the other volunteers knew who I was, and who my friends were, but they didn’t give me any crap about it. They didn’t give me preferential treatment, or ask me a bunch of questions. Everyone has a story, and it was nice to listen to other people’s, instead of thinking about my own. Some of them really understand a desire for anonymity, so no one leaked information. Still. I feel lucky that we never got caught. Wow, saying that, it makes it sound like I was doing something wrong. This is stressing me out, seeing threats at every turn. I don’t know that I’ll be able to pull it off again. Is that part of my life just over? Will I never be able to just go out and contribute to my community without it ending up on the news, or having to avoid that by going in disguise? Kelly says that I should accept that my life is different than it used to be, and pointed out that change is my status quo. She’s probably right. I’ve complained about rich people only helping others by donating money, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe that’s all I really can do without simultaneously shifting focus to me instead of the cause.

Microstory 2257: And He Paid It

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The money is in. Our bank account is so full, money is spilling out of it. I mean that in the most literal sense while still not talking about physical cash. Knowing that the funds would be in there by the end of the day, I set an autopayment for a number of various charities, so the full amount was only available for a few minutes before a chunk of it was gone. I’m laughing now, reading all of the replies and comments from readers who were under the impression that I was getting scammed. Oh, so many of you thought that it was never gonna happen; that I was just setting myself up for failure. We kept mentioning all the things we had to do at the bank, and whatever. You were convinced that it was going to come back to bite us in the ass. I suppose I can see where you could have guessed that. In an alternate reality, that’s what would happen; us becoming the victims of a long con. The thing is, though, even though I’m not telling you who commissioned me to give up my specimens, he’s not just some random guy who claimed to have a bunch of money. He’s fully on the books, and can’t run from me. The FBI, and other agencies, were fully aware that this was all happening, and they could have easily gone after him if he hadn’t been on the up and up. I know that a lot of scams work by telling you that they’ll give you a whole lot of money if you just give them a tiny bit up front, and the idea is that they’ll accept the tiny bit, and just run away with it, because to them, it was better than zero. But this guy didn’t ask me for a cent, and like I said, he’s a public figure with a life to lead. Taking my index and bone marrow probably won’t do much for him, especially since as I’ve been trying to tell everyone, they’re not the key to immortality. Risking going to prison by stealing them? That would have been even more absurd. He set the price, and he paid it. He paid it today, and now that business is done. I’m keeping enough of it for the three of us to live comfortably in this house, and to pay my security detail and publicist. Everything else should be spent on things that help the community, and maybe the world.

Microstory 2174: To Be Distributed

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I had my last official meeting with my parole officer today. Since my sentence has been commuted, it’s no longer a legal requirement. You’ll recall that I was only assigned one in the first place because on paper, I went to prison, I just didn’t have to literally step foot inside of the facility. Well...I mean, I did later while I was staying in the infirmary section for my fungal infection a couple of months ago, but you know what I meant by that. I still have my community service left to do, but lots of people complete their hours without a PO at all, so the judge decided that I didn’t need one either. I hope that we can still be friends, though I recognize that this may not be appropriate, nor even possible. He’s a great guy who I think goes above and beyond in his job. He’s helped me out in a number of ways that I don’t think he was ever expected to. I’ve actually met a couple of his other parolees, and he wasn’t giving me any special treatment. That’s just who he is. He actually cares about us, and wants us to succeed, and isn’t just waiting for us to screw up. He derives no joy from putting people back in jail, though it has reportedly happened a few times over his career. I dunno, maybe I’ll just never see the man again. That would be all right too. I’m starting a new chapter in my life. I have a new job, and I still have to figure out what to do with all this money that y’all donated to me. It’s processing to my account. It could be a few days until it’s fully ready to be distributed.

I have some ideas of where it’s going to go, but I still need to do the math, because it’s going to be split amongst a number of different charitable organizations. They all involve the previously incarcerated. They need jobs, homes, and therapy to help them cope with being back in a world where their daily routines are no longer being controlled by someone else. Having been in intermittent jail, I didn’t experience much of this, I only got a taste. But it’s an overlooked characteristic of prison life. Yeah, for the most part, you’re not stuck in your cell 24/7, only eating slop, and drinking contaminated water. You usually get to go outside. But only at certain times, and for a certain duration. And it can be taken away from you if you do something that they don’t like. You can’t see your friends whenever you want, you can’t even choose your sleep schedule. That’s a hard life, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to go back to the way it was before you were placed in there. I feel compelled to give back, so I suppose I should thank you for contributing to my unauthorized CauseTogether campaign. Do not take that as an invitation to start a new one in my name. I won’t tolerate that a second time, I’ll seek legal action, and if nothing else, make you look bad for not respecting my wishes. If you want to do some good for the world, then that website has a number of other campaigns that will be more than willing to take your money. Or you can start your own that doesn’t have anything to do with me. That site also has other features besides just temporary campaigns, so check those out. I’ll post the complete list of the organizations that I choose for the 50K later, so you can give directly to them too. You could perform community service too. When I’m better, I’ll be going back to Homes for Humankind, which actually has a special program that focuses on halfway homes, which have more specific needs. I’ll probably be giving them some money too. I know that it’s not an either-or situation, where you either donate or volunteer, but it does feel like I should kind of share the wealth a little more, doesn’t it?

Microstory 2160: Trust the Wizard

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I don’t have anything to say today. Stuff did happen, but I can’t tell you about it. I’m pretty honest with this blog, but I don’t reveal everything to you. For instance, I’ve never gotten graphic with all of my many illnesses. I don’t talk about what kind of porn I watch either. Lol, I’m kidding, I don’t watch porn, I’m celibate. Sexuality has no place in any universe. Gross, stop thinking about that, you heathens. Anyway, I’m still depressed, but I’m working on it, with my therapist, and my parole officer, and by occupying my time with work and community service. I still don’t think that I’ll ever be happy, but things have been much worse for me in the past, and are presently worse for others in the world. The point is that I have little to complain about. I still miss Cricket and Claire, but when you add it up, it hasn’t been that long. Anniversaries are significant in the bulkverse. I’m sure something good will happen exactly one year after my arrival. Oo, if this were a fictional story, we would call that foreshadowing, but this is all real, so what could I possibly know about the future? I’m not a wizard. Well, I do know some things about the future. I know that I’m going to go to jail tonight. That’s the future, maybe I am a wizard. Trust the wizard. Ugh, I need a break from this site. I’ll be back to you Monday. In the meantime, enjoy a couple of daily social media posts, and whatever else you have going on in your life besides me. I’m assuming that you have other interests, but I guess it’s possible that your entire existence revolves around me, and my life. There is a theory that only one person exists in the universe, and everyone else is just a figment of their imagination, or some kind of extension of their subconscious. I shudder to think. If that were true, every time I picked my nose in private, or watched porn, all of you have been aware of it. I guess in that case, you wouldn’t be real anyway, but it would still be weird. Stay out of my private life!

Microstory 2159: Can’t Ever Be Happy

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Yesterday evening, I had my usual meeting with my therapist. We talked about the storm a little, but it was mostly about the volunteer work I’ve been doing. It was no big secret that I got an early jump on my community service due to the traumatizing meat-eating incident the other day. She was able to piece together that I’ve been pretty depressed about it, and I think I knew that; I just didn’t want to think about it. I’ve been filling my days with tons of stuff to do so that my brain doesn’t get a chance to stop and ponder my life choices. It’s been really hard on me. I feel like I’m an addict, and I just had a relapse. It’s super not the same thing as a real addiction, like drugs, or sex, or even food in general. I made a decision to become a vegetarian for several reasons, none of which was that it was harming my life, or causing issues with others. Even so, I made a commitment to stop, and I broke that promise to myself. It can’t be reversed. It will always mark a new beginning, but in a bad way. The streak cannot be repaired, no matter how long I live without ever doing it again. And that sucks. It’s gonna take a lot, and a lot of time, for me to be able to move past it, especially since depression always reinforces itself with dark thoughts on other things. I start to think about every bad thing that has happened to me in my life, and all the mistakes that I’ve made. I dwell on it, and everything negative. My therapist tried to figure out what brings me out of my funks, but I don’t know that anything ever really has. It just kind of stays with me. It subsides after things regress towards the mean, but I can’t ever be happy. Happiness is a concept that I only understand through the lens of relativity. I’ve been happier at times than at other times, but true contentment sounds impossible, and if you tell me that you’ve experienced it, I may not believe it. If you tell me that you’re in the middle of experiencing it, I can’t promise that I won’t punch you in the face, so just don’t give me that BS. Sorry, didn’t mean to become so violent, but it’s impossible to delete my words, so I won’t. I just don’t care for braggers. We get it, you love life, now shut up about it, and leave me to brood in the shadows.

Microstory 2155: Tiny Home Community

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You’ll recall that I was planning to put off my community service hours until I was finished with my jail time. This was the best decision at the time, because it meant that I wasn’t trying to pile everything on all at once. If I had tried to rush through it, I would have gotten burnt out, and probably had a nervous breakdown. Other than that, though, there’s no other reason that I can’t start working through my hours earlier if I want. Before I get into it, I have one last update about that business deal that I’ve been working on. They pulled out of it. Completely. They made it quite clear that there was no legal issue, and that the whole reason they’ve changed their minds is because of my post last night. They asked me to eat steak with them, because that’s traditionally what they do after a handshake. I felt pressured to go along with it, even though I’m vegetarian, but they don’t see it that way. I’m an adult, and I made a decision, and I could have declined. Except I did try to decline, and they kept pushing and pushing. Still, they don’t want to work with me anymore, because I made them look bad. I pointed out that I never mentioned them by name, but they volleyed that I eventually would have, when I started to promote them, and that’s a good point. I must say, I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it’s probably for the best that we don’t associate with each other, whoever they were—I’ll never tell. On the other hand, I ate meat for no reason now, destroying my five year streak, and making me feel even worse about myself. If I could go back in time, I would have politely rejected their initial proposal, and then just moved on with my life. I’m gaining not only new readers, but also new subscribers. I have a good job in addition to this side hustle. I really don’t think anything else on top of that.

I still feel pretty crappy about the situation, so I decided I needed to do something about it. A long, long time ago, in a universe far, far away, I used to volunteer all the time. It came so naturally to me that I barely thought about it. That was one good thing about the scouts, because if not for them, or for church, I might not have done any, because, well...I wasn’t thinking about it. I didn’t have to go to the opportunities. They always came to me. Despite the fact that I’m now required by law to participate in community service, it’s not that easy. The court isn’t going to send me a list of places where I can volunteer, and they’re certainly not going to coordinate it for me. I have to reach out to the organizations myself, and have them approved by my parole officer, Leonard. That’s mostly a formality, because the only reason he would reject a particular proposal is if I’m being asked to do dumb, pointless, or unhelpful work. Good, non-scammy organizations who legitimately need help should be fair game. I forgot to say anything to Leonard beforehand, because I wasn’t initially planning on starting my service so soon, but I called him after, and the eight hours I earned will still count just fine. Homes for Humankind is presently building a tiny home community not too far from me on the Missouri side. It’s for people of low or no income, who need a place to live, but don’t need their homes to be lavish and expensive. I spent a half day cutting wood, and drilling screws. Most of the other dozen or so volunteers were highly experienced with this standardized model, so they went fast, and had a shorthand with each other. They were wary of me, but I have my own experience with this sort of thing, so I kept up. We still got the whole unfurnished product done in a day. I’ll help build another next week.

Microstory 2119: A Rehabilitation Plan

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Without proceeding to a full trial, I’ve been sentenced to 1,000 hours of jail time, and 1,000 hours of community service. There’s a lot of flexibility with this that I did not expect. I can go to jail for 42 days straight if I want, and then start doing my community service. I can stay in jail every night, but spend my days performing acts of service. I can spend six months in weekend jail while I work during the week, which will allow me some time to volunteer in the evenings, but I can also put it off until I have more time. I could even put jail itself off completely for six whole months, which I don’t really want to do. I would rather get it over with. That doesn’t mean I’ll be serving my time straight, though. I still want to work on my blog, and keep up with the world, which I won’t be able to do if I’m stuck in there for all that time. I first have to draw up a Rehabilitation Plan, which includes these two things, plus therapy, an active search for gainful employment, and of course, a detailed strategy for nonrecidivism. It’s not like I can do it one way, and then change my mind later. I have to decide now, which is what I’ll be working on for the next couple of days before I have to report to jail for the first time. Regardless of what I end up choosing, I’ll be going inside tomorrow night at exactly 19:00. They have to process me first, and then release me on Sunday at the earliest, if I’ve opted to go for an intermittent plan, which I will. I already have some ideas involving finding a home that’s close to where I work, and not still not buying a car, which will make it difficult for me to leave town again. As you know, I didn’t have a car before, but I was able to make it work with public transportation, so this isn’t like a perfect solution, but it’s a start. The state is trusting me with a lot of freedom, and I’m not going to do anything to suggest that it was a mistake on their part. Once I’m finished with my plan, it might be fun to post it here, even if only a truncated version of it. It could be pretty long. The court is actually encouraging me to stay online, to document my journey, and to garner public support for my recovery. I certainly don’t have a problem with that. If I can gain enough followers, I can actually start making money off of this site from the advertisements, which could really help if I really struggle with finding a regular job. So, as I think I’ve said before, read my ish! Early and often.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 13, 2399

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Leona was still hesitant to let Heath go undercover in the Church of Daltomism alone, but he’s finally doing it today. Daltomists meet every day of the week, but Fridays are the biggest. At first, he thought that that would be the best day to go, but if he’s trying to establish himself in the community, Saturday may be the better choice. He may be able to stand out more here, which is what he really needs. Of course, this is such a large congregation that a smaller service is still pretty big, but he has other ways of getting noticed. They practiced strategies yesterday.

He’s not going to start right away. He has to get his bearings first, and find out who here has the power to help him infiltrate. In Daltomism, just because someone is up on stage, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone in the audience who is more important than them. He’s looking for someone who all of the other congregants are avoiding, but not like they smell, because they respect and fear them. They’re more than likely too high ranked to be worshiping here as a normal person, and are here to make sure that this particular location is following the teachings of Dalton, and not straying from The Word. This person won’t know that Dalton is alive, but they may know someone who knows someone, who knows someone, ad infinitum.

There. That’s her. She’s holding herself with a strong sense of entitlement and superiority. She’s disgusted by the size of this place. In other faiths, the larger group of followers you have in one place, the more clout you have amongst the other chapters. Daltomism is different. The smaller the meeting house, the more elite you are, which is why this place is so gargantuan. It’s a starter house, and doesn’t require an invitation. He doesn’t really have time to prove himself, though. He has to move up the ranks fast...or else. That’s why he needs to get in the good graces of whoever this woman is, because she’s his ticket into something greater.

He won’t approach her right away. In fact, he’ll probably never try to speak with her at all. He’ll have to find some way to get himself noticed. He doesn’t want her to know that he’s targeting her, after all. God, he sounds like such a creep. This is important, though. Knowing that Dalton is just a man with access to special powers makes him seem a lot less mystical. Heath was never a huge believer, especially since he was taught to believe that he would never amount to much, but the truth has pushed him over the edge. He doesn’t feel bad about doing this, and doesn’t consider these his people anymore. Let’s see, he needs to get himself on stage. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention, but they sometimes bring people up to sing. They usually pick from the front, and he didn’t get here early enough for a good seat, but maybe he can swing it.

While he’s thinking about that, the woman he was eying suddenly approaches. “I know who you are,” she says to him, almost accusatorily.

“You do?” he questions. He’s not famous, in any circles. She shouldn’t recognize him in the least, especially not since they’re a thousand miles from Kansas City.

“I saw you on the news. You weren’t featured, but you were there, being led into that woman’s crime hole.”

“Oh. It’s not a crime hole. She’s trying to change all that.”

“Yeah, I don’t need to hear the pitch. I just need you to get me in the building.”

“That I can do,” he says with a smile. “Hi, I’m Heath Walton.”