Microstory 2364: Vacuus, August 13, 2179

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Dear Condor,

You’re right, I shouldn’t be so worried about the age thing. We’re both adults. Things are still going really well with Bray. As you know, I’ve told him about myself, in regards to how you and I were separated at birth. I obviously didn’t tell him anything that might even be slightly considered a secret. Like, I never read him any letters, or relayed details that you’ve told me in confidence. This is just how he and I bonded. I guess I should admit that the truth has since come out to the rest of the base since then. I wasn’t bringing it up with others, except for the people I kind of demanded answers from, but the general population has finally found out too. They’re all very curious and interested now. Bray had this idea that maybe you would like to send an open letter to the whole base? That might sound stupid, or be taking it too far. I’m not so sure about it myself. It’s just that most people here don’t have any lasting connection to Earth. Even if they’re old enough to have left an established life behind, their reasons for leaving usually included not having any strong ties. We all knew that it was a one-way trip. Well, I didn’t; I was a tiny little baby. Anyway, they would all like to hear from you, but it’s totally up to you. If you decline the offer, but don’t want them to know as much, I can certainly take the blame for it, claiming that I thought about it some more, and decided that I’m not interested in them knowing anything about my brother. I know that it’s kind of an odd request, but if we aren’t odd, then what are we, right? I feel like I’m doing my rambling thing again, but worse than usual, so I think I’m gonna call it a night. You can disregard everything I’ve said in this letter. I believe that I’m getting less sleep than I used to, now that my social life is a little bit more eventful than it was before Bray.

Goodnight,

Corinthia

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 28, 2480

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A couple of hours later, Dr. Hammer was finished with her other work for the time being, and was available to speak with the team. She stepped into her own office, and didn’t seem shocked to see them. Siria must have warned her through a text message, or something. She smiled at her assistant, and nodded, but didn’t say anything, yet Siria knew that she could leave, and tend to other things. “Could I see the card?” Dr. Mallory asked once Siria was gone.

Mateo handed it over.

Dr. Hammer inspected it carefully with her eyes, then inserted it back into the reader for more information. “Miss Webb does not have my access code. Neither should you. Please look away.” Her hands hovered over the keyboard, ready to type it in.

“We should leave real quick,” Ramses suggested. “Our brains can process keystrokes, and determine which keys are being pressed, based on the sound each one makes, unique to its position on the board, and its distance from our ears.”

Dr. Hammer narrowed her eyes at him, regarding him with fascination. “I should like to study you.”

“Maybe one day,” Ramses tentatively agreed.

Dr. Hammer typed in her code without worrying too much about it, and read the screen in silence for a moment. “Where did you get this?”

“A friend,” Mateo replied.

“A friend...who?”

“Who...I trust,” Mateo said, still playing it close to the vest.

“Should I trust them?”

“Indeed.”

“Well,” Dr. Hammer began. “When I stick it into that device, and stick you into that machine, I can tether you together, but in order for it to work, it must first be logged into the system. Otherwise, someone could simply steal one from the manufacturing room, and use it without authorization. Whoever gave it to you, that’s what they did. This is stolen property, I didn’t issue it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mateo said sincerely.

“Mister Matic, there is a reason I have not offered you a place at this facility. Well, there are a number of reasons, the main one being your significant connection to the Superintendent. For anyone else, I can prevent him from seeing what’s discussed in these meetings, but you’re more difficult to tease from his prying eyes. I don’t know what to do about that. We can’t let him go spouting off about confidential information. It wouldn’t be fair to the other members. He already knows too much.”

“I understand,” Mateo replied, just as sincerely as before.

I’ll skip the sessions. I’ll just say that he’s gone off to one, but I won’t follow him there. I respect doctor-patient privilege.

“Hold on, I’m getting a message,” Dr. Hammer said as she was clicking the mouse. She read the Superintendent’s claim. “The fact that you’re watching us at this very moment does not instill confidence in me that you would honor the boundaries. Even one peek could have devastating consequences for my patients that I cannot allow.”

The team wasn’t fazed by her apparent conversation with the Superintendent. They sat there patiently and quietly.

“Another one.” She took a second to read it, then paraphrased it for the whole class. “He promises to stay away, and says that there’s plenty of story to be told that has nothing to do with this place.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what to do about this emotional bond. I can find a workaround on the calibration, but you’ll all be able to use it, which is not the purpose of the card.”

“We don’t need the card,” Leona explained. “We go wherever we want, whenever we want. We promise to stay out of it, just as the Superintendent did. Mateo will be the only one to use that card.”

“And if anyone breaks this rule, you may revoke it,” Mateo added.

“We don’t really do that,” Dr. Hammer explained.

Mateo shrugged. “Do it anyway, if it ever comes up.”

Dr. Hammer thought over her options. “Is this the whole team?”

“My sister, Angela’s still on the ship,” Marie said.

“The two of them were once one and the same,” Leona clarified, “in case that matters when calibrating the machine for Mateo, or whatever.”

“It doesn’t. But she does need to be here. You’re like limbs of the same person, so you all need to be a part of it.”

Angela teleported down to the office, which alarmed Dr. Hammer, who believed there to be a barrier around the building that prevented anyone from showing up anywhere besides the vestibule. She wrote a note to herself to reinforce the security system, even though she obviously wasn’t worried about the six of them. She went on with the procedure. Mateo alone lay down in the card tethering machine, but they could all feel the procedure in their minds, and their bodies. A connection was created, between them and the card, and also to the facility. Their bond with each other felt like it was reinforced as well, though that might have been in their imaginations. The whole process only took a couple minutes. Mateo sat up, and left the room to go through orientation with Siria. As the Superintendent, I’m not allowed to divulge what he learned on his tour. I know only that it happened.

Meanwhile, back on the ship, the rest of the team was hanging out in Delegation Hall. Leona was reading a book, the other girls were chatting about nothing, and Ramses was looking through data on his tablet. After doing this for a bit, he looked away with a sort of concentrative frown, and shut his eyes. Finally, he said, “one more jump.”

“What was that?” Leona asked, though she didn’t take her eyes off the page.

“If we make one more uncertain jump, I believe that I will at last have the navigational abilities to find Romana.”

She turned her ereader away, and looked down at the floor between the two of them. “How certain are you of that?” Now she looked him in the eye.

“Fifty-fifty,” he answered.

She nodded, and considered it. “This sounds like one of those situations where we should vote on it.”

“We’ll do it when he gets back,” Olimpia said, referring to Mateo.

“We know how he would vote,” Leona replied. “We may as well do it now. You can call me his proxy, so I get two votes.”

Marie scoffed. “Raise your hand if you don’t think we should go.”

No one raised their hand.

“Motion passes,” Marie decided.

Leona took a breath, and yawned unwillingly. “Ange, run a pre-flight check, just how we taught ya. Rambo, you handle the quintessence drive, of course.”

While they were in the middle of their checks, Mateo returned, and listened to the update. “Wait, is it going to take us to her, or just help us find her eventually?”

“The latter,” Ramses answered.

“If it turns out to be enough,” Leona added.

“Where are we going? Anywhere?”

“A random jump would give us better data than a target one. I think that’s my problem. I think I’m trying to exert too much control, when I should really be letting the slingshot guide my trajectory.”

“That’s not how slingshots work,” Mateo argued.

“We thought you would want this,” Leona told her husband.

“We could end up anywhere,” Mateo went on. “That means inside of a star, or at the beginning of the big bang, or hell, a different universe.”

“I wrote safeguards into the program to prevent us appearing inside of a solid object,” Ramses began to explain. “Or a liquid or plasma, for that matter. Those are basic protocols, even the teleporter has them. The big bang was so dense that it would be tantamount to being in a sun, so the protocols would cover that too. As for another universe, the slingdrive can’t do that. We can pierce the membrane from the outside, but not from inside. We can only slide along it.”

“My position holds,” Mateo stood firm. “It’s too dangerous of a proposition.”

“What did you talk about down there after we left?” Leona asked.

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“Can you tell me if you’re an impostor?”

He waited to respond. “Not applicable.”

“We thought for sure you’d vote to go,” Olimpia said, stepping into the room.

“I would,” Mateo agreed. “I am. It just didn’t sound like any of you discussed the dangers that this poses. You only made it here because I took a fear pill. We don’t have that luxury this time. Wherever we go, it may take us on a wild adventure that lasts for years. As we’ve tethered our personal timelines together, that would mean Romana stays alone until we’re finished fighting Cthulhu, or whatever it ends up being.”

“She’s alone if we do nothing,” Leona reasoned. “We need this data.”

Mateo twirled his rendezvous card between his fingers, just as the other Leona had earlier. He was probably thinking about what he talked about in group at the Center for Temporal Health, but I was not there, so I don’t know anything that anyone said. He chuckled, perhaps getting the feeling that someone was leaning on the fourth wall from the outside. “I should stay. Whatever happens, wherever you end up going, you can always end up back here at least. Let me be your anchor. Something goes wrong, jump right back.”

“Dr. Hammer doesn’t want us doing that sort of thing,” Leona reminded him. “That’s not what this card is for. It’s not what that place is for.”

“I’ve just...we’ve been here before...so many times. We’ve been on a mission, and then we end up on a tangent. We have to break that cycle. We have to stick with something until it’s done. Our team has grown, yet remains incomplete. I’m afraid.”

“Give us the room, please,” Ramses said mysteriously.

Leona and Olimpia were a little surprised, but they left without arguing.

“What is it?” Mateo questioned.

“I analyzed that card,” Ramses said. “I couldn’t get much from it, but I bounced tiny ablation lasers off of the surface, which were absorbed by our sensors. They detected two DNA signatures from the sample. One was yours, and the other was Romana’s. She’s the one who gave it to you.”

Mateo didn’t want to say anything, even though he had obviously been caught. “She was wearing gloves.”

Ramses smiled. “She probably wasn’t wearing them the whole time. Lemme guess, she was from the future?”

“Maybe.”

He smiled wider. “I’ll keep your secret, as long as you vote yes, and come with us. We will find her again, so she can go back to see you in the past, and close her loop. I don’t think you should be this worried. Studying that slingdrive, and improving it, has been my sole focus for days. Please trust me, Mateo. You’ve done it before.”

Mateo sighed. “All right. Fire it up.”

They returned to the group, and confirmed that everyone understood what they were getting themselves into. They may find themselves back on Earth centuries ago, or on the other side of the universe. No result was more likely than another, however, regardless of where they ended up, they should be able to initiate a second jump, and go back to where they belonged. This should give them the data they needed to understand how the drive worked, so that they were not flying blind for that second time.

Ramses stood there like he was waiting for someone else, but he was the only one qualified to operate this thing. Even Leona hadn’t spent much time on it.

“What?” Leona asked.

“Say the thing. Say that word I like.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “Yalla.”

They jumped, and for a moment, they were disoriented, as was the ship, though the computers recalibrated themselves, unlike the first time they tried to use this thing. “I can tell you where we are, but not when,” Ramses announced. “I have enough positional data to know that we’re in the Miridir Galaxy.”

“It’s June 28, 2480. Present day, for lack of a better term in our line of business,” Leona elucidated them while consulting her special time watch.

“We’re not in the Beorht system, though,” Ramses continued. “Dardius is about two thousand light years from here, give or take a couple hundred.”

“All I care about is the new navigational data,” Mateo said to him. “Can we pinpoint a destination now?”

“I’ll need time,” Ramses said in an apologetic tone. “I can’t even tell you if the new data looks promising. I’m sorry.”

“Well, if we’re this far from civilization, finding the peace you need to conduct your work shouldn’t be a problem,” Angela figured.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Olimpia contended. She was looking through a viewport that wasn’t big enough for them all to see.

Leona threw the image onto the screen. There was another ship out there. Her armband pinged, so she looked at it. “External sensors are detecting a Nexus nearby. It’s probably on the ship.”

“What does that mean?” Marie asked.

“We can’t possibly know yet.” Mateo reached back for his helmet, and put it over his head. “Prepare for another tangent.”

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Microstory 2185: Hierarchy is Required

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To add to what I was saying yesterday, I feel that it is my responsibility to respect people’s time. I wouldn’t want to block out an entire day for a doctor’s appointment, or an interview, because I have no choice but to wait for someone else to manage their own schedule. The Golden Rule tells me that if I wouldn’t want it to happen to me, I shouldn’t do it to someone else. You have that rule here too, which is nice. It’s kind of cheesy, but it works most of the time. There are some general exceptions, like the fact that most people don’t want to be told what to do, but that’s the dynamic of a boss-employee relationship, or a parent-child relationship, or the like. Some hierarchy is required, which is why I can’t be expected to travel to my candidates’ locations, for instance. They all need to come to me, or procure the software that I use for video chat. I’m not saying any of this because I had some problem with any of our candidates; I just want to express it, so you can gauge how I’m trying to do things differently than how I’ve experienced it from the other side. Without sharing any confidential details, the interviews went great today. Everyone was suited enough for the job enough to be hired, so I will have some hard decisions coming up. Some of you seem to be a little confused, because from what you hear, an employer will only interview a few people for a position, and that’s mostly true here, though I am trying to keep my horizons broadened to make sure that I find the absolute best applicant possible. You have to remember that I’m trying to fill thirteen positions for my team. So when I tell you that I interviewed seven people in the office today, they were for all different jobs. It’s going to take us several days just to get through any reasonable number, and only then can I make a decision on which to choose for each one. Okay, I can practically feel the legal department shaking its head at me, so I should stop talking about the process before I say something privileged. As always, no blog post until Monday. Have a great weekend, everybody.

Microstory 2144: Thursday

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Oh, Thursday. Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday. What more can I say about Thursday, and how many times am I going to say Thursday? A Thursday by any other name would smell just like crap, because I think roses smell like crap, and Thursdays don’t smell like anything at all, but perhaps that’s only because I have an underdeveloped olfactory system. What was I talking about again? That’s right, Thursdays. Again? Yes. I don’t remember you talking much about Thursdays before. I mentioned it once in the post I posted three weeks and three days ago, called Called it Hustling, but it wasn’t on a Thursday when I said it. How do you remember that? By the power of Thursday, and Thur’s hammer. Okay. I also mentioned Tuesday. Now are you gonna go on and on about Tuesday? I would only do that if it were Saturday. Wat?! Here’s the thing. I finished all of my work for the day, which I can’t tell you about, because it’s all still confidential, and I can’t tell you about really anything else. The smoll borbs don’t care if I talk about them, but there’s nothing going on with them. My therapist had to skip our session yesterday for personal reasons, so I can’t get real candid about my mental health either. Or maybe I can, and I am, because I keep talking about Thursdays. Why am I doing that? Why am I spiraling? Because I learned something interesting today...at least interesting by your world’s standards.

Where I’m from, we have seven days of the week, and most of them are named after gods. Monday is named after the moon, and obviously Sunday the sun. I won’t get into details, because I don’t remember it well enough, but I do remember Thursdays, because it’s named after Thor, and Thor is not only a Norse god, but also characters from two of my favorite franchises. These aren’t coincidences either, they too are named after the original mythological figure. Why is this important? Well, because in order to tell you about any of these characters, I would indeed have to recite them from memory, because they do not exist in your world. Your history did not have a Norse religion, and never came up with Thor Odinson. So let me ask you this...why the hell did you name this day Thursday!? Huh?!? HUH!?! Why do you call it Thursday!?!?!?!/1 Where exactly do you think that word comes from? I tried to research it, but I can’t get an answer. All of the days of your week match mine, but with absolutely none of the historical value. I went deeper down this rabbit hole too, and it only got worse. January is named after Janus, March after Mars. July and August are named after famous historical figures who were never born here either. What about the planets? Samesies, young Padawan. The people who devised these systems were polytheistic, so that’s what was important to them. Language isn’t something that some dude just randomly came up with one day. It’s a constant evolution of phonemes, graphemes, and morphemes; smashed together and mixed up after coming into contact with other languages, and being updated with slang, or altered by ignorance or illiteracy. If you never had a Thor, how come you gave him a day? Thursday, Thursday, THURSDAY, THURSDAY, TTHHUURRSSDDAAYY!! I can’t explain it, not if I know my bulkverse rules, which I do. You see, there are different kinds of universes. Some are stable, some are unstable. Some are small, some are big. They’re all real, but they are not equal, and you, my good friends...are not built to last. I need to get out of here if I want to survive. It could happen any day now.

Microstory 2127: Too Tired to Relax

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I accepted one of the jobs, and respectfully declined the others. I’ll be working from home, which is something that I always wanted to do before all this time travel and universe-hopping. It saves on gas, and other transportation, and it allows me to work for anyone in the world. I thought I was going to be able to tell you what I’ll be doing, but my employer doesn’t want me to divulge such information. They may allow me to say certain, carefully crafted things at a later date, but for now, I should just treat it as privileged information. They didn’t make me sign an NDA, but I’m obviously going to respect their decision. All I can say is that I’m allowed to work whenever I want unless I’m scheduled for a meeting or a call, and it’s by the week, rather than the day. So if I get all of my work done at the beginning of the week, I can take a couple of days off, and still get paid the same, because I covered my hours, and was sufficiently productive. We’ll see how it goes. Before I left my original universe, people were pushing for a four-day workweek, but I’ve always believed that it would be better to work shorter hours across more days than to get entire days off. I would rather take minimal breaks in between than work my butt off non-stop until I crash on the weekend. I’m too tired to relax at that point, ya know? I know that sounds dumb, but if you’ve ever been there, you understand what I mean. Anyway, most of my last several posts have been on the longer side, so I think I’ll just do a little of that relaxing that I was talking about. I’ll have more to say tomorrow, because my new job isn’t the only thing I have going on. I’m this close to selecting an apartment. I found a nice complex with fully furnished units, but new, so I don’t have to worry about others having gotten their grubby little hands on the furniture—or worse—smoking around it. I’ll still clean everything. I’ll also need to tell you what my therapy was like, because I’m writing this prior to my evening session. I think I’ve already told you that, as a patient, I’m none too worried about the confidentiality of psychological and medical treatment. I expect my provider to respect my privacy, but I’ll say whatever I want about myself, so you’ll be hearing about my progress in the next coming months.

Microstory 2116: Law is Clear Enough

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I spent two nights in jail after they processed me. I’ve always had pretty good luck with law enforcement, probably because I easily pass for white, yet I’ve always disliked them, because of the things that happen to people who can’t pass for white. Of course, they shouldn’t have to pass for anything beyond being living creatures who deserve to be respected, and to feel safe around the people who have literally sworn an oath to serve and protect. As far as I know, there’s no oath to attack and kill unprovoked, but you wouldn’t know it reading about the coppers on my homeworld. Anyway, processing went fine, and the jail cell wasn’t that bad. I shared it with five other guys. The toilet wasn’t in a separate room, but there was a partial concrete barrier. We could still see each other, but we couldn’t see anything private unless we deliberately walked up closer, which fortunately, no one ever did. Sunday morning was a whirlwind of activity that I did not expect. I made a lot of friends on this planet, but none of them was in a position to help me with this situation. My family doesn’t live here, and I’ve not been around for long enough to form strong bonds. As it turned out, I didn’t really need them. The FBI surprisingly had my back. I helped them by luring that teenage girl’s kidnappers away from the trail while they rescued her, which was a really nice thing for me to do, but we weren’t exactly investigating terrorists. I’m not even sure if they’ve even managed to catch the criminals yet. What I did was not that big of a deal. All I had to do was drive to Alabama, and leave breadcrumbs for them to follow. The hardest part of that was having to spend time in Alabama. Boom.

Normally, I don’t think a federal agency will spend taxpayer money to bail an individual out of jail, but they were able to expedite paperwork to make me a CI. Obviously, the C in that initialism is supposed to stand for confidential, but past events have already been recorded in this regard, so who cares? Luckily for the taxpayers, my bail wasn’t all that high, because the judge knew that I wouldn’t be able to afford more than a few bucks. I’ll say, the wheels of justice seem to turn faster here than they do where I’m from. They do hearings on the weekend, did you know that? That’s so weird, but I’m grateful for it. I’m staying in a hotel right now, which the feds are allowing me to tell you, but I can’t say which one. It’s pretty nice, though. They’re treating me like an important witness, which I may be. They may ask me to testify against the ID makers whenever they catch them, and start turning the wheels of justice over them too. Don’t get too excited for me, though. They’ll probably cut me a deal for a lighter sentence due to my help in the bigger investigation, but I’m not getting off scot-free. I’ve still committed my own crimes, and the law is clear enough on that, so I’ll have to pay for my sins one way or another. The government can’t pay my legal fees, for obvious reasons, but I don’t have to worry about that either. They’re not the only friends that I unexpectedly made.

When I first left Kansas City, and hid out in Iowa, I quickly hooked up with the ID makers to generate my new identity. I still can’t tell you how I managed that, but perhaps one day. Sorry, but it’s not my secret to tell. Soon after that, I was able to find a job. It was a weird place where I worked, but I didn’t ask any questions. I just cleaned where I was told to clean, and kept my head down. They were dealing with very secretive information, but I never found out what exactly all of those documents were for. I still don’t know, but they noticed me, and they’ve decided to help out too, for reasons I couldn’t tell you. They’ve promised to cover all of my legal fees, including whatever it might cost if I decide to countersue the state, the federal government, or anyone else. I don’t think that I’m going to do that. I’m not sure what my case would be, and I’m not greedy. I knew what I was getting myself into. Well, I didn’t know that I would encounter a kidnap victim, but as far as my own dealings go, I made my own bed. Here’s what I’m worried about—and I’m fully aware that they have access to my blog—maybe they think that I saw something while I was a janitor in their offices, and don’t want me telling others about it. Honestly, I didn’t see nothin’, man. All of the regular staff members were always really good about keeping their stuff locked up, and I was really good about not letting my eyes wander. The truth is, I’m a curious person, but I’m not investigative. I could never have been a detective, because I generally don’t want to get into other people’s business. If I walk up to two people who are laughing together, I don’t ask them what’s funny. The way I see it, if they want to tell me, they can. So I don’t know what interest my former employer has in my legal issues, but I’ve decided to accept their help until they give me a reason to stop trusting them. I’ll fill you in on more tomorrow. Things are changing every day now, so I’m sure I’ll have a lot to catch you up on. This could all be a game, or a ruse, though, so my declaration stands; no matter what the autopsy says, it was murder.

Microstory 1999: False Targets

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leonard: What?

Myka: I said that Reese is missing!

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

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

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

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

Leonard: Okay, did you send a team?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leonard: Deblipped?

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

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

Myka: What?

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

Myka: You think the aliens got him?

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

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

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

Leonard: An email from whom?

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

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

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

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

Micro: Timotei? He’s in procurement.

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

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

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

Microstory 1955 Sensitivity and Responsibility

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

Reese: What are you doing back here?

Myka: I’m checking it out. Looks like we would be able to fit thirty vehicles. Lines will need to be painted to make it clearer.

Reese: You don’t need to worry about that. You’ll only be responsible for the office.

Myka: You said I was in charge of maintenance, and someone has to maintain this. Parking garages wear down over time, being driven on so much.

Reese: Right, but the government can hire a contractor for that. There isn’t any sensitive information in here, and of course it goes straight to the outside, which means we don’t have to worry as much about clearance.

Myka: What about the information inside of people’s cars?

Reese: No one should have any data just lying around in their cars.

Myka: What about the VIN, and the license plate numbers?

Reese: True, but we won’t have permanent hires who can do what you’re talking about.

Myka: My dad painted highway lines. I can do it myself if I have to.

Reese: You’re taking on too much yourself, and doing it too quickly. Slow down, and prepare to delegate to others. The first round of employees are coming in tomorrow.

Myka: That’s exactly why I’m looking at all this now, so I can, not only delegate the tasks, but prioritize them.

Reese: I get that. Just don’t work too hard. You’re not here to do grunt work. I was clear on that when I was discussing this whole thing with the OSI Director and SI Eliot. We are the bosses. [...] What are you looking at now?

Myka: There are two ways into the building from the garage. The big one takes you directly to operations. The other is this rusty metal door.

Reese: Have you opened it?

Myka: No, but according to the plans, it’s a maintenance access tunnel that subverts the main floors, and gets you down to the basement relatively quickly.

Reese: Makes sense. I imagine the boiler room is down there.

Myka: As are the detainment cells for the Ochivari.

Reese: What are you driving at?

Myka: This could be the best way to escort them to where they need to be, but I need to figure out how to get this open so I can check it out. We can’t have the aliens being able to reach out and pull at exposed power cables, or whatever. Can you help me?

Reese: Yeah, we’ll try. *grunting*

Myka: *grunting*

Reese: It’s sealed shut. We’re gonna need tools...and a professional.

Myka: Well, I can do it.

Reese: Let me guess, your mother was a welder.

Myka: *laughing* No, but I can watch a tutorial on VidChapp.

Reese: Myka, we were literally just talking about this. I’ll make a call, and get this door open. Why don’t you go back to the mezzanine? Leonard is anxious about the agents coming in next week. You should talk to him before we’re all too busy to help.

Myka: Okay, I can do that. I need to put a measuring tape in my shopping cart anyway.

Microstory 1935: Insurrection Detection

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Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

Special Investigator: Are you sure?

Scientist: No, I’m not sure. We’ve never done anything like this before. We were just running a test on the new satellite software. We didn’t think we would get a ping. I mean, maybe it blows our whole hypothesis up, and it turns out the equipment just happened to detect a specific instance of something that happens all the time.

Special Investigator: It happened twice. Your equipment registered both arrivals.

Scientist: That’s proof of nothing. We still don’t understand this data. This was new technology when I installed it in Kansas City in the first place. Perhaps it’s good at detecting—I don’t know—long-distance nanoquakes. Sure, your alien arrivals cause them, but so does fluid moving through rocks. It’s a very common phenomenon.

Special Investigator: Okay, but your tech isn’t detecting other nanoquakes. It’s only picked up three events, and two of them were travelers from other universes.

Scientist: It’s allegedly picked up two alleged interdimensional visitors. And the nanoquake thing was just an example. It could have just as easily been caused by unusual temperature fluctuations. Again, we still don’t understand this data. It’s all very complicated. I see nothing here that proves beyond a reasonable doubt that anything special happened in the Wyoming desert.

Special Investigator: I don’t need undeniable proof. I need you to tell me whether it’s worth it for me to send a team.

Scientist: To Wyoming? How much would a mission like that cost?

Special Investigator: An elite recon trio runs about $15,000 a day, though that can easily double for special necessities.

Scientist: So, like, nothing? I say go for it. Just don’t cite my science as a reason for greenlighting the operation. Like I said, we picked it up during a test.

Special Investigator: Don’t worry, I won’t blame you if it turns out to be a false positive. And I wouldn’t call 30-grand nothing. Maybe I’ll just send one, and maybe he doesn’t have to be elite...

Scientist: That’s not my department.

Special Investigator: Thank you, Scientist. I appreciate the insight. *leaves*

Agent Reese Parsons: Sir, I know you said it wasn’t time yet, but I would really like to see Parole Officer Miazga.

Special Investigator: This isn’t about that, son. I need you for a mission.

Reese: Sir, this is the mission. I’ve been trying—

Special Investigator: Don’t worry about the P.O. There has been a new development. I need you in Wyoming as soon as possible. We got a ping.

Reese: A ping, sir? I really would like to revisit—

Special Investigator: We’re not going to discuss you talking to the prisoner again, Agent Parsons. You can either do your job, or lose it. We think more intruders arrived in the Red Desert. I need you to go look into it for me. You’ll have limited resources—

Reese: Then I want to take a confidential informant as backup. We’ll split the cost.

Special Investigator: *shakes his head* No, I know what you’re thinking, but we—

Reese: Let Leonard Miazga out of his stupid cell right now, or I walk.

Microstory 1341: Bad Thoughts

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New Patient: Where should I sit? Or should I lie down?

Psychologist: You can sit or lie down wherever you like, however you like. That’s why I have so many options. I have one patient who prefers to curl up against the wall, because it makes them feel safer.

New Patient: Okay, thanks.

Psychologist: So, what brings you in today? The way I understand it, you’re having mixed feelings about something?

New Patient: Well, that’s one way to put it. I would describe what I’m experiencing as bad thoughts. I just keep—not seeing things; I don’t have hallucinations—but I have these urges to do things I know are wrong.

Psychologist: Things like what?

New Patient: Well, the other day, the cashier at the grocery store got upset with me, because I’m apparently supposed to scan my rewards card before I pay, so now there was nothing she could do about it. I can’t say that I wanted to do this, but I just had a vision—this flash—where I shoved the card in her mouth, and told her to scan it now. Oh my God, that’s so terrible. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.

Psychologist: That’s okay. This is a safe space. Everything you say is confidential, and I’m not here to judge you. Mine is only to help.

New Patient: I sure hope you can, because this isn’t even the worst example. I can’t explain it. Like I was saying with that one, I don’t have a desire to hurt people, but I can’t help but think of these alternative responses. The normal thing to do is just open the door that’s just been accidentally shut in my face, but a part of me wants to get them back for that; to physically drag them back to the threshold, and slam it in their face too.

Psychologist: So your thoughts are more about exacting justice, or revenge, on people who have wronged you.

New Patient: Yeah, I guess that’s probably an accurate limitation. I don’t walk past someone on the street, and think about randomly slitting their throat. It just seems to bother me more those little annoying things that people do. I mean, I would almost rather just be the kind of jerk who snaps at others, because then at least I wouldn’t be hurting them. I’m worried I’ll one day just lose control, and actually act on these thoughts.

Psychologist: Well, I wouldn’t be worried about that just yet. Simply by acknowledging that these are, and would be, irrational reactions, you’ve taken the first step in changing your perspective.

New Patient: I’ve just never been like this before. I grew up totally fine, but now it’s all I can think about, at least for a few moments after something frustrating happens to me. It’s making it hard to focus on everything I need to do.

Psychologist: There’s probably some reason it’s happening now. When people change their moods like that, it’s usually due to newer, stressful situations. Let’s talk more about who you are, what you do, and what has changed in your life recently that could cause you to feel a little more temperamental than before.

Microstory 1339: Doorkeeper

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Security Supervisor: This may seem like a waste of time, but I do hope you take this interview seriously.

Janitor: I don’t think it’s a waste of time. You’ll be giving me keys to rooms that house confidential information, correct?

Security Supervisor: It’s a keycard, but yes.

Janitor: Then don’t feel bad about it. I understand the importance of discretion. And understand this, I do not care about the files you keep. I’ve never been curious or nosy. When I’m standing next to someone who needs to log-in to a computer to show me something, I always turn away. It’s my instinct to protect people’s privacy, even from myself.

Security Supervisor: Well, it’s good to hear that. But if you were a corporate spy, that’s exactly what you would say.

Janitor: It’s also what someone would say if they’re not...which is the case here.

Security Supervisor: Speaking of here, do you know what it is we do?

Janitor: I do not, and again, I do not care to know. It makes no difference to me. I will be stepping into the rooms to take out that trash, and clean whatever is required of me, and then leave immediately.

Security Supervisor: Okay, good. I do have some more questions for you. I’m sure you went over all this with your supervisor, but I am a curious person. It says here you attended a cleaning school in Switzerland?

Janitor: That’s right. Here in the states, cleaning work is treated as an unskilled job. In other countries, such as Germany and Switzerland, janitors are professionals, with full careers, and years of education and on-the-job training.

Security Supervisor: Are you from Switzerland, or were your parents in the military...?

Janitor: No, sir. I actually found out about the program, and moved there for four years so I could train with the best. This work is very important to me. I’ve always found it very cathartic and soothing, the physical labor itself. Wiping down surfaces, mopping floors; it’s tedious for most, but relaxing for me.

Security Supervisor: Well, your résumé looks very impressive. I imagine it’s tough to find work stateside that effectively utilizes your skills. We don’t pay our janitors very well. Or rather, other companies don’t. We see things differently.

Janitor: Yes, that’s why I applied here. Your organization has a great reputation in regards to your treatment of employees. You would be surprised, however, at how well a janitor can do. Average salary is probably higher than you would think, even for someone without the amount of intense training that I’ve had.

Security Supervisor: Did you apply to any of these other places then?

Janitor: I have some money saved up, so I didn’t put a lot of feelers out, or cast a wide net. I’ve been applying to one position at a time, and seeing it through, before moving onto the next one. This is the third job I applied to, and my third offer. I declined the first two.

Security Supervisor: My, my. Aren’t we the selective one?

Janitor: Employers sometimes forget that workers have standards as well. Most people aren’t just lucky to not be unemployed.

Security Supervisor: Of course, of course. Well, your background check went through, and everything looks good here. You will shadow your supervisor for the first week, and then she’ll shadow you for a week after that. After that, you should know that we’re a security camera company, so we have security cameras...and most of them are hidden.

Janitor: I have no problem with that. Thank you, sir. I appreciate the opportunity.

Microstory 1308: Clearance Investigator Job

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Clearance Investigator: I appreciate your patience during this process. As you can imagine, as clearance investigators, it’s very important that we make sure the people we allow to be hired—or remain employed by the government, as you recently experienced—are investigated to the best of our ability, with the resources we have at our disposal. It’s doubly important that the people we hire to be those investigators be vetted even more thoroughly, to avoid any conflicts of interest, or other issues. We are the gatekeepers for so many agencies, and if you want to be part of that, we have to make sure you’re both up to the task, and worthy of holding the keys.

Postal Worker: I understand. I consider everything I went through during this most recent background check to be part of my preliminary training. The other checks were part of my training too, I suppose, since they are still relevant.

Clearance Investigator: Very good. Now, you have worked for the postal service for the last four years, correct?

Postal Worker: This is a fact, sir.

Clearance Investigator: Were you surprised when you got called up for a reinterview process?

Postal Worker: I wasn’t surprised so much as I didn’t know it was going to happen. I guess that is the very definition of surprise. Perhaps I mean only that I wasn’t bothered by it, nor concerned.

Clearance Investigator: What made you decide to apply for this position?

Postal Worker: It was the whole process. I was a bit scared the first time it happened, because I didn’t truly understand what was going on. I made a writing error on my application, and you threw it back to me, so that was upsetting. But I was a little more mentally prepared when the renewal came up, and I started really thinking about what was happening in the background; what you guys were doing, and why you were doing it. I became fascinated by it, and I realized how incredibly important, as you said, it was to make sure you know who it is you’ve hired. A lot of my co-workers were put off by it. They didn’t think it mattered, since we’re just mail sorters, but I never saw it that way. We have access to a lot of sensitive information that the citizens of this country are counting on us to protect. Maybe it’s not always national security, but every letter matters to someone.

Clearance Investigator: You seem eager to work for us.

Postal Worker: Oh no, I wouldn’t say I’m eager; I definitely wouldn’t use that word. I’m ready. I mean, I just... I...I—

Clearance Investigator: Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a terrorist who’s trying to become a mole in our department. You have the position. This interview is just one final formality to give you one more chance to back out, if you are so inclined. If you think an initial background check is hard, just wait until you see our exit process. Quitting this job, or—God forbid—getting fired from it, can be even more stressful, because now you have all this confidential knowledge we can’t let you walk away with unless we’re sure you won’t misuse it. If you really want to do this, we’ll get the paperwork started.

Postal Worker: I really want to do this.

Clearance Investigator: All right. Wait here a moment.

Microstory 1307: Metal Thief

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Property Crimes Detective: All right, Metal Thief. Tell me what you know about the Twin Hillside Burglary.

Metal Thief: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Property Crimes Detective: You expect me to believe that? It was all over the news.

Metal Thief: I’m not really into the news. I like history.

Property Crimes Detective: And money.

Metal Thief: Doesn’t everybody?

Property Crimes Detective: And metal.

Metal Thief: Metal makes money.

Property Crimes Detective: What did you do with everything you stole from that house?

Metal Thief: I told you, I didn’t do it.

Property Crimes Detective: Then who did?

Metal Thief: How the hell should I know?

Property Crimes Detective: Well, you must have contacts, what with everything we know that you’ve stolen.

Metal Thief: What did they take?

Property Crimes Detective: Everything.

Metal Thief: Everything?

Property Crimes Detective: Everything but the kitchen sink. They did take the workshop sink that was in the garage, though.

Metal Thief: They literally cleaned it all out? But just the one house?

Property Crimes Detective: Yes.

Metal Thief: You didn’t call me in because you think I did it. You called me in for help.

Property Crimes Detective: [sighs] Where would someone go to unload all that? I’m talkin’ bookshelves, couches, televisions, frickin’ photo albums. They took a lot of junk that was personal; I honestly don’t get it.

Metal Thief: They took photo albums?

Property Crimes Detective: Yeah. What does that mean to you?

Metal Thief: There’s always someone willing to take the valuable stuff. You don’t even need to go to the black market. All you would need to do is haul that stuff to your own house, and sell it on your lawn.

Property Crimes Detective: A garage sale?

Metal Thief: As I understand it, confidential informants get paid.

Property Crimes Detective: You give me something I can use, we’ll talk.

Metal Thief: [...] Detective, this crime is personal. Like you said, they took junk. Anyone willing to go to that much trouble is doing it for one of two reasons. A, it’s a prank, in which case it’s gone too far by now. Or B, the victim just went through a bad break up, or fired a disgruntled employee, or something. Find someone your victim has wronged recently, and see if they have a garage sale goin’. Or see if they’ve just purchased storage space somewhere in the city. They may not want, or need, to sell it at all, and it’s really just about hurting the victim.

Property Crimes Detective: That was actually kind of helpful.

Metal Thief: Next time you want a favor, don’t drag me into an interrogation room. Just ask.

Property Crimes Detective: Oh, it’s a favor? I guess we don’t need to pay you then.

Microstory 1077: Fannie

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Have you ever seen The Mothman Prophecies? I don’t know that much about it, but I remember this key plot point where a character would be driving on the highway, and he was suddenly in a different part of the country. Again, I don’t remember what he did, but I seem to recall this occurring a couple times. Well, that very thing has happened to be quite a bit over the course of my life. It started out when I was a child. I would be walking to school, and eventually realize that I’m on the other side of town, going the completely wrong direction. I never felt the moment when I jumped to this other location, because one thing I’ve noticed is that I always end up in a similar environment from where I started. I won’t, for instance, be walking across a prairie, then suddenly find myself in a snowy tundra. It also doesn’t seem to ever happen to me while I’m inside, or standing still. I spent years trying to teleport on purpose, all the while also trying to figure out if there’s some reason I’m meant to go to these other places. Maybe somebody’s life needs saving, or I’m expected to learn some lesson. But I don’t always jump to the same point, and there is almost never anyone else around. It would appear that this phenomenon is totally random, that I will never find a way to control it, and that there is nothing I can do about it. About the only way I can sometimes prevent it is by walking very slowly, and taking frequent breaks. It’s practically impossible for me to drive myself anywhere, but I definitely can’t tell my parents why they have to chauffeur me around. I have fabricated this complicated lie about a driving phobia, and past traumatic experiences. They have no recollection of something terrible happening to me in a car, and of course there’s no proof of it, but they find it hard to argue.

Once I’m done with high school, I’m moving to a big city; somewhere with really good public transportation. The magical force doing this to me seems to hate it when other people are near, though it will just go ahead and take me away if it finds out I’m trying to protect myself by staying in a crowd. I had a lot of explaining to do after a few times there were witnesses, and even had to join magic club, before I pretty much gave up using that as a tactic. Anyway, a few months before we lost her for good, Viola approaches me, and tells me that she knows what I’ve been going through. She apologizes for not speaking with me earlier, and claims that she should have sensed that I was different a long time ago. She couldn’t understand why it was she had to find out by accident. Apparently, she was some kind of expert on this kind of stuff. She also tells me that there is no treatment for what she specifically called a time affliction. She can’t cure me, I can’t cure me, and doctors certainly can’t cure me. It’s just something I’m going to have to live with, and the coping mechanisms I had already come up with are probably my best bet. She kept me close after that, and she was actually able to keep the jumps at bay, to an extent. But she warned me she would not be around forever, and I could not rely on her to help for too long. Then she was killed, and proved this to be true. It was nice not being alone for a little while, and it’s made me realize how sick of it I truly was, so I’m revealing this to your audience now, because I just can’t lie anymore.

Microstory 1076: Nettie

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Before we get into this, I would like to extend my gratitude to you for taking this huge project on. I know that it doesn’t impact me all that much, but Viola was a good friend of mine, and she obviously can’t show you appreciation herself. Now that we’re seniors, we’ve branched out into our own preferred subjects, but over the last four years—in a school this size—there was no one in your grade level you didn’t share at least one class with. There was one exception to this. Throughout our entire respective school careers, I didn’t take one class that Viola was also in. Sometimes we were taking the same course at the same time, but we weren’t in the room together. If nothing else, there’s a strong possibility for two students to be in physical education together, because they only have a couple giant meeting sessions, but we didn’t have that either. I broke my leg in the summer before high school began—slipping on the rocks, trying to cross a stream, like an idiot—so I had to wait to take it when I was a sophomore anyway. Of course, I haven’t exactly conducted any scientific studies, so maybe this sort of schedule happens all the time, but it certainly doesn’t seem to. The only reason any of this is important to my story is because Viola was the kind of person that you couldn’t miss. If you never shared a class with someone else, it might have escaped your attention, but if you never got to see Viola, you noticed. She seemed to notice as well, because near the end of last year, she started making a point of visiting me at my locker. This behavior continued all through the following summer break, and up to her death. She became a quite important confidante for me. I could tell her any and all of my secrets, and know that she wasn’t going to abuse her power. I think she helped a lot of people in this way; just by listening to them. I always imagined she would grow up to become a therapist, or something. It wasn’t until after she was gone, and you started working on this series, that I learned there was a lot more to her. She never showed me any magic tricks, or proved she knew things about the world that she shouldn’t have. I’m still not sure I believe all the supernatural stuff people claim about her. There was no single instance where she changed my life forever, or altered my perspective. She was just a good friend. She seemed to always know what the people around her needed most, and I guess all I needed was someone to talk to.