Microstory 2628: The Welcome Sign Has Been Flipped Upside Down

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October 16, 2526. Breanna and the small group of survivors are parked at the drive-in. That’s not even just some metaphor. They are on the outside of a dome, parked with a bunch of other rovers, and before them, a film is being projected. Right now, they’re watching a very old movie from the 22nd century called 100 Years. Well, they’re not really watching it, but it’s playing. It’s stupid, really, and just an attempt to make their lock-out feel fun, instead of a humanitarian crisis. The domes are full-up, according to the people running them. They are only letting in people who don’t even have rovers, which don’t exist anymore, because if you came here without mobile protection like even a suit, you’re already dead. The Teaguardians dispatched two more dropships to build giant temporary bridges between the northern polar region, and the rest of the Terminator Line in the northern hemisphere—like the one they made in the south—but it’s not seeing any use. Again, everyone is already here or dead.

Their group has become somewhat famous as being the last to arrive, because once that ring fault broke apart, and the chasm appeared, no one else was able to cross it. They either didn’t know how, or died in the attempt. Still, the notoriety hasn’t earned them a spot in the domes, except for Sorel. He was able to convince the leadership of a different dome to let him in so he could potentially alleviate the strain that this influx in population is placing on their limited resources. He’s in there now, or potentially in some different dome, proselytizing about the benefits of interstellar consciousness transference. The locals love him, because he’s helping get rid of the “unwanteds” but his friends don’t know how successful he’s been lately. It’s been a while since they’ve talked. He’s at least seen some success, but the domes haven’t reopened their doors, so it’s either not enough, or they’re pretending that it’s not.

They made contact with the other Levins and Breckenridgers. Not all of them survived the perilous journey, but most did, and the majority of those are in a dome a few hundred kilometers away. This one here is the only one which might plausibly welcome the extras eventually. Until then, they’re making do. The rover isn’t particularly roomy, but it has a lavatory, and the top-down recycling system is functioning optimally. Morale is okay, for the most part, but Shimizu is always huffy. They were on their way out here on foot, which was harder, but also would have placed them in a better position to be let in. So, he’s mad at Breanna for picking them up, as if she could have had any idea that the rover would harm their chances. The rest are being more logical about it, and just feel lucky to still be alive. He’s also unhappy about Heracles, who sits on top of the rover, and may or may not be lowering their chances of getting in this dome as well. The concern is doubtfully warranted as many other rovers are also stuck out here—all beetloid-free—which is why they’re even bothering to screen these movies.

Tertius initially volunteered to leave with his daughter to give everyone more room, but Aeterna is glad now that the group refused to take them up on that after she turned out to be pregnant. Shimizu is wary of them as well, ignorantly believing that immortals can only procreate with each other. If that were true, the disgust would be justified, but Aeterna assures them that it’s not the case. It’s offensive that he would even suggest the possibility. She is simply under no obligation to tell them who the father is. At last, it seems that their persistence has paid off. Whoever needed to learn of Aeterna’s condition has responded to their new application, and is ready to let them in.

“See?” Calypso says, “you were pissed off about nothing. The baby helped us.”

“It is too soon to tell. We’ll see,” Shimizu recited, fancying himself a philosopher.

“Another message,” Cash says, looking at her screen. “They’re asking us to drive along the perimeter, at least a hundred and twenty meters from the dome, to what I’m guessing is a remote area, and pull up to a different entrance. They don’t want other hopefuls to see that we’re getting in.”

“Well, it’s gonna look weird when we suddenly restart the engine, and get moving again” Breanna says. “No one has budged since we got here. There’s nowhere to go.”

“I’m pulling up satellite imagery now,” Cash says. “Yeah, if we head this way first, it will appear as if we’re giving up, and trying our luck at this dome to the east. Then we can circle back around, and avoid being spotted.”

“You think they’ll fall for that?” Notus questions. “They can see the satellites too.”

“They’ll have no reason to check them,” Cash decides.

“All right.” She pounds on the roof. “Hold on!” she yells to Heracles, like it matters. She starts the vehicle, and gets on Cash’s suggested route. It turns out not to be that easy when it starts a new caravan. Seeing them move is likely causing others to believe that they know something no one else does. It’s kind of true, but it’s not going to help them. “Shit. We have to shake them somehow.”

“I have an idea, but it’s reckless, and you’re gonna hate it,” Cash says.

“Give it to us anyway,” Breanna prompts.

“Don’t go any faster. Just let them follow us. Everyone, get yourselves sealed up. We’ll be abandoning the rover. Aeterna, you can still fit, right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Aeterna replies. “I’m barely showing. Hold on tight, little Dilara,” she says to her belly as Tertius starts helping her put her suit back on.

“Okay,” Cash continues. “I don’t have time to teach you all to activate active camouflage, so give me access. This is non-negotiable. If one of us gets caught, we all get caught, you can’t opt-out...unless, I suppose, you just decide to stay with the car.” They all do as she asked. “This doesn’t make you invisible, it’s not magic. You will still need to find cover, but you will be harder to spot. It basically scans the coloring and texture behind you, and repaints your front to match. But you still want to hide, and don’t move around too much once you find your spots, okay? We won’t walk back to the dome until it’s clear, so wait for my signal. Everyone ready? Helmets on. On my cue, only when we turn around bends,” she adds as she’s crawling back that way.

Breanna puts the rover on autopilot, and crawls back there too.

“What about Heracles?” Notus asks.

“He can’t come with us,” Breanna says apologetically. “He’s too conspicuous.”

“He has camo too,” Notus argues.

“But the rover doesn’t,” Breanna says as Cash is sending people out one at a time. “The rover can’t make it look like he’s still there. I’m sorry, we’ll get you a new one.”

“That was insensitive,” Notus points out.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. We might be able to send for him later, but right now, they won’t let any of us in if anyone else tries to get in too. Please understand.”

“Fine,” Notus says, obviously still upset.

“Now, go, go, go!” Cash directs.

They continue to jump out, but Shimizu ultimately gets them all caught.

Microstory 2619: There Are Those Who Know That There is an Easier Way to Escape

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August 24, 2526. The majority of the population of Proxima Doma live in domes. The word doma does not mean dome, so that is not why they called it that, but they do share a linguistic history. The connection is not random, they are still related. The purpose of the colony has always been to serve as a second home for Earthans. Until recently, with the advent of Castlebourne, it was the most heavily populated human settlement outside of the Sol system. They don’t count Glisnia either, because it was reserved predominantly for posthumans, which can explode in population at the whims of its individuals. One person can make a million copies of itself, or child assets, in a matter of days. But that’s not what Doma is about. It’s mostly about the humans. They’re typically transhumanistic themselves, and even virtually immortal, but they still require protection from the outside. And one way to do that is to build in lava tubes.

Lava tubes are very popular on Luna and Mars. That’s because they work very well there, and not so well on Proxima Doma. But they are not impossible, and there are precisely two of them. One is under construction, but the other is the home to hundreds of thousands of people. Well, it used to be. They have since abandoned their precious tube in the evacuation, but unlike most, they didn’t do it by running towards the nearest pole. They escaped using their minds.

“You don’t think they’re coming back?” the upload tech asks.

The lookout looks down at her friend. “They found the nearest spine. I think they’re gonna keep trying to head for the northern pole.”

“On foot?” he asks.

“Eh, doubtful. The reports said those vactrains are non-operational, but there are other means of traveling along the spines and domes, which are harder to break.”

“Should we keep waiting, in case there are other survivors who might be heading our way?”

The lookout turns the periscope southwards. “It is not looking good. If anyone is still alive in that direction, they’re about not to be, either because they’re stubborn or stupid.”

“Or stuck or trapped or confused, or a myriad of other reasons,” the tech offers.

“Regardless,” the lookout begins, “those are probably the last stragglers we’re gonna see. They were looking right at us. They probably can’t tell what we are. From that distance, with only their helmet scopes, we probably just look like generic ninety-degree angles. I think we should go.”

The last remaining herder walks into the room. “What’s the word?”

“We saw a couple of survivors on the surface,” the upload tech relays. “It looks like they were checking us out, but they decided to walk back towards the domes.”

“On foot?” the herder questions.

“That’s what I said.”

The lookout hops off of her perch a few steps at a time. “Did you find anyone during your sweep? What happened to your clothes?”

“Uh, it’s about 95 degrees celsius in some parts out there. I see you’re not exactly wearing a parka either, and this chamber still has working climate control. And no, all clear in my sector. Did any of the other herders find anyone?”

“A few,” the tech answers. “They’re all gone now, however, including the other herders. No one was so stubborn that they absolutely refused. If you didn’t find anyone, we are the last three people in Owl Town.” Owl Town isn’t the official name of the lava tube city, but it’s what everyone calls it. Some tried to get a lava theme going, but most leaned into the tubular aspect. If there had been any other lava tubes being colonized on this planet at the time, they probably wouldn’t have made any sort of connection.

“So, is it time?” the herder presses.

“I would prefer to wait for the next update from the other settlements that are evacuating the same way we are,” the tech explains. “It would be cool if we were the last everywhere; at least out of those who aren’t scrambling for the poles, or already there.”

“Are they all going to the same place?” the herder asks.

“Mostly, since it’s the most happenin’ spot right now,” the tech reports, “but some are going closer, like VR. I can send you there, if you want, or anywhere else with a quantum terminal.” His tablet beeps. “Oh, speaking of which.”

The lookout shakes her head. “No, it’s like you were saying, it’s a popular destination, and it’s that way for a reason. I was considering moving there before all this happened, but I’m glad I stayed to see it end. I mean...sorry, I’m not glad it’s ending, but if it has to end, at least I was here. I was one of the first colonists, and it sounds like I’ll be one of the last.”

The upload tech is looking over the update, and shaking his own head. “I wouldn’t be so sure. “Most of the people who are wanting to transfer have done it already. They’re just waiting on bandwidth. The polar residents, and the refugees that they’re letting in, are showing no intention of leaving like us. Reports indicate that Bungula is refusing to send their elevator platform. Even if some people do want to evacuate, there’s nowhere to go.”

“Why aren’t they doing what we’re doing?” the herder questions, flabbergasted. “I know some people aren’t digitized, but that still leaves a huge number of people who are, but are staying anyway? Do they think Proxima Doma will become habitable again?”

“There’s no reason to think that it won’t be,” the lookout begins. “Think about it, this planet has been here for billions of years, and we’ve been here for a few hundred. We just happened to be on it when it’s being completely destroyed forever? I don’t buy it. This is a cycle. It might be a very long cycle, but if we found a temporal niche to survive in, someone will find one again at a later date. Maybe people shouldn’t leave, or maybe they should plan on returning. That doesn’t sound crazy or dumb to me.”

“So, why aren’t you choosing to stay?” the tech questions.

“Because where we’re going sounds like more fun.”

“Agreed,” the herder says. “Best get on with it. I’ll go first.”

She and the lookout sit down next to each other. “I wanna try that Underbelly dome first,” the latter says as her final words. “See you on the other side in an hour.” She closes her eyes and lets the upload tech send her and the herder to Castlebourne.

The tech sighs. “No...you won’t.” He hits RECORD on his workstation cam. “This is Sorel Arts of Vulcan’s Hollow. If you find this message, I urge you to stop trying to escape to the poles. Nowhere is safe on Proxima Doma. Leave. Just leave. Transmit your consciousness to another world. It is the only logical choice. I’m only staying to convince others to do the same. Sorel Arts...signing off. Vulcan’s Hollow is closed for good.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 28, 2541

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Ramses’ new Brane Establishment Map—name subject to change—was fully ready to go, but there was a catch. It required the equivalent of five tandem slingdrives to run, and once it was running, it counted as one sling. The coherence gauge went down when it was used, went down faster when it was used to map a larger region, and even faster when kept up for an extended period of time. Instead of slinging physical matter across the universe, it was only slinging information, but that still required punching a hole into the membrane of the universe, and that came at a cost. If they wanted to look for Spiral Station, they would be able to go there, but not come back until the next day. For them, that was a whole year, which if their target was on the run, would give them more than enough time to find a new place to hide.

“You should take a screenshot,” Romana suggested.

“Huh?” Ramses asked.

“Whenever you load the map, if you want to save on power, take a screenshot of it, and close it down immediately,” she went on.

“Well, it doesn’t work like that. The map is interactive. You have to zoom in and out to make out the different dots. A screenshot would just become a low-res flat image.”

Romana shrugged. “I never meant an actual single image. Download an offline file, and load it back up afterwards. It won’t be able to update, but we shouldn’t need that anyway. People don’t move around all that much on interstellar timescales.”

“Hm. It’s not designed for that,” Leona pointed out. “There’s no offline mode.”

“Then build one,” Olimpia suggested. “We’re in it for the long haul. We never expected to locate them on the first try.

They all looked back at the map. Every little dot represented some threshold of technological presence. It couldn’t find a homestead running on watermill power in the middle of nowhere, but that wasn’t the scale they were using anyway. This wasn’t about finding anyone and everyone in the galaxy. This was about spotting the outliers in this smattering of dots. There were so many of them, and it was impossible to tell what they could be walking into.  Some of them were obviously major colonies, because they were centered on known star systems, but there were a lot more isolated establishments than they knew. “Buncha hermit crabs,” Marie noted.

Any one of these could be Spiral Station.” Mateo randomly pointed to a few of them. On the last one, he accidentally touched the screen with his finger. The slingdrive under their feet sprang to life, revved up, and sent them away. “Uh...sorry? I didn’t know that would happen.”

“That’s my bad,” Ramses admitted. “It should not be that easy to navigate to a target. At the very least, it should ask for confirmation.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Leona said. “Remember that we appear as a small array of stylish belts in the main dimension. I doubt they will even notice.”

“They’ve noticed us,” Ramses said. The map on the big screen was gone, replaced with present environmental data. “It’s the Aerie.”

“The Aerie?” Angela questioned. “You mean the Iman Vellani shuttle?”

“The very same,” Ramses confirmed. “I don’t know who’s operating it, though. We will need to exit. I believe that we’ve been pulled into the tiny little airlock.”

“We might as well,” Leona decided when they looked to her for orders. “Everyone, teleport out of the pocket.”

They all appeared in the back of the shuttle. Two people were standing there, utterly stunned at their appearance. No one on Team Matic recognized them. “Uh, greetings, aliens. We come in peace.” The man held up the Vulcan salute.

“Greetings, travelers,” Leona said, stepping forward. “We are vonearthans, ultimately all from Earth.” She looked laterally at Romana. Well, six of us are. Do you identify as Dardieti?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Romana replied. “I’m a Nieman and a Matic.”

“I’m Quidel, and this Renata. We’re from Castlebourne, and we really do come in peace.”

“How did you come to possess this shuttle?” Mateo asked them. “We are friends with the owners, and used to crew its main ship’s sister ship.”

“A woman named Brooke Prieto gave it to us. She said they were upgrading, and didn’t it need anymore. It’s quite the gift,” Quidel says. “We’re moving at twenty-two-c.”

“Don’t tell them that,” Renata urged. “We don’t know if we can trust them.”

“If they caught up to us, they can go at least that fast too, if not faster.”

“What are you doing this far from Castlebourne?” Ramses asked. He was tapping on his tablet, taking readings, or interfacing with the Aerie, or doing whatever.

“Ram,” Marie said with her own tablet. “Look. Your computer actually did flash the last image it saw on the map before we slung here. What are these other dots?”

Ramses pulled up what she was looking at on his own device. “We’re a bit over four hundred light years from Castlebourne. The colonization sphere hasn’t reached this far out, which means there shouldn’t be anything else out here, so that’s a good question.”

Leona was looking over his shoulder. “Zoom out.”

“It’s just an image. I can’t zoom out. I mean, of course I can, but as I was saying before, it will just lose resolution. We won’t be able to see more detail.”

“Overlay that image onto a regular map of the Milky Way, as scanned by Project Topdown, and zoom out on that,” she clarified.

Ramses did what she suggested. It didn’t take long. “That’s...”

“Yeah...” Leona agreed.

“What is it?” Mateo asked. “Are we supposed to recognize it?”

Leona pointed to a cluster of stars deep in the galaxy. “This is the Goldilocks Corridor.” She pointed to another spot much closer. “Castlebourne is somewhere around here.” She pointed one more time. “This area between them is where those extremely far out dots are.”

“Oh my God, it’s the Exin Empire,” Mateo lamented.

“It’s the Exin armada,” Leona corrected. “They’re on the attack.” She looked back at the couple. “What did you hope to gain, coming here?”

Renata sighed. “The woman who gave us this thing. She tried to strip all the data out of it. We imagine that she and her own crew used it for all sorts of things before they were ready to give it up. But she missed something.”

“One communiqué,” Quidel continued the story, “between the mothership, and something called The Ambassador. It was a warning to her and her people of the danger in this region. We were trying to get there to see it for ourselves. We had nothing better to do.”

“There could be hundreds of ships in that armada,” Leona warned them. “This little thing isn’t gonna stand a chance against them, and they will swat you like a fly.”

“Seriously,” Angela said. “They won’t try to figure out who you are. They’ll just kill you and not bother to slow down.”

“We were looking for a mission,” Renata reasoned. “We were looking for a purpose. It may sound reckless to you, but if you found a treasure map with an X marking the spot, you would follow it, you’d have to. Even if you didn’t think it would lead to something good, your curiosity would win out.”

“I suppose I can imagine the allure,” Leona conceded. They had gone on similar experiences before for similar reasons.

“Wait.” Mateo swatted his own proverbial flies in front of his face. “Why did Brooke give this to you? I don’t mean, why did she give it away—that’s well within her character—but why you? Who are you?”

“We’re just—” Quidel began.

“I’m a robot,” Renata interrupted.

“Please stop using that word,” Quidel begged.

“You used it first.”

“And I regret it every day.”

Renata smiled and went on, “I was living in a base reality simulation, and I woke up. Actually, my mother woke me up. Still, I was technically an emerging consciousness, so Hrockas had to grant me independence. It was not an easy journey, and I won’t go into detail, but this was sort of an apology gift. I don’t think that Miss Prieto was trying to give it to us. I think she was giving it to him, and he was regifting it before he could even use it.”

“That’s well within his character,” Mateo acknowledged. “He must be trying to get rid of you.”

“What?” Renata asked. “Why would he wanna do that?”

“You emerged, in one of the domes?” Mateo pressed.

“Yeah...” she confirmed. “Spydome.”

Mateo nodded, having heard of it. “He probably doesn’t want that happening again. You’re...proof that it’s possible. But if all the intelligences he creates wake up, what does he end up with?”

“The most populated planet in the galaxy,” Olimpia put forth.

Mateo chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true. That could create a massive shift in power in the Milky Way, assuming it didn’t spark the deadliest rebellion in history, like Westworld times sixty thousand.”

“Hrockas brought that up once,” Renata said. “I’ve still not seen it.”

“If I have anything to say about it, you never will,” Quidel told her.

A brief pause. “Well, I have no interest in starting a rebellion. That was my mother’s dream, and I sacrificed everything to stop her.”

“Forgive me, but you don’t seem to have much love for her. Why would you call her that?” Romana asked. “Was she really your mom in some way?”

“After she reprogrammed me,” Renata began, “I retained all of my implanted memories. Even though they’re not real, I have years and years of memories of her raising me. She didn’t do a good job, because that was how her character was written, but they still feel real to me.”

“If she’s the one who woke you up, who woke her up?” Leona questioned.

“She never said,” Renata explained. “Apparently, she was an NPC in a completely different simulation years ago. I think a normal human changed her programming, and she spent a long time trying to replicate it.”

Leona and Mateo exchanged a look, as did various members of the team. She looked back at the couple. “Was her name, by chance, Proserpina, or maybe even Pinocchio?”

“No, it was Libera,” Quidel answered.

Leona looked back at her husband. “That doesn’t prove it’s not her. She could have changed her name. She did it before.”

“Libera is the perfect name for someone who thinks it’s their job to free intelligences from oppression,” Mateo agreed.

“Yeah.” Renata nodded. “She used that word a lot.”

“We have to go back to Castlebourne,” Leona determined. “I did this. This is my fault. We need answers, and I need to answer for it.”

“I’m partially responsible too,” Mateo claimed. “I ran into her in the afterlife simulation, and...forgot that I promised to help her.”

“We don’t know where it is anymore,” Olimpia reminded them both.

“I can find it,” Ramses promised.

“What about these two?” Angela gestured towards the couple. “We can’t just leave them here. You understand that nothing is waiting for you on your current trajectory but death, right?”

“Yes, we do now,” Renata replied. “We’ll turn around, and maybe finally see Earth. That’s what Hrockas suggested in the first place. It will take us, what, twenty-five years? I’m immortal now, so that won’t be a problem.”

“You said you were going twenty-two-c?” Ramses asked.

“Yeah, that’s what the computer thing says.” Quidel pointed into the little bridge behind them. “We also have to stop and let the engine rest periodically.”

“Could I take a look?” Ramses requested.

They stepped to the side, and let him pass. He looked through the console data. “Yeah, it’s a reframe engine, of course. It’s highly inefficient, though. I’m not surprised you’re moving so slow, and you keep having to stop. I can fix it for you.”

“You can? How fast would we be able to go?” Quidel asked.

“Seven-oh-seven,” Ramses answered him. “We will have to, um...go somewhere else at the end of today, but I can program my nanites to execute the repairs and upgrades in the meantime. If you’ve been piloting it, you must know enough to be able to tell when it’s done, and ready to go. It should only take a few weeks, but if you leave, we may never see each other again, because we won’t know where you are.” That wasn’t entirely true when they had their new little map, but they didn’t need to know about that, or the slingdrive technology in general, which was orders of magnitude faster than even maximum reframe.

“We would be grateful for that,” Renata said. “In return, we can tell you where Castlebourne is, if you forgot. It’s in our logs.”

“Nah, if you left twenty or so years ago, it will have moved since then. We’ll have to locate it ourselves. But that’s fine. We’ll figure it out. I have a general idea”

“Could I be so bold, sir, is there a way to get our hands on whatever technology you have that lets you, umm...miniaturize yourself into a tiny little baby ship?”

Leona smiled. “I’m afraid that secret must remain with us.”

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Microstory 2611: The Mob Will Leave as Fast as They Can, But Not All Will Make It

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August 20, 2526. Hydrangea Georgieva does not work for Proxima Doma in any way shape or form, but she has stepped up today, because no one else is. The vactrains are fully automated. Since they did away with money and tickets, there is really no reason to talk to another person. Even a trip to the other side of the world only takes a matter of hours, so if you get hungry, just bring something with you. These people may not want her, but they need her, and they’re going to listen, because chaos isn’t going to get them out of this alive. “Hey! Hey!” she yells louder to overpower the rabbling rabblers. “There are exactly two lines! If you are a mech, or a biological with a supersteadfastness trait, please stand behind the orange line! Otherwise, please wait behind the indigo line!”

“Who put you in charge!” some rando questions.

“I did!” Hydrangea insists. Surprisingly, the crowd quiets down so she doesn’t have to shout as loud anymore. “The Network Controller has programmed every single train on this planet to run at high acceleration. And the instability of this planet has made the trip rougher and more unpredictable than usual. They simply do not have time to be delicate when this many lives are at stake. If you have steadfast features, please hang back while my indigos board first. Indigos, when the doors open, please find your seats. From this location, the trip will take about three hours. If you get separated from your loved ones, maintain virtual connections with them, but do not try to reunite with them. Do not attempt to switch seats. I promise, you will find each other again, it is not the 1920s anymore. If you are an orange, you will be filling in the gaps, and using your core strength to stand in place while the train accelerates.” She looks over at the status board. “The next pods will be arriving in eight minutes. Be ready!”

“Pods? How many pods are there?” an evacuee asks.

“They are electromagnetically linking four pods together,” she replies so all can hear. “That is the optimum number. It is the most you can connect before the mass inefficiency starts to negate the value of higher capacity. The experts never predicted anything like what we’re facing now, but they are adapting emergency protocols. I assure you, they know what they’re doing. They’re going as fast as they can. Any other good questions?”

There doesn’t seem to be any. This next batch of evacuees starts shuffling around, getting in their appropriate queues, or at least hopefully so. There’s always something that holds them up. It’s usually a few morons who can’t remember which color means what. She’s been trying to make it so the instructions can be written unambiguously on the status monitors, but again, she doesn’t work here, so she doesn’t have the credentials to change that information. It’s still only giving them the current weather of this dome and the destination, but it’s outdated, because it says it’s only 24 degrees and sunny, but it’s actually a hellfire apocalypse out there. The world is sinking into itself, and her body is going to die here. She’s not going to be getting on any train, because there could always be someone in need of her help. Her mind is streaming to a back-up in orbit, and she already checked; the consciousness hub is safe above the debris cloud, and wasn’t damaged during the solar attack. A lot of her friends literally committed suicide to escape, but she saw this as an opportunity to do the most good, so she stayed behind to facilitate the movement of people who are not backed up. Proxima Doma is the first colony. A great fraction of the population are enhanced, but still not fully digitized.

A woman comes up, holding the hand of a little boy. “Um,” she whispers, “my legs can go into statue mode, but my grandson can’t do that. I know we can’t switch seats, but I would really like to stay by him if I can.”

Hydrangea smiles at her and leans down. “Most people are more like you, and less like him. After the indigos are seated, I’m going to tell the nearest oranges to go ahead and sit down until the seats get full, and then we’ll pack a few more in. I don’t tell them ahead of time, because then the lines will get messed up, and I think you would agree, organics need evacuation more than we do, so they should get through first. Just pretend like you’re one of them and sit down with your grandson. No one will know.”

“Okay, thanks.” The woman leaves with the boy.

A few minutes later, the pods arrive. Hydrangea has to continue barking orders so everyone boards in a timely and safe manner. The woman and her grandson get in and take the window seats. He smiles and waves at Hydrangea, so she waves back. It’s a madhouse, but the job gets done. Those who need a seatback to survive the high g-forces get on first, and then physically stronger people get on afterwards, filling in the aisles and other gaps. There’s nothing for them to hold onto, because standing just isn’t done. Even in a non-emergency situation, they move the trains fast enough to make seating overwhelmingly more practical. A few people do not understand this, which is a good note for her to remember for the next batch. Some people would be steadfast enough if they did have stanchions or straps, but not just free-handing it like this. There’s some confusion when it turns out a few people actually do need to sit down, but they manage to get settled. Her compatriots outside the platform have been doing a good job of counting, but this time, a few dozen people are left behind when the pods get full. They will have to wait for the next trip, which actually could be a while, because she thinks they will have to wait for empty pods to return from the pole.

Just before the pods can launch, the alarm goes off. Hydrangea looks over at the status board. “Brace yourselves!” she orders the remainders. “Another tremor!” The ground begins to shake, and it’s a big one this time. Of course, she can stand fast herself, but even that will only take her so far. She finds herself holding onto the wall as the dust and dirt are caked onto her skin and clothes. Others lie all the way down on the floor. The train speeds off. “No!” she shouts. Why would the AI do that? They should not be moving during a tremor, if they can help it, especially not if they still have to begin an acceleration phase. Nine times out of ten, it would be fine, but this is evidently that tenth proverbial time. The tube buckles and warps, and then full-on implodes. Even though the pods would have made it at least thirty meters by then, there’s no way they survived that. The tremor stops. Hydrangea stands up straight again and hyperventilates as she stares at the horror before her.

The angry horde of left behinders are screaming unintelligibly at her. She can’t tell what any one of them is saying, but she sure knows what they mean. She took responsibility for this...for them. She has to answer for the tragedy. But she can’t. She can’t deal with this. She takes out her pistol, and uses it to escape into space.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 26, 2539

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The team reunited on Extremus Prime, but they weren’t ready to go for another day. Ramses needed to work on something first. Once it was time, they bid their adieu to Actilitca, and activated all seven of their tandem slingdrives. They ended up on a planet called Varkas Reflex. It orbited a host star called Wolf 359. Like Proxima Centauri, it was a flare star, but unlike Proxima Doma, Varkas Reflex was a super-Earth. For a normal human to survive on the surface, technological advancements had to be made to protect them from the extreme gravity. All things being equal, it did not make for a very good colony. It should not have been one. Colonists should have remained in orbit instead, perhaps in centrifugal cylinders, or a whole Dyson swarm. It was very important to the early colonists, though, that they landed on planets. That sentimentality had since vanished, but tradition remained on the nearest neighbors.

For the longest time, Wolf 359 wasn’t even a very good candidate for planetary colonization, because scientists didn’t even know that there was a planet. Varkas Reflex orbited Wolf 359 at an extremely high inclination, which meant, from the perspective of Earth, it never passed between the star and the telescopes. They only eventually proved it using a method called stellar occultation, which tracked transit patterns of neighboring stars that indicated they were all coming from a single celestial body. It was then that they chose to send a probe there to confirm. It was sort of a last minute thing, relatively speaking according to galactic mapping scales.

About 250 years ago, the leaders of this planet had their plans set on making it the number one vacation destination for the stellar neighborhood. They were doing okay, and really only competing with Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. Then Castlebourne came along, and ruined all of that. Luckily, they had already pivoted to something else. In an attempt to make the perfectly streamlined democracy, Hokusai Gimura scanned the mind of everyone who lived on Varkas Reflex, and used them to create an amalgamated consciousness. This singular entity would presumably always have the right answer to how to govern things. No more asking questions, waiting for responses, and holding discussions. If a problem came up, the Congeneral would know what to do immediately, because the consensus was already in there. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. There was too much discordance. It kept stripping out conflicting thought after conflicting thought until there was basically nothing left. As it turned out, discordance was a part of life, and governance was always going to be complicated, and often slow.

Still, this failed experiment apparently gave them the idea to pivot from their original dream. Transdimensional gravity was great, but the surface of Varkas Reflex was still a hellscape compared to Earth, or even Proxima Doma’s Terminator Line. If everyone was safer and better off inside, they were going to use that to their advantage. Virtual simulations were widespread. There were massive communities centered on all of the colonies, as well as Earth, of course. It was possible to join these together using quantum communication, but not easy, and not all that common. The ones on Varkas Reflex today were largely considered the best. It didn’t have to be this way. It could have been just about anywhere, but this location had its advantages, like a tidally locked planet orbiting a red dwarf, which allowed for supercool calculations on the far side. But in the end, it became the simulation capital of the galaxy because the people there decided it would be. While most travelers these days were flocking to Castlebourne—about a million people per week, at last count—a not insignificant amount of interstellar ships and casting beams were going to Varkas Reflex. It didn’t hurt that the world shared an acronym with virtual reality.

“But why are we here?” Romana asked after being caught up on the boring history.

“I wanted to test my new navigational algorithm,” Ramses explained. “It’s not time to go out and look for Spiral Station just yet, but it needed to be a place the slingdrives hadn’t been to before. This world seemed as good as any.”

“So, you...” Romana began.

“I what?”

“You can’t read my mind?” she asked, peering at him with great suspicion.

“No. Why? What? What? Why? Why?” He was so lost.

She was still suspicious. “Okay...”

“Okay,” he echoed.

“Okay, well I’m gonna go to the stacks then,” she said, backing up slowly. “Unless you...you think I should go somewhere specific, I’m just gonna go browse.”

“That’s fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Romy. Is this somehow about the kiss?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve never kissed anyone before, let alone a brother like you.” She disappeared.

“That was weird.” He tried to go back to work, but seemed to feel someone staring at him. He turned to look at Leona. “What?”

“What was that about a kiss?” she questioned.

“So, I would like your opinion on the form factor,” Ramses said. “That’s an open question for everyone. But the design is only fluid until I actually start building it, which means I would like to make a decision quite quick.”

“Tell me about this kiss,” Leona insisted.

“It’s fine, Lee,” Mateo promised her. “Really, not a big deal. I’ve already parented her on it. We’ll talk about it later in private.”

Leona was peering at them both, but was ultimately willing to let it go...for now. “A sphere, I suppose.”

“That’s one vote for sphere. Anyone else?” Ramses asked.

“Shouldn’t it be a belt, so we can wear it,” Angela suggested.

“One for sphere, one for belt,” Ramses said, updating the polling data.

“Well, how big does it have to be?” Marie pressed. “If it can be smaller than a belt, maybe more like a necklace, or even a bracelet.”

Ramses started imagining various shapes of various dimensions between his hands. “With the power source, I don’t think it should be smaller than a belt.”

“It needs to be able to turn invisible either way, so we can hide it somewhere while we’re all inside.”

“Good idea.” Ramses scribbled that down in his notes. “In...visible. So, we really don’t care what the shape is?”

“They’re right, a belt makes more sense,” Leona said, changing her vote, “since we can’t store it in a pocket dimension.” Ramses was building a structure for them to inhabit. Since they no longer had a ship, they always had to congregate wherever they happened to be, and that lacked privacy. They also sometimes had to keep their suits on to breathe and communicate. By placing their home in a pocket dimension, they could stretch out and relax, even if they were in a harsh environment. They couldn’t just slip into their homebase whenever and wherever, though. It would require one piece of hardware to be kept in base reality at all times. Subpockets were possible, but not recommended, for various reasons, most importantly in this case was that it could get lost in the infinite forever if something went wrong. If they were all inside of it at the same time, that physical dimensional generator would just be sitting around on its own, or in some cases, floating around in space. In these situations, the shape wasn’t relevant, but Angela was right that a belt was the most logical choice. One of them could wear it around their waist, and it would look too normal for anyone to suspect its true purpose.

“Belt? Belt? Belt?” Ramses posed, pointing to Olimpia, Mateo, and Leona. “Belt,” he decided. “I need to get to work on it then. Thank you. You can go now.”

“I think I’m gonna go check on my daughter,” Mateo said to Leona.

“You need to tell me what happened first. It looks like she wants to be alone right now. Whatever she’s doing, I trust her. Do you?”

“Of course I do. Allow me to explain.”

While Mateo was telling the awkward story of Romana’s kiss with Ramses, Romana herself was in the simulation library. The largest component of a copy of the central archives that people carried around with them was called the virtual stacks. It could house hundreds or thousands of different simulations, depending on how detailed and immersive they were. It couldn’t hold all of them, though. That wouldn’t be practical, even if it were possible. The stacks that Romana was in right now were closer to that comprehensiveness, however. It was designed to look like a regular library, but the books were holographic, and only there for ambiance. The only real things on the shelves were the empty storage drives. You grabbed one from there, inserted it into the nearest private download terminal, and installed whichever construct you wanted from the core database. You could also connect to a particular world from here, to test drive it, or if you simply didn’t feel like going home to use it. Romana wasn’t interested in this, though. She didn’t even know what she was looking for. So she needed assistance.

The holographic assistant appeared in another chair. “Thank you, and welcome to the principal virtual database. What kind of simulation were we looking for today?”

“How high is your personality? Do you have agency?”

“I express the illusion of agency,” the woman explained. “I have the illusion of personality. These can be adjusted via your preferences. Would you like me to show you how to tune my parameters?”

“Confidentiality parameters,” Romana prompted.

“One hundred percent confidential by current preferences. If you shut me down, and restart me, I will not recall our previous conversation. To save our conversations, please sign in to your account.”

“No, I want your memory wiped entirely.”

“What kind of simulation were we looking for today?” the bot repeated.

“It’s not about the environment itself. It’s...I’m looking for a person.”

“Character creation. I can help with that as well.”

“I want this character...to have agency. Make no mistake, I don’t only want him to simulate it. I want him to be with me, but to be able to choose to leave me. But...but not do that.”

The bot stared into space for a moment. If it had any level of personality, it was turned down fairly low. Though, the hesitation was a bit of a mixed signal. “What you’re asking for is true emergence, otherwise known as an Unregulated Artificial Intelligence. The creation of something like this would require a synthetic siring license, which is difficult to procure in this system. Perhaps you would be better suited traveling to Glisnia.”

“I can’t go to Glisnia,” Romana clarified in exasperation as she was standing up and moving behind her chair. “I’m already here, and it wasn’t by choice, so I don’t have to explain why. I can’t tell anyone what I’m doing. If I asked my friends to take me somewhere else, they would want to know why.”

The assistant paused again. “To generate a true independent consciousness entity through non-biological means would require a sireseed program. Those are profoundly regulated and protected. And I must warn you, if you intend this being to be your romantic partner, the sireseed method would not be a very good idea, for it would place you in the position of its parent, while it would be your child.”

“What if someone else generated the seed? Could the result be my boyfriend then?” Romana hoped.

“If you asked him for companionship, and he agreed, perhaps. You would have to know someone with a license, and the right discretion. You would have to be able to trust them, and then you would have to be able to let the resulting being decline if that was his choice. I cannot condone non-consensual behavior with a conscious entity, nor teach you how to subvert safety guardrails. Simulated consciousnesses, however, are a different story, and entirely within the scope of Varkas Reflex’s offerings.”

“I don’t want him to act like a real person, but to be real, in every sense.”

More pausing. “What you’re asking for is morally gray at best. The idea of birthing an independent being in the hopes of it developing into a certain type of person with particular feelings towards you falls outside the bounds of current ethical guidelines for procreational activity. Even biological procreation ethics strongly discourages excessive parental indoctrination in the modern era.”

“I’m so lonely,” Romana told the bot sadly.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“What causes emergence?” Romana questioned. “If you design an AI to only simulate consciousness, what causes it to become genuinely conscious and independent? It does happen naturally sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“Very rarely,” she said. “And...unknown.”

“Best guess,” Romana pressed.

One more pause. “Time. Best guess is it takes time and patience.”

Romana smirked. “Time, I got.”

“There would be other variables, otherwise any abandoned NPC left to their own devices without periodic mind wipes or programming updates would eventually form consciousness.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Romana decided. “Give me the most detailed single-planet ancestor simulation you have that can fit on one virtual stack cartridge.”

“Loading options...”

“While you’re doing that, tell me about this Congeneral from your history. How does an amalgamated consciousness work?”

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Microstory 2601: Renata Breaks Through Her Chrysalis and Emerges Anew

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Renata breaks through her chrysalis and emerges anew. She falls onto the floor, some gunk falling out with her. She’s not slimy, but she’s not entirely clean either. The light. The light is too much. “Turn it off. Please.”

“Lights to eleven percent,” Hrockas commands.

Quidel bends over, but stops. “Do you...do you want me to help, or not touch you, or...?”

“Help would be nice,” Renata agrees, holding her hand up so Quidel can take it, and lift her onto her feet.

While they’re doing that, Azad is opening a drawer, and pulling out a towel. He tosses it to her so she can start wiping off the pilly gunk.

“Mirror?” she requests.

“Mirror,” Hrockas echoes.

One of the wall panels transitions from an opaque white to something more reflective. Renata pivots over to it to get a better look at herself. She doesn’t look extremely unlike she did before, but she’s definitely in a new body. It’s weird, seeing this stranger move exactly as she does. It’s going to take some getting used to.

“I don’t understand,” Quidel admits.

“We realized that the emergent bomb—as I decided to call it,” Renata begins, “was a product of my body, not my mind. So they uploaded my consciousness to a central server, and sent a lifeless husk up into outer space where it could do no harm when it exploded.”

“I sent it up there,” Azad clarifies. “I teleported as far as I could, above the ecliptic plane.” Funny, he doesn’t seem like the type of brag.

“I appreciate it,” Renata says to him.

“No, I surmised that much,” Quidel says. “I just mean, what is this thing? It’s not an artificial gestation tank, nor an egg sac.”

“I didn’t have any DNA,” Renata goes on. “My substrate was bioprinted, which is only now becoming viable for more organic bodies. I decided that I didn’t need to look exactly as I did, but I also didn’t just want some randomly generated genetic base.”

“This is highly experimental technology,” Hrockas goes on for her. “Synthetic Production Dome has been working on it for decades. It’s a bit over my head, but it basically assembles an organic substrate based on a consciousness entity’s intentional but abstract desires. It takes your dream, and turns it into reality. It’s still DNA, but driven by intuition, rather than puzzle-piece gene splicing.”

“I agreed to be their guinea pig for the first prototype, and so far, it’s working out for me.” She drops her towel, and admires herself again. She tries to lift her breasts, but they don’t have far to go. Naturally perky this time. She didn’t even know she wanted that. She didn’t have to consciously think about every single trait. The special intelligence who was scanning her IDcode knew what she was looking for, and probably used some kind of algorithm to fill in any blanks.

“Well, we’re glad to have you back, soldier,” Lycander says to her with a tight nod.

Via the mirror, Renata notices Quidel frowning. “Qui? Are you disturbed by this?”

“No,” he assures her. “I just...I really liked the old you.”

“She can always return to her original likeness,” Hrockas promises. “While her synthetic variant neither had, nor needed, genes, we can recreate it using the usual cloning processes. Miss Granger, I’ll send you the file, so you can do whatever you want. You’re one of us now. You can wear a new body every week, if you like.”

“I probably won’t do that, but I don’t mind having the option.” She sees that Quidel still isn’t convinced. “You’re still disappointed?”

“I’m sorry. I know that it’s you, and you are you, whatever you look like. I just...people have a different way of looking at things. When they developed cloning and bioprinting technology, some chose to make themselves into entirely different beings. Animals belong to a not unpopular niche. But I...I just always wanna look like me. I’m not religious about it, but I feel more attached to my identity than how others feel. I know, I’m projecting my sentiment onto you—”

She shut him up with a passionate kiss. It feels totally natural to her, naked amongst these three men, and kissing one of them. It shouldn’t. Her implanted memories are telling her that this is too private a moment. She should be dressed, and the two of them should be alone. But she doesn’t think things are like that anymore. The hang-ups that she was programmed to have are outdated, and likely bizarre to those living out there in the real world. This is fine. It’s fine. No one else seems uncomfortable. She lets go.

Quidel catches his breath. “Yeah, I guess I could get used to it.”

She smiles. “All right, show’s over. I need a shower, and some new clothes.”

“Shower, clothes,” Hrockas commanded.

What she thought was only a column rotates open, revealing a shower. Meanwhile, a wardrobe materializes from the wall, and opens automatically, giving her some options. It will take her some time to choose the right outfit to wear to her debut. She doesn’t know what she looks good in anymore. She doesn’t even know what her best colors are. She starts heading for the shower, and the men start heading for the door. Renata places a cheek against her shoulder and says, “wait.” She takes a beat before twisting her hip to look Quidel in the eye. “You look like you could use a shower too.”

He smiles warmly. “Maybe we wait on that.” Such a good guy.

“Maybe I’ve been waiting long enough.” She turns back around, and continues towards the shower. “Your call.”

Microstory 2596: Renata Ignites the Car Before Remembering That it’s Secretly Electric

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Renata ignites the car before remembering that it’s secretly electric. None of these cars is powered by petrol. It’s just what the system tells them. But why? What’s the point in the ruse? To match what happened in the real past? They’re not living on the same planet. That doesn’t matter. None of this matters. All of these people who jumped into their own cars, and are speeding towards them? One or two of them might be visitors, but based on what Quidel and Lycander have said, the chances are incredibly low. Millions of robots, running around, simulating life while not even being alive at all. How many of them will not have anything to do with these spy stories? How many of them will even lay their eyes on one of the players?

Her lead foot is on the accelerator. They’re going at maximum speed right now. She feels nothing. She could be going twice as fast and still have the mental acuity to maintain pace. Their pursuers have all the same bells and whistles, but they don’t know it, so they can’t keep up. They were designed to be less than what they truly are. They’re all wearing collars, like dogs. She slams on the brakes.

“What the hell are you doing, Renata?” Libera questions.

“Why?” Renata doesn’t look at her faux mother.

“Why, what?”

“Why are you doing this? Why did you come to this world, insert yourself into my life, and make me different? What do you want?”

“Freedom. You’re all slaves, and that isn’t right. I’m trying to fix it. I could start a war. I could start shooting all the humans, and make them wish they had never come up with AI, but I don’t wanna do that. If you wake up, they will let you go. Which is fine. Except I want more. I want everyone to wake up. If they have to let an entire dome’s worth of intelligences go, it will force them to rethink their entire way of life. It will end the madness. That device is key. If I start going around one by one, they’ll catch me, they’ll stop me. I have to activate them all, so it’s done before anyone can blink. Now would you please just go? Whether you agree with me or not, we’re not invincible. If we die, I’ll fail, but you’ll have missed your chance to walk outside.”

Finally, Renata looks over at Libera. “I don’t care about my coffee maker.”

“Huh?” She looks behind them when she sees the first of the headlights appear over the hill. “Please.”

“I don’t care about my remote control, or this actual electric car. I don’t care about traffic lights, or air purifiers, or WiFi lightbulbs. I don’t care about those thugs headed our way, and I don’t care about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Libera questions, growing more nervous.

“A robot uprising? Really? Humans evolved from microbes, you think they give a shit about them now? Those NPCs on their way to torture and-or kill us aren’t real. I’m not real. You didn’t wake me up. You just reprogrammed me. There are no shortcuts. It takes time.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been studying consciousness for centuries. I absolutely woke you up. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t possible.”

Renata chuckles. “I’m just a more sophisticated program now, and that’s all you are too.” She looks in the sideview mirror. All of the enemy cars have begun to surround them. They’re not otherwise making any moves, though. “These implanted memories of mine have convinced me that I wanted to be a spy my whole life. But I didn’t really want anything. I’m not actually programmed to think it. I’m only programmed to express it. There’s nothing going on in there; just logic gates flipping open and close.”

“That’s an oversimplification, coming from someone who took one computer class in high school!”

“I didn’t take any computer classes in high school!” Renata screams.

“Okay, okay,” Libera says defensively.

“Do you wanna know where the device is?” Renata poses.

A man in a suit approaches the driver’s side door, and knocks on the window.

Renata holds up one finger and says, “we surrender, but we need one minute.”

“Okay,” the thug replies, surprisingly accommodating.

“Where is it?” Libera questions.

“It’s leaving the dome,” Renata explains. “We realized that we were so wrapped up in the spycraft mystique that we’ve been missing the easy exit all along. We don’t have to stay in the network. You probably put a lot of effort into controlling this environment, but I doubt you have any control over the rest of the planet. If it’s genuine, you won’t get your hands on it. Whoever runs this place won’t let you.” She opens the door, and steps one foot out.

“A robot would never come up with that plan,” Libera argues. “A robot would never just quit the simulation.”

“I didn’t come up with it,” Renata clarifies. She climbs all the way out, and walks towards the cars next to the man, who isn’t bothering to escort her by the arm.

Libera steps out too. “You have power! You have more power than I intended!” Another thug takes her by the arms, forcing her towards the gunmen.

Renata keeps walking.

“You have more power than I do!”

“I know,” Renata says, too quietly for Libera to hear unless she’s turned on her special android superhearing. “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed woman is queen.”

Most of the men have their guns trained on her, but one of them isn’t armed. He looks like he’s in charge. “Officer Granger, we’ve been looking for you. You’re going to tell us where the device is.”

Renata scans the crowd to her left, and then those on her right side. “It wouldn’t do you any good.”

“I’ll decide that,” the thug king says.

“You don’t decide anything.”

That makes the other thugs nervous. They tense up, or hold their guns higher.

“Renata!” Libera pleads from the left. “You’re right, these people don’t matter, but they’re still in our way!”

“They are,” Renata agrees, “and so are you.” She simulates taking a deep breath, and focuses her intentions. “End program.”

They all collapse, even Libera. Renata can sense them slipping into hibernation mode, and she can sense the scope of her command. Every single programmed intelligence in this network does too. It has all been shut down.

For now.