Microstory 2368: Earth, September 5, 2179

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Dear Vacuus Base,

My name is Condor Sloane. You may know my twin sister, Corinthia Sloane. When we were still infants, Corinthia and her mother left Earth on a daring mission to explore the unknown darkness that lies beyond the orbits of the sunstruck planets. Corinthia taught me that term to refer to the eight other planets, including Earth. I suppose it still technically fits, because the sun’s rays do technically hit our planet, and our sky is technically illuminated by it. Unfortunately, however, after you left, society broke down as greed overpowered all forms of civil fairness. Corporate espionage was rampant, leading to no one company gaining any innovative advantage over any other. In the past, a fair market encouraged healthy competition—which ideally makes things better for consumers—but certain legislative changes led to loopholes in regulatory oversight. They weren’t competing anymore, they were fighting. They were killing. These Corporate Wars turned blood red, and then a sickly pale green as researchers developed weaponized noxious chemicals to use against their boss’ enemies. No more is the sky as blue and beautiful as you’ve probably seen in images. The surface has been engulfed in a toxic cocktail of poisonous gases. We live in domes, or on the rare mountaintops that rise above the toxin line, frozen but habitable. The good news is that the wars are over. Most of the aggressors from those days are either dead or imprisoned. There are definitely still some out there in hiding, and there is definitely a job that involves bringing them to justice. My father and I came across these bounty hunters from time to time. We were transport coordinators, facilitating relocations between safe zones, across the lethal no-man’s lands that litter most of the world. We helped people find work, and reunite with their families. We met all sorts of interesting folk, and kept up with the goingson of the new society that has bloomed in the wake of the terrible devastation. Now, we live on the ocean. They built one of the domes on top of a giant floating platform. Since the platform has to be so large to accommodate the dome, it’s livable as well, and that’s where our cabin is. We have recently taken on immigrants from a dome in Australia. I managed to snap a photo of it from the outside while we were stopped on the road for some brief maintenance, and attached it here. I think that’s just about all I have to say about that. There are so many details missing, and I’m sure you’ll have questions. Corinthia has agreed to accept them from you, and will compile what she can’t answer herself for me. If necessary, I can write a second letter. Thank you for taking the time to hear a little bit about myself and my world. Stay safe up there, and don’t forget to close the door behind you when you go in or out!

Regards,

Condor

Microstory 2317: Vacuus, August 28, 2178

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Dear Condor,

Thank you so much for writing me back. I had so much anxiety, wondering if you would get my message, and if you did, if you want to have anything to do with me. I’m sorry to hear about your world. We don’t know anything about that all the way out here. Well, I don’t at least. I’ve recently learned that I was kept in the dark about my whole family history, so they could be keeping other things from me, for all I know. So it sounds like we’re in the same boat in some respects, trapped with limited movement, in a hostile environment. The difference is that people here are trying to make the world a better place, and it sounds like a bunch of greedy corporations ruined yours on purpose. The last we heard—or I heard, anyway—it was pretty much a paradise. I have a holo-window on my wall. I can change it to anything I want on a whim, but I’ve always kept it on The Blue Marble. It’s the first full-disc image of Earth, and it’s over 200 years old. It’s not the best quality, but I think it’s perfect, because it represents humanity’s ambition, and the spirit of exploration. Plus, it’s nice to pretend that I have a nice view, even though my quarters are on the interior side. As much as I struggle living here, I know that just flying tens of billions of kilometers to this spot is an achievement that proves that we can do great things. We can be better than the atmosphere poisoners. I have faith that things will get better one day, for both you and me, on our respective worlds. I’ve asked about going to Earth many times, long before I knew anything about you, but it’s always been impossible. This was planned as a one-way mission. We’re supposed to die here. Some already have. We don’t have the resources or manpower to engineer a return trip, and I’m sure that the people in charge don’t want that, because then probably too many people would volunteer. I’m rambling, sorry, but that’s just who I am. I’m not sure if I was born this way, or if it has more to do with how I grew up. People here are always so preoccupied with their work. If you want to be seen, you have to be loud, and you kind of have to say it quickly before they get bored, and start to ignore you. Thanks again for responding! Hope to hear from you again in a week!

Love,

Corinthia

Microstory 2316: Earth, August 23, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

My father had to extend his diplomatic mission, which happens all the time—he had already extended it twice before this—but he calls every time, so I was able to confront him about his involvement in our separation. I would have preferred to speak with him in person, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, because there’s no telling how long this will take. We really need that food and the medical supplies, and they just can’t come to an agreement with our neighbors. I believe that he will make every effort to return as soon as possible, though, as delaying a real talk will only give me more time to hear the truth from you instead. He would have rather gotten ahead of the narrative, but of course, we both know that he had every opportunity to fess up, and never did. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to find anyone who may have known our parents back then, but he and I came to this habitat alone a year ago. So far, no one here has been of much help. I did meet a rather old woman who believes that such awful practices were not unheard of four decades ago, and there’s apparently precedent that goes back even further. Back in the early days of space exploration, there were two famous sets of twins who were studied for comparison. One would go up into space, while the other stayed on the ground. That’s how they learned that low gravity changed the immune system, and even genes. There were other twin studies throughout history, such as when one turned out to be really intelligent, and the other not so much. This old woman thinks that these experiments became more ethical over time, but started to backslide as governments lost control of society, and corporations started being able to make up their own rules. It’s hard to know for sure what I can trust about what this woman says, though, as she’s made some more outrageous claims, like that aliens walk among us, or that she once met an immortal mystic man who was born in the nineteenth century. Anyway, I’m quite curious to know more about how Vacuus works. I know that it’s quite dangerous to live on an airless world, but what does that do to people? What kind of laws do you have? Would you call them fair and reasonable? I should think that a mission that included a kidnapped baby would be rife with corruption and amorality, but I truly hope that things have changed since then, and you at least feel safe and happy with the people around you. Write back when you can.

Love (I hope it’s okay to say that),

Condor Sloane

Microstory 2315: Earth, August 21, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

I was so pleased to hear from you, I had to write back to you right away. Unfortunately, my father is out of town at the moment, and unreachable. As soon as he gets back online, I’ll write again with a full report on his involvement in this unforgivable betrayal. I don’t want to dismiss your struggles on Vacuus, but things are not all that great here either. I don’t know what kind of updates you receive from Earth, but it has become a harsh and uninviting place in its own right. The air has become poisoned with a cocktail of chemicals created by a number of competing corporations in their attempt to monopolize the world’s food supply. Some were trying to develop perfect environments for their own crops, while others were attacking their competitors, or they were hedging their bets, and doing both. This has left us with a toxic atmosphere that could take decades to clear up, and that’s only assuming the corporations don’t push on, and make things worse. I live in a giant floating dome on the ocean, which is both sealed off from the noxious fumes, and isolated from the Corporate Wars, which have been raging for 18 years now. That is why father is away at the moment. He and the ambassador are trying to negotiate a trade deal with a nearby land dome. They are running out of space, but we are running out of resources. We’re relatively new, and healthy, but I have not always lived here, and I have seen how bad things can get on the outside. So, sister, I’m not so sure that I should count myself the lucky one. We would both die by opening our respective doors, but at least no one did it to you on purpose. Even so, with all that I have been through over the course of the 36 years that you and I have been alive, I know that I am more fortunate than most people here. There are those who do not even have access to one of the domes. They found pockets of technically survivable air in the deepest corners of the planet, so they don’t die in a matter of hours, but their lifespans are quite short when compared to ours. On a personal note, I would like to thank you for reaching out to me. I never would have known that you existed. Father is not the kind of person who would confess something like that, even on his deathbed. He will be taking a number of grudges and secrets to his grave. Again, I’ll write again once I learn more from him. There also might be others here who know what happened, and exactly why.

Your other half,

Condor Sloane

Microstory 2029: Michigan

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Papa’s bosses must have heard me from the past, lol, because they ended up taking one of their submarines on a trip. They took a ferry to get to that island in Connecticut, but they didn’t do it like that when they all went to Michigan. They worked in Chicago, which is on the southern part of Lake Michigan. I don’t know if it was a new sub, or what, but in 2011, they all crammed into it, and took it all the way up north, to the other side of the giant lake. They ended up in a city in Michigan called Mackinaw City. It was the first time anyone had done anything like that. That wasn’t the point of the trip, though. They actually wanted to get to the city. Well, they were outside of the city. It was for something called a corporate retreat. It was summertime, so once they landed at the docks, they took cars into the woods. That’s where they played games, and learned how to work with each other. At that point, the company was over ten years old. A lot of people wanted to work there, so there were new workers who weren’t there before. Most of the people at the retreat didn’t know each other very well. A company built the camp to help other companies’ teams work together better. My papa was in charge of it for his team, but he also participated in the games and exercises. When it was over, most of them just flew back home, but papa got to go back in the submarine again. He stopped at other cities in Michigan along the way, because he had always wanted to see them. Then he took it back to the submarine base, and went home.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 7, 2398

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Derina Torres accepted the position, though she took it under false pretenses. She believes that she will be working for Angela, and has no idea that Angela has plans to leave. It’s not going to be an immediate transition. Their best estimate for being able to escape this reality is still months away. That gives them plenty of time to make sure that Derina knows what she’s doing, and feels comfortable taking on more responsibility. She won’t be alone, which is what they’re working on today.

It was very important to Angela that the half of her replacement who will be in charge of the business side of things would be a woman. This was a woman-led company from the beginning, and she doesn’t really want to change that, especially not after all the misogynistic bullshit that she and Marie had to go through at their last company. Leona convinced Winona to convince whoever needed convincing to grant her temporary access to the United States Database of Working Individuals, or USDOWI, for short. No matter which world, in which reality, in which universe you go to, the government loves acronyms. Sorting the table of employed people was more complicated than it sounded when Leona first brought it up, but it still only took a day to create her top ten most wanted, and then pare it down to the best candidate. On paper, the best candidate is a man, but Angela is willing to sacrifice perfection for best fit.

Syntyche Söderberg, Soldier of Sustainability is not named for the reason you may think. Sustainability, in this case, does not refer to her feelings on environmental, or even social, responsibility. What she’s known for is dropping into startups and struggling businesses, and fixing whatever is wrong or lacking in them so well that their success lasts indefinitely beyond her departure. Her main competitors boast the same accomplishments, but the persistence of that success is dubious for most, and non-existence for a few. She knows what a company needs to thrive in the marketplace now, and in the future, and she does not accept the job if she thinks that it can’t be done. She stays on an assignment for as long as it takes, which may mean a week of observation and consultation, or a year of running the organization from the top down. If she can’t teach Derina to lead independently, she’ll find her own permanent successor.

Syntyche isn’t famous for her high ethics, but she’s not evil, and she does not allow the abuse of power, or the mistreatment of employees or consumers. Her focus is on profit and growth, which often leads to utilizing cheap materials, and overcharging for finished products, but according to anecdotal reports, she will forgo these objectives in order to conform to the principles of her clients. Well, at least she’ll meet them halfway. Let’s not go crazy here, she has a 92% success rate that she has to maintain.

They’re lucky to have caught her near the end of her current project. If she agrees to the contract, she will be able to begin in two weeks. She had her lawyer look over the paperwork yesterday, and is now sitting across from Angela, Alyssa, and Derina, silently crossing eyes and dotting teas. She takes off her reading glasses. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m just contracting you to help us grow.”

Syntyche chuckles, and looks back at the contract. “This binds me to seven months, with an extension to a full year, if necessary.”

“Right,” Angela confirms.

“Extend the extension to two years, and you have a deal.” She holds out her hand.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 5, 2398

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Leona braces herself for another day of work. She loves the lab itself. The technology here is so—with no better way to say it—weird. Due to religion, of course, as well as other variables, there are some things that were just straight up never invented. Other things were invented too early. According to what limited research she’s been able to do during her downtime, none of these early inventions has been as ridiculous as, say, aerosol deodorant before the wheel, but she finds it fascinating to read about them nonetheless. For instance, unlike in the main reality, where the electric vehicle, and the combustion engine, were invented around the same time, the latter predates the former by nearly a hundred years on this planet. This was how people drove around in the 20th century. Also unlike the main sequence, once car batteries became efficient enough to last two day’s worth of the average daily commute on a single charge, the transition period between the two form factors was extremely short. This was probably because the people who originally sold petrol-powered vehicles were also responsible for manufacturing the battery-powered ones, so they saw no reason to stifle progress. Who could have guessed that all the corporations would have to do to maintain their oligopolies would be to innovate deliberately, and noncompetitively?

One major scientific advancement that this world randomly doesn’t have is reconstructive surgery. We’re not just talking about elective surgery where someone wants to change their appearance because they think it will make them more attractive. Skin grafts, deformity corrections, even sexual reassignment surgery; none of these things exist here. Leona so far can’t figure out why. When she’s brought it up to her coworkers at both of her jobs, people seem amenable to the examples, and they can’t explain why they haven’t been done before. Another thing this culture seem never to have invented is sexual harassment seminars. What Leona believes is that all harassment training is focused on protecting children. Apparently, once someone reaches the age of seventeen, they’re expected to fend for themselves. They should be able to reject unwanted advances on their own, stand up for themselves against bullies, and brush off inappropriate comments. Well, that last one is even more complicated, because her definition of inappropriate is very different than whatever these people have decided on.

This is why Leona hates working here, and if this one thing were to change, it would make it worthwhile. They wouldn’t even have to repair the shortcomings of society in a greater respect. All they would have to do is let her do what she needs to do to help them, and not try to interfere, or be involved. This would be so much easier if she could work alone. She’s the one from the alternate reality. She’s the one who has seen all kinds of wondrous technology. Many people in this lab may be smarter, but none of them can match her experience and knowledge. Having to deal with this one particular colleague who has been assigned to learn from her has made her almost want to quit. After a productive conversation with Marie and Angela, Leona has resolved to do something about it today. Marie reminded her that the lab needs her more than she needs it. Yes, she wants to know what happened to their powers and patterns, but not at the expense of her dignity and self-respect.

As soon as she steps off the elevator, she sees him. He’s trying to hand her a cup of coffee, as he does every day. He thinks it’s sweet, but from him, it feels like an attack. Plus, she doesn’t really drink coffee—especially not the kind from the Third Rail, which no matter the variety, always tastes at least a little sweet—and she’s told him this numerous times. It’s not that he doesn’t understand, he just doesn’t care. He expects this to become a lovely story they’ll tell their grandkids one day; that he just kept trying, even though she never accepted. Oh, hahaha, that’s so cute. She’s about to preemptively tell him yet again that she doesn’t want any, but he begins a different subject. “Aww, come on. Where’s that teal blouse I like so much? Your tits look so great in that.”

She stops and stares for a moment. Then she takes one of the cups from his hand, aims it towards him, and squeezes. He screams in agony. “Yours look great in that.”

“Fucking bitch!”

She ignores him, and walks right up to Petra’s office.

“What’s that ruckus down there?” Petra asks.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” She’s always so trusting, it’s bizarre.

“Did you receive my latest numbers?”

“Yes, I did!” Petra exclaimed. “They’re very promising. I don’t think you were lying about your ability to develop actual fusion technology.”

“I wasn’t. So...you’re impressed?”

“Very much.”

“You might even say that you value my contributions.”

“Of course.”

“You wouldn’t be super happy if I—oh, I dunno—quit?”

Her smile disappears. “Are you going to quit? Have you been in talks with India Tech? They may have lots of money, but they can’t give you what—”

“It’s not about money. It’s about this place. It’s about him.” Leona just sort of glances towards the bottom of the door.

“Him?” Petra asks before realizing she already knows the answer. “Oh. Him.”

“He’s still harassing me, and I’ve had enough of it.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You’re not the only one complaining, but I can’t report him to Staff Support just for bringing you a beverage every morning. Can you imagine how that conversation would go? He’s too nice. That’s not illegal, or against policy.”

“It should be!” Leona catches her breath. “At least in this context.”

“I know he won’t stop bothering you. I’ll try to talk to him again.”

“I only want you to have one more conversation, and it’s either going to be an exit interview with me...or with him.”

“Is this an ultimatum?” Petra asks.

“Absolutely. You can fire him, or I quit. You’re not going to entice me with more money, or a bigger workspace, or even less time having to work with that man in person. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. I want him gone. I want him humiliated, and out of a job, and I want him to hate me for it.”

“This is a big ask, Magnus Matic.”

Leona nods, not disagreeing with her. “Fusion, or one little asshole with a big mouth. You can only have one.”

“Well, when you put it like that...”

“Great. And bonus, if you do it soon, I’ll finally have enough time to complete the simulations, and then I can start on some real design specifications. You’re welcome.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 4, 2398

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“Hey, Ada...um, Abdoor—uh...”

“You’re close, sir. It’s Abdulrashid.”

“I knew that.”

“You can just call me Ramses.”

“No, I need to learn.”

“Okay.”

His boss doesn’t say anything more.

“Is that all you wanted to do; learn my name?”

“Oh, no. Umm. Look, here’s the thing. I know you’ve already been working for us for a bunch of years, or whatever, but corporate has this new policy where everybody who starts at a new location—be it their first day with us, or a transfer—has to be run through another background check.”

“Okay...”

“Most of it is easy, I literally just copied and pasted your living, work, and education histories from your transfer papers. But there’s one thing you’re gonna hafta do yourself.”

Ramses thinks about it for a moment. “The drug test.”

Oswald nods, and echoes, “the drug test.”

“That’s fine.” Ramses may no longer have his superpowers anymore, but he knows how to eat and live healthily, so his system is likely cleaner than anyone else’s in this joint. It definitely doesn’t have any drugs in it. “I can pee in a cup.”

Oswald contorts his face. “Pee in a cup? Why the hell would you do that? I’m talking about a blood test to make sure you don’t have any illegal substances in your body. I’m not sure what pee and cups have to do with anything.”

Oh, this world is different.

Oswald takes another sip from his fountain drink, but no longer has the taste for it after Ramses’ remark. “Ugh. Pee in a cup,” he says again, muttering under his breath. “You’re one crazy dude, Abdul-Jabbar.” There is no way, in a reality where people give blood samples instead of urine samples for drug screenings, that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar also exists. The point of divergence was far too long ago.

Stockboy sneaks up to Rames by the side. “Have you even ever had a drug screening before?” he asks, sipping at his own drink, unfazed by the conversation that he obviously heard.

No, he’s never taken one before. In his time, using recreational drugs was rare, so people just assumed you weren’t on them. If you were, and it didn’t negatively impact your productivity, then probably no one would notice. But if they did catch you...

“You’re taking too long to answer,” Stockboy muses.

That’s right, he spends too much time in his head. It’s a habit he picked up from Mateo. “Of course I’ve had one. I spent some time in Croatia. The complex where I wanted to live had a strict drug policy, which required multiple forms of testing. You can test for drugs in urine, we just don’t normally do it.”

“Weird. And gross.”

Ramses sighs, and looks over at him. “Get back to that smart speaker that’s stuck on a triple echo.”

“Sir, yes sir!” he mocks with an equally disrespectful salute.

Now that the coast is clear, Leona feels comfortable approaching Ramses to discuss something sensitive. “You remember that our background information is fake, right?”

“Right,” Ramses agrees.

“So when they run a real check on you, that’s what they’ll find...nothing. The forger didn’t fake a background check, she faked the results.”

“Oh, shit. We’re exactly the kind of people those things are meant to look out for.”

“Not exactly,” Leona corrects.

“Wait, you just had your own check, when you first started here. How did you handle it?”

“I had to go pay the forger again. She was not happy. She said she never wanted to see our faces once we left the first time.”

“I have to work late today, and fill in for Bruno tomorrow.” He looks at her with his deep set Persian puppy dog eyes.

“You want me to go back a third time?”

“Pleeeeeeeaaaase? I just don’t know how much time we need.”

“I guess I don’t really wanna go to work, so...all right.” She takes off her apron. “But you’re finishing my shift here.” She hangs it on his neck.

“Great,” Ramses decides. “I’ll call it cross-training. Thank you so much for this.”

“Sure, Rambo.”

Leona calls Mateo to pick her up, and drop her off at the forger’s secret hideout. He asks to go in with her, but she won’t allow it. The forger will be even unhappier than she was the last time, and they don’t need to compound that problem with extra people. Leona is confident that she can handle it on her own, and it’s true that she doesn’t feel like going back to the lab anyway.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad,” the forger asks.

“You were mad last time.”

“You silly Egyptian water lily, I was kidding!”

“What’s with you?” Leona questions. “You don’t smile.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“It’s exceedingly obvious that you don’t smile. You don’t give off the right vibe.”

“Oh, it’s—relax, we’re all friends here.”

“I feel like you’re about to tell me that...” Leona trails off. She takes a receipt out of her purse, and scribbles down a note that reads, Is this place bugged?

“No, we’re not bugged. I’m not trying to trick you, I’m just being friendly.”

“To what end?”

“To...” Her demeanor drops with each following word as she struggles to maintain the charade. “I don’t know what a normal person would say in this scenario.”

“They would tell the truth,” Leona explains.

The forger scoffs. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“Do you need something from me?”

“Do you need something from me?” she returns annoyingly.

“Yes, I need an emergency background check interception.”

“Easy.”

“And in return, you want,” Leona prompts.

“Oh, I don’t want anything,” the forger begins. “However, maybe in the future there could be something that you could get me?”

Leona narrows her eyes. “Something, like what?”

“Well, you work at that lab.”

“You got me in there. You could send anyone you wanted.”

“Honest hour? I didn’t think your fake university transfer would work.” She grimaces. “I’m glad to know it did, though.”

Leona ponders the offer. It would be dangerous, but that’s not the problem. The problem is she doesn’t know what it is yet. So here’s hoping that it’s worth it. “Fine.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 28, 2398

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Ramses is doing great at his job on a professional level, but not so much personally speaking. Two people on his work team hate him: the guy whose job he apparently usurped, and the guy who had been trying to usurp it since before Ramses was even in this reality. He doesn’t even care, but this gives him access to the resources his team may need to escape to the main sequence, and barring that, survive here. First and foremost, they need to understand the laws of physics. Is there something that’s constantly suppressing their powers and patterns here, or were they stripped of these characteristics upon arrival, and now they could theoretically get them back using some other avenue? He needs to run tests, and being in charge of this department should afford him the appropriate opportunities. All he needs to do is help his people do their jobs on their own, and not bug him all the time, or try to sabotage him.

“Bruno, can you come in here, please?”

“Is he in trouble?” Stockboy asks. That’s not his real name, but he started working here as a stock associate, and worked his way up to this position. He’s just biding his time until he can climb even higher.

“He’s not,” Ramses answers. “Bruno. Double time.”

Not only does he not speed up, but he actually slows down to a snail’s pace.

“You’ll be in trouble if you don’t get in here, though. I partially wanted to talk about the fact that my paperwork finally went through, so now I have full dismissal privileges.”

Now scared for his job, Bruno hops in, and closes the door behind him. “Sir,” he says through actual gritted teeth.

“Bruno, how long have you been working here?”

“Exactly 452 times as long as you have.”

“You believe that your six-year tenure here imbues you with some kind of...entitlement?”

“Sir?”

“You think you deserve to be in charge.”

Bruno looks like he’s considering his options, and ultimately decides to stand resolute. “Yes, I do. I’ve already proven myself.”

“Mr. Castillo, I am not a leader. My best friends tell me what to do, and I do it. Repair this, build that, invent something that has never existed before. And I love it, because it means I’m useful. I haven’t been feeling very useful for the last week, does this surprise you?”

“It does not.”

“I don’t want to be in charge. I don’t even want the money. I just need to maintain my position here. And I need you to stop making that so goddamn hard.” He picks up a stack of papers from his desk, and tosses them onto the floor in front of the man who is meant to be his subordinate. It hasn’t been very long, but he’s already exhausted with this nonsense. Ramses may have had a rivalry or two back in the day, but even a group of radical capitalists generally accepted the idea that one person’s success did not inherently mean another’s failure. This world, however, considers them to be one and the same. “My job is to make sure these time reports are filled out correctly. Your job is to fill them out, not deliberately screw them up to make it look like I’m an idiot. You may have forced others to complete your work, and then taken credit for it, but I’m not like that. I’m not going to try to pass this off as my own to illustrate my value. Nowhere does it say that I have to complete them, I am perfectly within my rights to delegate. So that’s what I’m doing. I don’t have time to do them, and I don’t have time to check your mistakes. So do them right, give them to me, and I’ll file them away. That’s called trust. I can google that word for you if you need me to?”

“You can what that word?”

Ramses sighs. “If you mess these up again, I’m blaming you, and the boss will believe me, because I’ve already told him that you’re continuing to do them.”

“Sir, forgive me, but if you don’t want to be the supervisor, why are you?”

“Because I’m on assignment from the corporate office,” Ramses lies. “In one year, that assignment will be over, and I’ll step down.”

“I need the money now,” Bruno argues.

“You’ll get it.” Ramses pulls a stack of cash from the top drawer, and drops it right on top of the reports on the floor. “Like I said, I don’t need it. That’s a pittance for someone of my calibre. I’ll even let you be my lieutenant. It’s not an official position, but the team will listen to you, and I don’t give a shit. All you have to do to keep making this extra income every month is follow my orders, stay out of my way, and keep this all quiet. Are you capable of that?”

Bruno bends over, and retrieves the cash to get a rough count of it. “I was making more than this when I had your job.”

Ramses rolls his eyes. “You’re not getting all of my monthly pay. The rest is my per diem. They sent me here, expecting me to use all of it in this capacity, but I’m prepared to sacrifice half of it to keep you on my side. You’re still getting your regular wages, dummy.”

He nods. “I can do that.”

“Good. That’s not an advance, it’s a free sample, since I obviously haven’t been here all month. You’ll get another one at the end of May.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Right. Clean that up, get out, and work overtime if you must to fix them.”

Microstory 1778: Bullsh

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I was a terrible liar when I was young. I would keep doing bad things, and trying to hide it from my parents, and they always realized right away that I wasn’t telling the truth. I just kept trying, and they kept seeing right through it. My father would get angry about it, and my mom was always disappointed, but not in the way you think. She too was a liar, but an expert at it. Over the years, I learned more about who she was, and what she did behind everybody’s backs. She shoplifted, pulled mean-spirited pranks on complete strangers, and cheated on her husband more times than want to think about. I was basically just like her, except that I wasn’t good at keeping secrets. Seeing my potential, she took special interest in me, but you wouldn’t know it if you were looking from the outside. She treated our lessons just like she did anything else, as nobody else’s business. Mother was a grifter before she met dad. He was the first man she met who she didn’t want to screw over, so she gave up that life, and settled down. She couldn’t let go of her compulsive habits, but she was no longer taking thousands of dollars from her victims. He provided them both with more than enough money, and that was really all she cared about, unlike the con artists you see in the movies, who apparently mostly do it for the thrill. She couldn’t be sure I would grow up to be a functioning member of society with a decent job, so she felt that she needed to teach me her old ways so I would have something to fall back on no matter what. It wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t moral, but she taught me that everyone has to come up with their own set of morals, and I believed her without question, because I couldn’t tell when she was lying. I’m better at spotting it now that I’ve gone through all my lessons, so I know that she legitimately believed that. Before she passed, she lived her life with no regrets, and she wanted me to live mine the same way. I have, but not as she imagined. I use my powers for good.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation has an entire division dedicated to fraud, and that’s all well and good, but they don’t do what I do. They investigate crimes with forensics, by hunting for, and searching through, evidence. They don’t know what a grifter looks like. They just know what their victims look like when they’re done with them. It’s really obvious too, when a corporate executive turns out to have been embezzling, or cheating their customers out of the product or services they paid for. How do you find out which ones are bad, and which ones are good? Simple: they’re all bad. Every single one of them is a devil, and they’re not even in disguise. What I do is go after the people that are in disguise, or who work in the shadows. They make small scams here and there, which add up to a lot, and ruin a lot of people’s lives without anyone ever knowing their true identities. I can practically smell when someone is getting scammed. There’s a certain lightness in the air that most people can’t detect. I can teach you to find these people too. I believe everyone at this continuing education seminar can help me grow my team of investigators, which focuses on stopping the fraudsters that aren’t out in the open, and don’t ever end up in the news. I know I can do this for you, because I...do not even work for the FBI. I made this badge in the bathroom this morning, after waking up and deciding on a whim what I was going to do today. I’m that good. Your real teacher will be coming in soon, but don’t tell her that I was here. She’ll ground me for a month if she finds out that I snuck into her building yet again. Parents just don’t understand, right?

Microstory 1636: Underverse

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As I’ve sort of explained, every universe that includes a populated Earth will begin at the same start value. This means that they should be accompanied by two planets closer to the sun, and another farther out before a small asteroid belt, before moving onto the gas giants, and icy worlds. And all of these celestial bodies should follow predictable patterns, and they should be the same for all versions of Earth. But they’re not. I don’t know enough about astrophysics to tell you why, but I have been able to see the consequences of these variations. On one Earth, astronomers uncovered the irregular orbital pattern of an asteroid from deep space, which was—apparently perturbed by other gravitationally-bound objects—on a collision course towards Earth. This gave them an eight-year warning, but that didn’t mean they could send up a bunch of space cowboys to blow the thing up. They possessed telescopic technology capable of detecting the asteroid, and the mathematical skills to predict its movements, but the space programs had barely reached the moon. Had this happened to them a few decades later, they might have stood a chance to stop it, but they had no hope of that now. All they could do was run and hide. Fortunately, the right people were given the latitude to jump into action, and preserve the human race. Private corporations and world governments started working together to an impressively harmonious degree. They built massive cities deep underground to protect them from the impact. The asteroid was destined to strike the continent of Africa, which meant their bunkers would have needed to be farther down than they were capable of digging. So other nations took in refugees, so the entire population of the planet could be saved. They didn’t even fight about it, they just did it. In only eight years, construction was completed. A few stragglers chose to remain on the surface, but very few of them were far enough away from impact to survive.

The reason they were able to complete the project in the short time allotted was that they planned the bunkers in stages. They knew that it was more important to finish the overall structure first, and stuff it with enough resources for the people to survive on. But they didn’t build individual units and rooms until later, in case it took them too long to finish Stage One. They didn’t build amenities until after impact, because they knew they could be okay until then. They just needed to get people down there, and they wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything short of the survival of everyone who wanted to survive. An impact winter reigned over the planet for decades to come after the incident, forcing the survivors to make their homes here, and forget about ever seeing the sky again. That was a dream that could be fulfilled by their children’s children, or beyond. Progress and development did not end here, though. They kept studying science, and coming up with advanced technology. They were able to tap into their undersea communication lines, and reestablish contact with each other across the continental divides. Within a couple decades, they were back to about where they were when this happened. They were just an underground species now. While they were down here, the Ochivari visited, and went on the hunt for evolved life, pleased to find this to be one world that they did not have to worry about. For some reason, they didn’t notice how few dead bodies were left behind, and foolishly concluded the humans were not a threat. But below, a source of recruitment into the Transit Army brewed.

Microstory 1381: Vibes

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Office Manager: Welcome, Recent Graduate.

Recent Graduate: Thank you.

Office Manager: Based on our interview, I see no reason you won’t thrive in this work environment. Still, we would like you to get to know the team before you begin next week. We called this a suitability interview, because that’s what legal says we have to call it, but it will be really informal. Don’t stress about answering questions, or anything. Just act like you’re at a party. Don’t emulate Office Drunk, though.

Office Drunk: Hey, I heard that.

Office Manager: Great. So go on, mingle. I’ll leave you all to it. I already know I like this guy.

Office Motormouth: Hello, hi, how are ya? What’s goin’ on? You feelin’ good? You’ll be sitting here, right next to me. New hire always gets the old office chair. Have you lived in Hillside your whole life? Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend? Do you have any kids? What do you wanna be when you grow up? I don’t suppose you want to be an office assistant your whole life. You just graduated from college, right? What did you major in? Would you major in that again, if you could go back and start over?

Office Aspirant: Stop overwhelming the boy, Office Motormouth.

Recent Graduate: No, it’s okay. I can handle it. I was born in Hillside, but moved to Kansas City before I could walk. I came back here for college, and decided to just stick around. I do not have a boyfriend, nor any kids. I’m here to climb the corporate ladder, and go as high as I can go, so being an assistant is just the beginning of my career, but I have no current plans to leave the company to work somewhere else, if that’s what you’re asking. I did just graduate, of course, with a general education degree. I like to learn about a lot of things, and pinning myself down to just one field of study seemed too normal. No offense, I hope. If I could do it all again, I would do it the same way. It got me here.

Office Motormouth: Oh. Those are great answers. Now—

Office Aspirant: You’ve had your turn, Motormouth. Listen, kid, you remind me a lot of me when I was your age.

Office Busybody: That was, like, two years ago.

Office Aspirant: I had aspirations, just like you. And look at me now, I already have two direct reports. You could be just like me one day too, if you work hard.

Office Busybody: Those aren’t your direct reports, Office Aspirant. They put you in charge of the seasonal temps this year, because no one else wants to do it. They don’t actually answer to you, though.

Office Aspirant: Don’t mind her.

Office Busybody: No. Don’t mind him.

Recent Graduate: I’m looking forward to working with all of you. Equally.

Office Motormouth: Another great response.

Office Busybody: Anyway. Those temps I was telling you about? Well, they’re sleeping together. But word is that Seasonal Temp 2 also has a thing going with Accountant from accounting. But you didn’t hear it from me.

Recent Graduate: Hear what?

Office Busybody: Good boy.

Office Creep: So, speaking of sleeping with people, if you could sleep with any celebrity, who would it be?

Office Motormouth: Office Creep, stop being a creep. You’re gonna make him call HR on his zeroth day!

Recent Graduate: No, it’s okay. But. I’m not going to tell you that.

Office Drunk: Do you have any mints?

Recent Graduate: I do, actually. Right here.

Office Drunk: Hey, is that a purse?

Office Aspirant: It’s called a satchel.

Recent Graduate: No, it’s a purse. I carry a purse, because it’s 2018, and men can have purses. I don’t believe in gender roles.

Office Drunk: Right on, right on. Hey, we’re probably gonna grab drinks after work. Are you in? What’s your favorite bar? What’s your poison?

Recent Graduate: I don’t care to drink much. I’m sure I’ll just get something with a lot of sugar to cover the taste of alcohol.

Office Drunk: A man who knows what he wants. I agree with Office Manager; I like this guy. Come on, new guy, lemme show you what’s what on this floor.

Microstory 1252: Duke Andrews

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Duke Andrews was born in Grand Junction, Colorado, but he always had a draw towards the Kansas City area that he could never explain. He visited there at least once a year since he was eight years old, which his parents were happy to do for him, because they were happy to do pretty much anything. They didn’t coddle or dote on him, but they did believe it was important for their child to exert his independence, vocalize his desires, and try new things. They wanted him to see the world, so Kansas City was just one of the many places he went. His great aunt, Bubbles (real name) was a retired middle school teacher, so she traveled with them as his tutor. She didn’t know everything he wanted to learn about, but they always managed to find a really good library for him to study what he wanted. It was through these studies that he eventually landed in the field of natural science. He excelled in biology and physics, but he liked all science, and learning in general. He moved to Kansas City as an adult, and lived there permanently to pursue his work. The career he ended up with happened because of a series of events in his life, but it wasn’t like it was all part of some plan, or a dream. He didn’t want to be a scientist when he was a kid. He didn’t really have any thoughts on the matter at all. His parents taught him to live in the present, and not think too much about the future. He was always just what he was at any moment. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have ambition; he just didn’t let himself be disappointed when things didn’t go quite his way, and he liked to practice being grateful for what he was able to accomplish, or gain. It was a big surprise to everyone when he helped found what later became a multi-billion dollar corporation. It wasn’t something his parents would have wanted for him, but again, they were supportive of their son’s choices. He didn’t do it for the money, and he didn’t do it to change the world. It all just made sense, based on everything else he had done up to that point. He lived, he nurtured his company, he met a few time travelers, and he died. This was what Duke Andrews did, but it wasn’t who he was. Duke Andrews was a learner. His instinct to understand the world around him was what truly drove him forward, right up until the very end.

Microstory 1153: Elder Caverness

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Nothing in Elder Caverness’ life was ever easy, but he thought that was exactly how it needed to be, because he was always taught that hard work was all that mattered. He was raised with so-called traditional values, and it took him a long time to get over the terrible conventions his family indoctrinated him to believe. If it don’t hurt, his father would always say, you’re not doin’ it right. Well, being gay must have been the most right thing he could have done, because that same father sure made sure Elder was hurting pretty much every day. He was one of those people who claimed to be from a different generation, so even in time, he never accepted his son’s identity. But time should have worked, if nothing else, because it’s less about where you’re from, and more about where you are now. In the world of Elder’s day, sex positive was the name of the game, and no excuse for being anything less than a moderately compassionate individual was a good one. Nevertheless, he managed to get away from that toxic atmosphere, and move on with his life. He joined the Navy right out of high school. He served two years on active duty, four years in the reserves, and two more in IRR. When he wasn’t actively working in the military, he worked in private security, as many in his position will do. There he met, and formed a bond with, Kolby Morse. They connected with each other for their similar viewpoints on the world, and how people should behave in a civilized society. Their primary concern seemed to be corporate corruption, which they discovered in the company they were already doing security for. They felt they had to do something about it. To insulate them both from scrutiny, Kolby remained outside the investigation. While Elder was on the inside, should anything happen to him, Kolby would be there to pull him out. They weren’t trying to take down the people they perceived as criminals in any official capacity, so they had no further support in this matter. The executives they were monitoring had special temporal powers, which gave them a virtually insurmountable advantage over anyone who would try to compete with them. Elder’s assignment was long and taxing, but they were playing the long game here. They couldn’t just arrest anyone they thought was involved. He was carefully and delicately collecting evidence, while simultaneously preventing the rest of the world from uncovering the truth about their abilities. If these bad people had powers, then surely others would too, and Elder didn’t want those hypothetical innocents to be exposed if they hadn’t done anything wrong. It took a long time for him to make headway, but he did, and his efforts proved to be vital to sending the guilty to the other side of some heavy bars.

Microstory 1152: Micro

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Valentine Avalon Duval hated her real name. First of all, people would constantly tease her about being named after a holiday. Some more thoughtful people would assume she was named after the martyr, which was probably true, but they were no less impolite about it. Plus, all three of her names contained the string val, which her parents must have thought was pretty cute. The worst part came when kids started going to health class, and realized that her initials were VD. Many other people experienced this issue—even more had similar problems—but that didn’t make it any easier for her. Sensing her disdain, her parents started calling her Micro. She was a rather small child, and more importantly, she liked to sing, so it was more about her vocal interests. As she grew older, she began to find joy in computers, particularly in doing things she wasn’t supposed to be doing. If there was no easy way to find information, that was the kind of information she wanted. She chose Micro as her online alias, but of course, everyone assumed this referred to microchip, or perhaps a certain ubiquitous technology company. To combat this, she would embed a small microphone symbol in her work as her signature. The more she learned, the more people she met in the underworld, and the more people she met, the more dangerous her life became. She was never evil, but she certainly took her exploits too far. She would frequently use her skills to expose corporate corruption, but she wouldn’t steal any money, or hold their data for ransom, and she would never put individuals at risk. In her mind, people had the right to be safe, but not necessarily the right any and all information. She wanted to know all the things herself, but she didn’t usually reveal people’s secrets, unless those secrets put innocent people in danger. It was her achievements, and moral code, that drew the attention of Countervail. Here she was able to protect the rights and privacy of the average U.S. citizen, and make sure the government wasn’t overstepping their bounds. She would later to be read into the world of salmon and choosers, so she could help in even more ways. In earlier days, a time traveler was free to move about the world as needed. As long as they sufficiently blended in, there was little danger of getting caught. They could always escape pretty easily, unless the powers that be didn’t want that to happen. As technology progressed, however, anonymity grew more difficult, even for temporal manipulators. She helped cover up any inconsistencies. Rumors would always pervade the global consciousness, and she never had the power to stop that, but at least she would get rid of any proof that these people existed. All this work came to a head when she was abruptly taken from her world, and relocated to another.

Microstory 986: UBI Trials

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In the early days, everyone was responsible for themselves, and their family. But our ancestors quickly realized how much safer life was when groups of families stuck together. Many traits humans carry today were formed thousands of years ago to promote survival. We use it for slapstick comedy now, but there’s a very good reason why seeing someone throw up makes you throw up. Involuntary vomiting is a result of bad food, so when it happened to one tribe member, those whose gag reflexes were triggered had a better chance of surviving, thereby passing on their genes. The ones who weren’t triggered to vomit as well, may have died of whatever poison was in the food, and never had children. Even yawning is believed to be have some sort of tribal evolutionary component, which would explain why it’s so fascinatingly contagious. So believe me when I tell you I understand why our predecessors chose capitalism. Their best means of survival was to distribute skill across the population. It was impractical for every single person to know how to make pelts, and cook, and hunt, and gather, and so on. Giving everyone a responsibility to focus on allowed our species to develop at a phenomenal rate. This has served us well, on the whole, for all this time. The best thing it’s done for us was to get us to a point of technological achievement so great, that we will soon no longer need to work at all. We have been unfortunately indoctrinated by society to believe we must work forty hours a week to be fulfilled. As an autistic person, I find it incredibly grating when I hear someone in the elevator talk about how it’s not yet Friday, or if it is Friday, how great it is that it’s Friday. As the song goes, everybody’s working for the weekend. So I know you don’t actually like your work, which is why it’s so baffling how fundamentally invested you are in it. I do my job so I can make money. I don’t personally care whether my clients get their pieces of mail. Why would I? It has nothing to do with me. If they stopped paying me, I would stop doing it.

A bunch of smart people out there have come up with brilliant alternatives to work, and these new plans are being tested in trials all over the world, as we speak. Money has no real value, which is why we call it a fiat. In our country, it used to be backed by gold, but even gold doesn’t have as much value as we think. The market is based on whatever arbitrary value we place on things, and it changes all the time. Gold has many uses. It’s probably in your phone. But it’s also in your jewelry, and jewelry doesn’t do anything. The only true commodity on the entire planet is labor. Everything comes down to labor, so what do we have if we get rid of that? You may think nothing, but in reality, it’s everything. A lack of work would allow us to explore hobbies. I would probably take up painting, even though I’ve never really tried it. I would go backpacking, and skiing, and I would write more. What would you do with your time if you didn’t spend twenty-six minutes commuting to work, eight hours working, an hour at lunch somewhere necessarily close to work, and twenty-six more minutes going home? Automation will allow us to receive the same benefits that human labor does today; more even. This automated labor will generate revenue for large corporations, and since those corporations don’t have to pay their workers, they’ll be expected to contribute to a government fund. The wealth from that fund will be redistributed to all citizens; possibly with variable conditions, like age or lawfulness. We can do this, but we’re going to need a dramatic shift in the general psyche. The 40-hour work week did not become standard in this country until 1938, and there is no reason to not lower it again. Studies have suggested shorter working hours would help stave off climate change, actually increase gross domestic product, and lower suicide rates. I know you’re all real big on fixing mental illness, since that’s the only reason for gun violence. I would like to say thank you to everyone who has created, or participated in, a universal basic income trial. Even when it doesn’t work, we learn valuable data, so we can institute something ubiquitous. I fear that, if we don’t ever do this, then we will all perish, and leave this world to talking sea otters.

Microstory 906: Vertical Farming

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Something that some people may not know is that farming is one of the most destructive forces against nature. It requires a massive amount of land just to feed a few consumers. We tend to think of deforestation being caused by evil corporations forcing their way into rainforests for logging. And to be sure, that’s true, but what many don’t realize is how many trees, and how much wildlife has to be cleared out for agriculture. While it allowed our ancestors to settle down, and start building civilization, agriculture has also destroyed animals’ homes, and harmed the ecosystem, almost irreparably. People love to talk about these new age food ideas. They think organic foods are better, not knowing that there is no legal definition for the word, and anyone can use it as they wish. They promote almond milk over dairy, but almonds require an astonishing amount of water to grow. Don’t believe me? Look it up. A single almonds requires more than four litres. They hate genetically modified organisms, despite the fact that the majority of them don’t actually know what that means. They’ve just been indoctrinated into distrusting anything that goes by an acronym. So what’s the answer to all these problems? GMOs, for one. Done right, GMOs are safer, healthier, and environmentally friendly. Non-nutritious components can be removed, and more nutrients can be added. They can be modified to grow on less water and less sunlight, all the while being more resistant to pests. Doesn’t that sound better? Besides that, though, there’s also always the title of this microstory: vertical farming. A high volume of produce can be cultivated in only a few square meters of land. Hydroponics, aquaponics, aeroponics, and related methods have the potential to feed billions of people. They do so with less water, limited fertilizer, and zero pesticides. Here’s the thing, plants need light to survive, but they don’t much care where that light is coming from. Yes, grow lights require electricity, but that’s just one more reason for us to invest in renewable energy sources. Vertical Farming is capable of literally solving world hunger. Virtually any crop can be grown in any environment, because everything will be done inside. There are some limitations, of course. Rooted vegetables, like carrots and potatoes, don’t grow well using these techniques, because they need to dig deep. But just because we can’t use vertical farming to grow everything, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use it to grow anything. That rewilding I told you we will do in the future is made possible by this, along with clean meat, which I’ll discuss further in a few weeks. That’s reason enough to support the effort. But if nothing else, recognize that vertical farming allows everyone to enjoy fresh locally grown food, regardless of where they live.