Microstory 2506: Desire Hearer

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I can hear your desires, and sing your fears. I am not like the others. Their passive gifts are all negative, while their active gifts are positive. I can’t tell you why I’m the opposite, but truthfully, it has always made me feel a little left out of the group. To be clear, they never made me feel like that; it was just the nature of my condition. It’s kind of hard to explain what I could do. Landis might have better wording, though I think he actively ignores this side of him. It’s not that I could hear your thoughts. It’s not even that I could see the images in your mind. It’s more like I could hear the music of your soul, if that makes any sense. When I would listen to people’s aura—for lack of a better term—I could hear where it was pointing, be it another person, or an object, or even the future. The tone of their aura music was key to understanding and interpreting their desires. I would say that mine was the toughest job, because they had to be open with me to clarify exactly what they wanted out of their life. It was just so...abstract and intangible a lot of the time. Sure, if they were staring at the person they were secretly in love with, their desire song for them would be obvious. And to be fair, anyone who is just naturally good at reading others could probably see it all over their face without any special gift. The key was getting them to come out of their shells, and be honest about what they wanted. It felt like cheating, just straight up asking them to vocalize their feelings. No one else in the group had to do that. They were just able to sense what they were meant to sense. That’s kind of why I had to step up as the leader; not because I was particularly suited for it, but because I had to drive the progress for us to get anywhere with people. The client’s own goals were paramount in helping them. It didn’t matter how they felt, or whether they were lying. If they didn’t have an objective, what were we gonna do for them? How were their lives gonna turn out? I didn’t always have to use my active Vulnerability gift, but there were many times when it was necessary. They sometimes even asked for it. To get what they wanted, and get past what was holding them back, it was necessary for them to face their fears. It was easier for them to do that if they were confronted with them directly using the fear songs, rather than having to conjure them up in their own mindbrains. It usually went all right. The client and I were both always in control, and I could clear the sounds if they became too much to bear. Obviously, it went wrong one terrible time, and that’s why we’re here, but I can’t help but think that all of that happened for a reason, because now we have Landis. I do miss having the gifts, but I’m glad that someone else has them, even if he never uses them. At least they’re not gone forever. And the sweet song of life on Earth continues.

Extremus: Year 103

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Silvia and one of the Audreys are gone. Thistle is the only one who may know whether the original, or the clone, is the one who ended up heading off to the planet. He reportedly deleted his own memories of the event, but it really doesn’t matter. For all practical purposes, it’s the same consciousness, just with a different body. He restored her to perfect health to further conceal the truth, but a deep enough medical examination could produce an answer, if anyone were so inclined to try. Extremus!Audrey is choosing to be positive about the situation, taking comfort in knowing that she is raising her baby, even though she will never have any memories of it, or be able to make any decisions on the child’s behalf. There was a ton of philosophical debate about this during the time when consciousness manipulation technology was being developed. In the end, most can agree that you are unique, and even a copy is not really you. They’re just someone who looks like you, and thinks they are you. That’s why programs like Project Theseus and neurosponging were created. They maintain continuity of thought during the digitization and transfer process. There is no copy; it’s you over here, and then over there. Audrey is ignoring that, because it’s not the point. Silvia is being cared for by her mother, and that’s as good as it’s going to get until the Waldemar problem is solved, or at least comes to some kind of conclusion.

Tinaya’s duties to the population have subsided. There doesn’t really seem to be a need for anyone to be directly in charge of promoting growth. They don’t really want there to be someone doing that job permanently. It’s too close to totalitarianism. If you want kids, have kids. If you don’t, don’t. If you can’t care for them, please don’t try. In the end, it’s the public’s responsibility, and if they want the human race on this side of the galaxy to eventually die out, then so be it. Philosophically, it’s not a real problem. A problem is something which has a negative impact on those involved. If no one is alive anymore, there’s no one to feel the negative effects. No one gets hurt. The human race is not inherently entitled to persisting. The fact that they exist does not, on its own, provide any transcendent benefit to the universe. This is a hard lesson to learn, and few have learned it. In an ideal world, they shouldn’t have to. If they do want to live, they should be able to. The only real boundary separates what one person wants from what another does. Everyone deserves the right to decide what they want, even if what they want is to not exist at all.

Oceanus had started to rely less on Tinaya, and more on Lataran, and that hasn’t stopped even as Tinaya’s time begins to open up. So she’s kind of gone back to not having that much to do. At this point, it doesn’t bother her as much. Her son claims that he doesn’t need parenting, because he’s so old, but that’s all changed. The thing with Audrey and Waldemar has really messed him up. It’s affecting his work negatively. The whole point of coming back in time was to help Waldemar, not hurt him. That’s why Silveon didn’t just straight up murder him the first chance he got. He’s having a hard time rectifying this mission with the monster he knows Waldemar to be inside. Audrey put herself in a position to get pregnant, but Waldemar took that opportunity. A decent guy would not have done that. How can Silveon continue trying to make this future tyrant a better person when nothing seems to be working?

While Silveon is questioning his commitment to the cause, Audrey herself has picked up the slack. She’s still with Waldemar because she has to be, and Waldemar is still with her because it helps his reputation. Everyone sees him as the hero who stuck by the mother of his child even though that child didn’t survive. This wasn’t just about population growth, or because she’s hot and young. It’s true love, and they’re in a real relationship. At least that’s how the public sees it. Only a few people know what’s really going on, though even such people are each looking at it from different angles.

Silveon bursts into Tinaya and Arqut’s room. He’s huffy, pacing around in a tight circle. “I need you two to stop me.”

“Stop you from what, honey?” Arqut asks. The two of them are in bed, but just reading.

“Waldemar. He’s still raping her,” Silveon replies. “I wanna hurt him.”

“Careful with that word,” Tinaya warns. “I’ve spoken with Audrey. It’s consensual.”

“We all know it’s more complicated than that,” Silveon argues.

“Yes,” Tinaya agrees. “What we know is that her birthday was two weeks ago, which makes her an adult in the eyes of the law, and even if she weren’t a time traveler, she would be considered capable of making her own decisions about who she shares her body and time with. What we know that the public doesn’t is that she’s far older than that, so even if you subscribe to the idea that humans are not sufficiently mature until their mid-twenties, she’s well past that. So if anyone has the advantage in this relationship, it’s her. So who are you angry with?”

“Well, not her.”

“Then it shouldn’t be with anyone,” Arqut determines.

Silveon scoffs. “Oh, believe me. I have plenty reason to be angry with Double-U.” He’s been having a hard time saying Waldemar’s name lately, like it’s cursed. “It’s not just about this.”

“Yeah, you’ve told us all the stories,” Tinaya reminds him. “We don’t need to rehash his fate, or lack thereof.”

“I haven’t told you everything.” Silveon shakes his head.

“Silvy, why don’t you have a seat on the ottoman?” Tinaya offers.

To their surprise, he does it. It doesn’t alleviate his stress right away, but it’s harder for him to be so tense when his own weight is distributed a little more comfortably.

His parents slide down the bed to join him on either side. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time, and then never again. I will believe you this time.” Tinaya pauses a moment. “I’m not downplaying your fundamental disapproval of their...unconventional relationship. But I think it’s important to establish once and for all if even a small part of you is so upset because you have feelings for Audrey?”

Silveon shoots right back up to his feet, and spins around to face them. “Are you kidding me? Of course I have feelings for her! Have you seen her? She looks no less beautiful as an old woman than she does now. I still see her like that, though; the wrinkles in her face. The way her skin sags. The...experience and heartache in her eyes. I’ve always been in love with her.” He steps over to sit in the armchair. “But I set that all aside, because I thought I would never see that Audrey again. Not the real her. When I came back to the past, she was just this little girl. She would always be far too young for me. Mom, dad, everyone is too young for me. Except, as it turns out, her. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve not slept with anyone myself, and I will never be able to. Unless...”

“Unless something changes between her and Waldemar,” Arqut acknowledges. “She’s your only peer. She’s your only hope for love. Even if you met an old person who was closer to your real age, they would see you as a child.”

Silveon takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” They sit in silence for a few moments before Silveon continues, “don’t take me for a fool, though. I wasn’t surprised by that fact. I obviously knew what I was getting into. She’s the variable that I wasn’t expecting. Understanding that I would be alone in this new timeline was one thing, but having one possibility just out of reach? No one prepared me for that. They knew she was coming back with me. She knew too. They could have told me, and maybe I would have handled everything differently. Maybe we could have brainstormed ways to give Waldemar the bump in the polls he would need without a prop family.”

Tinaya has been patiently waiting for her son to get to a point where she could interject, and this is the right place. “There’s a very old song I love from Earth, which was written centuries ago. It goes, when I was a young boy // My mama said to me // ‘There's only one girl in the world for you // And she probably lives in Tahiti. For reference, the singer did not live very close to Tahiti, and might never venture there. The song is about him going all around the world to look for this one girl, because maybe it’s not really Tahiti. That was just one example. She could have been anywhere, and the lyrics never reach a resolution, because the singer missed the point that I am interpreting his mother to be making, which is that you’ll never find the perfect one for you. She doesn’t live in Tahiti, Silveon. She doesn’t live anywhere, because she doesn’t exist. Maybe Audrey would have been great for you in the other timeline, but as you said, she’s out of reach. If you pursue her, Waldemar will never accept it. I can almost guarantee you that he will be worse than what you experienced under his reign before. You may see her as your one shot, but I see her as the only person you can’t be with.

“I probably shouldn’t recommend this, but maybe you’re looking at this all wrong. Don’t think of yourself as an old man in a young man’s body. Think of yourself as a young man with special knowledge. Only the four of us know where you’re from. Find a partner. Recognize your age difference initially, but then ignore it. Put it in a lockbox, and never open it up again. They don’t ever have to find out about it, and neither does anyone else. You’re not a time traveler, Silveon. You’re a seer. There are tons of seers on Earth, and no one thinks of them as older than they look. Just pretend to be a seer.”

“You want me to start a relationship with some innocent girl with a lie?”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” Tinaya goes on, “which I’m surprised you never grew up to learn yourself. All relationships start out on a foundation of lies. People are disgusting, and we never let others see our true selves. It wouldn’t be any different for you than for anyone else. Convince yourself that you are a seer. Forget your past life. Treat it as the gift of foresight. Find a way to be happy, and forgive yourself.”

“Or,” Arqut jumps in, “alternatively, accept your role in this life, and avoid all romantic entanglements. You wouldn’t be the first. Hell, you wouldn’t even be the first time traveler to face this choice. How do you think Lincoln Rutherford and Dalton Hawk got through it?”

“That’s a good point,” Silveon realizes. “I should ask those two how they dealt with their consciousness travel shenanigans.”

“How would you do that?” Tinaya asks. “They live or lived on Earth.”

“You need to get me into the Bridger Section,” Silveon decides. “They have a secret time mirror there.”

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Extremus: Year 97

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Admiral Tinaya Leithe. That’s what it says on her name plate. She has one more job to do before she can rest in peace, and if what her son from the future told her is true, it’s going to be her longest job yet. That’s exciting—she wants to be alive, of course—but it’s also pretty stressful and scary. She’s already so old, and so tired. She’s really gonna be leaning on Lataran to take the brunt of the work here. Which should be okay. She’s still youngish, and is showing no signs of slowing down. It might not matter anyway. Captain Oceanus Jennings hasn’t sought either of their counsels. Still, day in and day out, they come to their giant joint office, and make themselves available.

Tinaya sighs. “What am I doing here?”

“Hold your fingers up like this.”

“Okay.” She mimics Lataran’s gesture. “Then what are you gonna do?”

“Try to flick the football between your thumbs.”

Before Lataran could do what she proposed, Tinaya drops her hands, and reaches over to her docked tablet. She puts in her search parameters. “Uhh...is this meant to be association football, or North American football? Or foosball. Are you sure it’s not foosball?”

“It’s none of those things. It’s paper football.”

“That explains why it’s a triangle, and it’s not a triangle in any of these reference photos.”

“Do you wanna play or not?”

“Not,” Tinaya answers. “You’re the one who asked, not me.”

“Well, I’m tired of RPS 101 Plus. I was just trying to change things up.”

“You could always get into Quantum Colony, like everyone else.”

“No, that game gives me the willies.” Lataran shivers. “There’s something too real about it.

“Yeah.” Tinaya stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk on the trails.”

“You do that,” Lataran replies. “You’re welcome, by the way!” she calls up after Tinaya is some distance away. She never lets her friend forget that she’s the one who built their little corner of paradise as a gift.

“Thank you!”

Just as Tinaya is reaching the entrance to the path, the doorbell rings. “Thistle, who’s that?”

A floating hologram displaying the doorbell cam appears right in front of her. “Audrey Husk. She does have Admiral Hall clearance, so she didn’t break in.”

“She’s a little young to have clearance for anywhere on this ship besides home and school.”

“I can’t explain it. Her authorization didn’t come through me. It’s just there,” Thistle replies. That’s weird. He’s meant to know everything that happens on this ship.

While Lataran has seniority here, they treat it as a democracy. She’s standing by the door, waiting for Tinaya’s go ahead. When she gets it, she opens it up, and greets their visitor.

The little girl, Audrey takes one step over the threshold. “Admirals Keen and Leithe, my name is Audrey Husk, and I’m here to speak to you regarding Silveon Grieves and Waldemar Kristiansen.”

“Oh, are you their new little friend?” Leithe asks, gesturing to her to come on in.

Audrey accepts the invitation. “Little is the right word, because I’m shorter than I will be.”

“Uhh...”

“That is, I’m shorter than I’m used to being...”

Tinaya widens her eyes, and looks over at Lataran in fear.

“She needs to know what’s going on anyway,” Audrey claims dismissively. “So go ahead and give her the deets.” She crosses her arms like she’s going to wait for it. But it’s not her call. It’s not even Tinaya’s.

“I’m afraid that I would need to consult both Arqut and Silveon, as well as maybe Zefbiri.

“I don’t have time for this,” Audrey says. “Admiral Keen, Silveon is a time traveler who sent his consciousness into his younger self’s body so he could fulfill a mission to protect the future from a violent dictator.”

Lataran absorbs the information for all of four seconds. “Got it.” To be fair, she’s a time traveler too, and it was this whole thing.

“I’m guessing something went wrong, and you’re here to give the timeline a third chance,” Tinaya says. She’s not happy about this kid spilling the beans, but she knows that they can trust Lataran, so everything will be okay.

“Oh, no, I’m not from a different timeline,” Audrey begins to explain. “Silvy and I were contemporaries. He chose to send himself back alone, believing it to be a solo mission. The others and I disagreed. I secretly sent my own mind back at the exact same moment. I’ve been watching over him without him even noticing.”

“How is that even possible?” Tinaya questions. “If he knows you in the future, wouldn’t he notice you acting weird in the past? Surely you’re making choices now that he wouldn’t predict, unless you’re a really good actor.”

Audrey chuckles. “He is a singular man of singular focus. That is precisely why we decided to do this behind his back. He misses things sometimes. He needs others more than he will admit.” She smiles, presumably remembering something from their future. “But yes, I am a good actor. I recently successfully inserted myself as the third leg of their friendship tripod, but things immediately got complicated.”

That sounds gross. “Don’t tell me there’s something going on between you three in a...romantic sense.”

“Oh, God, no. It’s nothing like that. I was chosen for the supervisory mission specifically because there weren’t any feelings in the first timeline, and because I’m the right age. I came at this mission as a total professional, as did your son. Waldemar, however, knows nothing about what’s to become of him. To him, this is just life. I’m afraid that your son’s interference with Waldemar’s childhood development has had unforeseen consequences. As I believe you know, Waldemar is incapable of love. His brain isn’t wired for it. He is also a man of singular focus, and his drug of choice is ambition. But Silveon has been teaching him to assimilate better into society, allowing him to approximate—read: fake—emotional connection. I’m trying to tell you that Waldemar has found a love interest, and I don’t know what it means.”

“Why come to me?” Tinaya questions.

“I don’t wanna out myself to Silveon if I don’t have to, but I require advice. That is your job on this ship anyway, but I am well aware that Captain Jennings is not the type to ask for it, leaving you with a lot of...” She looks over at their desks, which are mostly there as decoration. “...free time.”

“Who is this love interest of Waldemar’s? Do they reciprocate?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He chose a female, I believe, to later set himself up as a nuclear family man with biological children. I know, that’s disturbing, but I knew Waldemar very well in the future. Everything good or normal about him was fake. I don’t think Silveon really sees it, but he’s falling into the same patterns, just with a faster timeline. He had a family before. It was inevitable that he would learn to fake human characteristics, like love and empathy. That’s what sociopaths do. I’m afraid that your son’s efforts may not be doing us any good.”

“He fears that as well,” Tinaya acknowledges. “I don’t know if there’s anything that we can do about it, though. Let’s imagine taking this girl out of the equation in whatever way, so she can never become his wife. He’ll just choose someone else, won’t he, even if it’s not for a few more years?”

“That’s why I rang your doorbell,” Audrey says. “I can’t see a solution.” She looks away, almost in shame. “And I don’t wanna go to Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

Audrey takes a moment to respond. She turns her head back to face them with dignity. “Waldemar will be an adult in two years. Both Silveon and I have been given the greenlight to take care of the problem permanently any time following his eighteenth birthday. It’s a last resort, but it’s not out of the question.”

“Yes, it is,” Lataran insists.

“I told you, I don’t like it,” Audrey reminds her, “but we can’t go back to the way things were. One life to save thousands.”

“No, I mean, it won’t work. I assume you know of The Question?”

Audrey is surprised that she mentioned this. “I do. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Death is not the end on this ship. What you’ll be doing is making him mad, and if anyone can find a way to return to base reality with a new substrate, it’s a man dangerous enough to warrant two time traveling assassins in the first place. Killing him will not have the desired effect. We’re not that lucky.”

Audrey considers Lataran’s position. “You may be right about that. I just don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure if I should do anything at all. Maybe I’m wrong, and Silveon is skillfully leading Waldemar down the right path, just as we planned, but I can’t see it, because I’ve had to keep my distance to protect my own cover.”

Tinaya sighs. “This girl, is she being abused, or will she be?”

“That I don’t know,” Audrey admits. “I was relatively close to Future!Waldemar, but not family close. If there was abuse with his wife, it wasn’t made public, or even an open secret. It didn’t seem like his wife could ever tell that he didn’t love her, but this new girl might suspect, and that may place her in danger eventually. I can’t predict her actions, nor his reactions to her actions.”

“I have an idea,” Lataran says, “but it’s not pleasant.”

“What is it?” Audrey asks. “What is it?” she repeats herself when Lataran hesitates to elaborate.

“I’m still new to this whole situation, but you’re only about four years younger than him. At the moment, that’s disturbing. In the future, it won’t be that big of a deal. If you really wanted to stop some innocent person from getting caught up in his lies, you could...take the job for yourself. Again, you can’t do anything like that yet, but...”

Audrey stares into space. “No, that’s a good idea. In six years, I’ll be 18, and he’ll be 22. If I play my cards right—as long as he isn’t in too serious of a relationship with someone else—I can step in. I can be a shield for any other potential mate of his, because I know what I’m up against, and I know that I can handle it.”

“No,” Tinaya says, throwing up her hands. “No. I know you’re not really twelve, just like my son isn’t really eight, but I can’t listen to you talk about this. You’re planning to gaslight a human being into pretending to love you so no one knows that he has a social disorder. You’re saying it while looking like a twelve-year-old, with your twelve-year-old eyes and your twelve-year-old voice. Jesus. Did you not study ethics before you left the future?”

“No, I didn’t!” Audrey argues. “It was banned from the curriculum...by Waldemar. This is the sacrifice that we make. I promise, I won’t do anything until I’m legally an adult, and then it won’t be so weird for you. We don’t even have to speak to each other again until that day comes, or maybe ever. But I have to do something. The ship and its total population aren’t the only concerns. The girl he’s dating has a name, and if he’s not hurting her now, he might. I have to take that bullet, because I’m the only one who can. The alternative is ethically worse. We already agreed on that, didn’t we?”

Tinaya shakes her head. “Don’t make any plans yet. As you said, you have six years before it’s even remotely okay for you to start dating. I mean, goddammit. You look four years younger, but you are several decades older. That makes it even weirder, and gives you a level of power over any partner you may choose that I am not comfortable with.”

Audrey nods. “That’s true. I don’t think that my consciousness is quite as old as you may suspect, but I see your point.”

“All right, this has been a very heated discussion,” Lataran points out. “You better get back to whatever life you have. I’ll scrub you from the logs so no one finds out that you were here.”

“Already done,” Audrey says as she spins around and heads back towards the door. “Thanks for your help!” She exits.

The two admirals look at each other, neither one entirely sure what to say after all this. “Welp. We’re not bored anymore, are we?”

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Microstory 2350: Vacuus, May 18, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Happy belated birthday! I decided to wait a few days to send you my next letter, so it could be after the party, but you ought to already know that, since I sent you the custom read receipt about it immediately after receiving your last one. This was a really good reason to use that system, so thank you for coming up with it. The party went great on my end. We had food and cake, and everybody was wearing the same thing. That’s right, I decided to pass along your cool, fashionable garment design to all invitees, and encouraged them to print and wear one of the options themselves. The garment fabricator liked them a lot herself, so it was her idea to really lean into the theme. She was there too, along with several other people. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I didn’t have anyone to invite, or that I didn’t have any friends in general. We’re in fairly cramped quarters for logistical and practical reasons, so everyone knows pretty much everyone. I don’t like them all, and they don’t all like me, but we get along pretty well. We have to, or it could lead to catastrophe. Animosity does not mix well with a planetary base on an airless world. One person gets mad at another, and decides to open an airlock out of anger, and it’s bye bye half the living people on Vacuus. No, we obviously compartmentalize the sections, but you get what I mean. We place great emphasis on counseling and mental health. So I do have friends. It’s true that I never developed relationships as strong as the ones I sometimes see on TV, but I would still consider them my friends. I don’t know why I’ve never talked about them to you, but they were there, and we had fun. Who else was at yours? We don’t really do much with constellations here, so we’re not all that familiar. We found Libra, and everyone looked at it, trying to figure out why they’re called “the scales”. It wasn’t until someone had the bright idea to turn the image slightly then we were all, like, “ooooohhh. Kinda!” It was fun, though, and I thought of you the whole time. I wish we could have been in the same room. How did it go on your end?

All partied out and not alone,

Corinthia

Microstory 2344: Vacuus, April 2, 2179

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Dear Condor,

That all sounds very dangerous. I’m glad that you’re inside fulltime now. I’ve only ever lived in three places, and never go outside. I grew up on the ship while it was on its way all the way out here, and a little when it was first in orbit around Vacuus. I was eighteen when we arrived, and after some initial surveys, I was part of the first group to drop down to the planet. And I really mean that. We took something called a dropship down to the surface. We lived there for almost two years before they had built enough of the residential base for us to move in there. Back then, we couldn’t launch any ships back into orbit, because it takes too much fuel to do it the traditional way, and the necessary infrastructure for more advanced methods took time to engineer. Now we have something called a launch loop, which—if you don’t know—is like a giant-ass roller coaster that allows us to get into space without expending too much energy, or requiring as much tensile strength as a space elevator would. They’re thinking about building the latter at some point, but it’s going to take a lot more effort and time. Anyway, until we started to be able to travel back and forth relatively cheaply, there were two separate populations. Those who never dropped down to Vacuus lived up there, and had their own kids. We stayed in contact with each other, though, since it was the only place we could talk to which had no significant time delay. I’ve never been back in person, however, while most people I know have gone back at least once. It’s really just little kids who have no had the opportunity yet. My friend who lives up there now has been asking me to take the launch loop into orbit for a visit, and I want to do that, but I also don’t. So much can go wrong. I cannot believe that I used to live on a ship. How did I end up so soft and cowardly? How did you do it? How are you so brave? You don’t have to answer that. This is just my neuroses getting in the way of my goals. I already go to counseling to get this stuff figured out.

Not yet living my best life,

Corinthia

Microstory 2337: Vacuus, February 16, 2179

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Dear Pascal,

Thank you for reaching out. I would say that it’s the first step towards mending our relationship. I’m sure that your son told you that I would be out of range for a period of time, so that’s why it’s taken me this long to respond. As for you and me, I can’t promise you what will become of us in the future, but I can promise that I’ll try. You’ll always be able to send me a message, and I’ll always open it. Condor and I kind of have a weekly thing going, but we don’t have to write as often, and I won’t hold it against you in terms of resolving our issues. That being said, there is no quick fix here. Forgiveness is a really strong word, and I’m afraid I’m going to need more time before I can even consider it. That may be all it takes. We could not talk to each other the whole time, but I may one day get over it just because it’s been long enough. We’ll have to see. I understand that you were in a difficult position, and having known my mother for 36 years, I don’t doubt that she forced her ideals on you. She has a way of making you live the kind of life that she wants you too. I’m not sure if it was about being vicarious, or if she just wanted control. I’ve always thought she only wanted what was best for me, but looking back now, it doesn’t really make much sense. I mean, if this was a social experiment to see how two twins grew up if they were raised separately, why did she try to make all my choices for me? It sort of taints the results, wouldn’t you say? I dunno, it just seems like a weird choice to me, or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. It strained our relationship, and I pushed back at every turn. She didn’t exactly hope that I would become a solar flare watcher. I’ve spoken to counselors here, and on the ship, but other than that, to my knowledge, I don’t undergo any tests or evaluations. No one seems to be recording my behavior in any way, unless they’re doing it from a pretty big distance. What can you tell me about Condor? Do you report in to someone about who he is, and what kinds of things he does? Is someone writing a scientific paper about it? I would prefer it if you let me know, but it’s more important that he knows, so if you only tell one of us, I would rather be the one left in the dark.

It was nice to meet you,

Effectively, a stranger,

Corinthia

Extremus: Year 94

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Much of the way that Extremusians do things was adopted from Earthan convention. After all, they’re all descended from Earthans, albeit after thousands of years developing a divergent culture. Ansutahans never forgot who they were, or where they came from. Living on a world with monsters, their traditions were all the tools they had to hold on to their humanity. Many things were lost, but they were surprisingly good at continuity. One thing that changed over time was the education system. Scholars are still trying to find an explanation for the shift, but there seems to be no reason for it. For better or worse, nothing about their situation on the Maramon homeworld would suggest that the original system of preschool, elementary school, middle school, high school, then college couldn’t have worked. They still don’t know why it happened, but it makes sense to their descendants today, so they keep doing it. They are not too dissimilar, but there are some differences.

For the first three years of a child’s life, they receive no formal education, and experience something called rudimentary care. This is where they learn the absolute most basic of skills of eating, drinking, peeing, pooping, crawling, standing, and walking. Guardians are expected to teach them this stuff. An optional two-year preliminary school plan comes after that, where kids learn to socialize with each other, and maybe some initial studies of colors, shapes, and even numbers and letters. Primary school begins at age five, and goes for five years. Then it’s four years of secondary school, three years of tertiary school, and two years of college. This is followed by a one year licensure program, and six months of apprenticeship, though that all depends on what field the student has chosen. Some choose to seek even higher degrees in law, medicine, education, or field expertise.

The main difference is that, unlike Earthan systems, Extremusians don’t spend their entire childhoods all learning the same things. Not everyone is expected to know everything. The entire point of dividing the timeline into these distinct blocks is to gradually narrow a student’s focus into what they should be doing with their lives. They start general, and move towards the specific, little by little. Back on Earth, college is a four-year program where some fully grown adults don’t even know what they want to do with their lives until halfway through. Extremusians are typically shocked to hear this, if not horrified, as they will have known their own strengths for years by that age. It’s meant to happen in tertiary school, which is also referred to as general specialization. The last year of secondary school is wildly important, because it’s when kids take a whole bunch of tests to determine which program they’ll transition into next year. To qualify for anything in particular, a child must show both interest and aptitude; not only one, or the other. Everyone is good at something. That’s the assumption, anyway.

While little Silveon only started primary school this year—which is where everyone is still at about the same place—much older Waldemar Kristiansen is nearing the end of his secondary school era. He should be finding his purpose by now, but there’s a problem. For the last few years, his mother’s ability to parent has only lessened. Tinaya, Arqut, and Niobe blame themselves a bit for this by enabling her incompetence each time they step up to take care of things. On official school records, Calla is the key contact for all of Waldemar’s needs, but the educators are aware that the Captain and her family have taken a significant personal interest in his needs, and will usually reach out to one of them instead. Today, it’s about his tests. He’s not doing well, and it’s throwing up a huge question mark about where his life is headed.

Tinaya tries to take a deep breath to center herself, but slips into an accidental yawn. She has the day off from her captainly duties, and the school knows this, which is why they’ve reached out. She never really gets a day off, even though her own child is an adult on a mental level, and only ever needs help reaching the high cupboards. “Can I see them?”

Ine Dittmarr works as the Placement Coordinator for the whole of secondary school. She taps on her tablet, and slides the data over to drop into Tinaya’s.

Harshad Narang is Waldemar’s Placement Advisor, and he’s here too. “I’ve been working quite closely with him for weeks, at the expense of my other students. We can’t figure it out.”

Tinaya stays silent as she’s looking over the results of Waldemar’s tests. “How rare is this?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Ine replies.

“Neither have I,” Harshad agrees.

Tinaya shakes her head, shifting her gaze from one test to another, to another. “They’re the same. The exact same score on every test. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know how it could be,” Harshad replies. “Unless he cheated.”

“That’s impossible,” Ine argues. “My tests are perfect, and our security impenetrable. He did it on purpose.”

Tinaya looks up. “How could someone intelligent enough to match his own scores on completely unrelated tests that were administered across several months score so low on all of them?” She points. “This one here. This tests strategy and tactical improvisation. That’s the kind of thing that someone who could pull this off would be expected to excel at, but it’s just as low.”

“As I said,” Ine begins, “he did it on purpose. He’s messing with us.”

“I wouldn’t frame it like that,” Harshad reasons. “It’s a protest. That I’ve seen before. Kids intentionally fail tests to express their disapproval of the process, or reject their own destiny. It usually occurs when the student favors one subject, but struggles greatly with it, and outperforms in something totally different.”

Tinaya tosses her tablet on the desk, and leans back in her chair. “What are the next steps? Could you test him again?”

“We could, it’s not unprecedented,” Ine confirms. “That’s why we spend all year doing these, so kids can understand where they need improvement if they want to get into the right program. I just don’t think it’s going to help. There’s no reason to think he won’t just do it again. Perhaps next time he’ll get a hundred percent on everything, which would be just as unhelpful to determining placement. There’s one test that we’re not talking about, which the counselor gave him years ago, and has been unable to readminister periodically.”

“I wasn’t a part of that decision. His mother’s simultaneously depressed by it, and in denial.” What they’re talking about is the Antisocial Spectrum Assessment. He did very poorly on it, or very well, depending on how you look at it. He would have been diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder had Calla allowed the assessment to be logged into the ship’s Mental Health Department, which would have triggered a counseling program to help him overcome his obstacles. That’s why he’s struggling so much. That’s why Silveon’s interventions have been paramount. Because it’s all he has. Once he comes of age, he’ll be able to seek his own therapeutic or neurological treatments, but he would have to want to do that, which is why it’s so important for guardians to catch it early, before they lose the legal power to help. “Give it to him again. We’ve been working on it. We’ve been helping him.”

Ine shakes her head. “Studies have suggested that no treatment for psychopathy has been significantly successful in helping patients correct their antisocial behavior.”

“We don’t call it psychopathy,” Tinaya says in a warning tone, “and I’m sure you know that. Besides, you’re wrong. Behavior has indeed been corrected, and that may be all we can hope for. It’s the improvement of the patient’s true thoughts and feelings—or lack thereof—that psychology hasn’t been able to crack.” She’s been reading up on this stuff so she can help her son help this boy. “Test. Him. Again. If he’s improved even a little, then it will tell us how to move forward with fixing the placement issue.”

“We don’t have the authority to administer a new ASA, and neither do you,” Harshad reminds her. “You would have to get Mrs. Kristiansen to sign off, and I’m not holding out hope that she’s changed either.”

Tinaya nods. “I’ll go talk to her right now. Don’t move.” She teleports away.

“What are you doing here?” Calla questions when Tinaya shows up unannounced.

Tinaya pulls up the consent form for a new ASA. “Sign this.”

“What is it?”

“Sign it.”

“I’m not going to sign something without knowing what it is.”

“Yes, you are. It’s for your son, so he can get the help that he needs.”

“Oh, this is that psycho-bullshit again? Yeah, no. I’m not putting him through that a second time. It will only make things worse.”

“If you don’t do this, he’s gonna end up in the fields.” This is an offensive remark that Tinaya should not have said. The ship doesn’t have fields, so this really just means that a person will end up with an absurdly low contribution score. They live with only the most essential amenities, like water and bland food. It’s one step up from hock. Yeah, they can technically leave their cabin, though only to walk the corridors, as they’re banned from pretty much everywhere those corridors lead.

“Take him.”

“What?”

“I’ll never sign that paper,” Calla goes on, “but I’ll sign one that says I lose all my parenting rights, and they go to you. Show me that one instead.”

“Mrs. Kristiansen, I’m an old woman. I can’t take custody of your child, even if I thought that’s what would be the best thing for him.”

“Then find someone who can. I’m sick of dealing with him. I’m sick of it being my responsibility. Give him a new parent, and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“You’re a horrible person. I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

Calla winces. “I think I’m kinda proving my own point here.”

“If you don’t have someone to live for, you’re going to drink yourself to death. You’re halfway there already.”

Calla takes a sip of her whatever. “Sounds like a me problem. Why do you care?”

“Your death will impact your child’s life whether you’re legally responsible for him, or not. He will not understand the nuances of custody. His heart won’t, at least.”

She chuckles. “Since when does that little shit have heart?”

“I will ask you to stop talking about your son like that.”

“And I will ask you to stop him being my son!” she shouts back.

Tinaya takes a breath before she loses it, and matches this woman’s energy. “He needs help. You can help him, not by teaching him your poor choices, but by teaching him how to avoid them.”

Calla finishes her drink. “Seems to me...I die...he’ll learn not to do that.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not always how it works. Some grow up to spite their parents, and some turn into them. Some find a way to end up doing both. The only way to show him right from wrong is to show him right. Showing him only wrong doesn’t help him understand which is which.”

“I’m wrong,” Calla decided, “and you’re right. Sounds like his bases are covered.”

“That’s not my job. My family and I have only stepped up because you refuse to do so yourself. But hope is not lost. He’s young, still impressionable, and you’re not dead yet! Do the right thing for once in your pathetic life.”

Calla pours herself another, and doesn’t say anything.

“I’ve let that slide, but I can get you arrested for drinking alcohol.”

“Then do it. What do you think happens to the kid then?”

“Has that been your plan your whole time, to get me to put you in hock, so he has to be placed with a new family?”

Calla shrugs her shoulders and eyebrows as she’s drinking.

Tinaya doesn’t know what she should do here. She could wait until Calla is more drunk, then trick her into signing. She could just forge her signature. No one would question the captain. She could do what Calla wants, and find Waldemar new guardians, or even become that for him. She would have to speak with Arqut, Niobe, and Silveon about that. But really, she needs to speak with Silveon regardless. That’s the best next step to take, as he will know what decision will lead to the best outcome. Without another word, she jumps away, and returns to the stateroom.

Perfect timing. Arqut is just bringing Silveon in after picking him up from primary school. “I thought you had that meeting with Waldo’s school.” He’s the only one who calls him that.

“I need to speak with the boss man.” Her eyes drift down to her child.

“Okay, I’ll go work on my memoirs,” Arqut says.

“You can be here, but I think he’s the one who will understand what to do here.”

Tinaya goes over the problem, with the tests and the test. She reminds them of how terrible of a mother Calla is, but also how irregular it is to separate a child from their blood relatives. Arqut then reminds her that alcohol is illegal, and that’s really the only reason she’s ever needed to call family services. That’s all well and good, but they really do need to hear the wisdom of the man from the future.

Silveon listens patiently until they have finished their thoughts. “Waldemar, like others with his condition, requires structure, and consistency. I’m afraid that removing him from the household now wouldn’t help, because it’s too big of a change. He’s learned some coping mechanisms, and making him live somewhere new will likely make him regress, so he’ll have to relearn everything. Again, I came back here too late. If we could have transitioned him while he was my age, it probably would have been okay. But now he’s stuck, and a bad situation is better than a loss of everything he’s ever known.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Tinaya asks.

Silveon waits a moment to respond. “Forge the damn signature. Get it done.”

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Extremus: Year 93

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In New Migration Theory, there is a concept of a “true native”, which is academically known as the rooted generation in order to avoid charged sociopolitical connotations. A true native would be anyone who identifies as such, and can reasonably consider themselves that way. Trying to establish a particular definition would undoubtedly offend people. The rooted generation, however, refers to very specific people born to a given area. The Void Migration Ship Extremus is about to experience it, and the keystone for this species really just depends on who happens to be born first.

When the original passengers of Extremus first boarded the ship, they were leaving their home behind. They knew that they would never see the destination planet, but they didn’t do it for them. They did it for the descendants. Even now, after all this time, not a single person on board is expected to be alive to see the mission realized. It will be up to those who have not yet been born. Until then, the rooted generation will be in reference to a native of the generational ship itself. Again, they don’t for sure know who that is yet, but they know what the trigger was. Naruhito Arethusa was three years old on Launch Day, making him one of the youngest babies to board. He wasn’t the absolute youngest, but lifespans aren’t all the same, so others have died already, making him the last man standing. While he had no intact memories of Gatewood, he technically lived there. He was a Gatewooder. He was 96, and is survived by his children, grandchild, and great grandchildren.

Naruhito being the last Gatewooder is an important milestone in Extremus history. Everyone alive today was born on the ship. He was too young to be able to decide for himself whether he wanted to board the ship or not, but he still had influence on the decision, if only subconsciously for his family. No one else here even had the hope of altering this decision. It had already happened. The first member of the rooted generation is one who will have a temporal gap between them and Gatewood. Of course, knowledge and stories have been passed down the years, so it’s not like this big mystery, but they will never meet a Gatewooder. Everyone who sees this future person will be an Extremusian who never saw Gatewood themselves. The distinction between this baby, and everyone else who was born here, is not meant to cause some kind of generational divide. It’s not there to cause anyone to other anyone else. It is just, again, a milestone. Whichever baby is born first will become the first member of the rooted generation, and its inherent value is enough to warrant some form of celebration. This achievement was never inevitable. A million things could have happened in the last 93 years to prevent its success. Yet through it all, Extremus and its passengers have persevered. The rooted generation is a testament to that. The job isn’t over yet, but this is still an accomplishment. Or it will be anyway, once the baby is born.

The problem that Tinaya is facing today is one which no one thought would happen. It didn’t occur to them that this issue should arise, and cause conflict between otherwise perfectly normal and well-adjusted families. “This is highly irregular, Dr. Cernak.” After Dr. Ima Holmes died, Captain Soto Tamm appointed a new Chief Medical Officer, though Tinaya can’t remember her name at the moment. Whoever it was, they coincidentally retired at around the same time that the captain’s seat was changing butts. One of the last things that Lataran did was appoint Radomil Cernak to the position. “Why are you treating a passenger, and why have you brought me here?”

“I’ll let her explain,” Dr. Cernak replies.

A very pregnant woman is sitting sort of between them in a wheelchair. Her doula is holding onto the handles, and showing no signs that she’s going to say anything herself. “My name is Veta Vivas, and my child’s name will be...” She pauses to create a sense of anticipation. No one is feeling it; they’re more annoyed. “Root. Root Vivas.”

“Congratulations,” Tinaya says politely, not understanding why she should care. If this were an emergency, the tone of the room, and the behavior of the medical staff, would be quite different. “When are you due?”

“Unfortunately, a week from now,” Veta answers. “The Wiegand baby is due in three days.” Back in the olden days, a baby’s due date was only ever the best guestimation. Few babies actually came into the world on time. Some were early, some were late. These days, with advances in medical science, the date is generally spot on, even if it has to be adjusted slightly during the gestational period as development presents a clearer pattern. This late in the process, however, doctors are never wrong.

But Tinaya. She still doesn’t know what this has to do with her.

“I have put in a request to induce labor,” Veta goes on. I want Root to be born now, or his name will just sound stupid.”

“You’re rejecting it?” Tinaya asks Dr. Cernak, not accusatorily.

“I wasn’t the first,” Dr. Cernak explains. “Like you said, she’s not my patient. She...escalated the issue when she didn’t receive the answer she was hoping for.”

Tinaya nods, and looks back at Veta. “You want your child to be the first in the rooted generation.”

“He deserves it. We deserve it.”

“You realize that inducing labor in order to give one particular family this privilege is not only unfair to other parents, but goes against the spirit of the milestone. We don’t get to decide who turns out to be the first to take root. That is time’s job.”

“So you’re rejecting us as well,” Veta figures.

“I’m not rejecting anything,” Tinaya argues. “This is a medical concern. I’m the captain. I don’t understand why you’re bugging me with this.” She’s still looking squarely at Veta. She doesn’t blame Dr. Cernak for seeking help with the problem. She can tell by everyone’s respective demeanor that this is not the beginning of the conversation, but the middle of a long one. Tinaya has so far gone down in history as the least polite captain. Even Tamm was charming and beloved by many until the scandal blackened the lines of his story. Tinaya is the oldest to hold command, and she doesn’t take any shit. People know this about her, and they respect her for it. She’s not losing any popularity contests because of it either. The captain has to be firm, even if that means some people don’t get their way.

“This is Root’s birthright, literally,” Veta insists. “We were trying to conceive for months before we sought medical assistance.

Tinaya is flabbergasted by this response. “First off, if you had successfully conceived earlier, then you would be having a different child, rather than the one you’re having now. Secondly, and more importantly, Naruhito Arethusa died yesterday. This other hypothetical child would not have had any hope of being the first in the rooted generation as they would have been born months ago.”

“We don’t see it that way,” Veta says matter-of-factly. “My husband and I were really close to conceiving 280 days ago today.”

Tinaya sighs. “Dr. Cernak, I’m asking you one last time, are you rejecting Mrs. Vivas’ petition for the inducement of labor?”

“I am rejecting the petition,” Dr. Cernak confirms.

Tinaya studies Veta’s eyes. “Please place Mrs. Vivas on safety watch for the remainder of her pregnancy, and clear your schedule to perform the delivery procedure yourself once the time comes.”

Veta is fuming. “What the hell! You can’t do that! I’m not suicidal!”

“Safety watch is not about suicide alone,” Tinaya begins. “It’s about the risk that you pose to yourself, and-or to others. “You have exhausted all of your legal options for the inducement of labor, and I can tell that you are willing to explore alternative methods, which would not be safe for you, nor your baby. If you don’t already know what they are,” Tinaya says before looking up at the doula, “she surely does. You will stay in quarantine until you have the baby. Should something happen to delay the Wiegand baby’s birth, you may get your wish, but we will not be assisting in this regard. My word is final.” She turns around to leave, suddenly realizing her grave error.

“You can’t do this!” Veta screams. “Root is the root! Root is the root!” She sounds like she’s thrashing about. The security guard posted in the infirmary runs over to help.

Tinaya teleports to the passenger hospital, and approaches the reception desk. “I need to look up a patient. I don’t need any medical data on her, just the name of her obstetrician.” She submits the name, then proceeds to Dr. Causey’s office.

“Captain, this is quite the surprise, and an honor. If you are looking for discreet treatment, I promise you that I can offer it, no questions asked.”

Tinaya has never heard of a member of the executive crew seeking medical attention from someone who enjoys a distance from scrutiny, but perhaps it’s happened. If it’s true, it’s none of Tinaya’s business. “That’s very kind of you, but it won’t be necessary. I need you to place a patient of yours on safety watch. A...rival of hers is determined to predate her date of delivery.”

Dr. Causey nods. “Veta Vivas; I am aware. Lena has already expressed her concerns to me regarding this one-sided conflict. You believe she is in danger?”

“I made the mistake of telling Mrs. Vivas that her child may end up winning if something happens to Mrs. Wiegand. I meant it innocuously, but immediately grew concerned that she might encourage someone to force a delay...or worse.”

Dr. Causey nods again. “That is a scary thought, however, my patient is willing to trade delivery dates to avoid any social unrest. She has no strong feelings about her child becoming the first rooted descendant, and recognizes that it’s evidently quite important to this Veta Vivas.”

“That will not be happening,” Tinaya contends. “Perhaps if you had made this arrangement sooner, it might have worked, but now it’s too late. I cannot allow you to reward Mrs. Vivas’ inappropriate behavior. I’ve already placed her on safety watch. If I backpedal now—”

“I understand,” Dr. Causey interrupts. “We should have dealt with this internally. There was no need to bring the Captain into this. I apologize for the inconvenience, I’m sure you have more important things to attend to.”

“So you’ll place Mrs. Wiegand on safety watch?”

“Might as well,” Dr. Causey agrees. “We’ll take good care of her, and protect her from any interference. She won’t complain; she’s very laid back.”

“Thank you.” Tinaya taps on her watch. “I’ve placed you on my priority access list, so if you need to contact me, you’ll be able to circumvent the communication filters that shield me from every rando who wants to talk to the captain.”

“Great. I’ll be sure to call you every hour, on the hour, to ask you your favorite colors and foods.”

Tinaya chuckles. “Good day.” She disappears.

When Tinaya returns to the executive infirmary, Dr. Cernak is locking the door to the safety watch room. Tinaya watches through the window as doula is helping Veta into the bed.”

“She staying in there with her?”

“She’s a tethered doula,” Dr. Cernak begins to explain. “She literally can’t leave her client’s side. Time will teleport her right back if she tries to walk away.”

“She consented to that?” Tinaya questions.

“It’s her whole job. She takes a new one every year. I believe she only gives herself a week or so off, depending on who commissions her next, and when they need her.” They stand in silence for a moment, watching to make sure the mother is okay. “We’re getting her her own bed to put in the corner.”

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” Tinaya says to him.

“Me too, but this is what these rooms are for, even if this is the first time anything quite like this has happened. I would rather be safe than sorry. Though...you do realize that the other mother—”

“I just spoke with her doctor. She’ll have to go into safety watch too, in case the father gets any crazy ideas put in his head, or someone else close to Mrs. Vivas.”

They’re silent again before having to flatten themselves against the wall to make way for the trundle bed. “I kind of like the name Root,” He decides. “If this hadn’t become a whole thing, I might suggest it for the actually rooted child.”

“Yeah, maybe. Listen, I gotta go pick up my own kid, but call me if you need me. Maybe consult with Dr. Causey about the situation too. After both children are born, they’ll probably all need some counseling. I, for one, would like to see them become friends one day. There’s no need for all this hostility. This is no one’s fault.”

“Will do, Captain. Thanks for comin’ by.”

Tinaya jumps back to her stateroom, and plops herself on the couch.

“Can you talk about it?” Arqut asks respectfully from the perpendicular loveseat.

Tinaya stares forward into space. “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”

“You’re just as beautiful today as the day I first saw you at graduation.”

She furrows her brow, and cocks her head towards him. “You were at my graduation? Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“You were only a little baby at the time, I’m a few years older. Seems creepy, looking back.”

She scoffs. “You couldn’t have known that we would end up together. Besides, because of my time travel, I’m actually older than you.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

Tinaya kisses the air in his general direction as he does the same towards her. “I better go get Silvy from school,” she determines.

“I’ll take care of it. I didn’t do anything today.”

“Thanks.”

 Tinaya’s watch beeps with a text message from Dr. Causey. That whole every hour, on the hour thing was a joke, right? It reads, I just received word. The rooted child has been born. A different OB agreed to induce labor for the Hearn family.

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