Microstory 2492: Mythodome

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This is a very complex dome, and it’s due to the interconnectedness of world mythology. As I’m sure you’re aware, Earth is home to many a myth, which people once believed, or at least found value in the stories that described them. Since there have been so many cultures in our history, these myths often contradict each other. Lots of them, for instance, came up with a god of the sun, but they could never all be true. That’s where this dome takes liberties, because they are all “true” insomuch as they coexist here. There are indeed multiple sun gods, and they operate as a sort of council. Don’t ask me what they do, though, because as I’m sure you’re also aware, this is all made up. In real life, God doesn’t exist, elves don’t exist, trolls don’t exist. This is an immersive world where such creatures and beings have been engineered out of the specifications presented in the various source materials. It can be hard to track. Some myths even contradict themselves, as told by different authors, and diverging translations. So, Mythodome does its best, but the interesting result—which I’ve been trying to drive at this whole time—is that it is more than the sum of its parts. It has spawned a new mythology, which includes that sun-god council I mentioned, and various factional alliances that never existed in the original stories, because they weren’t culturally related. Part of the experience is learning the new story that has come out of this, which could have hypothetically been its own franchise in traditional media, if someone had thought to be quite this comprehensive before. There are different kinds of elves, for instance, because there have been different interpretations in the stories, and these elves are aware of each other, and have developed complicated relationships with each other naturally. That’s my understanding anyway, which is that their dynamics have taken on a life of their own to form this fresh society, and I think they were doing it before any Earthans came to visit. That alone is interesting enough, not just that these mythical creatures can be genetically engineered, but that we end up with unpredictable consequences as a result of so many variables. I’m rambling now, but suffice it to say that it would not be difficult to spend years here. You could even spend an entire lifetime, making your own way, and finding your purpose. Because very little about this place was prewritten. It’s all been developing on its own, and who knows where it will take us next?

Microstory 2485: Passage of Rites

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They call this an antimetabole, with the name referring to the physical space where rites are performed, as opposed to the original phrase, which involves a more metaphorical passage from one state of being to another. A rite of passage is a ceremony—or a more abstract transitional period—that marks some change in a person’s life, often when they are still young. In some cases, it’s specifically meant to mark someone’s development from youth to adulthood. Bar Mitsvahs, Quinceñeras, and Sweet Sixteens are all about this concept, and come at the age when that culture believes an individual sufficiently matures. It doesn’t have to be based on a particular age, or there might be some leeway. For instance, our ancestors used to have to wait to learn how to drive land vehicles, and once they did learn this skill, it came with a sense of independence that they usually did not feel before. It often happened at a certain age, but it didn’t have to, and some people never learned. Different people have different ideas about what someone needs to experience in their life before they can be respected in some form or another. Some have believed that you weren’t a man, for instance, until you participated in a physically violent altercation. Others thought you really only needed to learn how to hunt game, or go on some kind of lone journey in the wilderness. Some rites of passage are a very specific set of rituals which offer symbolic practices to represent the transition. They might be asked to drink a bitter drink to symbolize the harsh realities of life, then receive a sweet candy to exemplify the reward of a life well lived. Some of them their participants prepared their whole lives for. A lot of the rites of passage shown here have been lost to time as the culture who practiced them forgot, or had newer generations who began to see less value in maintaining them. There’s a relatively new tradition on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida where the current permanent residents gift each of their younglings a stone every year of their lives. They are expected to hold onto their collection between the ages of six and seventeen, even as it grows, until their seventeenth birthday, when they throw all of them over a cliff. These stones represent the care and attention the child needed as they were growing up. The weight of them collectively represents the burden they placed on their families. Ridding themselves of their collections represents the second stage in their life, when they are now expected to fend for themselves—to collect their own proverbial stones. That rite of passage is here too, reenacted by visitors, so they can physically feel the meaning behind the traditions. Other rites are performed exclusively by androids, such as the human sacrifices, which thankfully, no culture today has continued to observe. As I was saying about the birthday observances, there’s a lot of fun here, and you can come just to party. But I hope you do venture out to the other areas, and see some of the more somber and profound events. You can learn about any of these things in the archives, but there’s nothing quite like seeing it up close for yourself. I’ve learned a lot here already, even though I’m an archaeologist, and I’m sure you will too.

Microstory 2478: Holidome

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Name a holiday; any holiday. Go on, I’ll wait. What did you pick? Now imagine what it’s like to celebrate that holiday. Now, go to Holidome, and you’ll find it there. Ramadan, Diwali, Carnival. It’s around here somewhere. They each live in their own little sectors, but there are some that are a little more spread out. Traditional Christmas in one region of Earth was observed in very different ways than in others, so those are separate. That way, you can be immersed in the version that you’re looking for. Honestly, I’m probably the wrong person to ask about any of this. Not only am I very young, but I was born on Castlebourne. I’m actually kind of a rarity so far. The majority of people who come aren’t here to plan families. They’re here to have fun, so they either come with their families, or they’re putting off procreating until later. My family has a long history of recognizing and appreciating other cultures, so that’s what they came here to do. A lot of that culture is gone from Earth. It wasn’t really anybody’s fault, it just sort of happened. Architecture converged into those megastructure arcologies. Creativity and identity made way for standardization and cross-compatibility. Why design a bunch of oddly-shaped trashcans, when you can design one model, and anyone who needs it knows that that one is perfect for their space, because everyone’s space is pretty much the same? These may seem like small things, and hardly relevant, but they’ve added up to major changes. It doesn’t matter where you’re from, or where your family is from. Your housing unit looks the same. You can decorate it, sure, but when we all live in virtual simulations, what’s the point? You might think, well doesn’t the culture just live on the servers? They can, but it can get drowned out by boundless imagination. In this world, people fart rainbows. Yeah, that’s fun, but there’s no history behind it. I suppose one day, we could end up living next to a community of Rainbow Farters of Erbikejifel, or some shit, but for now, it’s mostly only about novelty. Castlebourne doesn’t work like that. It exists in base reality, and it all has to fit within the limits of physics. You may be nostalgic for the days when you lit the Menorah with your family every year, or maybe you never did it, and you want to learn what it was like. I do get a little worried about cultural appropriation. People seem to think it’s a non-issue since—like I’ve been complaining about—those traditions have largely faded from real life—but I would just like to warn everyone to use caution. Those rituals held and hold great meaning to those who practice(d) them. It’s important that you be mindful of that, and stay respectful of why they participated in them. Nothing was arbitrary. I’m not trying to get you to not have any fun. Holi is a grand old time, for instance. Just don’t forget to learn about how it started, and who originally took part in such traditions. They didn’t just do it for your amusement. Except for Festivus. That really is just for fun.

Microstory 2465: Steampunk Sanctuary

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

Microstory 2448: Chinadome

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China is one the largest, and most populated, nations on Earth. Historically, it has been a technological powerhouse, and a major player on the global economic stage. It’s so big that individuals emigrating out of China to other towns would often settle in such high numbers that they ended up transforming part of their city to a sector known as Chinatown. These were divisions of the established city in question—New York, San Francisco, Binondo—typically not in an official or legal capacity, but culturally relevant nonetheless. Since those of Chinese ancestry represent a large portion of people back on Earth, it stands to reason that a great deal of people who have chosen to travel to Castlebourne would be Chinese too. To be clear, you don’t have to have any Chinese heritage to come here. In reality, they encourage you to visit regardless of your family background or creed, and learn about Chinese history and culture. That’s the whole point of cultural domes. You can come here to see what it’s like, to engage in their events, or if you just feel comfortable in this environment. The dome holds all the same traditional observances here as they still do on Earth, such as Chinese New Year. It also recognizes the shift in sociopolitical practices that resulted from the adoption of more modern political ideas, particularly post-scarcity economic conventions. It’s a respectful blend of the historical China and the new China that most people living today are more familiar with. I agonized over how to phrase that, which is why, readers, this review is a bit later than usual. I think that’s the most P.C. way for me to say it. I’ll edit you according to your comments. But just this once. I recommend everyone on Castlebourne come for a visit. Even if you saw a Chinatown or two on Earth, there’s always something new to learn, and perspective to be gained.

Microstory 2422: State of the Art

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Isn’t that a funny name for a dome? State of the Art. Since art is so subjective, that term is so often used to describe scientific advancements, which is essentially the opposite of what we’re talking about here. But in this case, they’re calling the entirety of the dome a state, and its purpose is art. Have you ever seen a show from a long time ago called The Peripheral? It only lasted one season, but in that, they feature sculptures that dot the skyline, which are larger than most buildings around it. They never talked about them, or gave any history, but it was set in the audience’s future. I’m not sure if the Castlebourne people were specifically inspired by this, or if it’s a coincidence, but either way, they have those here. These things go up two or three kilometers in the air, and can sometimes be just as wide. It’s really cool to stand on the balcony level, and look down at the whole thing. You’re a few kilometers up yourself, but there aren’t any clouds that low, since they can control all that stuff. Not every dome has one of these second levels, but I think it’s really important in this case. I certainly think that you could extend it more along the perimeter, or even build more layers, but maybe there was a reason why they stopped it here. I just worry that there won’t be enough room once the planet and the dome become more popular. That’s assuming it does. I know you’re all running from your zombies, and wasting each other in the wasteland, but it’s important to learn to be cultured and quiet. That’s what my mom taught me. She was old enough to remember a time before the longevity escape velocity. To them, art was a way of continuing on an individual’s and culture’s community. A piece of visual art or musical piece is a snapshot in history, showing in the most genuine way what life was like—what life was like for the people making the art, and for the people around them. We’re taught that a painting, for instance, comes from a distinct period in time, and it’s important to understand that. You paint a pond of water lilies in 1840, it evokes a different feeling than someone painting it in 2040. Lives change, lifestyles change. Those two people see the world entirely differently, and recognizing the beauty in that is an important human trait that I think we’ve lost as we’ve developed. We still make art, but it’s a reflection of who we are today, and it means nothing if we can’t remember that. Go back to the past, and learn from it. You can visit one of the Babeldome libraries and read about it, and I definitely wouldn’t discourage you from doing that, but don’t forget about the art. Never forget about the art. It speaks, so listen closely. Be cultured and quiet.

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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Microstory 2217: He Only Watched

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We’re at the hospital today for a check-up. There’s a lot that I can do for him. I can take care of his basic needs, help with physical therapy homework, and draw blood or run an IV drip. There are still things that a nurse or doctor needs to perform, though. He’ll probably be at the hospital about once a week from now on. While I was on their website to make sure we would park in the right lot, I found out that the hospital was putting on a little talent show. It wasn’t this grand, expensive affair, but the staff like to keep their patients active and in high spirits, so they do things like this sometimes. No one was being judged or ridiculed. Some of the talents were unimpressive by most people’s standards, like one elderly woman who just sort of slowly twirled around while she was looking up at the ceiling, waving her arms around occasionally. One of the radio techs beatboxed. It was a safe environment for people to be themselves, and maybe forget about why they were there. I don’t think that it worked for Nick, but it was worth a shot. He only watched, of course. There was no way I was convincing him to get up on that stage. He says that he wouldn’t have done anything like that on his best day. He’s not much of a performer, and has hated having to do things like that in the past, like for school. Lots of teachers told him that he would get used to it the more he tried it, but that never happened. Evidently, in his world, the culture assumes that everyone can do anything if they work hard enough at it, and obviously, that’s not true. This site was his way of reaching out to the world, and when I pointed that out to him, it actually seemed to resonate, so I’m hoping that means he’ll soon decide to inject his own thoughts back into it, even if that means he dictates what he needs me to type for him. One can hope.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 30, 2398

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Alyssa adds more shirts to the suitcase as Carlin stands there, watching her. He’s old enough to pack for himself, but he doesn’t want to go, so this is his way of being defiant. If she’s the one who wants this, then she’s going to be the one to make it happen, and he doesn’t have to help her with that. Young Moray has just finished packing his own bag, because while he doesn’t want to leave either, making people do things for him is not his style. Alyssa smiles sadly over at him. “Thank you, Mor.”

“Why do we have to go?” Carlin questions.

“Because it’s not safe here anymore.”

“It’s never really been safe,” he argues. “These people’s lives are dangerous, that’s what makes them so interesting.”

“It’s become more dangerous since we arrived,” Alyssa clarifies.

“Then why aren’t you coming with us?” Moray asks her.

She stops trying to close Carlin’s bag, and goes over to Moray. She gets on her knees, and holds him by the arms. “You understand that they’re time travelers, right?”

“Yeah,” Moray confirms, holding back tears.

“Well, they know things about the future. They know things about my future. I’m destined to work with them, they’ve already seen it.”

“What happens to us in the future?”

Alyssa looks at Carlin over her shoulder, and then back to Moray. “You’re safe, and it’s because today, you go to Palmeria.”

“You’re lying,” Carlin believes.

“I’m not,” Alyssa lies. “That is where you belong.” She stands back up. “And this...is where I belong. We’ll see each other again, I promise. Mateo can teleport me there whenever I need to. In the meantime, we’ll holo-chat, and text, okay?”

“Okay.” Moray is still holding back those tears, and doing a pretty good job of it.

“Okay,” she echoes. She leans over to kiss him on the forehead, then turns to face Carlin. “I need you to take care of him, because I’m not in a position to do it anymore.”

Carlin seethes just a little, but then grows determined. He punches the top of his suitcase, and holds his fist in place while his other hand zips it up. “I assume they have internet. I’m not done with the religion research.”

Relieved, Alyssa nods. “They do; Mateo confirmed. In fact, they don’t have dogma filters, so you won’t be limited to any given religion’s biased interpretation of competing faiths. You’ll have a better understanding of the history and culture for your thesis.”

“What’s a thesis?” Carlin asks.

“It’s kind of when you come to a conclusion before your research, and then you do the research to find out if it’s actually true.”

“Do they even need this anymore? I mean, if I’m leaving...”

“Part of the reason you’re leaving is so that you can continue safely, and without worrying about anything else,” Alyssa explains. “It’s still vitally important data; more so now, probably. We’re not just tryna get rid of ya, I promise.”

“I’m helping with it,” Moray interjects.

“I know,” Alyssa says to him proudly. “Now, come on. “We’re going to have one last group meal together before the big move.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 2, 2398

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Heath is pacing around again, this time in the main seating area of The Olimpia. He hasn’t spoken to his wife in four days, and hasn’t seen her in five. Neither she nor Kivi has been responding to their messages, but their devices are still on and active, in Middle of Nowhere, Florida. In fact, they haven’t moved a centimeter since June 30, which suggests all kinds of possible explanations. They could be dead, or stuck in a timeloop or time bubble. They could have lost their belongings, and moved on, or someone might have stolen them, and left them somewhere. Heath is presently considering all of these possibilities, plus some more outlandish ones. He keeps asking Leona and Ramses questions about how time and time travel work so he can add more to the growing list, and enhance his own sense of dread. It’s not healthy, but nothing they say appears to be helping him out of the grim hole that he’s digging for himself.

Leona is operating the controls, hunting for a landing site as close to the unmoving phones as possible. Ramses gets on the intercom to begin an announcement as they approach their destination. “Welcome to the location of Youth Water. It comes from a natural spring in the middle of inland Florida, which dried up centuries before it was permanently settled by Europeans. In the main sequence, this area was well-developed by the time the culture advanced to this point in its history. It boasts one of the first regions to undergo the massive rewilding effort that sought to revitalize the world’s wildlife, and consolidate human populations into ever smaller artificial habitations. But still, the spring was dry, only to be accessed long ago in the past. It is one of the most popular of the immortality waters, because it can help promote life extension in the deveiled humans of history without interfering in later endeavors to assemble the other waters, and possibly achieve complete and total immortality.

“According to the correspondence map, Marie and Kivi’s devices are currently located at the approximate location of this spring, implying that there is something quite interesting there. And I’ve just been informed by my co-pilot that the nearest open area for vertical landing is about four kilometers from this site. We apologize for the hike that will soon be demanded of you, but barring teleportation, or aerial vehicle fast rope, this is the best we can do. Mateo and I will be staying with the Olimpia in case it’s needed at a moment’s notice. The rest of you will make the trek to the target location. Thank you, and please be patient while we execute this latest, delicate maneuver to the ground.”

Mateo and Ramses wait in the clearing while the others go out and attempt to make sense of all of this. A couple of hours later, Angela returns alone. “They’re gone.”

“What do you mean, they’re gone? They’ve gone where?”

Angela catches her breath. “While Leona was looking through the phones they found by the edge of the water, Heath dove in, believing the spring to be the ultimate answer to his question. She went in after him, and they both disappeared. I was feeling a strong pull to follow them. It took everything I had to not get in the water too, because I knew I shouldn’t. They did have their devices on them. Ramses, can you track them?”

He loads up his own device. It takes him longer than they would think. It should be a quick friend location ping. “Umm...it’s complicated.”

“How so?” Mateo asks.

“They’re in the future.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 2, 2398

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Leona and Mateo are having a date night, so they’ll be out of the condo for a few hours. Ramses doesn’t have anywhere to be, but he starts getting the sense that Heath and Marie need him to be away too, so he goes for a walk around the plaza, looking to find something interesting or new to do. Now it’s just the Waltons, and they have something important to talk about. Angela knows the other two want to discuss something, but she doesn’t know what. The truth is, no one out of the three of them knows how this is going to go.

“I think I’ll start,” Marie says solemnly. “First of all, I want to thank you for all the support you two have shown me during this difficult time. It’s been really helpful to know that I have a loving family who are willing to go to great lengths to protect me, and my future. This has not been an easy decision, and while we’ve had our issues, I believe that we’re ready to move forward. Can we all at least agree with that much?”

“Yes,” Heath answers. Now he’s worried. He thought they were on the same page.

“Of course,” Angela concurs.

Marie goes on, “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and...” She sighs, not wanting to say what she needs to say.

“Go ahead,” her husband encourages.

“I believe,” she continues, drawing as much strength as she can find, “that you can’t come with me to Croatia.” She’s not looking at either of them, which makes her statement a little confusing.

“Obviously, I can’t go...” Angela says.

“No, not you.” She finally looks back over. “You. Heath, you can’t come with me, not if we want this to work. Before you argue, Angela has to become me, and that includes everything. She has to become a coder, and a volunteer at the community kitchen twice a week, and she has to become your wife. This isn’t going to matter if even one person beyond the team begins to get the idea that there’s any distance between the two of you.”

“Well, how far do you want this to go?” Heath questions.

“What do you mean?”

“How far should I go? Should we start sharing a bed? Should we start having sex? How committed do you want me to be to the lie?”

“Do you want to have sex with her?” Marie asks.

“No! That’s what I’m saying!”

“You promised to not raise your voice anymore,” Marie reminds him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated, because I also promised to see you through this whole thing, and now you don’t even want me to be within eight thousand kilometers of you. That’s just hard to hear.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you with me, it’s just not smart. Think about it logically. Angela’s gonna run into into our downstairs neighbor, and they’re going to invite the two of us to dinner Friday night, and she’s going to have to come up with some excuse, and then suddenly the period during which you were reportedly gone perfectly lines up with the period during which I was actually gone, and then maybe people start to ask questions, and maybe they end up asking too many.”

“I know, it’s the right thing to do. I just didn’t want to let you go alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Mateo will be there.”

“Mateo? Just Mateo?” Angela asks, now confused about that.

“The two of us don’t have professional lives to think about,” Marie begins to explain. “It makes sense that he could up and leave. No one will be wondering where he went off to.”

“Ramses doesn’t really have anything going on either,” Heath points out.

“Yes, he does. He’s extremely busy, trying to get us out of this reality.”

“Oh, he’s still on that?” Heath can’t help but be disgusted by the prospect. Everyone else he cares about, including Marie, is a visitor to this world. But he grew up here. This is his home. It’s not perfect. It’s downright cruel in some ways. But it’s familiar, and as random as all the laws, customs, and religious practices seem to be, they’re rooted in a history that he grew up learning. They make perfect sense to him. The others have experience being strangers in a strange land. This is all he knows. He can’t just leave, and he can’t let Marie go.

“It’s how he’s helping,” Angela tells him. “We don’t have to make any decisions yet, but it’s why you agreed to go on the mission with Mateo later this month, isn’t it?”

“How can I go on that?” Heath puts forth. “If I can’t ever be away from Marie, then that’s impossible.”

“Mateo’s been talking to me about that,” Angela says. “You can’t go on that either. You have a life here, and abortion or no, you have to keep living it. This isn’t your problem, you don’t even want to find anything.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, and don’t want,” Heath argues.

“Honey, you’re getting close.”

“Sorry,” he whispers. He does his counting exercise. “You’re right. It was a stupid idea. I got so excited to have an adventure, I stopped thinking rationally. I think we all did. It doesn’t make sense for me to disappear, not unless all six of us just go off the grid together.”

“Well, that’s one thought,” Marie admits.

“Are you seriously considering that?” Angela questions, shocked. “You’ve built a life for yourself here.”

“Well, I’m about to lose it anyway, aren’t I?”

“No, that can’t be true,” Angela believes. “I’m just a temporary placeholder. You’ll be back eventually. No one’s expecting you to have an abortion.”

“Except for Fairpoint,” Heath reminds her.

“Oh, yeah. What are we gonna do about Fairpoint?” Marie asks. Now her stomach is getting upset. He’s the only other non medical professional who knows she’s pregnant.

They hear the sound of the front door opening, and sort of a huff from down the hallway. Mateo rounds the corner alone. He’s not happy, but not extremely distressed either. “Sorry to intrude. I can leave and come back, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Marie assures him. “Where’s Leona?”

His eyes widen, as he looks around, even though he’s confident she isn’t hiding in a corner. “She took the car,” Mateo says. “I walked back. She should have returned long before now.”

“Why did you walk?” Heath consults his watch. “You weren’t gone all that long.”

“We had another fight. She was in the wrong this time, before you make any assumptions. But now I need your help to find her.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 18, 2398

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They’re sitting in the bunker again, just as helpless as they have been most of this week. Fairpoint has not gone back on his word, but it’s Saturday now, so he can’t get in to see Heath and Angela-slash-Marie until Monday. All they can do is wait and hope. God, Mateo hates relying on other people to get things done. Fairpoint is not part of the team, and he can’t be trusted. In the future—and Mateo isn’t sure if he remembers why he knows this already—there will be a new member of this team that can disguise others using her temporal power. When they look at each other, they’ll see their real faces, but when others look at them, they’ll see whoever the team wants them to see. They will be able to turn themselves into anyone, which is a power that he could use right now. He would waltz into that police station, looking like the president of the United States, and order them to release his friends. Then he could end religious war, racism, and all the other global issues. Yeah, it would probably be that easy.

“He doesn’t want kids,” Marie says out of the blue, breaking the silence. She doesn’t look anyone in the eyes, though. She stares straight ahead.

“Heath?” Leona asks.

“It’s like Fairpoint said, Heath is not a zealot,” Marie goes on. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t religious at all. In his culture, certain people are allowed to have children, and certain people aren’t.”

“What’s...the criteria?” Leona asks tentatively. Is that okay to ask?

Now Marie faces her friend. “Skin color. He’s too light. His bloodline ends with him, because it’s been diluted.”

“That’s...not okay, Marie,” Leona says.

Mateo and Ramses decide to stay out of the conversation.

“I know. Believe me, it was rough learning that about how he was raised. Lighter skinned people have a place. They have responsibilities. So it’s not like he was shunned. Genetics is really complex. It’s not as easy as saying, you can’t have a baby with a white person, though they do say that. And before you think they’re the worst of the worst, plenty of white denominations have similar rules, and some of them are pretty horrific about it. There’s been a history of...I don’t even wanna say the word.”

“It’s okay, we get it,” Leona assures her.

“Anyway, light-skinned babies come from dark-skinned parents all the time, and they just have to assign them certain roles because of that, and disallow procreation to keep the rest pure.”

“How do they feel about you?”

“They’re fine with me,” Marie insists. “They don’t have a problem with white people—though, they would change their minds if they knew my father was a slave owner, as was my arranged betrothed. He promised them he wouldn’t have any kids, and they accepted the risk.”

“What will happen to your baby?”

Marie is silent for a long time, and nobody tries to force her to continue. “I do not have a baby,” she explains. “I have a clump of cells in my uterus.”

“Marie...” Leona doesn’t know what else to say. There is probably nothing she could say.

“I’m not going to carry it to term. I’ve told you I’m happy, but that’s only because of him. I’m not happy here. This is the worst reality we’ve been to. At least the warmongers in the Fifth Division were honest about who they were. They didn’t hide behind divine mandate, or passive aggressive pseudo-tolerance. You’ll see. Stay here for another few months, and you’ll see.”

“We can get you out,” Leona told her. “You and your baby, we’ll get you out of here.”

“And then what?” Marie questions. “Heath can’t come with me down the fourth dimension, so I’ve lost him. There is no guarantee the baby will be like me either. I wasn’t born like this, and we don’t really understand how all that works. I didn’t even think I could have children. I told him as much. I didn’t lie, but I suggested he would have nothing to worry about. Now I have this thing inside of me, and I can only think of one halfway decent outcome.”

“I’m not going to try to convince you to make any particular choice,” Leona begins. “But I’m going to tell you that if you decide to have that child, I’ll love and protect it to my dying breath. Mateo and Ramses can make the same assurance, as I’m sure Olimpia would. Angela has already proved as much. It’s important you know this.”

“Thank you,” Marie says. “I’m pretty convinced already, and I plan to make an appointment with the doctor once I get my identity back, but it’s nice to know you’re by my side.

Leona leans forward, and opens her arms, but doesn’t initiate the hug. She waits for Marie to make that choice too. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Were I you,” Mateo says to all of them.