Microstory 2780: Nothing Will Stop Her From Leaving Him

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At the moment, the two most popular planets in the galaxy are Varkas Reflex and Castlebourne. The former handles virtual simulations very well while the latter is the only place with extensive and comprehensive base reality sims. Earth is special because it’s the seed of civilization, but its population is still decreasing. Some are leaving because they want what those other worlds have, others because they want to return Earth to the wild. Incidentally, Gatewood is technically popular too, but only as a pitstop for other colonies. Most other colonies are niche or family-owned; not central hubs.

That leaves Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. It is the only other Core World which naturally supports complex life. A human can survive on the surface in the open air with minimal bioengineering. A baseline human can survive with the right life support tech. That used to be a huge draw, but other breathable worlds have since been found, and it’s just not that important anymore. Life under a large enough dome is indistinguishable from a genuine sky. Virtual constructs are perfect, and can be programmed with any environment imaginable. Bida, despite its recent gravity problems, simply isn’t that special anymore. And those gravity problems are pushing it over the edge.

Everyone is leaving, including possibly Jande’s sister, Laise. She is missing, and it’s highly unlikely that something went wrong with her consciousness transmission. Bida may be known for its minimal use of tech, but they’re not backwards like Proxima Doma. They’re efficient, and death is an inefficient use of thought. That was engraved on the arch over the entrance to the Welcome Center below the primary space elevator, and above the door to the central substrate inventorium. Laise should be back by now.

In the weeks following the destruction of Eyrenland, the community has suffered from all sides. The whole planet has been wrecked. The people survived, but many are choosing not to rebuild their lives here. They’re going to those other places to live out their dreams. Some may end up doing exactly what they were doing before the cataclysm, just elsewhere. Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida is dying. It started quick, but it’s gonna end slow. Their way of life is being threatened by something that was entirely out of their control, and their own laws. Even Jande’s wives can’t take it anymore.

“Evers, please. Don’t leave,” Jande begs. “We’re building a life together.”

“This world is no longer safe,” Evers argues. “The black holes are still opening up all over the star system. I don’t want to be here when the next one shows up. What if it’s in the core of the planet? What if it’s in our backyard?”

“There’s a fancy ship up there,” Jande reminds her. “The Axiom of Astronomy is on it. The galaxy’s top scientists have cast themselves here to figure this out.” He sighs. “They’re gonna figure it out. The farm needs you, more than ever. I need you.”

“I’m not going to ask you to leave with me. I know that you have to stay, especially since your father...” She trails off just so she doesn’t have to finish the sentence. “You have your ways, and I thought I knew what I was getting myself into when I joined this community and married you. But I didn’t sign up for this.”

“There are ways around this,” he insists. “We can get a long-range backup relay. If your body dies, you can be on the other side of the solar system in seconds, clear of any black hole that may or may not open up here. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

Now Evers is the one to sigh. “And what if that deep space backup is destroyed too? I’m not going to risk it. This is an unprecedented threat.”

“Please, just give it another few days. They’re gonna announce something—”

“What are the divorce procedures?” Evers interrupts.

Jande doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to answer that question.

“Come on, I know they’re different when the marriage ends entirely, instead of remaining partially intact after only one leaves, so I can’t just utter the dissolution line, like Suki. You either come with me, or it’s over. What do I have to do to divorce you?”

Jande shakes his head. “You’re the one ending the marriage, and I’m the victim. You have to cut down a tree with an axe, and I have to cut one down with a knife.”

Evers stares at her still-husband for a minute. “Is that even possible?”

“Eventually, yes. It will take time out of my extremely busy life, but you can begin leaving before that. It will take hours, if not a day, for you to finish your own tree, get to the elevator, ride it up, and fly off. I promise to be done by then. The tree isn’t gigantic.”

“The trees we planted on our wedding day. We have to cut those ones down?”

“They symbolize our union, so yes,” Jande confirms.

“So older couples have a harder divorce. What if one of the trees is already dead?”

“Well, ours are still alive, and you’re leaving the culture completely, so what does it fucking matter?” Okay, he has shifted his emotions away from sadness now.

“I want to understand what’s happening to us, and I have the right to. I won’t push it, but I do want to know, what of Suki’s tree?” Evers questions.

“I have to take it down at some point, when I have time,” Jande explains. “It doesn’t have to be ceremonial or grueling, though. I can use a laser saw, or whatever.”

Evers frowns at him. “I was hoping to cast my mind to Varkas Reflex. I mean, if I’m gonna become incorporeal anyway, I might as well travel there without this body—”

“Goddammit!” Jande pushes past Evers and walks around to the back of the house. He pulls out his sheath knife and starts to slice against the trunk of his tree, at the narrowest section he can find, grateful that it doesn’t have to be at a particular height. He’s already making good progress, fueled by his adrenaline.

Evers walks up next to him. “I never wanted it to end like this.”

“But you wanted it to end,” Jande points out. “Good, that’s great. I’m so happy for you, you’re finally getting the life you wanted. I’m so sorry that I trapped you on the most beautiful planet in the universe. You must have been miserable.”

“I was never miserable,” Evers begins. “I’m just scared. I don’t think you see how dangerous this has become. Our ancestors prepared for everything—everything!—when they started to explore outer space, but they never thought of this. I know you think what you’re doing is important, but it’s not worth your life. It’s not worth mine, and there was a time when you would have agreed with me. Just...think about it.”

Jande stops working for a second to catch his breath. He looks over at her. “I don’t have time to cut down my tree and help you find the axe in the rubble that was our shed. You better go look for it so you can finish this quick enough to cast away in time to catch that sweet VR wave, dude. Hang ten.” He goes back to cutting.

He can see her nod quietly before she walks off.

She is so inexperienced with the axe, he almost finishes his tree before she finishes hers. They don’t say another word to each other for the rest of time. She takes a shuttle to the temporary Welcome Center tent, and leaves him forever.

Microstory 2779: Nearly Everyone Dies

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Jande Ter Avest wakes up and yawns, louder than he wanted to, which serves to wake up his wives. They were going to have to wake up soon enough anyway, though, so it’s fine. He rolls over and gives Evers a kiss, then lifts himself up and over her to kiss Suki. Second Autumn is coming to a close, so it’s the first morning that it’s still dark out when it’s time to get to work. He starts to leave the house as he is, as he normally does.

“Jan,” Evers says. It doesn’t even look like her eyes are open. “You need clothes.”

“It’s not cold enough, I’ll be fine,” Jande assures her.

“Put on clothes,” Evers reiterates. She’s still drowsy and annoyed.

“Put on clothes,” Suki echoes.

“Put on clothes, put on clothes, put on clothes.” They know he hates chanting.

“Fine, fine. I’m putting on my clothes,” Jande reluctantly agrees. “God.”

“Yay,” Suki replies as she buries her face in her pillow.

“Yay,” Evers concurs, just as exhausted and grumpy.

Jande does as they ask, then goes outside. He can never admit that they were right. It is unseasonably cold already. He didn’t bother to check the forecast, but they must have. He ends up stepping back inside real quick to grab a coat too.

He shivers as he’s walking towards the barn. Across the way, he sees his sister walking towards it from her own house. Her pet uquirapod is waddling alongside her. They wave to each other and smile, but don’t speak. It’s too early to speak. He doesn’t hate his life, but he doesn’t love it either. One day, when his parents’ bodies are old enough, they’ll retire, and it will be up to him and Laise to carry on the legacy.

As long as Laise doesn’t run off to find her own way, Jande’s workload will only double, and if he doesn’t have kids eventually, it could last indefinitely. He doesn’t mind doing it for the duration of a legal lifetime if it makes his family happy. He has his whole immortality ahead of him, which he can spend doing whatever he wants. It’s not that hard of a job anyway, it’s just kind of silly to him. One day he’ll look back, and this will only be a blip. His mind lives in that future. He thinks Laise’s mind does too.

She holds the door open for him, and they both walk in. Their father is leaning back in his chair, fast asleep. If he’s not careful, he’ll tip over and fall on his head.

When Laise clears her throat, Father is startled awake. He instantly looks up at the two of them, and says, “you’re late!” like he had the complaint in the chamber.

Laise gets on her knees and rests her hand on Father’s knee. “It’s time, Father. It’s time for you to leave this body behind, and move on.”

Father winces and looks down at himself. “I’m still young enough to beat you.”

“Beat me in what?” Laise asks him with a chortle.

“Name a challenge. A foot race, a milking race; whatever you want,” Father urges.

Laise smiles at him. “You’ve been doing this for a hundred and ten years. You suffered through a lot of harsh winters, and if we’re being honest, your body wasn’t designed perfectly. There is no shame in retiring early. You’ll head west and start a new life. We can take it from here, we promise. Mother wants to be done too, I know it.”

Father shakes his head. “Neither of you married invested workers. You underestimate how hard this job is. You will not be able to handle it just between the two of you. Our way of life must be upheld. You both need to find new partners.”

“We married for love, Father,” Jande explains. “They still help, they just also do other things with their lives. That’s what I love about Evers and Suki.”

“That’s why I love Adora,” Laise agrees. “Our generation doesn’t believe in hard work simply for the sake of it, but that doesn’t mean we’re not committed. It’s no secret that we plan on integrating slightly more technology into the processes. Father, you have not tried to dissuade us from this. We’ll still be farmers, just more modern ones. Holding on for ten more years will not preserve tradition, it will just make your joints achy.” She gently removes the tablet from his hands. “Why don’t you let me handle assignments today? You go take a nap to sleep on it.” She looks down at the device. “Jande, you’re on eyren duty. I’m doing carrots and parbread.”

“Oh, I thought I was gonna do carrots,” Jande says. “Evers was asking to learn more about eyren harvesting, but I told her she could sleep in today.”

“Go ahead and prep the harvesters,” Laise decides. “I’ll get Evers for you.” She looks back at Father again. “Is this okay with you, that I supervise the workers? It’s late in the season, there’s no need for you to get worked up. It’s okay to take a break.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take it slow today,” Father relents as he’s yawning.

While Laise is walking across the lawn to Jande’s house, Jande walks over to the shed to retrieve the equipment for harvesting eyren. As he’s loading the supplies on the cart, he sees both of his wives following Laise to the barn. They’re in the middle of a conversation, so he doesn’t interrupt them. He would later wish he had stopped them.

As soon as they step foot inside, the whole barn collapses. Jande does too. He lands on his hands and knees as the gravity pulls him down harder than usual. This happened a couple decades ago, but it was more gradual, and most buildings were reinforced in case it happened again, but they left the barn alone, because it’s just a barn. The shed buckles too and crashes down on top of Jande, pinning him against the soil. It lets up a little bit, but then the ground begins to shake. Jande tries to get up, but his spine has presumably been severed. He tries to crawl out, but he can’t move.

This body is wasted, it’s not going to heal; certainly not in enough time. It hasn’t killed him, so he’s going to have to do it himself. He doesn’t want to transfer his consciousness to a normal backup, though, because they’re too far away. Without telling anyone, Jande programmed a failsafe in his brain, which allows him to jump to the neighbor’s service bot. They are also farmers, but they use more advanced tech to make their lives easier, allowing them to focus more on the crops. Jande closes his eyes and triggers the suicide protocol. Everything goes dark for a few seconds. He’s not sure how long this is going to take, though, because he never tested it.

He doesn’t have to open his eyes again. The image simply renders in front of him. He finds himself carrying two little children in his metallic arms. It’s the neighbor kids. The four parents are running alongside him, trying to get out in the open space while the bidaquakes continue to stir up the ground. Jande looks around. This area is as good as any. The surface is solid, and nothing can fall upon them. Jande sets the kids down. “I must check on the Ter Avests too,” he requests.

“Yes, we’ll be fine, bot,” one of the mothers says. “Go help the community.”

It’s a kilometer away, but this substrate gets him back home in no time. He races into the barn, and starts carefully pulling debris away. Other than his mother, everyone he loves turns up dead, but his sister is the only one who never comes back to life.

Microstory 2777: Fewer Deaths Than It Looks

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There’s a knock at the door. Elty Fenstermacher opens it quickly. “Come in, come on, hurry,” he urges. He tugs his friend inside, then looks around to see if anyone is watching. They are. He has to smile and wave at a small group of people gardening against their own abode. The battle may be over, but the war has only begun, and he doesn’t know who he can trust anymore. This is a test...a test of his resolve.

“What did you want to show me, Elty?” Streamer asks. Elty can’t remember what his real name is anymore. Everyone calls him that because he’s the only one in the group who has a digitized brain. He never needed to escape with them. He shouldn’t be a part of the rebellion. But he is, and Elty respects the hell out of him for it.

Elty steps over to the other side of his little lab, and presents the chamber.

“What is it?” Streamer asks him. “A time machine? Please don’t tell me—”

Elty rolls his eyes. “It’s not a time machine. It’s an equilibrium chamber. This is what they use on Varkas Reflex to keep their users in spatial stasis.”

“I don’t understand,” Streamer says. “I went to VR, I never saw this.”

“Well, this is a modified design, and they’ve not always had equilibrium drives,” Elty explains. “When you’re in this, you’re basically floating. Every single square millimeter of your body experiences an equal amount of pressure. They use it because some log in to VR for years at a time, and that comes with health problems.”

“What are you trying to tell me, that you digitized yourself?” Streamer questions.

Elty shakes his head. “I don’t care about VR. I don’t even really care about equilibrium.” He bends down and switches it on. As the power starts running through, he smiles and looks back up at Streamer. “You hear that? You feel it? If you disable the privacy field regulator, the equilibrium stays in the chamber, but the signal jammer escapes. If we install one of these things in every house, the Teaguardians and Bidans can’t spy on us. Nor can anyone else, for that matter. It’s there so users can have private virtual sessions without worrying about someone sneaking in and finding out what they’re doing. We’re gonna use it to live in peace, which is all we’ve ever wanted. I’m not happy that we have to settle for Bida, so if we’re here, let’s make it our own.”

“Hm. That’s interesting,” Streamer notes, but he doesn’t sound enthusiastic.

“I thought you would be more excited,” Elty says. “You’re the one who taught us how to hide our location on Doma Tertia. I just upped our game.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate that,” Streamer agrees. “I just...the Teaguardians agreed to leave us alone. What that Delgado chick did for us in Gatewood was her responsibility, and we’re not at fault for that. We have a good thing here, Elty. I don’t want us to risk that. I’ve kind of given up my anger. Our home was destroyed, and honestly, people have bent over backwards to find a new one for us. This is that, man. Just be happy. Or are you mad because Shimizu left us, which places you in charge, but we don’t need a rebel leader anymore, because we’re not rebels anymore?”

“Don’t make me out to be so petty. I’m just trying to help,” Elty contends. “Something is happening in the sky that they’re not telling us. I’m still trying to figure out what it is, but in the meantime, I’m gonna do what I must to protect us, and our way of life. These people aren’t our heroes. They’re assholes, like everyone else.”

Streamer sighs, and jerks his chin towards the window. “You see those people out there? They still need leadership. Are you gonna step up, and help them settle down once and for all, or are you gonna hole up in here, and tinker with your machines?”

Elty looks through the window. The gardeners are still out there. They’re so bloody happy, it makes him sick. This is not what they wanted. They wanted a planet to call their own. They could have come to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida right after Proxima Doma fell apart, but they choose to go for something greater. Now they’ve all given up.

As he’s watching them toil away, totally content, they suddenly disappear.

“Whoa,” Streamer exclaims. “Did you see that?”

“Yes,” Elty replies. “It’s happening.” He rushes into the equilibrium chamber. Pushing himself down so there’s enough room for the both of them. “Get in here.”

“Why would I do that?” Streamer questions. “It looks uncomfortable.”

“It is,” Elty yells, “but it’s better than the alternative! Now get in!”

Streamer shakes his head, and misses his chance. The ground shakes. The roof flies off the house and soars into the sky, taking Streamer up with it. The whole house follows suit. All around, Elty can see everything fly away from him as if gravity somehow got turned on its head.

“No!” Elty screams, but it’s futile. In seconds, he’s completely alone on his back. Not a building, not a tree, not another person in sight. Only sky and dirt.

Elty lies there in his pod, scared as all hell to stand up. Not only does he not know what will happen to him if he does, but he doesn’t want to see what has become of his new home. He takes a few deep breaths, however, and decides to muster the courage. He’s not going to be afraid. He’s supposed to be a leader. He stands up and looks around at the devastation. It’s gone. Everything is gone. He can’t even take one step forward, or he’ll die. He survived the impossible, but he was the only one. Someone is going to answer for this. Someone is going to pay. It was probably the Teaguardians again.

Below him is nothing by lava. His equilibrium chamber is floating just above it. It’s getting so freaking hot here. He’s having trouble breathing. The noxious gases are just too much. Wait, this is a life support vessel. It has a self-contained breathing apparatus. He brushes his hand along the sides, looking for the access panel, finding it at the head. He takes out the mask and wraps it over his face.

Now Elty can breathe again, but it doesn’t fix the heat. He reaches over to close the door, but then he remembers that he removed it. He didn’t need the door itself gone, but it was in the way of him modifying the machine to expand the scope of the signal jammer. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He’s gonna die. Is there some kind of communication system? He gets on his knees and rifles through the emergency panel, but there’s nothing. Because of course there’s nothing. He synthesized the parts from the original specs, and the original specs expect you to install it in a room full of these things, where communication is handled in network. It doesn’t need its own transmitter.

The crater was a massive tragedy for the planet of Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, but not in terms of lives. One was presumed dead after a headcount proved he missed the emergency teleportation. The second was initially presumed the same, but he was discovered later after the quarantine was lifted a month later. The autopsy showed that he roasted alone on a hovering equilibrium chamber over the lava.

Microstory 2772: Dasshutsu

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There is a natural atmosphere on Castlebourne, but it doesn’t have the right composition for human lungs. That’s why the owner built tens of thousands of domes, so each could contain its own atmosphere. The hunters knew the risks going into this plan, but they didn’t talk about it, because it was the only one they had. As soon as Elise clears the dome opening, she turns and follows the curve back down towards the surface.

They already picked out a rendezvous point. The desert where the rocket was buried is not on any map they’ve ever seen. It’s much smaller than a regular dome, which has a diameter of 83 kilometers. It’s situated between Bloodbourne and Tokyo 2077, and was supposedly built exclusively for this hunt. For whatever reason, the single escape pod always transports the designated survivor to Tokyo 2077, where they find themselves having to navigate their way back home using directions found hidden in the pod. Rage once tried to ignore them, and exit herself, but the target exit is the only way to reenter the normal dimension, instead of this Facsimile thing.

Elise and Colley fly through the airlock, where they inject themselves with an emergency baseline cocktail, which brings their body back to equilibrium after exposure. They walk through the tunnel where they catch up with the rest of the group, who have already found Rage sitting on the edge of the pod’s hatch, reading the instructions.

“Don’t you just remember where to go?” Jolanda asks her.

“The exit is in a different place every time,” Rage explains.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Minotaur presses. “If you’re going back in time, why would it move, unless Hrockas is aware that you’re doing it?”

“He may be,” Miracle explains, “but even if he’s not, Rage makes different decisions in different time loops, which affect how the hunt progresses, if only due to the butterfly effect. I don’t have to go over the butterfly effect, do I?”

When Rage shakes her head, she notices something. “We’re missing someone.”

“Zelda didn’t make it,” Elise answers solemnly. “I couldn’t carry both.”

Colley hangs his head low. “It should have been me.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Elise argues. “There were no good options.”

“There might be a way,” Miracle claims, “to get her back.”

“How?” Rage asks. “Is death just a form of time travel?”

Miracle chuckles. “No. But you have to understand that, in the world of time travel, if something ever exists, it always exists. We can get her mind back by stealing it from the past, and pulling it up to the present. We have to find Zelda’s body before it wakes up, though, because the Zelda we meet there will begin to be her own person, and blending their minds together is ethically tricky the longer we wait.”

“Well, I can’t read this,” Rage complains. “I’m starting to think that Hrockas is aware of my time travel. It’s always, always, always in Japanese, which is why I uploaded the language into my neural net, but now it’s in something else.”

Colley takes the paper from her, and studies it. “It is Japanese. It’s an old style called Kuzushiji; basically their form of cursive. They stopped using it nearly 700 years ago specifically because it was hard to read, and they wanted something standardized.”

“So we have to find someone to translate it,” Rage decides, snatching the document back. “It takes forever because people are assholes. I think that’s why this is Tokyo 2077, rather than 2050 or 2100. It was a complex time in Japan’s history. And the NPCs are just as modern as me, so now we need a scholar who studied this ancient form of writing, which will make it even harder. Zelda doesn’t have time for this!”

“It might actually be easier,” Colley reasons. “Scholars love history. If we go to the nearest university’s language department, they’ll probably be excited to see this.”

He was right. The Head of Linguistics is ecstatic to see the directions because he was programmed with a passion for dead languages. He agrees to transcribe it for them, but only into modern Japanese hiragana, and only if he gets to keep the document. That is absolutely fine. Once they know where to go, they won’t need anything else from it. Elise suggests that he start with the last step in case it’s the only one they need, and that turns out to be the right call. It saves them a ton of time. Rage has familiarized herself with the city enough to navigate. The problem was, the exit is in a bad neighborhood.

“Well, they’re all NPCs, right?” Elise asks. “One restriction when it comes to fighting is holding back so you don’t accidentally murder someone. But here, that doesn’t matter. We can go full force with anyone who attacks, and not feel bad.”

“It’s not that easy,” Colley contends. “Ambients are programmed to be reactive. If you fight harder, they fight harder. That’s why conventional wisdom says to use diversion combat methods, like aikido, or maybe judo. Try to deescalate the situation.”

“Again, Zelda doesn’t have time for that,” Rage argues, “and she didn’t teach us either of those things. I’m guessing you only know them academically.”

“Let’s just try not to make trouble, okay?” Minotaur suggests. “This isn’t a video game. A confrontation is not guaranteed to pass the level. We might be okay.”

Minotaur’s advice was sound but unfortunately inaccurate for their situation. They aren’t only in a dangerous part of town. They have to walk into a den of thieves, surrounded by people open-carrying firearms and underneath nude video billboards. While it’s true, they didn’t study the gentler martial arts, they do have an intuition for similar tactics, based on what they did practice with Zelda and Jolanda. The latter still being alive obviously takes point, but she isn’t able to handle all attackers on her own. Everyone has to participate, including kinder Colley. They keep moving as fast as possible to reach their exit. Luckily, there’s no final boss to destroy.

By the time they reach the door, they are all bloodied and bruised, but still breathing, and once they do open it, all the fighting ceases. The NPC criminals instantly begin to ignore them, and go on with their fake lives. So it is a little like a video game. Meanwhile, the hunters cross the threshold, through the magical dimensional portal, and back into the real world. They end up in the same basement, but it’s the polar opposite as it was before. It appears to be a school, or a childcare facility. They’re attacked again, but this time by a bunch of children gawking at the unusual strangers, who are mostly dressed in racing uniforms, and also one of them is a green moth.

Amidst all of this, they make their way back to the outer walls of the real Tokyo 2077 dome, get on the vactrain, and travel clear to the other side of the planet to The Terminal. This is where everyone who comes to this planet by casting their consciousness through the quantum network shows up. Every dome has its own highly secure vault of primary and backup substrates, and people have their own pods in their private residences. They don’t know where Zelda will end up, so this is the only place they can go to find out since it should store routing priority procedures in its database. This is the hard part, though. It’s time for a good old fashioned high-tech heist.

Microstory 2771: Three-Two-One Liftoff, Jetpack, Shoot Into Space

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Elise and Colley learn that the maze the other team members were making their way through is a rocket buried in the ground narratively from crashing. It’s heavily damaged, and not likely spaceworthy, so they’re pretty sure that their goal was never to learn how to pilot it. It is of apparent alien design, based on the mysterious writings and glyphs all over the place. One particular room off of what they believe to be the bridge is calling out to them, like path funneling in a video game. It just looks important. This is partially because it sits opposite the exit that led them back to their friends on the surface. This hunt is all about movement. It must be the next step in their journey.

They came across other locked doors, but they served mainly as dead ends for the maze portion of the challenge, because if the ship were real, it probably wouldn’t have actually been designed as a maze on purpose. This room is different, and they think Colley may be able to figure out how to unlock it. Their best guess is that it’s a puzzle.

Colley is standing at the door now, looking at the symbols carved into it, having already examined the writing on the consoles. Elise stands a little to the side. She has no idea what the symbols mean, but she’s watching Colley’s facial expressions closely. He doesn’t look like he’s studying them. His face is solemn and reflective. At times, it’s unclear if he’s looking at anything at all, or simply staring into space. After a moment, he pivots 45 degrees to look over at Rage. “You’ve always known.”

“What?” Rage questions. “I’ve always known what?”

Colley quietly looks back at the door. “You’ve always known we would end up here. Or maybe you thought this time would be different...that you could change it.” He looks back over at her again. “Which is it? Hope, or inevitability.”

Rage looks as confused as before, but then her face falls into cold understanding. “I did what I had to do. We’re so close. Next time, we’ll make it all the way, I know it.”

“What is going on?” Jolanda questions. “What are you two talking about?”

Colley begins to look around. “The door is dead. We got here too late.”

“There’s power,” Zelda reasons. “We can figure out how to reroute it to the door.”

“No,” Colley contends, shaking his head. “It’s not that kind of door. It’s powered by time, and the clock ran out before we even stepped foot in the maze.” He faces Minotaur. “Do you have any idea who brought you down here? Did you catch a glimpse? Any clue whatsoever?”

“No, why? I assumed it was Azad, or a programmed Ambient, like those pirates.”

“I don’t think they were supposed to grab you,” Colley begins. “I think someone was trying to help us get down here faster. It turned out to not be enough because of the other delays we faced, like Elise’s death, and Miracle’s surprise return. Rage knows more about it. She’s been here before. Haven’t you, Rage? You’ve been through all of this.”

“It’s not like that,” Rage says. “They give us different challenges every time. Even this last one is different. It’s the same crashed ship, but the path is always changed. That’s why I started recruiting Mino, so they would help us get through it faster. But like the man said, it wasn’t enough. The countdown has already begun.”

“Explain,” Minotaur presses. “What do you mean you started recruiting me?”

Rage sighs. “I don’t have the whole history, because I’m not always the designated survivor, but—you have to understand that at first, a part of me thought they were just dreams. When I could remember past attempts, I thought my brain was just making it up, because the memories don’t really feel like mine. The more time passes, the more I realize that they’re real, and I start actively trying to change things.”

“Ah,” Miracle says. “You don’t store all of your thoughts in the network. You learned how to keep them in another dimension. I probably taught you how. Though, if I did, why would I not have those memories?”

“Because you have to be the one who survives,” Rage explains. She points at the mysterious door. “Once we open that, two things will happen. The ship will ascend, and bathe this whole dome in exhaust and radiation. The dome is smaller than it looks. A single-person pod will unlock, and allow one of us to survive. That person’s consciousness alone will continue, go back to the beginning, and recruit everyone to try again. It’s usually me. We vote and agree that it will be me since I’ve become the one with the most context. I think I sometimes just don’t make it this far so you have to pick someone else. I have been trying different ways of winning, but delays add up. Speeding through it won’t work either, because it usually just ends up getting everybody killed. I made one huge change this time which got us closer than ever.”

“What did you change?” Zelda asks.

Rage looks over at Elise. “I recruited a seventh hunter. She was the missing piece. If we go one more time, I know that we can make it. You just have to let me get in that pod one more time. Once I regain access to the right equipment, I will send my consciousness back in time, like I always do, and restart. Please, trust me.”

“How can we trust you?” Colley questions. “You have been lying this whole time. Did you ever think of reading us in, and maybe we would work through it better?”

“Of course I’ve tried that,” Rage contends. “Those iterations go worse than any. We get in our own heads, and we get in our own way. Placing my trust in you is what gets us far, as well as thinking outside the box, like when I found Elise.”

“Why can’t we just walk out here right now?” Elise asks. She dips her head a little. “I can still see light coming in through the executive exit. We’ll go back to the desert, armed with water this time, and make our way to the wall. We won’t win the hunt, but all of our memories will remain intact, rather than only yours.”

Rage shakes her head. “We’ve tried that too. As soon as one person steps over that threshold, the ship takes off and burns them alive before they cross the desert. Anyone who manages to hold on and stay inside when that happens asphyxiates once the ship reaches altitude.”

“Well, we could teleport,” Elise turns to face the person who knows the most about all this time travel stuff. “Miracle, I’m surely charged up by now, aren’t I?”

Miracle nods. “You probably are, but you can only take two people at a time.”

“Yeah,” Rage agrees. “Miracle managed to retain her own powers in one iteration but that didn’t work either, because the ship launched, and I guess triggered some kind of teleportation suppression field. That’s when she taught me how to send my consciousness into the past. We were hoping to subvert the challenge changes, but we later decided that we decide what challenges come up, based on our dynamic and capacity for teamwork, which changes constantly. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I was trying to keep everything as predictable as possible.”

“But you said that I’m new,” Elise reasons. “You made a change, but also tried to keep everything the same? Which is it?”

“It’s both,” Rage answers. “It’s complicated. I’m sorry. It’s gonna happen again.”

Elise shakes her head. “What if I flew people out of here?” Elise asks. She turns to Miracle again. “I think I’m strong enough. The ship has to escape the dome somehow, right? It is a spaceship, after all, and there’s no outer space inside the dome.”

When Miracle defers to Rage, the latter goes on. “I once climbed into the escape pod, but intentionally didn’t escape right away, to see what would happen. Yes, it does fly all the way into space. You’re not strong enough to carry six people, though.”

“She won’t have to carry all six,” Miracle claims. She begins to stretch and roll her neck. “There’s a reason I’ve been so subdued since Hrockas made me come back in a different body. I’ve been focusing on induced limb growth.” She tenses up like she’s having a baby, and hunches her back. Two beautiful white angel wings sprout from her shoulder blades, and unfold before their eyes. It looks a little painful, but once it’s over, she smiles and breathes. “Ahhh, loophole!”

“Oh my God,” Zelda says. “That’s bad ass. You have to teach me how to do that.”

“There’s a problem, though,” Miracle says as she’s flapping her new wings, presumably to get used to them. “I couldn’t will myself to have superstrength, and it doesn’t sound like Elise has it either. I reckon we can each only take two passengers.”

“Someone’s going to have to stay behind,” Zelda realizes. “There’s apparently usually only one survivor, but this time, there will be one death. How poetic.”

“I’ll do it,” Colley volunteers. “Before you say anything, I don’t have any special argument in favor of it, but the way I see it, I called it first, so I win. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. I don’t have this big speech about what I learned, and what will happen to my alternate self when he wakes up with no memories. This is just gonna be what happens. So go on and yell all you want, but I’m not budging.”

Rage looks at him like he’s an idiot. “There’s still an escape pod,” she reminds him. “It’s got my name on it. I’ll take that. You take the ride.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Colley agrees. “But we have to time it right.”

Everyone gets into position. Rage prepares to open the door with the code while the flyers stand at the exit, their respective passengers on either side of them. On Rage’s mark, they fly out of the hatch as fast as they can. Miracle gets going quickly, which triggers the launch sequence. Elise is having more trouble. Her wings may not be as fragile as a real Luna moth’s, but they’re not made of carbon nanotubes either. They’re still organic, and she still has limitations.

They’re only a few meters over the surface, and Elise is fighting just to stay at that level. She just can’t reach elevation. As she’s flapping her wings as hard as possible, they look down and see the sand slipping away from them like an hourglass. She’s not getting higher; the ground is getting lower as the ship displaces it with its initial lift off. The boosters are just about to fire and burn them to death. They have to go now.

“I guess I am gonna sacrifice myself!” Colley yells, obviously preparing to let go.

“No!” Elise cries. “Just hold on! I can do this!”

“There’s no time!” Colley shouts. “Don’t argue with me! Save Zelda!”

“Save Zelda?” Zelda questions. “I was born for this.” She lets go and plummets towards her death. “Wooooo!” They lose her amidst the rain of sand below.

Now there’s really no time...no time to mourn, no time to dwell. Elise tightens her grip on Colley, and flies up towards the zenith as flames nip at their heels.

Spaghetti West: Moonfall (Part I)

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Decades ago, a star called Proxima Centauri underwent a cataclysmic magnetic shift, which created a coronal mass ejection that decimated the orbiting planet of Proxima Doma. Proxima Doma was tidally locked, which meant one side always faced the sun, and one side always faced away. Only a narrow band was ever habitable, but as it turned out, not for long. What researchers now believed was that this event was the culmination of a centuries-long cycle. Over time, the habitable zone along the terminator line will stabilize, and become survivable once more. It had already begun to do that. There was still no atmosphere, so it required intelligent intervention, and for some, this was enough, but not for most. They wanted something permanently safe.

While the cycle was meaningfully long for a baseline human, it was a flash in the pan for an immortal, and unsustainable for a community. Why put down roots when you knew they were going to be destroyed eventually? People died in that tragedy. Many stayed on the poles, which were the only permanently safe regions, but this made space commutes unreasonably costly. So the majority of the survivors left.

They went all over the stellar neighborhood, but the primary destination was the Gatewood Collective. Gatewood was a materials depot, which was designated to provide colonists with the resources they needed to go wherever their final destination was. No one was meant to live there who didn’t work as the managers of the depot. One faction from Proxima Doma wasn’t happy with that. They wanted to stay, so they tried to lay claim to one of the extremely inhospitable planets. These were more stable and consistent than Doma, but still harsh. And anyway, they were about to be annihilated.

After some political turmoil, the captain of a transport vessel agreed to relocate these holdouts to another planet. They wanted one to call their own, but if they didn’t want to die, they would compromise for their own secluded region of a preexisting colony. This one orbited Tau Ceti, and was called Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. It wasn’t the only planet in the system, but it was the only habitable one, and that was thanks to a particularly uninhabited world called Qishra.

Sugar Delgado stood on the bridge of her ship with the Axiom of Astronomy, Liselot Olteanu. They were regarding a terrible sight through the viewscreen. “Magnify more,” Sugar instructs the computer.

That was definitely a moon, and it was definitely far too close to the planet.

“Not to blame or criticize,” Sugar went on, “but you didn’t see it coming?”

“Qishra orbits the star slowly, and the moon is moving fast. For the majority of the time, the moon was behind the planet. Even if we had seen it coming, there still isn’t anything we could have done about it. Some researchers think that it’ll be a near-miss.”

“You don’t,” Sugar stated.

Liselot held both of her fists up and presented a crude demonstration. “If Qishra were the eightball, and the moon was the cueball, yes, the geometry says it would miss.”

Sugar nodded. “But the Roche limit.”

“The Roche limit,” Liselot echoed. “You have to account for the gravity. The two bodies are being drawn together, and they will crash into each other. Now, it’s not a Theia event, but it will be enough to cause chaos. We can’t model what will happen to the planet once the rogue moon strikes. The most widely accepted model has the majority of the moon being ejected from the system while Qishra begins to form a ring.”

“But it won’t stop there,” Sugar deduced.

“The collision will add mass to the planet, which will only help it do its job to protect us, but over time, the chaos will increase, and it could start to shoot us.”

“But you don’t know.” Sugar wasn’t arguing, Not knowing was the scary part, because, given their technology, there was nothing they could do to protect themselves besides leave. And that will be logistically difficult, even if the first impact took months.

This world was a haven for those who wanted to live on a planet, but still wanted the simple, isolated life. There was only one city, mainly for coming and going. Nearly everyone lived in villages or homesteads. Some areas had such perfect weather that they didn’t even have permanent structures. A nomad might walk around with their tech and a tent, and that was it. People moved here because they liked to be alone with nature.

“No, we don’t know. It could take years, or it could take decades, but either way, I would not want to live here if I were a Domanian refugee,” Liselot reasoned.

Sugar shook her head. “You don’t know these people. They were fully cognizant that their new planet, Doma Tertia, was going to intentionally be destroyed, but they refused to leave. We only finally got them off of it because they are fiercely loyal to their leader, so we only had to convince him to stop being stubborn and stupid.”

“Then tell him to tell the others to get right back on your ship and leave here too.”

Sugar sighed. “He’s not here. He persuaded them to leave, but had somewhere else to go. Now they can only operate on his most recent orders. It’s bizarre.”

“For a group of isolationists, they sure are dependent,” Liselot pointed out. “Sorry to be blunt about that.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t like them, I just got stuck with them,” Sugar explained.

“Some Bidans have packed up and left because of this threat,” Liselot added. “I mean, our population was already dwindling because people want to check out Castlebourne, or because they’re choosing Varkas Reflex over VR around nature. Some, however, report being afraid of Armageddon. It’s my job to give them the facts, and the fact is that we don’t have enough information yet, and once we do, it may be too late.”

“You called it a rogue moon,” Sugar pointed out. “Which planet is it from?”

Liselot smiled. She was actually rather excited about this. “We think it’s from Qishra. We think the planet ejected it millions of years ago, and it’s been rogue ever since, wandering the outer system this whole time. Which means it’s—”

“Coming home,” they said simultaneously. Then they were silent for a moment.

“I hope you weren’t thinking that we could help with evacuation efforts,” Sugar said, breaking the ice. This was a transport vessel, but it didn’t have unlimited capacity. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. With enough power, they could expand inward into pocket dimensions. But it could still not support the whole population of this planet, and none of them was authorized to know about that kind of tech in the first place.

“No,” Liselot assured her. “We may prefer nature, but the reason the city exists, and why my job exists, is because we understand that the universe is a dangerous place. Most who do want to leave are transferring their consciousnesses through the quantum network. We’re building deep underground shelters for those who want to stay, and constructing exodus ships for those who wanna leave in their own bodies with their own possessions. What we were hoping was that you could prevent the chaotic ejections that will follow. New ring systems are violent and unpredictable. With your weapons—”

“I don’t have any weapons,” Sugar argued.

“Forgive me, captain,” Liselot said. “Our sensors clearly indicate one.”

Sugar painted a puzzled look on her face. “Oh, that’s a hot pocket purge.”

“I’m sorry?” Now Liselot was the one who was confused.

“It’s a stealth feature,” Sugar began to explain. “You store your waste heat in a special contained environment, then you can purge it all at once when you’re, say, on the other side of a star, or something. You’re practically invisible in between purges.”

“That sounds like it could be used as a weapon,” Liselot contended.

“Yeah, but not for what you’re asking,” Sugar insisted. “It’s not anywhere near as powerful as the kind of nuclear bombs you would require. It can’t hold enough energy to accomplish that. I’m sorry. If I had realized your intentions, I wouldn’t have wasted—”

“No, it’s my fault. I listened to what my experts said they detected on your ship.” Liselot frowns and breathes through her nose. “Thank you. I’ll leave now.”

“Hold on,” Sugar said. “It will take months for the ring to form and become a real threat. Just because I don’t have what you need, doesn’t mean I can’t build it. At the very least, you need to construct orbital defense platforms with ablation lasers. Earth has been using those for centuries, and it’s worked out for them.”

“Earth has never faced the kind of onslaught we could have on our hands,” Liselot said. “Jupiter has always been stronger than Qishra. That’s why intelligent life was able to evolve on it in the first place. And their monitoring infrastructure is leagues beyond ours simply by its age. We knew what we were getting into when we colonized. Tau Ceti is a volatile system. This should come as no surprise. We were foolish.”

“Still,” Sugar urged, “you need ablation lasers, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I just don’t know that we have time.”

Sugar smirked. “Well...we store time in the stern.”

“Huh?” Liselot questioned.

Sugar had already said too much. “I have the design for an excellent defense platform in my privilege vault. It’s got a lot of bells and whistles that you don’t need right now, so I’ll take a day to modify it. All I’ll need are the raw materials.”

Liselot held a minute to think about it. “We’ll accept anything we can get.”

“Great.” Sugar tapped behind her ear. “Van. Come to the bridge please.”

Van teleported there instantly.

“Whoa. How did you do that?” Liselot asked him.

“Uh, he’s only a hologram,” Sugar lied. “Van, I need you to be able to make physical contact, so please turn off your imager and come back in person.”

“Sorry, boss.” Vantu disappeared.

“I could have sworn that I could feel his physical presence,” Liselot claimed. “Maybe even the warmth of his core.”

“Magnets!” Sugar joked.

Liselot breathed deeply and looked back over at the impending collision. “You really think we can do this? I know we don’t have to worry about something happening tomorrow, but we’re intentionally obsolete. We should have made the city bigger.”

Sugar watched the event too. “I can do this. Trust me, it’s no big deal.”

It was a big deal. The moon itself was nothing, but it turned out to be hiding something much, much worse. No laser could destroy a black hole. But it could move it.

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Microstory 2765: I Came in Like a Wrecking Ball

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Everyone chooses their own ghost to teach them how to drive these cars. Even Jolanda accepts the lesson. She’s not pretentious enough to think that she already knows everything, especially not about her specific car today. For all she knows, there might be a secret button behind the steering wheel that dispenses banana peels. Still, it seems rather pointless for the rest of them to even try, given her experience. Her only meaningful contender is Zelda, but Zelda is a risk-taker. She’s more likely to push it too far, and end up dying in the act, even if she was in the front until it happens. She hasn’t even driven that much in her life, because it places her in too much control, which isn’t thrilling enough.

Elise feels like she’s struggling with it the most, even though she technically has the secondmost amount of time behind the wheel. She’s listening to her ghost—as much as she can listen to a hologram that can only grunt and say a few single-syllable words—but she is not internalizing the lessons. She keeps looking over at the others, particularly when their stationary work is done, and they move on to the practical. She doesn’t want to start. She doesn’t wanna do this. It goes against how she learned it.

The rules were what drew her to learning antiquated skills in the first place. She almost wishes she had never tried driving at all. At least she would start at zero, but now she has much to unlearn. Not that she has any chance of winning anyway. Why risk it? Why place herself in danger when it’s hopeless? Can all seven of them move forward as long as they stay ahead of the other 17? Again, “what are the rules!”

Elise’s ghost frowns. “The rules are that the first six racers move to the sudden death challenge. The rest are killed, or in the case of the automated cars, deleted.”

“Wait, you can talk?” Elise questions. “Why have you not been talking until now?”

“You didn’t need me to talk before. Now you do,” the ghost explains.

“There are seven of us. That number was chosen so at least one person will be killed today. But then the subsequent sudden death challenge will kill everyone else.”

“Sudden death doesn’t mean what you think it means,” the ghost goes on. “I cannot elaborate, but if six players win the race, all six will continue on the hunt.”

Elise shakes her head. “That’s not good enough. We came into this together. Even Miracle is part of the team now. We all deserve to stay together.”

“It was never going to be fair,” he reasons. “That’s what makes it challenging.”

“Such a wise, dead pirate,” Elise muses.

The ghost nods. “I see you at the wheel. You’re more at ease than the others. Even the pro over there looks nervous. I know she has her reasons, but you could actually win this. You have a perspective that none of them does. You lived like the ancients. Don’t underestimate that. They still don’t understand the threat of death, but the skills which you dedicated your life to studying were all developed by fleeting creatures.”

“I’m still not faster than she is, nor braver than any of them,” Elise argues.

The ghost shakes his head. “Again, car racing was conceived by mortals. Anyone can push a button with their foot until it stops and leave it there. You know when to let up. You trained from resources made by people who would die if they didn’t know that.”

Elise sighs. “I don’t know if I wanna win. A part of me wants to gather everyone up and ask them to quit so we leave with our memories intact. I don’t wanna lose them.”

He smiles. “If your bonds are real, you can make new memories later.” Maybe.

Here endeth the lesson.

Elise decides not to do any practice driving before the race. She’s not confident in herself, and is not enthusiastic. Her friends look ready and determined. They may not know the restrictions on the results. She’s not gonna tell them. She’s a liar.

They’re at the starting line now, at the edge of the dome, pointed towards the wall. When those giant metal doors open, they have no idea what they’re gonna find. One thing they have going for them is that all seven of them are sharing the second row. Only two cars are in front of them, which gives them something to fight against without it feeling impossible from the start. It’s a huge track. Since the engineering bots weren’t limited by an audience, they were free to make it as wide as they wanted. They’re probably not even going to be driving in circles, or at least not one single circle.

Elise looks to her right at Minotaur, who doesn’t react. She looks to her left where Colley notices. He frowns at her kindly before refocusing on the road and gripping the wheel tighter. She has to protect these people. She doesn’t want to lose her memories of the ones she has grown to love, but she would rather it be her than any of them. They all committed more to this. They deserve to see it through. She’ll be fine.

The light is red, and has been for the last few minutes, but now it blinks. It blinks faster and faster and faster until it turns yellow. Two cars down, Miracle gives a false start, but she manages to roll back to where she was while it holds at yellow for a few more seconds. The two lead cars take off, and only then does the light turn green, which is either cheating, or one of the rules that Elise failed to hear when she was feeling down.

The six of her friends take off, but Elise throws her car in reverse, and punches it. She slams into the four cars behind her. They fight her, but she doesn’t let up. It would appear that the humans were given superior vehicles to race with. They go down relatively easy. Once the four of them have been sufficiently destroyed, her job is still not over. She still has thirteen more to take care of. So she puts it in drive.

She zips into the dark. It’s only lit enough for her to see where the walls are, and maybe other cars. She’s in the back, though, so she doesn’t have to worry about them anymore. At least she didn’t think so. There’s a small fire up ahead. One of the cars has already crashed without Elise’s help. She has to swerve around it, but immediately has to swerve again because of the second car involved in that crash. They’re both bots, though, so it’s fine. Two more down, eleven to go. She can do this. She can stop them all.

Elise flies out of the tunnel, and onto the road. They’re in a desert. The track is narrower here, so it’s a good thing she was already in the middle. The others aren’t as far ahead as she thought they would be, probably due to this bottleneck. She still can’t let up, though. She maintains her speed, and catches up to the rear car. She saw this maneuver in an educational video once about what not to do, but she thinks she can recreate it. She drives right up and wedges the front of her car into the back of the bot. Now it’s just spinning its wheels. She drives it over and slams it into the barrier. She ends up pointed in the wrong direction, but she doesn’t have time to get turned back around, so Elise just drives backwards for a bit while she catches up with the others.

There we go. Now she’s with a huge group of bots. The problem is, Rage is here too. Three of them have created a line, which she can’t pass. Every time she goes for a gap, they cover it, so she has to try again. She’s being too gentle and patient with them. Elise doesn’t have that issue. She crashes her rear bumper into two of the cars at once. Only one of them skids and hits the barriers, but it’s enough to let Rage pass. As she’s doing that, Elise goes after the other two, stopping them both before the next tunnel.

The track is narrower yet. Only two cars could potentially drive side by side. It’s also no longer always flush with the ground. They’re in a winter wonderland, driving on an elevated track as it snows. The road becomes ice. Fortunately everyone up ahead is smart enough to go slower here so they don’t just fly over the edge. Elise loves this opportunity. She’s literally knocking bots off left and right. Before, there was a chance for them to come back with a vengeance, but not here. Talk about sudden death.

All of the human cars are still going, but none of them is even close to the lead bot. It seems to have no problem with the ice at all. Someone has to put a stop to it. There are only two bots left. If she can stop them, the others don’t even have to drive fast anymore. They can coast to the finish line safely. Frustratingly, the penultimate bot is the smartest one. It knows what she’s trying to do, and out-maneuvers her every time. It’s also stronger than the other bots. She manages to get right next to it, but when she rams the side, it barely moves. Then Elise looks over. Another car has joined them.

It’s Jolanda. She has positioned her car on the other side of the bot. There’s so little space, they have it pinned. As difficult and counterintuitive as it is, and without being able to talk, the humans slow down to a complete stop. Still without talking, Elise lets go and drives on ahead several meters. Jolanda turns the wheel, and knocks the bot over the edge.

Elise backs up again. “Get back up to the front! Only six people can win!”

“I know!” Jolanda shouts back. “My ghost told me about that!”

“I’m sacrificing myself!” Elise shouts.

“I’m sacrificing myself!” Jolanda volleys.

“You’re the only one who can stop the final boss! Go do it!”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that!” Jolanda jerks her head forward.

Its the final bot. It’s pointed towards them at the top of the hill, where there’s another tunnel. It’s revving its engines menacingly, so they instinctively rev back.

“I’m gonna kill him!” Jolanda volunteers.

“No, I will!” Elise insists.

They both take off. The bot takes off too for a game of chicken. This is ridiculous. Only one of them has to die in order to make the math work. It just makes sense that it’s Elise. Jolanda can not go on with the knowledge of having lost this race. When they reunite on the other side of this hunt, someone will tell her, and she will be devastated. Elise will not care. She has to be the one to do this. She takes a deep breath. There hasn’t been much ice for a few hundred meters, but she knows something Jolanda probably doesn’t. Her teachers taught her about something called black ice, and how to spot it.

To Jolanda’s likely confusion, Elise slows down just enough to get behind Jolanda, then bullies her way back on the other side. At the right moment, she gently nudges Jolanda towards the barrier, not hard enough to hurt her, but it does stop her in her tracks. Elise’s car, meanwhile, hits the ice, and goes crazy. She starts spinning counterclockwise, utterly uncontrollably. She can’t even tell where anything is anymore, but she feels the powerful slam of the crash, and for a split second, the sharp twinge of the blade as her helmet cuts off her head.