Extremus: Year 52

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“You need me for what, exactly?” Tinaya asked.

“It’s not yet time,” Avelino answered. “You have to stay on your current path. You have to live in the humiliation. Breathe it, bathe in it.”

“That doesn’t sound like my idea of fun,” she told him.

“It won’t be,” he admitted, “but I promise you, it will be worth it. And it will all make sense. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

“I will trust you,” she replied. “Whether I’m right to will not be decided today.”

Tinaya has been living in the profound humiliation of not getting into even a single college program for the last several months. Her plan to let Lataran live with her while she studies at college is precisely what they’ve ended up doing, except the other way around. It is Lataran who is the student, and Tinaya the freeloader. The Bridgers have a plan for her, this much is clear, but Avelino does not make contact often, and she has no way of reaching out to them. Nor is she meant to try. This is her life. She has to live it. Things will reportedly change in the future. She doesn’t know when, but Avelino all but said that it will result in Tinaya ultimately becoming captain of the Extremus, which was always the plan. It’s hard to see how that could possibly be true at this point, but apparently all she has to do is wait...at least for now.

As for the lifestyle, it’s hard to argue with it on principle. This time without any responsibilities has given her the freedom to think about what she wants, and what she values. Education, contribution, leadership. These have been instilled in her since before she can remember. But they’re not inherent. Not everyone has to care about such things, and not everyone who does has to care about them to such a high degree. It’s altered her perspective on the other passengers, particularly the other freeloaders. Perhaps that’s all that the Bridgers are trying to do. Has every prior captain’s weakness been a lack of patience and understanding with enough of the people here? She has been taught that they were all great, but they were not without their scandals and problems. Halan broke a major law, Olindse was only interim, and then she disappeared one day. There are rumors that her Aunt, Kaiora had issues that caused the crew to lose trust in her by the time her tenure ended, but all of those files are classified, so it’s unclear what happened there. Then you have someone like Soto Tamm who couldn’t garner the respect that the other three had—without even trying—to save his life.

Tinaya is trying to look at her new circumstances positively. The first two months were the worst. She was holed up in Lataran’s cabin nearly that whole time, leaving only once in the middle of it. That was the worst day of her life so far. It was the cacophony of responses that she received from the passersby that made it unbearable. Some pitied her, others were embarrassed to be breathing the same air. Some were annoyed at how depressing she was, wandering the halls, unkempt as she was, and a few were quite vocally angry with her. She only lasted an hour before she couldn’t take it anymore. It was five more weeks before she tried again, and by then, another big news item was spreading through the ship. Some engineering apprentice that she hadn’t heard of made some huge mistake with the reframe engine, and delayed the journey by just over one week. The Extremus was never dead in the water, but they started the trip going 99.9999% the speed of light, and they don’t like changing that plan. That’s why they arrested Admiral Yenant, and why he died in hock.

Things are okay now when it comes to Tinaya’s relationship with the other young adults her age. They’ve gotten used to her situation, and no longer make her feel like shit every time she walks into the room. Still, it’s never going to be like it was. She went from hero to zero in a matter of seconds on that stage at graduation, and the only way she’ll live it down is if Avelino holds up his end of the bargain, and redeems her in some fantastic fashion. Today’s not great, though. Probably the biggest impact Vice Admiral Olindse Belo had on this ship was her introduction of holiday observances that prior generations of Extremusians and their ancestors never celebrated. She researched Earthan traditions, and taught the crew and passengers how they worked, and what they were for. There were tons of them. The first few years were pretty chaotic with how many events they held, trying to pack them all in without anyone fully understanding what they truly meant. Over time, factions and families have chosen their favorites. Now, just about every holiday is still observed by someone, but none by everyone. Unfortunately, the Leithes have decided to adopt something called Labor Day.

Back when this began, honoring the working class people of the ship for one day seemed like a no-brainer. Now it’s the most uncomfortable one they could have picked, because of Tinaya’s whole situation. She has never had very close relationships with her family, and her failure has, of course, only made things worse. Her parents can barely look her in the eye, which is generally okay, because she doesn’t have to see them very often. This started when she was a child, and was done by design. This expectation that she would one day lead the crew was evidently something that they fought against before she was born. They’ve since gone so far in the opposite direction that accepting that maybe it actually won’t happen has just pissed them off. Now they don’t know how to be her mom and dad. They thought they were doing right by her by being cold and distant. Does that even matter anymore? By law, she’s an adult now anyway, so they haven’t bothered trying. Except for today. They are Labor Day people. That’s what they’ve chosen to focus their traditions on, just like the Arbor Day people spend their special day in the arboretums, and the Cinco de Mayo Day people do whatever it is they do. It’s dinner time, and she has to be there.

“We can skip it,” Lataran offers as they’re walking slowly. She hails from a family of Picnic Day observers, which originates from some place called Australia. Tinaya can’t recall whether that’s a country or a continent. They had their day of relaxation and games a month ago. Tinaya attended it with them, and found herself easily forgetting about all of her problems. It’s not going to be so easy today, but they can’t skip it.

“What’s going to be my excuse?” Tinaya posed. “That I’m busy with my studies?”

“You are studying.”

“Yeah, and you’re my teacher. They know it’s not real.”

“It’s real.”

“I know. I mean, they think they know it’s not...real.” Tinaya sighs. “I have to go. But you don’t. You’ve not been charged with the crime of being a waste of carbon scrubbers.” That’s a common phrase on the ship.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve decided to tell them my theory.”

“No, you can’t, Lata. They don’t know what I told you about the Bridgers. I don’t believe I was supposed to tell you. Avelino didn’t specifically say not to, but it’s kind of implied that we’re doin’ somethin’ secret here.”

“I won’t tell them everything; just about you and me.” Lataran was really struggling with her grades in the last year of tertiary school. They did some math together and realized that there was basically no way that she should have been allowed to stay on the captain’s track for college. The hypothesis is that she was given Tinaya’s slot, possibly even as part of the Bridger’s grand plan. But that’s just between the two of them. Again, no one else can know about that.

“You can’t separate the two secrets. You’re in college because I’m not allowed to be there? There’s no reason why that would be a thing unless there was some conspiracy behind it. Plus, we don’t even know that it’s true. The University has its academic requirements, but you would not be the first student they made an exception for. History on both Earth and Ansutah is littered with stories like yours. Maybe they just know how smart you are, and that you just needed a second chance. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. Don’t try to tell my parents anything. I’m gonna suffer through it. I would love for you to be by my side, but our friendship does not depend upon it.”

“Okay. But I’m gonna defend you.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to. We’ll talk about innocuous things, like the weather, and the next professional sports competition.”

“Extremus has neither of those things.”

“Maybe I should change that.”

“Hm. You wanna make a sports team just so you don’t have to talk to your family about the important stuff?”

“I was thinking about finding a way to use science to create bad weather, but your idea sounds easier. Anyway, we’re here, so...we ought to go in.”

“Only if you want to. There’s time to back out.”

“I’m sure they can see us on the camera. And hear us.” Tinaya waves. “Hi, mom.” She then waves again, but this time closer to it, so the sensor can see. There’s a little chip in her hand that gives her access to this cabin without knocking and being let in. She’s done it a million times, not just with this door, but many others. The door has always split down the center, and pulled away to either side. That’s how interior Extremus doors operate. This time, it goes up into a pocket in the ceiling. On the other side of it is not her family’s cabin, but a long dimly lit hallway.

“Are we in the wrong place?” Lataran questions.

“Impossible. That’s where the Mastersons live. They have their Rush Hosannah decorations up, or whatever it’s called.” Not many people observe holidays like it. Some of the ones they tried to borrow from Earth seemed a little more like cultural appropriation than others. Even so, there are those families who don’t seem to mind.

“I think I know what’s on the other side of this threshold,” Lataran points out.

“Yeah, it’s probably the Bridger section. You should go back to the cabin.”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “The system knows that I’m here. This door wouldn’t open if they weren’t inviting me too. It’s not your call.”

“I’m not trying to make a call,” Tinaya insists. “I’m trying to protect you.”

Lataran steps into the magical hallway, and turns around to face her friend. “I don’t need your protection. I’m going to be on the executive crew of the Extremus one day.” She turns around again, and begins to walk towards the only other door they see.

Tinaya follows, but quickly passes to make sure she’s in front. There’s probably not a bear on the other side of it, but she still feels more comfortable being the first one through. On a lark, she waves her hand at the sensor, and the door opens for them.

Avelino is standing there in the darkness. “Welcome...to Year 217.”

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Extremus: Year 51

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It’s graduation day. Unlike traditional schooling, or the regular education system on the ship, not everything about today is a given. For most people, the ceremony is to mark and celebrate an event that is already happening. Other students already have their degrees, and will move on from here based on whatever life has in store for them, which is based on whatever they have accomplished, and the promise they show for their future. The kids studying ship administration are in a special situation, though. Part of that comes from the circumstances they were born to and grew up in, and part of it is from their natural talent, but the majority of it is choice. They chose to place themselves on the captain’s track, and while of course not all of them will become captain one day, not all of them will end up on the executive crew in any capacity. They may not even make it to the crew, full stop. Hell, they may not even get into the college that is required to even have a chance.

There are two universities on the Extremus. One is the general university, where people study whatever it is they wish. The other is the University of Crewmanship. Within each of these two schools, there are separate college programs, and one of these is called The College of Executive Administration. This is the big time, and no one is guaranteed a spot in the program; not even Tinaya Leithe, legacy. It’s highly competitive, and the number of people currently graduating tertiary school who will be accepted is absurdly low. Standard practice dictates a student apply to a program elsewhere, and most have done that. If they did, they already know whether and where they were accepted. Despite the competition, there is a place for everyone. Education is a right, not a privilege; it’s just a question of what any given individual will be educated in. Today, everyone in Tinaya’s graduating class will learn whether they made it into the CEA, or if they’ll have to fall back on whatever their second choice is. It’s not just a graduation ceremony. It’s an acceptance ceremony, and the whole ship gets to watch.

Lataran is more solemn than usual, and Tinaya is trying to be supportive of her without sounding like a condescending bitch. “It’ll be okay. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay,” she claims, obviously not knowing if it’s true.

Lataran shakes her head. “You don’t understand, you never have. If I don’t get into this, I’m not going to college.”

“Your parents are letting you go to college. I’ve spoken to them on it many times. We agreed that if not Lieutenant, you would be best suited for civil service studies.”

“Yes,” Lataran confirms, “but you’re missing one half of the formula, which is desire. I don’t want to be a civil servant. If I can’t work on the crew, I don’t want to do anything, because I don’t have any other choices.”

“You have other choices. You could study philosophy. You always liked asking the big questions.”

“I can’t. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. My parents gave me two choices; executive or civil service. I have to be a big name on this rustbucket, and if I try anything else, they’re going to disown me, and I’ll end up...a freeloader.” A freeloader isn’t as bad as it sounds. As with education, everyone alive is entitled to work. You get, and you give is sort of one of the state mottos. But you’re not required to participate in either of those things. You can drop out of school when you’re fourteen, and you never have to work a day in your life if you don’t want to. Some people do this. They just live here. It’s conventional for such people to focus on propagating the species, so that their descendants will one day make it to the Extremus planet, but that’s not required either. Some people just...hang out. They’re not socially shunned, but in practice, they have trouble making friends with anyone who isn’t like them. So they tend to stick to their own kind. There’s even a section where most of them live. This is not because they were intentionally segregated, but because they wanted to form a subculture. And also, they’re entitled to a certain level of accommodation, while those who contribute to society are entitled to a little more; nicer cabins, better facilities, etc. So there is a little bit of segregation going on, but it has more to do with their choice than anything.

“Well, what would you do if you could do whatever you wanted.”

“Whatever I wanted?” Lataran questions. “Temporal engineering.”

Tinaya is still trying to be nice. “I meant...”

“You meant, whatever I wanted that I could actually do.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Lataran sighs. “A freeloader.”

“What happened to your ambition?”

“I still have it, but only for this. Tina, I don’t have high marks. I’m barely graduating. I’m not gonna make it into college. That’s why I’ve been so grumpy lately. The first couple years of tertiary school were okay, but my struggle really caught up with me this last year.”

“You don’t know that you’re not getting in, and even if you don’t get in...”

“Even if I don’t get in, what?”

“I can choose whoever I want to be my lieutenants. I can pull from any workforce, any walk of life, including freeloaders. So if this doesn’t work out, and that’s what you want to do, then you’ll live in my stateroom with me, and when the time comes, I’ll appoint you as my First L-T.”

“That will make you look so terrible.”

“No, it won’t, because you’re not just gonna sit around all day. You’ll be doing an independent study. The library is free for all. We’ll work on my home assignments together. It’ll be like you’re in the college anyway, and we’ll make sure people know that. This is all assuming you don’t get accepted yourself, which I’m still not convinced you won’t. They’ve not even started the opening speeches.”

As if on cue, Captain Soto Tamm steps on stage and approaches the podium.

“He’s not in the program.” Lataran flips through it.

“Why is he even wasting his time here?” Tinaya asks rhetorically. The man is everywhere. He’s setting himself to make more public appearances during the first quarter of his shift than the other three previous captains ever did combined. The captain is meant to be available and helpful, and that doesn’t mean parading himself in front of an audience. That’s something a figurehead would do. Is he just a puppet? Is something rotten in Denmark? It’s too much. He shows his face too often when he should really be doing his job. At least this particular event makes sense, but still. Aunt Kaiora rarely had anything to do with the students when she was Captain, and Halan only ever went to one graduation; the first one on the ship. Tamm is still trying to play it cool around her. As he’s giving his opening remarks—explaining that he was asked to step in for the dean, who generally does this, but is busy with a situation—he looks each one of the graduating students in the eye, except for Tinaya.

Captain Tamm finishes his words, and then sits down so the ceremony can continue. Finally, the moment arrives when they’re announced in alphabetical order, and at the same time, declare which university they will be going to, or which college. Anyone who doesn’t get accepted into the College of Executive Administration will be listed with their second choice, if they only applied to the one. If they applied to, and were accepted into, multiple programs in either university, they now have a choice to make, and today, they will only hear their name associated with the particular university in general.

“Elowen Isenberg, College of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence.”

Elowen frowns, then stands up, and walks across the stage to accept his degree. Her parents look proud of her, not disappointed.

“Lataran Keen, College of Executive Administration.”

Lataran exhales sharply.

“I told you that you would be fine.” She accepts a hug from her friend, then urges her to go across the stage, so they can continue.

Finally, it’s her turn. Principal Hampton clears her throat, and looks worried. He hesitates, but decides to continue anyway. “Tinaya Leithe.” And then he shuts his mouth, not saying another word. The room freezes. She always knew that there was a chance she wouldn’t get into the program, but she should have been accepted into something. She applied to seven other programs; four of which were in the other university. This doesn’t make any sense at all.

Tinaya stands and approaches the podium slowly. She’s actually lifting her hand to accept the diploma. She’s doing that slowly too, but she’s still doing it. Then she stops. She drops her hand, and makes a sudden turn downstage as if she was trying to introduce herself to a celebrity, but chickened out at the last second. Instead, she hops off stage. It’s a doozy, but she lands on her feet, and keeps walking like an action hero, doing everything she can to ignore the stinging feeling presently running up her legs. The audience is still stunned. They turn their heads to follow her as she walks up the center aisle, and through the doors. She falls to her knees, and begins to hyperventilate. This can’t be happening. It can’t. Again, eight programs. Everyone is guaranteed a spot somewhere. If nothing else, general education should have let her in. It’s never happened to someone on the captain’s track before, but they could theoretically hear those two words come after their name. Tinaya didn’t even get that. She didn’t get anything. She’s not even a freeloader. As least that would have been her choice.

Someone’s feet appear in the corner of her eye. “Stand up.”

“Why?”

“Stand up and I’ll tell you.” She doesn’t recognize the voice.

“I don’t mean why should I sta—”

“I know what you’re asking. Stand up...and I’ll tell you,” he repeats.

She regains control over her breathing, and complies. She doesn’t recognize the man’s face either. “Who are you?”

“I am Avelino Bridger.”

“Avelino Bridger,” she echoes, “of the Bridger section?”

He shakes his head mildly. “It’s not a section.”

“I know. It’s a ship.” There’s another ship that’s following the Extremus about a light year away from here. It’s one of the things she learned when she hacked deep into the secret files as a kid. She’s not supposed to know that much about it. Everyone else knows that it exists in some form, but that’s it. “Why?” she repeats herself.

“Because we need you...for something bigger.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 20, 2398

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Andile didn’t want to say much else after dropping that bomb on them about the alternate version of Leona. She said that it wasn’t her place to explain. The other Leona’s flight would come in the next day, and they could ask their questions then. So that’s what they did. They went back to the condo to fill in the rest of the team, and waited. The others wanted to come too, but the other Leona apparently didn’t know them at all, so it would probably just be overwhelming. The next morning Alt!Leona answered the door, not surprised, but yes, unnerved at the sight.

“Thank you for coming again,” Andile says once they’re seated.

“Thank you for having us,” Mateo says.

It becomes evident that Alt!Leona wants to talk first, but she needs them to be patient with her. Lips closed, almost pursed, she stares at the space between Mateo and her alternate. “I trust you’re doing well?” she asks Mateo.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Mateo answers.

“It’s nice to know there’s at least one Mateo out there who didn’t die.”

“Actually, he did die,” Mateo’s wife, Leona clarifies. “A few times.”

Now Alt!Leona purses her lips fully. “Well, at least he came back.”

“Leona, what happened?” Leona asks her self.

“I’m going to tell you my story,” Alt!Leona begins, assuming nothing about what you’ve been through. I may tell you things that you already know, and you’re just going to have to accept that, and be patient. I also don’t want any commentary about how things played out for you, or anything like that.”

“Understood,” Leona says.

Alt!Leona begins. “When I was nearing my sixteenth birthday, a friend of mine suggested I try alcohol, because drinking alcohol is the type of thing that normal teenagers do. So I did, and it went poorly. It made me sick—not enough to have to get my stomach pumped, but I had to go to urgent care just the same. I was sitting across from a man in the waiting area, trying to retch into a bag, when I ended up getting some on him. Long story short, I figured out who he was, and went to his house to apologize. That’s when everything changed. I learned that he was a time traveler, but not in control of his own life. I don’t know who was in control, if anyone, but I, admittedly, fell in love. He and his situation were fascinating, and I couldn’t just let that go.

“I probably would have become a film student in college if not for him. Instead, I pursued a physics degree. I wanted to understand what was going on with him. We met another; a teleporter, and she led us to believe that there were others. There was this one other guy too, but we weren’t really sure what his deal was. Anyway, I learned that an organ transplant might allow a normal person to take on the temporal characteristics of a traveler. Lucky for me, I was suffering from some kidney problems, which I might have been able to deal with, but I didn’t want to, so I started to not take very good care of myself. I needed a kidney transplant, and as luck would have it, Mateo was a match.

“Obviously, this process normally takes a long time, but we couldn’t wait for the bureaucracy. Mateo only existed one day out of the year. Through my connections, I was able to find a surgeon who was willing to perform the surgeries under unusual circumstances. Let’s just say that he had lost his license for a similar infraction years prior. This was the biggest mistake of my life, and seeing a version of Mateo sitting here hasn’t helped, like I hoped it would after Andile called to tell me that he was alive. The surgery went bad, and Mateo died. After a year of mourning, I discovered that his death didn’t prevent me from becoming like him. I guess it just delayed it. I only made one jump before I was approached by a stranger with an offer.

“She told me that it was her job to rescue people from the timeline. She said that I was in a different reality completely, and I could stay here, and not be on my pattern anymore. I only did it to be with Mateo, so that seemed like a good deal. Before she disappeared, she reintroduced me to Andile, and I never saw her again, so I never got the chance to ask her why it didn’t work. Instead of freeing me of my pattern, I just ended up taking Andile with me. I didn’t mean to. It’s not like I gave her my kidney too. At most, I touched her during a hug. Maybe you have an explanation for it.”

Leona and Mateo nod reverently, as they have been during the story.

“Do you?” Alt!Leona asks.

“Oh, sorry, we didn’t want to comment.”

“It was more about not being interrupted,” Alt!Leona straightens out.

It was hard for Leona to hear that story. She has met other versions of people before; even of herself, but this one is a lot different. This Leona didn’t spend hardly any time with Mateo, and never built a team. She and Andile have pretty much been alone this whole time. That changes a person. “Everything happened to me just as it did for you, until the surgery. A time traveling doctor did it for us, probably following what went wrong in your reality. Someone must have wanted things to play out differently, so they altered history. Normally, you would cease to exist as the result of that, but when you’re dealing with parallel realities, that all gets more complicated. Who was this stranger who told you this would free you of the pattern?”

“Her name was Olaya,” Alt!Leona answers. “I don’t know if it was a first or last name, but she didn’t give me any other.”

“Never heard of her,” Mateo says.

“Nerakali did say that there were other teams, but I don’t remember if Jupiter did. That was back during his era,” Leona says.

“So, do you know the answer?” Alt!Leona asks again.

Leona shakes her head. “Olaya should have been right. This place doesn’t have time travel, or at least not much of it. We don’t think it ever did. My theory is that that’s why it was created in the first place.”

“You did eventually lose it, though,” Mateo says. “When did that happen?”

“It was about three months ago,” Alt!Leona replies.

“Three months and twelve days.”

Mateo and Leona exchange a look. “That’s when we arrived. We did this to you.”

“You helped us,” Andile corrects. “We don’t want to time travel. We just want to stay put. I mean, we could do without the shady government people chasing us all over the country, but that could have happened either way. People crave power.”

“Do they know about you?” Leona asks. “If anyone would recognize you, then they probably know that there are two of us. And they know that there are two Angelas, so all in all, they know too much.”

“I don’t think they know about me,” Alt!Leona tells her.

“They only caught me,” Andile says apologetically.

“And you’re one of a kind.” Alt!Leona reaches over to take Andile by the hand.

“Look,” Leona begins, “I know you don’t want to have anything to do with this stuff, so we’re prepared to leave, and never mention you again, but I don’t feel like that’s enough. If you want to be somewhere safe, it’s not in this city. I don’t know where it is, though. I don’t know how to help you.”

“We don’t need your help,” Alt!Leona claims, “but we may be able to help you.”

“How might you do that?”

“I heard them talking while I was being transported to the fishbowl,” Andile says. “They’re looking for someone more valuable than any of us. And I know where he is.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 19, 2398

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Leona got lucky back in the timeline that they used to just call Reality Two. K-State University assigned her a roommate for her first semester in college, which was the spring of 2018. Andile Mhlangu was a year younger, but already a sophomore, having skipped the third and seventh grades. Her former roommate was a night owl partier, who didn’t like how strict Andile was with her schedule. Andile was actually okay with the incongruent living arrangement. She grew up with four siblings, so she knew how to study and sleep amidst a lot of noise, and a little chaos. The old roommate felt bad, though, and got tired of tiptoeing around, so she decided to go live on her own. She reportedly got herself a note from her doctor, claiming to have social anxiety, which is what allowed her to secure a single dorm room, despite having missed the registration deadline by months.

Andile, meanwhile, needed a roommate of her own, or she would have to start paying for a double as a single, which is kind of a bullshit rule that the university shouldn’t have had. Fortunately, Leona was there to fill in after graduating from high school a semester early. The two of them didn’t become great friends, but they got along very well. They kept pretty much the exact same schedule, maintained comparable work loads, and had no use for the noise. They occasionally had dinner together, but didn’t know each other’s secrets, or anything like that. They continued to be roommates for the next three years after that. Andile decided to stay there for grad school, so they moved off campus together. Even then, they weren’t great friends, but Leona didn’t want to risk being assigned someone crappy, and Andile still couldn’t afford to pay full rent anywhere.

After Leona received her bachelor’s degree, she was accepted to grad school in Colorado—once more starting in the spring—so she had too move out of the apartment, but she agreed to pay Andile her half of the rent for the next semester anyway. They remained connected through social media after that, but still from a healthy distance. A few years later, Andile paid back the extra rent, with unnecessary interest, after getting a great job at a prestigious laboratory. Then she disappeared; fell completely off the map. There were two theories: one, that she was abducted or dead, or two, that she was working for the government, or some other clandestine organization. The second option wasn’t all that crazy. She was sure smart enough to be doing something like that, and she was in a good position to be recruited. When Leona became a time traveler in 2028, she theorized that Andile was, in fact, a time traveler as well. It might have been true, but no one she met along the way had heard of her, and the investigation ran cold, especially since she was so busy with her own stuff. Then the timeline reset, and the new version of Leona didn’t even meet Andile in the first place. She hadn’t thought much about her until yesterday when Kivi dropped her name.

Winona was surprised to hear from Leona, and not be yelled at about something, but not surprised when she heard that it was for a favor. Then she was surprised again when she learned that the favor was providing Leona with Andile’s location, but quickly realized that it made sense. Senator Morton locked up Andile for a reason, and while the Honeycutts were apparently not cognizant of everything that Morton knew, it was entirely plausible that her imprisonment was for the same reason as the team’s. There are at least three sides to this war, including Leona’s, the Honeycutts’, and Morton’s. How those two relate to one another remains a mystery that Winona refuses to divulge at this time. That wasn’t good enough for Leona, who demanded something for all the trouble. Winona agreed with this assessment, and was half-prepared to comply with the request to find Andile, but half not. She was reluctant to hand over the information, citing a desire to protect Andile from further disruption of her life. The plan was evidently to get her out of town, much in the way a witness protection agency would. Leona has a hard time believing that.

It’s taken a day, but Winona has finally come through, and now Leona and Mateo are at the safehouse. They open the gate for the really tall front yard fence, and knock on the door not sure what kind of person they’ll find on the other side, or how she’ll react to this development. Mateo ran into Andile once when he came to visit Leona that first semester, but that was well after he started jumping through time, and again, this was in an old reality. Neither of them expects her to recognize either of them, but especially not him.

Andile smiles when she opens the door, as casually as she might if she were expecting a friend, but not for a few hours, once she’s finished cooking a meal. “He told me an old friend would be stopping by.”

“Who told you that?” Leona questions.

“This guy. He called himself a seer.”

That makes a bit of sense, but it doesn’t answer their real question.

“How did you get here? Did the seer tell you how to travel?”

“Let’s talk alone.” Andile pulls her inside gently. She offers them a seat on the couch. “I didn’t believe him when he first approached me, but he started out making simple, yet hard to explain, predictions, so I started to believe. I started to trust him. He didn’t tell me that I would end up in this world—there was a lot he didn’t tell me, in the end—but the last thing he said was, once you’re safe in the brown house, an old friend will be stopping by. The next day, I found myself in this reality, and now I’m sitting in here. It’s brown, wouldn’t you say?”

“You found yourself in this reality...in the year 2398?” Leona asks.

Andile thinks that’s funny. “Oh, no. Noooo. It was 2026, just like it was where we’re from.”

“So how did you get here?” Mateo asks, “Or have you just lived long enough?”

“I only spent a few years there. My friend brought me the rest of the way,” Andile says cryptically. “It wasn’t 370 years, like it was for most people. To us, it was more like 370 days.”

Now that is a surprising response. “Andile, who is your friend?”

Andile hesitates for a moment, but resolves to answer. “Leona, it...it was you.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 1, 2398

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Mateo was surprised to learn that Marie’s therapist had an opening the following day, but he decided he needed to go ahead and get on it, instead of waiting. Now he’s waiting in the waiting room, with a little boy and his father. There appears to only be one therapist here, so either they’re really early, or Mateo’s in the wrong place. Not long before the door opens, though, the father looks at his watch, gathers his son, and they leave together. Maybe they just didn’t have anything to do before their next appointment?

“Mister Matic?” Magnus Sharpe presumes.

“That’s me.”

“What would you like me to call you?” she asks.

“Mateo is fine.” He walks past her as she holds the door open, and takes a seat on the couch. A little furry dog slowly waddles over to him, and situates itself upon his shoes.

“You can carefully move him if you don’t want him there,” Mag. Sharpe tells him. “Some people find him comforting.”

“He’s good there.”

“On the phone, you said that you’re a friend of a patient of mine?”

“Yes. Marie Walton.”

“I cannot confirm that she’s a client, or anyone else, so if you want to talk about her, we’ll have to move forward under the possibly true assumption that I’ve never even heard of her before.”

“Okay.”

“What brings you here today?”

“Well, I don’t know what she told you...I mean, she couldn’t have told you anything since you don’t know her, so I guess I’ll explain. We’re time travelers. When it began, it was just me. I was in a cemetery with my friends on my birthday, and suddenly everyone around me disappeared. I quickly learned that I was the one who disappeared, and that I had been gone for a year. I soon thereafter met my future wife, who became like me when I donated my kidney to her. The other three showed up later, for various reasons.”

She nods, not only like she understands, but believes him.

“None of this is all that important to my issue, but I’m giving you background, so you know what makes us a team. We’re not just a group of old friends who met at college, or in a stuck elevator.”

“That wouldn’t be what makes you a team,” Mag. Sharpe notes. “Teams accomplish goals together.”

“Well, we help people. At least we try. Sometimes a friend gives us missions, sometimes an enemy does, and sometimes we don’t even know who’s calling the shots.”

She jerks her head, confused.

Mateo thinks he knows why. “Yeah, there’s this mysterious group called the powers that be who have some kind of control over the whole universe.”

She shakes her head now. “No, I’ve heard of them. I didn’t know that you would complete missions for enemies. Tell me about that.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that would sound weird, so I must just be used to it. I think that those people generally wanted to do good, but they built this reputation of being assholes, because they have all this power, and power corrupts, ya know? So they want to change, but when you’re a time traveler, it’s basically impossible to change your reputation, since linear time is just an illusion. So they keep being assholes, and force us to help others. That way they don’t actually have to have done any of the helping, but it still gets done.”

“Interesting.”

He chuckles mildly. This is going surprisingly well. He’s never felt so uncomfortable around regular humans than he has in this world, but Mag. Sharpe feels like someone he can trust. Now it’s time to get to the real issue, though, which has nothing to do with time travel.

“Go on,” she urges.

“Well, as you’ve probably heard, all the others are the smart ones. Angela and Marie studied and trained a lot of different things in the simulation. Leona and Ramses both studied science in normal school before they found out about any of this. I’m just the big dummy. The only reason I’m here is because my only true skill is that I attract the villains, and those villains have other victims, so that’s how we meet.”

“You feel useless.”

“Yes. I can’t fly a ship, or fight a monster. I try to look back on the things that I’ve accomplished since this started, and it’s all rooted in convincing others to help me. I don’t actually do anything myself.”

“You don’t think that alone is a skill?”

“Being helpless, and others taking pity on me? Not really,” he says.

“I think it is,” she counters plainly.  “I mean, think about it, if none of this time travel stuff existed, what could you do with that? What kind of job could you get? Why, you could help other people get jobs. That’s called recruitment, or headhunting. Heck, you would even excel as the top executive of a big company. People like that don’t need to understand the products or services they provide. They just need to know how to find the people who do. That is a skill, and most people don’t have it, because we grow up to be jaded and cynical, so we find it difficult to trust in the expertise of others. So not only is it a skill, but a virtue.”

“I was 28 when this happened to me. I had plenty of time to become a top executive, or at least start making my way down that road. But instead, I’m a driver. I’m a literal driver, and that’s all I could ever have been.”

“Yeah, not the most glamorous role, and I’m not saying that you should have become an executive, or that you did something wrong because you didn’t. I’m saying everyone has their own strengths, and just because yours aren’t as obvious as your friends, doesn’t mean they’re not valuable. You seem to be feeling inadequate in this reality, because while you’ve always relied on your team, you’ve probably always been able to contribute by following their direction. Now that you’re here, and relatively safe, there’s really nothing you need to do to help. If you were to sit on the couch all day in front of the TV, while the others were at work, they would be fine. No more antagonists, no more missions. It would be like if they were the parents, and you were the child. No one gets mad at the child for not having a job.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that is the difference. I was pretty much always busy, but now, all I do is read library books, so my ineptitude stands out more.”

“What are you studying?”

“Philosophy.”

She nods. “The proverbial subject that won’t get you a job unless you remain in academics. My daughter’s doing the same thing, but she doesn’t want to become a professor, or anything. So after she gets a degree, she’s going to have to find something probably unrelated.”

“What would that be?” he asks.

“You like the library, Mateo?”

“Eh, it’s growing on me.”

“Then why don’t you work there?”

Microstory 1803: Life Can’t Be Engineered

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I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I went to school for engineering. I didn’t even know what kind of engineering I was interested in. I figured it was better to at least have some kind of direction, rather than spending two years undeclared, and then having to rush to graduate on time. I ended up choosing civil engineering, and ultimately earned an architectural degree to go along with it. A lot of people do it the other way around, but like I said, I hadn’t been thinking that far ahead. I started out at a firm where the work wasn’t very exciting. We constructed a lot of facilities that were basically carbon copies of buildings that already existed. Sure, there were some modifications necessary for every new project, due to certain constraints, like geography, but for the most part, I didn’t find the work challenging or glamorous. A friend from college called me up, and said that he was starting a business on his own. It was going to be small in every sense of the word. We were going to build these newish things called tiny homes. They were meant to be as small as possible while including all the necessary amenities that a homeowner would expect to encounter in a normal-sized house or apartment. Space was key, and understanding how to work within the restrictions of a smaller space was paramount. I was looking for a challenge, and I found it. I had so much fun, engineering household objects to not be simply smaller, but more efficient. My job has proved that humans need less space to live comfortably than some may believe, as long as they have the right tools. I designed some of those tools. I had to continue my education since not all of this was civil engineering, but it wasn’t too hard, and I enjoyed every second of it.

One of my proudest accomplishments was a stackable washer/dryer that included a sink. It took up a lot less room than you might have assumed, and it even won me an industry award. The whole washer came out like a drawer, it was so cool, if I do say so myself. There were a few other minor contributions, like the actual mechanism for a bed that receded into the floor, and other collaborative efforts. I even literally built my own house using the skills I used for my job. I was proud of myself for that too, obviously, but the laundry sink was my baby, at least at the time. I hadn’t thought much about starting a family. I wasn’t against it, but every morning, when I woke up, I thought about my workday, and didn’t realize how much time I had let pass until a stranger called me a cat lady. I think he was just being a jerk, because he shouldn’t have known that I was an old maid, but something clicked in me that night, and I decided that I did want a family. Back then, there weren’t any dating apps, or even online matchmaking services at all. All I could do was keep going to bars, hoping to meet someone nice. Occasionally, a friend would set me up with someone, but it never worked out. After all that searching, and all that failure, I discovered that my future was right under my nose. It was like a romcom when I suddenly started to see my business partner as something more. We both loved what we did for a living, we had a great shorthand with each other, and the attraction had always been there. We both agreed we would have one child, I guess to keep in line with our shared minimalist approach to life. That didn’t quite work out. Our first two children were twins, and our third was an accident. We loved them so much, we decided to have just one more. The fourth and fifth were also twins, but it was long before that when we outgrew our tiny home. We were forced to upgrade. It was worth it.

Microstory 1795: Drudgery Clock

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It wasn’t really until the day I graduated from college that I realized I had no direction in life. I had this liberal arts degree that didn’t lend itself to a particular career, and while everyone said it opened doors for me, I didn’t believe them, and I would find out later that I was right to have my doubts. I spent years, unemployed off and on, only able to find temporary work, and just hoping someone would ask me to stick around. I became so disillusioned by the whole thing that I gave up trying to be what people told me I should. I began to be more honest in interviews, and for the most part, that didn’t work out. People don’t like honesty. They want you to pretend to be perfect so they can justify hiring you, and then when you make a mistake, they have a justification for getting pissed at you for being dishonest. Completely contradictory is the resting state of middle management, and I will die on that hill, if need be. Ha-ha. I never stopped trying. I kept applying until I told one interviewer that the reason I never last long in any position is because no one has given me a real chance. That seemed to speak to him, so he accepted me for a fulltime, permanent job. I was elated and relieved. There is no such thing as a hundred percent job security, but I felt safer than ever, and that was enough to keep me from stressing out over it so much. The months ticked by, and before I knew it, I had been there for two years, which was longer than I had ever been at one place before. It felt like a huge win, but it was also incredibly depressing. I started to realize that I didn’t like being the veteran. I didn’t like it when someone who had been there for one year told the person who had been there for a week that I was the one to help them. It made me feel weird. That’s when I got a promotion that moved me to a new facility.

Ah, it was like getting a fresh start. I was the new guy again. Sure, I was still working for the same company, but it was different enough to reset my internal drudgery clock. But then two years rolled around, and I got that feeling again. People came, and they went, and it always felt like they were moving on to better things while I just stayed here as a nobody. I saw one of them again once. He had the misfortune of delivering me a sandwich, which actually proved that he didn’t move onto something better, but at least he got out. At least he reset his drudgery clock. I needed that, and I needed to feel good about myself. I quit my job. It was the first time I had ever done that, and it felt amazing. I was the one in charge of my own fate; not someone else. That was incredible. Now I just needed to find something else. It was a little frustrating, going back to the beginning of the search, but it wasn’t too hard, and my drudgery clock was at zero. It stayed there for two more years, which was clearly my limit. I was smarter this time, and applied to something new before I quit the current job. So I just kept doing this a few times, staying in one place for two years, and then getting something else. It didn’t have to be better, it just had to be new. Over time, this technique became harder to sustain. As my résumé grew, I found the interviewers to be less enchanted with me. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I hold down a job? I couldn’t rightly tell them the truth, or it would make things worse. I couldn’t warn them that I didn’t care about their organization, and that I didn’t have any ambitions. So I didn’t. I went back to lying. It didn’t matter. I didn’t look very good on paper, and before I knew it, I retired after thirty years in the same crappy job. That delivery guy I met years before? He was my boss.

Microstory 1714: Big Dog Ballpoint Pens

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My great great grandfather started this company. The year was 1904, and he was extremely ahead of his time. You may have heard that the first ballpoint pens were sold in the middle of the century, but that is not true. That is just when they became popular, and started on the road to ubiquity. My ancestor was the first to break into the industry after they were invented. He knew that there was something to this new technology. Big Dog was his nickname in the army, on account of how good he was at sniffing out the enemy. He mostly sold to construction companies who wanted to mark the wood they were cutting with something other than pencil, and to left-handed note-takers who were tired of the ink and lead smudging on their hands. Yes, sir, he was a pioneer, and I admire him for that. I never knew the man, but I know what he stood for. He was simple, and easy to please. He never wanted to be the biggest writing utensil company in the world, which is why he never thought to branch out into other instruments, nor did his descendants. We do ballpoints, and we only do ballpoints. Our design has become more sophisticated over time, and we’re on the verge of launching the next generation in our popular funtime series, which features characters from a certain children’s TV show that all you parents out there are familiar with. Still. It’s just ballpoint pens. We don’t make other kinds of pens, or pencils. We don’t sell paper to go along with it, or even pen cases. A single product with multiple series to appeal to an array of customers. My grandfather was adamant about that—I remember—rest in peace. He wanted to keep the tradition, and while I’m no one to scoff at tradition, I also know a business opportunity when I see one. We’re a household name now, and we should start thinking bigger.

When my dad retired two years ago, he gave me one single mandate. He said, “son, this company is yours now. I expect you to treat her as well as your predecessors always did.” Well, that’s what I plan on doing, and I don’t think adding new products interferes with, or contradicts, that mandate. He might have meant to say that I wasn’t allowed to change anything, but that’s not what he said, and that’s not what I’m going to do. It’s the 21st century now, and pens...aren’t as big as they used to be. They’re still great, but kids these days are always on their little devices. It’s time that we get into the little devices business. Introducing the Big Dog Augmented Reality Stylus. Unlike my great great grandfather, we’re not the first to make this product, but we believe we’re the best. With our free phone app, you can view any virtual writing in any space, whether you were the one who first created it, or not. With the handy writing board, you can write or draw in whatever position is most comfortable, and then drag—or even throw—the content over to some other point in space. With our view glasses, you can draw and view the content without even using your hands. We’ve been developing these products for two years now, and we’re just about ready to release them. I know, that sounds insane. How does a ballpoint pen company suddenly pivot to AR? Well, the truth is that I’ve been working on this my whole life. I have a bachelor’s degree in graphic design, and a masters in computer engineering. I also studied art in high school, so I know what creative people want. This is where the future of technology is headed, and we’re ready for it. Believe it or not, the first models are finished and tested. Right now, we’re looking for investors to work with us on distribution and advertising. So wadya say? Who’s in?

Microstory 1597: Opportunity Knocking

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Prompt

There’s a knock on my door in the middle of the night. I jump out of bed, shaking from my acute stress response, and stumble over to open the door. On the other side is...

Botner

...my father, holding an envelope in his hand. My eyes fly open wide. “You look wonderful,” he tells me, smiling. “You know, you’re probably in the best shape of your life.” I grab the envelope. “It’s a one-time offer,” he tells me. “Sign it.”

I nod silently and take a deep breath. “So...”

He looks at me for a moment. “I know you hate living in America. I told some of my contacts and asked them to find you a job. They’ve found one in India.”

I let out a slow breath. “Why?” I ask him. “Why India? What job?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you,” he says. “But you know I’m trying to get you back home, so you’ll have to come.” He leans forward in my doorway and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, son,” he says. “I’m so proud of you.” I nod and step back, closing the door behind me.

Conclusion

He’s right, I have always wanted to live somewhere else, but not because I hate living here. I just want to go out, explore, and be more adventurous. So far, my Communications degree hasn’t done all that much for me, but apparently it’s helped me in this case. According to these documents, the job entails helping Indian business students better their English speaking skills, so they can compete in a global market. Many of them are afforded opportunities to come to North America, where they learn all this, but the government has instituted a new program that requires people like me to go over there for the people without means to come here. I’m not really qualified as a teacher, per se, but I don’t think I’ll be doing too much of it. They want their people to be able to communicate effectively in English, but my clients will have already learned every other aspect of business, and are already considered to be fluent speakers. This is exciting, I never thought about going to Asia. I was thinking more along the lines of Australia, or maybe Europe. The culture shock will be really interesting, and I know I’ll be nervous, but right now, I’m just glad. It’s the probably the best birthday gift I’ve ever received. Something falls out of the folder as I’m looking through it. I reach down, and pick up a plane ticket. Now I know why my father came with this information in the middle of the night. The plane leaves in five hours. No time for anything else, I have to get packing.

Microstory 1390: Growth

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Fiore Stern: Hello? Mr. Botany Professor?

Botany Professor: Yes, that’s me. Office hours begin in a half hour, but I think I can make an exception. Are you struggling with the cambium assignment? I can give you an extra day, if you need it.

Fiore Stern: No, sir. I’m actually not a student yet. I was hoping to interview you, so you can help me get accepted into the program.

Botany Professor: Well, Botany is part of a liberal arts and sciences degree. All you have to do is get into the school, and you can choose Botany as your major—if you’re really sure this is what you want to study, that is.

Fiore Stern: You don’t think you could give me an edge? Maybe write me a letter of recommendation?

Botany Professor: Not really. This is Hillside University. They let pretty much anyone in who’s graduated from high school. The failout rate is lower with that method than you might think, because our professors are really invested in student success. Once you’re accepted, and start classes, you can join the program, and I can become your advisor. But I doubt you’ll need help being accepted.

Fiore Stern: Well, the truth is, I’m a...I’m a felon. I got out of prison a few months ago, and I’m trying to get my life on track.

Botany Professor: I see.

Fiore Stern: I don’t even know if the college will accept me with all that.

Botany Professor: I believe this institution does have a way of doing that. You have to acknowledge it on your application, but then they’ll have you meet with some special advisor. That has nothing to do with me, though, so I’m not completely clear how it works.

Fiore Stern: Can I still ask you a few questions?

Botany Professor: Yeah, that should be fine. Students probably will start coming in fifteen minutes from now, though.

Fiore Stern: Okay. So. How would you define botany?

Botany Professor: Botany is the study of plants, and pretty much everything that goes with that. It’s about how they convert energy, and grow, and support the environment.

Fiore Stern: What is the difference between a plant, and a flower?

Botany Professor: Well, a flower is just one part of a plant. Not all plants have flowers, because they have different ways of reproducing and spreading, other than sexually.

Fiore Stern: I have heard that. Plants have sex?

Botany Professor: Flowering plants reproduce sexually, yes. The male will transfer its gametes to the female. We call that pollination. It’s not quite the same as the way animals do it, though.

Fiore Stern: Interesting. Do you teach plant toxicity? Will you teach your students to tell the difference between a poisonous plant, and one that’s safe to eat?

Botany Professor: That sort of specificity isn’t what we do in the undergraduate department. Poisonous plants do not all share a single trait you would be able to use to determine if it fits into the category. You just kind of have to know what’s good, and what to stay away from. As far as edibility goes, there’s something called the universal edibility test. It involves a long process of slowly interacting with the fruits, roots, or leaves, to find out whether it’s safe to eat. It takes a really long time, and we don’t teach that here, because we don’t expect our students to find themselves in a survival situation where such knowledge means life or death. It’s a liability issue too. I’m not even allowed to tell you how to learn about the test.

Fiore Stern: Well, let’s say someone does die, because they ate the wrong thing. If a decomposing body helps fertilize the soil, in the circle of life, will plants and flowers grow out of the dead body?

Botany Professor: Um. Well, no. A dead body is not an ideal environment for growth. Sure, a lot of nitrogen will be released into the soil, which may support any life growing around it, but the body itself doesn’t just isn’t fit for that. Why?

Fiore Stern: No reason. Thanks for talking to me. It’s been really helpful.

Botany Professor: Yeah...okay.