Microstory 2699: Forbidden Longhouse

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Ronan is scared of losing Gia just like he lost Mayumi. This time, they’re not going to go it alone. When the date was approaching, they traveled to the nearest settlement. They had already sent word to a midwife, who doesn’t have much to do because relatively few people are becoming so immersed in the simulation that they’re choosing to have real children. She offered to come to them, but they don’t only want her expertise. They want to be close to a lot of people, in case they need anything else during this uncertain period. The other players are clearly shocked by it. They know that Gia is real, and that this birth is real. They know that the other children here are NPCs, but Ronan’s entire family is composed of real people. They are a total anomaly, and it fascinates them. They know that they’re not supposed to talk about it, however. Ronan would be open if not for the immersion rules. Before he entered, he would talk about it to anyone who would listen. This is simply not the time or place for it.

Ronan is pacing, frustrated and annoyed. This is one of the reasons he and Mayumi isolated themselves. He wanted to be in the room, but the culture will not allow it. He was only allowed in back then because there was no other choice. Now, they can’t make that argument. Gia is with the midwife, and her two apprentices. One of them looked pretty young, so she’s probably just fetching water and towels, and he doesn’t know if she’s an NPC too, or what. It can be very confusing. Or maybe he’s just so confused at the moment because he’s singularly focused on that longhouse. He’s so far away, he can’t usually hear her screams, but her voice occasionally carries far enough. Or it’s a bird, and he’s imagining things. He hears her again, though. It’s unmistakably Gia. He stops pacing, and starts to head right for it.

One of the other players puts his pipe in his mouth, and reaches out to hold Ronan back as he shakes his head. He’s not really smoking. It’s literally just water vapor. It’s one of the few technologies that people use regularly. Just pretend it isn’t what it is, and is just a regular pipe with tobacco, or whatever disgusting stuff they smoked back then. “I appreciate the impulse, but we have to respect tradition. That longhouse is for womenfolk only. You’ll see your kid. He’ll be all cleaned up first, though.”

Ronan bobbles his head, knowing that this guy is right, but still wishing to break the rules. “You got any of your own?”

The guy takes his pipe back out and looks around to make sure no one else is listening. “Almost ninety of them, all over the age of two hundred.”

“None came here to Danmörk?” Ronan presses.

He shakes his head. “None even, uhh...came to the castle, to use the parlance.”

“You miss ‘em?” To Ronan, that’s a stupid question, but it takes all kinds.

“We have a private qua—” He stops himself before he can say the word quantum. He was probably going to say quantum environment. It’s a virtual construct that you can connect to across vast distances. It’s a power and bandwidth hog, so most VR is done locally, but if you just want a fancy way to communicate, and don’t need a lot of complex renderings, it’s fine. “We see each other every once in a while, though it’s been several decades since everyone has been able to make it.”

Ronan is just now realizing that his breathing has steadied, and his sweat is evaporating faster than it leaks. These distractions are helping. He’s calmer now. That’s when he hears a baby cry. Ronan runs off. Screw the rules. That’s his kid!

Microstory 2381: Vacuus, October 30, 2179

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Dear Velia,

I need you to tone it down with Condor. As if it’s not weird enough that he's my twin brother, but he lives billions of kilometers away. He’s not going to be able to take you out on a romantic dinner, or even hold your hand. I’ve been letting it slide, because I understand that you’re lonely, but this is inappropriate behavior, and it’s gone too far. I know you say that he’s responding well to your advances, and I’m not going to argue against that, because the truth is that I don’t know if he likes it, or if he’s just being polite. What I do know is that it’s completely irrelevant, because nothing is going to happen between you two. I mean, maybe if long-distance meant the other side of the planet, and you could still have realtime conversations, everything would be okay. But you have to wait two weeks before receiving each other’s replies. I know how frustrating that is for me. I can’t imagine how much worse it is when you throw sexual tension into the mix. Those photos you sent him, woof. I told you the first one was too revealing, but that’s how you’re built, and I don’t wanna body-shame you. But I can’t believe you sent him the one of you doing yoga too. Why did you even take that in the first place? He doesn’t need to know how “flexible” you are, or that you’re fine on your “hands and knees”. Jesus, girl. I know that you’re an adult, and you’re only trying to follow your heart, but damn, Velia, this has got to stop. I don’t want to make everything about me, but you were not like this before Bray and I started seeing each other, so maybe you’re just feeling rushed, I don’t know. And I don’t know if you’ll ever meet anyone who’s good enough for you on this base. I had all but given up on it. I wasn’t even looking for it. It just happened, and it could happen for you, but it’s not going to be Condor, I’ll tell you that much. He also deserves to find someone special, and if you keep distracting him with your sexy photos, your innuendo, and your blatant sexual advances, it will be that much harder for him to notice it when someone who lives on Earth is standing right in front of him. I’m sorry to be so harsh, but despite our distance, he has been very protective of me, and I feel like it’s my duty to extend the same courtesy in my own way. I hope that we can still be friends after this, and also that you’re not offended that I had to write this in a letter. I wanted to get all of my points out, and if I confronted you in person, I was afraid that we would just end up in a screaming match, and we wouldn’t hear each other. I’m more than willing to discuss this further, though, so don’t take this as some final word from me that you’re not allowed to respond to.

I love you like a sister,

Corinthia

Microstory 2303: To Distract Myself

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You know how it goes, the company you work for gives out branded flash drives during their end-of-the-year party, but it’s not enough space, so you buy another. Then you lose it for a few months, so you have to replace it, but then you find the first one again. Then you make a large purchase, and portable storage is the easiest way to hand over all the relevant paperwork, instead of a big binder, or something. But the flash drive I found last night wasn’t just in a drawer of his desk. It was hidden in the little cavity for the electrical outlet. You may ask yourself, why would I go diggin’ around in there in the first place unless I knew that it was a hiding spot? Well, I’m gonna put this place up for sale at the end of the year, so before that, a lot of little things need to be fixed. I remembered seeing a box of cover plates in the garage, and decided that I might as well replace the one in Nick’s room, because the corner was chipped. Of course it wasn’t a priority, but I’m finding myself coming up with excuses to put off sorting through their stuff, and this was one thing I could try to distract myself. I’m glad I did, or some random stranger would have discovered it years from now. I was kind of expecting to find porn on it, but not really, because he was never ashamed to be a real human being. It turned out to be a folder with two main documents, and what appear to be accessory research files. One is an unnamed novel, but I don’t know what it’s about yet. The other is a stage play called Joseph and His Dreamcoat. It sounds familiar, but I searched for it online, and didn’t find any references. I’ll be reading them both this week to see what we’re working with. I would love to publish them posthumously, however that works.

Microstory 2290: Speak of it No Further

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In movies, when someone writes a great book, or is expected to write one, they’ll usually just go straight to the publisher. In fact, publishers are usually asking them to write something for them, generally if the person is already famous, and they think they can make some serious money off of a book deal about their experiences. In the real world, you really need to get an agent first. Sure, publishers have contacted me, but not under the assumption that they’ll be dealing with me directly. They’re all asking who my agent is, so they can negotiate with them instead, just as they’re used to. I’ve not been thinking about it too much, so I don’t have one of those. That’s what I need to do now. But when I say I, I mean Dutch, because I’ve placed him in charge of all that stuff. He’ll talk to the agents, and find the right fit for me, and once he does, the two of them will coordinate with the publishers, and go through that whole process, if anything comes to fruition anyway. Either way, I’m not going to worry myself about it, because it’s not really my goal. Not only do I not have time, and because it distracts me from the art itself, but because I am not doing this for anyone else. I am writing this for me. I can always throw it up on a new website, and let anyone read it. I don’t need it to be published. So other people can go ahead and deal with it on my behalf. If nothing comes of it, or I end up with a bad deal, then whatever. It’s not like I need the money, or more fame. I just need to focus on my work, and let it speak for itself. No matter what, you will have the opportunity to experience it, one way or another, and I’m not a hundred percent convinced that that should come at a cost. Again, I’m not concerning myself with any of it, so I shall speak of it no further.

Microstory 2074: Those Who Come in Late

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I am super tired, so I’m not going to say much today. It’s okay, but I wish my new boss had told me that I was going to be working whole days for the next four days at least. She wants me to understand how to open, and how to close, but also what it’s like to be immersed in that environment throughout the day. She wants me to get a feel for the difference between customers who come in early, and those who come in late, along with everyone in between. I didn’t get enough sleep last night, so I didn’t really get much out of that yet, but I trust her. I’ll be super prepared for it tomorrow. But I can’t do that unless I pretty much go to bed right now. It’s a good thing there’s never anything good on TV. Back on my home world, I was often too distracted to manage my time well.