Extremus: Year 125

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Sable Keen opens Audrey’s eyes. She looks over at the chair next to her and sees Audrey opening Sable’s eyes. It was a success, they’ve managed to switch bodies. Now when Waldemar is standing there in his royal pose, it will be Audrey who is painting his portrait. Sable is slated to stay safe and sound somewhere else, the target being the Captain’s Stateroom, playing the part of the dutiful housewife. It’s not to keep her safe, though. She just doesn’t know how to draw. There are some skills that she can’t pick up from others. She doesn’t understand how it works, and doesn’t have anyone to talk to about it. But this is good. This sort of thing makes life more exciting. If there’s one thing she hates more than anything, it’s boredom. She lives for the drama.

Silveon reaches over and takes Sable by the hand. “Slowly. Slowly now,” he encourages softly as he’s helping her get onto Audrey’s feet.

“You know I’m Sable, right, not your girlfriend? I only look like her right now.”

Silveon looks over at Audrey, who Lataran is helping stand. “We’re not together. You do realize that, right? It’s important you know that we’re not a couple in any way shape or form. We work together because we have the same goals, and know what the stakes are.”

Of course Sable knew that, she’s just gauging their reactions. She always felt the chemistry between the two of them. They’re the same age, and they’ve been through a lot. In a perfect world, they would be together. But she knows enough about what that world looks like to know that Sable is not in it. She would not have been born if they hadn’t come back in time to stop the evil man, Waldemar Kristiansen. That name. It’s like his mother wanted him to grow up to become a villain. The way Sable sees it, Calla brought this on herself; her own death, and everything that has happened since. “I’m just messing with you,” she replies, having spent too much time in her head to respond any other way. This ends the follow-up conversation. “I can do it on my own.” She effortlessly steps over to the mirror and tests out her new look. Audrey has been practicing Sable’s mannerism so she can impersonate her. Sable has not been doing the same. At least that’s what she wants them to think. She has her own agenda.

“You are not to do anything as Audrey,” Lataran warns her. “If Waldemar comes to you, you will do as Audrey would do, and say what she would say, but you are not to interfere with their lives. You’re not there to make changes to their relationship, or try to get him to make certain administrative decisions for the ship, its crew, or passengers...”

“I know, mom. He doesn’t listen to Aud any better than he listens to me. It’s not about me becoming her, it’s about her becoming me. Stop going over it.”

“Okay, okay,” Lataran says in that voice she uses when she remembers that Sable is a big girl now. She was the hardest to convince to help Sable join the fight. She loves Sable too much, which is understandable, but that makes her less pliable. The further removed she is from someone, the easier it is for Sable to control them. Unless they have psychic powers, like Waldemar. That’s the biggest reason why Sable pushed for this assignment, because he’s a challenge. He really doesn’t listen to her. Unlike any rando in the hall whose sandwich she wants, he doesn’t have to comply.

Audrey checks Sable’s watch. “Okay. We cut it close, so I have to run.” They only had a short window to complete the body swapping procedure, but Waldemar is expecting to begin the sitting soon. She steps over and gives Sable a hug. She doesn’t struggle at all. That’s how Sable walks. Without hugging anyone else, she disappears.

“That was weird, don’t you think?” Sable asks Silveon and her mother. “We built in a little time for her to practice in my body. But she’s such a natural.”

“She’s transferred her consciousness before,” Silveon reasons. “It gets easier each time you do it.”

“I bet it does.” She turns around and looks back in the mirror, frowning at the boring clothes that Audrey picked out, probably because she knew Sable would end up in them. “Bye.” She jumps to the stateroom, where she has already stashed her backup watch. She switches them so everyone with the ability to track her location thinks that she’s still here when she’s not. They don’t have authorization to teleport directly inside to check on her, and would have no good reason to give the secret service for ringing the doorbell. She finds something sexier in the closet, then heads out with it.

The three agents guarding the door nod at her respectfully. “First Lady of the Vessel,” they each recite.  Yeah, Waldemar is really leaning into the idea that he’s not a captain, but a president. He sees it as a stepping stone towards becoming a king, and then an emperor. He feels the need to ease the people into accepting more and more of his power over them. He’s correct. If the team weren’t here to stop him, it would work.

She’s been studying the agents, and lucked out today. A few of them have expressed a deeper loyalty to Audrey than to Waldemar himself. They can’t say it out loud, but she sees it in their eyes. This particular guy is in love with her, and would do anything she says. She insisted on going about her business without constant protection, but she can request it anytime she wants. Sable looks the right one in the eyes, doing her best to give him the sense that, in another life, they could be together instead. “I would like an escort today. Only one.” Wait, she needs a cherry on top. “Only you.”

“Very good, Madam.” He’s trying to keep it together. He professionally begins to walk with her down the corridor while the others remain at their post.

“Laventry,” she begins to say once they’re out of earshot of the others.

“You know my name, Madam?” he interrupts. “I mean, I’m sorry, that was rude.”

“It’s okay, Lav.”

His face melts at the sound of the nickname. Perfect.

“Yes, I know your name. Lav, there are secrets on this ship, you know that?”

“I do, Madam.”

“Please. Call me Audrey,” Sable insists. Okay, she can see that that’s too much. He’s still been trained to bow before her and show great deference. “Or not. It’s fine.”

“Thank you, Madam First Lady of the Vessel.”

She laughs. “The secrets. There are places on this ship that not everyone has access to. I need you to take me to one of those places, and I need it to stay between us. Now, I understand that you have sworn and oath to preserve the captain’s chair, but there are things that not even my Waldemar needs to know.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I feel comfortable doing anyth—”

She interrupts him now to say, “you recall my child.”

She thought he was frowning before, but now he really is. “Yes, ma’am.”

“There is a place here where time tech is stored, are you aware of this place?”

“I am, Madam First Lady. It’s the old Temporal Engineering lab.” Waldemar did away with the position of temporal engineer. He doesn’t seem to care about it one way or another on principle, except when it comes to his pursuit of immortality. He shut it down, however, because it threatens his hold over Extremus. It leaves the possibility open for someone to go back in time to stop him from ascending. It didn’t seem to occur to him that it’s already happened.

She stops walking, and tugs at his upper arm. “There is something in there that can let me see my child.” Here it comes, the tears. She didn’t even have to drop a tearitant into her eyes, which is good, because he would have noticed that. “It’s not...real, but I can see what she would have looked like had she grown up. I just want to see, Lav. I want to know what I missed.”

“Yes, ma’am, I can understand that, ma’am.”

“Will you help me? Will you get me into that room, and tell no one else about it? Can I trust you, Lav?”

He stares at her and breathes deeply through his nose. She can hear the desire echoing off the walls of his full heart. “Yes, I will help you...Audrey.”

She smiles and places a hand upon his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers.

He gently takes hold of her hand, palm to back. He pulls it away, and puppets her to wipe the tears from her own cheek.

She smiles wider, and turns away shyly. “Sorry.”

Now he touches her chin, directly with his finger, turning it back towards him. “You can show your true feelings around me. I’m very emotionally intelligent.” The members of the secret police are absolute morons. It’s a wonder they manage to put their own shoes on them in the morning. Some of them probably have help. But the secret service agents? They truly are smart. That’s why she had to pick him carefully. She could not have grabbed any one at random. Anyone else would see right through her manipulation. Anyone would reject her control. It’s only working on him because of his connection to Audrey. If Sable had tried to do this as herself, she would have failed miserably, and it could have gotten her found out. “Let’s go.”

They continue through the ship until reaching the sealed off temporal engineering sector. At the door, he looks at her and chuckles. Then he lifts his hand, and smashes the side of his fist against the security panel, breaking it open.

“Oh. Strong.”

Yeah, he liked hearing that. Centuries of gender equality progress, and men are still driven to impress women with their skills and prowess. They’re all peacocks. He chuckles again as he starts to mess with the wires and miniature power crystals.

This is it. Sable is finally going to get what she needs. She can do a lot with what she has now, but she wants more. She has to have more, and she’s willing to go to great lengths to get it. It was not Waldemar’s idea for her to paint his portrait, or even for her to do it. He definitely thinks it was, which is exactly how it should be. Without being able to control another psychic’s mind, she had to use old fashioned conning techniques, and her feminine wiles. Again, het men are all the same. Does she feel bad about treating people like game pieces? No, because she’s not hurting them. Silveon and Audrey weren’t making any progress without her. They’ve been doing this almost literally their entire lives, and were floundering. They never would have let her help if she just let them make their own choices. People are stupid, prideful, and in these cases, protective. So it took a little coaxing. It’s true, that’s what Waldemar would do in the same position, and she has had to accept their similarities. She is more like him than she is willing to let her family and friends know. To be sure, she wants to stop him from destroying the ship, but he’s not crazy. He has some good ideas. It’s more that the ends don’t justify the means. She has better means. It’s her responsibility to use them, starting with this room.

Laventry cracks it. The door swings open, but it’s nothing but darkness. It’s a totally empty void.

She reaches out. As her hand passes over the threshold, it starts to de-resolve, breaking apart into a million pieces. She pulls it back out, watching her hand gradually reassemble itself.

Laventry is just standing there, still proud of himself.

“Did you see that? Did you see what happened?”

“Seems normal to me,” he replies.

“Stick your hand in there,” she orders.

He does as he’s told. He too watches his hand fall apart, then come back together once she pulls at his arm, and brings him fully back into the rendered environment.

“That doesn’t seem weird to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“God...dammit!” She turns around and lets out an incredibly loud scream as she’s beginning to walk away.

He hops up to her and clutches her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong. I can help. I told you, I have high emotional intelligence.”

She turns back, scowls at him, and screams again. “Argh! Fuck you!” She pushes the NPC by the chest with both hands, right through the world boundary, killing him instantly. She starts to walk again, foaming at the mouth, utterly incensed at her so-called team. How dare they trick her? It’s a violation. What, did they not trust her? Did they know she would do something like this? Do they know she has powers? If they even know a little bit, that could be a massive problem for her. She screams again. She screams, and she screams, and for a moment after that, she yells, but then she goes back to screaming. She’s out of breath and exhausted, but not actually at all. She can’t feel anything. None of this is real, not even her. She hasn’t been walking for the last several minutes. She’s been sitting in a chair, painting Waldemar’s portrait. Audrey has been in the driver’s seat, and never gave up her own body. Why? Why do it like this? Ugh, she’s not gonna find any answers here. And she’s not going to get out of it by screaming.

She closes her eyes and begins to control her breath. The first step to breaking out of a mind prison is understanding the true orientation of your real body. This is virtual reality 101. Everyone learns that in school so they never become too immersed in the games. Normally, that would be pretty easy. She should be lying down at a 45-degree angle, her arms at her sides, or resting on her chest. But Audrey is making that more complicated, so Sable has to find it. She sits down on a cargo crate. She closes her eyes, and starts by guessing. Audrey is probably sitting like this, with her knees tight together, but her feet wide apart, so she can lean over to see her subject past the canvas. Which hand is dominant? She tries both, pantomining holding a brush. It’s up, it’s down a little, it’s up higher. She keeps moving with these microadjustments, lowering her fake heart rate, and keeping herself calm, breathing like a woman in labor.

The brush materializes in her hand. The real environment resolves, and she’s back. She’s in the art studio, sitting behind the easel. The painting has barely been started, and it may never be finished. The plan has changed. She stands and looks at Waldemar. He’s dressed ridiculously, and posed on a holographic mountain, like he’s nearly at the summit. “I’m not finishing this until you divorce your wife.”

He turns his head slightly to look at her, but maintains his pose. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised, or annoyed at her. “Consider it done.”

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Microstory 2568: Investigative Reporter

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I dedicated years of my life to a story that doesn’t exist. Prior to this, I’ve tried to make a name for myself by breaking stories, but I’ve usually failed. I guess I’m just no good at this. Okay, that was an exaggeration. I’ve exposed the truth on a number of events in my day, but maybe I’ve lost my edge. Maybe I was blind. I saw nefarious intentions behind the Landis Tipton Foundation because I figured there had to be one. No one is this nice. No one is this charitable. Normally, I face obstacles all the time, but there’s always something to find, and I always find it, even if it’s not as dramatic or salacious as I thought it would be. Basically, I always have a piece to write. It’s never won me a Renaldo Award, but it’s kept food on the table. I can’t believe how much time I wasted, trying to find fault in maybe the one guy in the world who is exactly what it says on his tin. I’ve given up, but not entirely. Now I’m focused on the pharmaceutical company that they’re working with. The deal reeks of something bad, and big pharma isn’t known for its charity. Why give the cure away for free when you can make bank on the treatment? No, there’s got to be something there. I may have lost the house, and the kids, but I’m going to get back on track. I’m going to prove that I still have what it takes to investigate and report. I focused too much on Landis, but there are other people involved, and I should have realized that before. I should have appreciated it. I just need to make some more connections, and I’ll have my answer. Who needs food anyway? It just slows me down.

Microstory 2531: Accountant

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There’s not much I can say about my job. We all know what accounting is, and we all know it’s boring. Even accountants find it boring. We do it, because we’re good with money and numbers, and the job usually helps you make a lot of money. The starting wage is higher than a lot of people only start making near the end of their careers. That’s not me bragging, it’s me following in my mother’s footsteps, because I was a child of divorce, and lived in two homes growing up. My parents separated when I was five years old, which is when kids really start to pick up on how the people they see live their lives. That is, it’s when you start noticing the difference between your rich friends and your poor friends. It’s when you catch the news out of the corner of your eye, and realize that there’s a lot of pain in the world. It’s basically when you wake up to the harsh realities of life. My mom was an accountant, and my dad was a temp. She lived in a house. He lived in an apartment. He was a good guy, and they maintained a decent relationship. He found a place as close to her as possible, so I was eventually able to walk between them at the end of every week. But like I said, I saw the difference, and it moulded me into the person I am today. They say that becoming an accountant is safe, and for the most part, that’s true, but there’s a caveat. If you’re no good at math, walk away. Walk away now. No career accountant failed a math class in high school, or college. It just doesn’t happen. And that’s okay, there are plenty of great paths for you. I walked down this one, because I knew what was on the other side. That’s always been very important to me, because I was lacking that during the divorce, when I didn’t understand what was going to happen to me. Things have ended up okay, but I hated that uncertainty. Numbers are not uncertain. There is an answer to every equation, even if you don’t know what it is. I take comfort in knowing that if there’s an error in the bookkeeping, it’s possible to find it. It’s not abstract or hidden. You just have to know where to look, and that’s what I do. I make sure there are no errors. I make sure that the right amount of money is coming in, and the right amount is going out. It’s not easy, but it’s not ambiguous.

Microstory 2328: Earth, December 9, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

The system works! I received your canned response, telling me that you were going to wait to write back until I had a chance to speak with dad. Well, that’s what happened. He finally came home a few days ago after having been gone the longest amount of time in my life. I gave him one night to sleep off the jetlag, but then we spoke over breakfast the next late morning. We sat down at the table together, but he knew that it was coming, and neither of us ate much of anything. He admits that his wife—your mother—came to him 36 years ago with the idea to raise us separately. They were going through a divorce, and his work was going to take him across the continent anyway. She had this opportunity to be part of the first manned mission to Vacuus, and didn’t want to go without any family at all. She framed it as her idea, but my dad has always been pretty convinced that another man talked her into it. Funny thing is, this other guy ultimately failed the mission qualification tests, so he ended up not going anyway. I’ve not gotten a name yet, but I would like to find out who he is, and what happened to him.

So anyway, it sounds like it was partly a social experiment, and partly the solution to the calculus of there being two parents in need of at least one child each, and having two children to divide into the solution. He says that he doesn’t remember why she got the girl baby, and he got the boy baby, but I don’t think that part really matters. He claims that he regretted the decision immediately, but your ship had already launched. If that’s true, why didn’t he tell me about you earlier? We could have known each other since we were kids, and had some sort of relationship growing up. Yet he played into the experiment. He could have made things a little better, but chose not to. Not only did he deprive us of each other, but himself of you, and you of him. He could have known his own daughter, and now you’re an adult, but a total stranger. I also missed out on the chance to know my own mother, though you would be a better judge as to whether that’s a bad thing, or not. He was too tired to give any more details. He didn’t really paint himself as the hero, but it’s clear that he considers her the villain. Again, he did have some control. There must have been some argument that he could have made in a court of law. Your mom had to volunteer for the Vacuus mission. They weren’t begging for her to sign up. Maybe that’s not true, though, because as I said, I never had the chance to know here. Before she died, what—if anything—did she say about how this started for her? I’ll try to find out more information for us later, but I wanted to reply as quickly as possible, so you would have time to consider and process it. To be honest, it was a rather disappointing conversation. When I think back to my conversation with him, I realize that he said as little as possible without allowing me to accuse him of being totally evasive.

Let down on Earth,

Condor

Microstory 2244: Living With Other People

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I took a look at the new place where I think we’re gonna move into. It’s really nice and new. The couple who originally commissioned it to be built ended up going through a divorce pretty much right after it was finished, reportedly because of the stress of building it. I don’t wanna gossip, though. It has five bedrooms, a finished basement, and a near finished attic. It’s not dusty and cobwebby up there, but you wouldn’t want to carry up a bed, and sleep. It’s not the kind of place that I would normally even consider, but things are different now. It’s not just about me anymore. It’s important for it to be this big. It will be easier to fortify while still maintaining privacy for each of us. Members of our security team will actually be able to live inside the house with us, instead of just being posted in a car on the street. Everyone will have their own bathroom, which I think is the biggest problem with living with other people. If you can just have your own space to clean up and take care of your business, it makes it a lot easier to deal with everything else. Well, anyway, I put in an offer, and I’ve not heard back yet, so there’s no guarantee that it’s even happening. We’ll see. In other news, I managed to schedule my next surgeries. They’ll be happening in eleven days, on a Monday. In the meantime, I’ll be sending samples to the surgeon, and occasionally going in. While Kelly no longer works for me, she’s still trained as a lifecare assistant, so I won’t have to drive to the lab every single day, or anything. I think that’s about it for me today. I’m having lunch with Jasmine and Leonard tomorrow, so that should be fun.

Microstory 1999: False Targets

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Leonard: Myka, I couldn’t decipher your abbreviated message. What is going on?

Myka: Oh my God, it’s a shitshow. Um, hello? Who is this?

Keziah: Hi, I’m Keziah Miazga. Is this her, Len-Bear? She’s pretty.

Leonard: *uncomfortable* Myka Tennison, this is my ex-wife, Keziah Feldman.

Keziah: It’s nice to meet you. I’ve not yet decided if I’m going to change my name back.

Myka: Okay, well...we have some sensitive information to discuss. Leonard, I’m not sure if she should even be in the building.

Leonard: She’s from another universe, Myka. I think she knows about aliens.

Myka: Still. *waves Henley over* Maybe she could just hang out in the break room while we deal with the mess that’s been made of the day? Hen will show you the way. It’s so lovely to finally meet you, though. Leonard has told me so many great things.

Leonard: That was a little rude, on both of your parts. I do hope that we can be civil about this. I know it’s a complicated—

Myka: I don’t care about that. Reese is missing.

Leonard: What?

Myka: I said that Reese is missing!

Leonard: I heard you. I just don’t understand. How did he go missing? He sent us a group text telling us that he was on his way back from the Capital.

Myka: I know you heard me. I’m just...frustrated. Not only has this happened, but they think that there’s been yet another alien arrival, and the people who have been investigating the whole mole thing all over the government are here, and they say we should be informed of something in that regard. Plus, Navin is having an episode. He’s fine, he’s getting checked out by the medic, but he was trying to repair the broken central heating furnace, which we’re gonna need, because winter is coming. It’s just one thing after the other, and oh my God, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Slow down. Let’s take this one at a time, starting with the easiest. I’m here now, so I can take a look at the furnace. I wasn’t always a parole officer. It’s not a priority, though, so let’s move on. As for the internal investigators, they can wait where they are. I don’t know what all that has to do with us. Now. where are the aliens?

Myka: Wyoming again. Pretty much the exact same place that we found the others. My guess is that it’s a second wave. Or really, it’s the real wave, and the few Ochivari we found were just the little advanced team. According to our satellite, the one that just happened is a lot bigger than anything we’ve ever seen before. The scientists still haven’t measured enough instances to come up with a scale, but based on what few experiences they do have, they’re estimating dozens of arrivals. *takes a much-needed breath*

Leonard: Okay, did you send a team?

Myka: I was the only one here, so yes. I had to make an executive decision. Anaïs is leading recontainment. *consults watch* They’re probably taking off from our airbase.

Leonard: Recontainment? What is that? I’ve never heard of that.

Myka: That’s what they’re calling recon plus containment. I thought you were the one who came up with it.

Leonard: No, it’s confusing. It sounds like we’re containing something that was already contained before.

Myka: Okay, whatever, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Okay, let’s talk about that. What do we know?

Myka: I’ve been on the phone with the Transportation Regulatory Authority, but of course, they’re still investigating. All they’ll tell me is that the plane was last seen making an emergency landing in St. Louis, and then it deblipped.

Leonard: Deblipped?

Myka: Does your version of Earth even have English? Deblip. It’s a phenomenon where an object appears on radar before suddenly disappearing. It blips away for no apparent reason. It’s usually a false target, like a fast-moving bird. I don’t know how it works.

Leonard: Okay, so if that doesn’t happen normally...

Myka: What?

Leonard: Can we access the satellite data? There was a reading over Wyoming, but...maybe there was one over St. Louis too?

Myka: You think the aliens got him?

Leonard: I think it could be worse than that. *shaking his head* We’re always talking about people coming to this universe, but it’s just as likely that people are taken out of it. It may be a daily occurrence, for all we know. Hell, maybe the satellite doesn’t even know what to look for. Departures could show up as the opposite as arrivals. We should ask them to reverse the polarity, or some shit like that.

Myka: Okay. The new science team started working last week. I’ll see what they know. You need to take homebase command.

Micro: *walking up* That can wait. The away team will still be in the air for the next couple of hours. We have another problem. I just got an email.

Leonard: An email from whom?

Micro: Remember when you and Ophelia needed to get out of Memphis? You asked for help from Anaïs’ criminal contact, Moenia. He said that he would do it for a favor.

Leonard: Crap, he’s collecting on that debt now? Today of all days.

Micro: I don’t think he knows how crazy this day is for us. He didn’t say what he wanted out of us, but it does sound time sensitive.

Leonard: *looks between Myka and Micro* Valentine, I need you to take point on this. He’s right, we owe him. Find out what he wants, and if it turns out it can wait, then make him do just that. Tell him we’re busy, obviously don’t tell him why. Read Timotei into it, and take him as backup if it comes to that. Actually, talk to me again once you find out what the favor is. Then I’ll decide if you and Timotei should go anywhere.

Micro: Timotei? He’s in procurement.

Leonard: He’s in procurement, because he was a smuggler. The two of them speak the same language. I think he can handle himself too. If you need a real fighter, though, you’re free to conscript any of the newer agents who didn’t go on the mission. Tell them whatever they need to know. Again, though, keep me posted. *turns back to Myka*

Myka: We have no idea what the hell we’re doing. We’re just winging it.

Leonard: Myka, I have been to two planets, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that everybody is a fraud, and everybody is making it up as they go along. We will get through this. We’ll find Reese, we’ll do whatever needs to be done with the aliens, and we’ll fix the heating. But until then, come here. *takes her in his arms* And somebody call the goddamn president, or whatever he is! I have questions about that jet of his!

Microstory 1998: Vastly Irresponsible Plan

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Leonard: Where is she? She’s not in a jail cell still, is she?

Street Proctor: No, no, no, no, no. She’s in the VIP quarters. She’s perfectly fine.

Leonard: The law station has a VIP room?

Street Proctor: Of course. They don’t on your world? [...] Oh, don’t look so surprised. You told me that you were in the wrong world when we first met, and now you’re some big shot secret agent. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you were actually telling the truth the whole time. I really wanna apologize for how I treated you back then. I was going through some stuff that had nothing to do with you, but it was no excuse for being unprofessional and unhelpful. And I’m not just saying that because you super outrank me now. I’ve been to some seminars, one workshop, and counseling every week.

Leonard: Well, I appreciate you saying that. It’s...very big of you.

Street Proctor: Yeah. Well anyway, your wife is right through here.

Leonard: *steps into the room* Keziah.

Keziah: Leonard. What the hell is happening? Where are we?

Leonard: What is the last thing you remember?

Keziah: I was going to Yuuna’s baby shower. I was driving around, thinking that I was very lost, until I realized that I was actually very, very lost. None of this is familiar. They call this place a law station, instead of a police station. The guy who helped me said he was a proctor, which is nothing I’ve ever heard of either. What is this room all about?

Leonard: Yuuna’s baby shower? That was months ago. That was...that was the day that I disappeared. You and I left our Earth on the same day, but I’ve been here since June.

Keziah: Time travel? We traveled through time? Wait, does this have something to do with your little friend? Where is he? He has to send us back home.

Leonard: It’s not really time travel. It’s that—let’s see, how did he put it—the timestreams for two separate universes have nothing to do with each other. And anyway, I’ve not seen him. I don’t think he had anything to do with it. It’s just something that happens sometimes. In fact, I believe that our link to him is the only reason either of us realizes that there’s something different about this world. There could be others here who  are from different versions of Earth, but don’t even know it.

Keziah: Either way, I wanna go home. Do you have a plan? It’s been months, right?

Leonard: Hold on... *starts to wave a little device all over the room*

Keziah: *turns the sink on* Is that a bug detector?

Leonard: Yes. We’re in the clear, but let’s whisper anyway. I have indeed been working on a plan, but I’ve had trouble enacting it. Number one, if we use the only tools we have at our disposal, we could be dooming our world to profound destruction, so if we try it, I’ll have to kill the alien who transported us right away, but that’s assuming he even took us to the right brane in the first place. And now that you’re here, I’m not sure we can both fit in the portal. Plus...I’ve sort of...built a new little life here.

Keziah: The ink on the divorce papers you texted me to say you signed, sealed, and sent out for delivery isn’t even dry yet. But you met someone, didn’t you?

Leonard: Yes, I did. You would like her.

Keziah: I don’t doubt it. But I still wanna go home. Tell me about this alien.

Microstory 1981: Defenses

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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Leonard: Oh. I just came down here to shore up our defenses.

Myka: Same. I wanna make sure we know our exits. This is an interesting tunnel.

Leonard: Yeah, it is. Must have a purpose. Well, I’ll go find something else to do.

Myka: Are you avoiding me?

Leonard: Of course not. Why would I do that?

Myka: Well, the last time we spoke, you were leaving on your hush-hush mission—

Leonard: I was compelled not to tell you what we were doing. I didn’t even know much about it myself. We didn’t learn the details until we arrived, and even then there was a lot of improvisation involved.

Myka: I’m not mad at you for keeping it secret. I’m just saying...we were growing closer, and since you’ve been back, I feel like you’re a different person.

Leonard: I guess I kind of am different. I’ve been in situations like that before, but not quite like it. I’ve never been rogue. This is all very strange to me.

Myka: I’m fascinated by you, Leonard, and I want to know what you mean by that.

Leonard: What I mean by it being strange?

Myka: What you mean that you’ve been in such situations. You were a parole officer, but it sounds like you were so much more than that. You’ve told me that you’ve been on missions before, which is not in the job description on our planet. *waits for a response that doesn’t come* It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it, but I just thought...

Leonard: Thought what? Go on.

Myka: I thought that there was something between us, but maybe I’m way off base.

Leonard: You’re not, but it’s complicated. I had just finalized my divorce before I arrived here. I mean that literally. I signed the papers, then stepped outside to mail them on my way to meet a friend. I forgot something inside, so I went back in real quick, and when I opened the door again, I was here. I didn’t even notice that something was weird until I looked up and realized that I was no longer in my neighborhood. My first thought was that I lost time, but then the patrol officer started talking about the National Commander, instead of the President, and I knew that something was really wrong. I think my mail went through, but I don’t know that for sure. Maybe I’m remembering that wrong. Maybe I’m not really divorced.

Myka: Forgive me, but it sounds like you are regardless. A divorce doesn’t happen once the lawyers get the paperwork. It happens when you decide that it needs to. Of course, until those papers are signed, you can always change your mind, but you did sign them. You did make that decision, and your ex did too, didn’t they?

Leonard: Yeah, she signed them first.

Myka: I’m not asking for your love, I’m just asking what your love is gonna take.

Leonard: Those are song lyrics where I come from. Did you do that on purpose?

Myka: A man I once knew said that to me long ago. Maybe he was from your universe too. Look, I know we’re dealing with a lot right now, but we both deserve to be happy. I just want you to know that it’s okay to be a little selfish. Not everything is about DExA.

Leonard: You’re right. But let’s start slow. We can’t really go out to eat, so...wanna check out the shooting range that Micro apparently built herself?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 25, 2398

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Well, that happened. Curtis was gone, as well as Cheyenne, and they left them using a tactic that no one else ever thought to try. Ramses asked Leona whether The Officiant ever gave her the means to contact her again through a divorce declaration, and she had to say that she didn’t. Perhaps it’s something that the Officiant instituted sometime after their wedding according to her own personal timeline, or she’s cognizant of every couple’s ultimate fate, so she only gives the secret words to the ones she knows will need them later. The question is whether Leona could potentially use this tactic to summon one of the few people they know without suppressed time powers, and if she did, would she and Mateo have to go through with the divorce just for the attempt? Cheyenne had to give up a favor to convince the Officiant to spirit them away, so if Leona doesn’t have anything to offer, it might not work regardless.

Right now, Leona is spinning her wedding ring around her finger. She wants to leave for the Oort Cloud, but it’s not time yet. It could take a really long time to find that proverbial nonmagnetic needle in a haystack. She still has commitments and responsibilities down here on Earth. First and foremost is the reintegration of one Bhulan Cargill into her real body. They have been communicating with her through the Insulator of Life interface, and she says she’s ready for the procedure, but that she still won’t answer any of their questions. Ramses is hooking her up to the virtual construct, so they can have a conversation in private. Erlendr’s consciousness has been restricted to a separate partition, so he doesn’t hear what they have to say.

“Hi,” Leona begins.

“Hello,” Bhulan replies politely.

“We don’t know each other very well. You don’t know any of these people very well, do you?”

Bhulan tilts her chin. “I know you well based on what I have been able to see with my time power, but I assume that’s not what you mean. No, we have not interacted much. It is in my nature to stay out of people’s personal lives.”

“Right, you meddle with the timeline all you want, but as long as you don’t talk to anybody, it’s like they’re not real people, so you don’t have to catch feelings.”

Bhulan takes a beat, but ends up confirming the truth with a, “yes.”

The construct is more elaborate than it was when Ramses first created it. He didn’t have time to program too many details back then, but he has since made a nice little fake house for her in the middle of a vast field of daisies, which are her favorite. They’re on the front porch right now. Leona sits down on the swinging bench. “This is a nice place you got here.”

“Yes, I appreciate it.”

“Have you seen where Erlendr is living?”

“I got a quick look.”

Leona nods. It’s based on the Level Two environment in Tamerlane Pryce’s afterlife simulation. You know him, right?”

Bhulan turns away to avoid betraying any telltale microexpressions.

Leona smirks and nods, because that is a macroexpression. “Level Two Static; the Reds. They’re trapped in a dark room. No windows, no light beyond the faint reddish glow that comes from nowhere, and everywhere. There’s not even a door; there doesn’t need to be, because it’s not real.” She nods again, and breathes in the false fresh air. “Kind of like this. It’s just an illusion; electrical signals being swirled around in a particular pattern. Some say that that’s all life is. We’re a brain in a vat, and everything we see is what we come up within our own minds.”

“What are you getting at?” Bhulan asks.

Leona takes a second. “Well, you’re not a brain in a vat, are you? You’re a bit of code inside of a glass insulator, and it doesn’t matter what you come up with in your mind, because you’re not in charge of your reality.” Now she gets all serious. “I am. I can put you in that fucking room with Erlendr, or I can put you in a separate one. I can turn these daisies into knives. I can remove all your fingers. I can do whatever the hell I want, and you won’t be able to do a goddamn thing about it! I am the angry one. If you wanted patience and compassion, you should have protected my husband!” She takes a moment to recapture her breath, and composure. “Fortunately, as far as we know, he’s not a lost cause, and you have a chance to redeem yourself, but Miss Cargill, you only have one chance. If you don’t give me some real information about where he is, and how I can get him back, I swear to god, I’m gonna program a Nietzschean abyss, and throw you over the edge. You’ll never stop falling, you’ll never get your body back—I’ll cremate it myself—and I won’t let anyone come save you.”

Bhulan turns to face her now, but turns away just as quickly. “You may have to get that abyss ready, because you’re not going to like my answer.”

“I don’t have to like the answer if it’s the truth.”

She sighs. “We don’t know.”

“Excuse me?”

“We don’t know where he is. Danica went into a room with him. It’s the same one that we use to erase people’s memories. You’ve been there, you just don’t remember. I don’t think she was going to do anything to him; she just wanted to talk. She needed to explain that he couldn’t ever leave, but...then we heard a scream. It didn’t sound like either of their voices—”

“Was it the Time Shriek?” Leona interrupts.

“No, it definitely wasn’t that, but it had the same level of energy attached to it. By the time we got through the door, Mateo was gone, and Danica was the one with lost memories. That room, Leona, it’s foolproof. One door, no windows, built of temporal containment materials. He could not have teleported or time traveled out. Nothing in the universe explains how he escaped.”

“Nothing in this universe, maybe.”

Bhulan winces. “You’re right, we don’t know much about all that, so we wouldn’t be able to protect ourselves against it. We’re aware that other universes exist, but we are quite ignorant of what else is out there, so...yeah, I guess that’s the best explanation.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Ramses to transfer you out, and then you can go wherever you want. Or you can stay. People seem to not realize that that is an option.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

“Lying is annoying more than anything. Just remember that when you start your next chapter. It makes everything worse, for everyone, including your damn self.”

“What will you do? How will you find him?”

“Trust is earned. You’ll have to prove yourself worthy of knowing our secrets. Goodbye, Bhulan.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 24, 2398

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Curtis found himself trapped in the containment chamber in the lab. Ramses made sure this was the case via the security cameras, but he didn’t allow anyone to go down there right away. It was especially difficult to keep Cheyenne from trying, but they kept her at bay, and it’s not like she could have snuck in. Ramses has made some decisions for this facility that he didn’t for the last one. He and Leona have unfettered access to every area at all times. If they would like to turn other areas off and on for other people, they can do that, but there’s no longer a free-for-all option. There is no reason for anyone else to be able to get into the testing room at all unless there is something very specific they need to be a part of, and the two leaders approve.

They leave Curtis in his cell for hours. No food, no water, no bathroom break. He spends his first few minutes in there trying to escape, but not desperately or frantically. If you ever find yourself in a locked room, it is an unreasonable reaction to sit there and not at least look for a weakness somewhere. It’s also unreasonable to keep pounding your head against the wall when it’s clearly not going to work. So he just sits down on the floor, and leans his back against the door. They would have put a cot, and maybe a bucket, in there if they knew this was going to happen, but it wasn’t technically designed as a cell. At least that wasn’t the original or primary intention.

Once Curtis had stewed for long enough, Ramses let Marie into the room to begin the interrogation. He didn’t give them anything. He didn’t apologize, or explain himself, or even tell her to screw off. He didn’t say a single word to them. Ramses confirmed that there were now two separate consciousnesses in his brain, having already set the chamber up to gather such data. The reigning theory is that he and Aquila are, or were, in cahoots, and he was trying to prevent her from giving away certain information about their dealings together. Best guess, they’re part of a larger conspiracy, which would likely also involve Danica Matic, Tamerlane Pryce, Dalton Hawke, and Bhulan Cargill. He’s not giving them anything, so it’s time for a new tactic.

It’s Cheyenne's turn, and no one has a problem with that. He appears to have betrayed her just as much as them; possibly more so, because of the commitment he deliberately made to her. She looks anxious, though, so Leona decides to stay by her side. She has agreed to get as much information out of him as she can for the team’s benefit, but she may fail at that, instead focusing on her personal relationship with him, and trying to get answers for that. Again, that’s okay. She doesn’t owe them anything. “You owe me an explanation,” she tells him. She’s been standing outside of the chamber for a few minutes now, but he hasn’t even noticed yet.

He stands up, and places his palms against the glass. “I’m sorry. This has nothing to do with you...with us.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he insists.

“You made a choice. You pulled another human being’s mind into your head, and you didn’t tell me you were going to do that, or why. We’re supposed to be a team, which means that you lied to me. I don’t care what you lied about, or how you justify it in your own headcanon, it’s still a lie.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“I’m your husband.”

“How can I know that? You’re not acting like him, and we live in a universe with duplicates, alternates, illusionists, and God knows what else.”

“I’m him. I know it.”

“This is why you refused to take a simpatico test, because it would show that you and I have been apart from each other longer than you told me.”

He doesn’t respond again.

“For someone who hasn’t betrayed me, you sure are being deafeningly quiet.”

“I can’t tell you everything, not yet.” He can see that he’s losing her. “But I will. I promise, everything will be revealed in due time. We’re just...not ready.”

“Not ready for what?”

“Time. Time is not ready. Certain things have to happen first, it’s hard to explain. We must make arrangements.”

“Who the hell is we?” Cheyenne questions.

Curtis scowls, and looks up at the nearest camera. “I think you know who.”

She shakes her head, and turns it towards Leona. “Could you give us just a little space? Once Leona steps away, she continues with Curtis. “I don’t care about any of that, or those people. I just want to know who I married, and what he was doing for the X amount of years he was wandering alone in one of the old—” She stops herself, and looks up at the camera too. She almost gave away one of her own secrets. Maybe she can’t be so mad at him when she’s keeping something so important from the people who took her in, and never pushed her for answers.

“I haven’t been gone that long, and I’m not really one of them, per se. I’ve just been sworn to secrecy. These people can’t know. If we were alone, that would be one thing, but it’s in everyone’s best interests if the timeline plays out as its meant to.”

“Okay, Kang the Conqueror,” she mocks.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a little like that, yeah.”

She starts to tear up as she pulls a tightly folded piece of paper from her pocket.

“What is that?” he asks.

She unfolds the paper, and holds it up between them. “I, Cheyenne Duvall, hereby remove—oh.” She stops herself to literally remove her wedding ring from her finger, which she never let the rest of the team see until today.

“What are you doing?” he presses.

“Yeah, what is this?” Leona concurs.

Cheyenne decides to begin again. “I, Cheyenne Duvall, hereby remove this token of marriage from my person to symbolize my intention to begin the proceedings for the dissolution of said marriage to Curtis Duvall. On this day, the 24th of November, 2398—according to local timekeeping standards in the parallel reality colloquially known as The Third Rail—I formally request audience with The Officiant.”

The Officiant’s office appears out of nowhere. The Officiant herself steps through the door, and frowns. “Tell me your grievances.”

“No grievances. Just get the two of us out of here, and I’ll owe you a favor.”

“A favor,” the Officiant echoes, “from you?”

“Yes, anything you want,” Cheyenne confirms.

The Officiant glances over at Leona. “Sorry to disrupt whatever it is you’re doing, but I can’t pass up this opportunity.” They all three disappear, as does the office.

Microstory 1780: Triangulum

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My parents hate each other, but they claim they can’t get divorced. My little brother is very sensitive, and they don’t think he could handle it. Unfortunately, they can’t stand to even be in the same room as each other, so I don’t think that’s really helping him. They parent him separately, and I’m expected to fill in the gaps. He may be too young to be consciously aware that he never sees the two of them at the same time, but it’s almost certainly affecting him, and eventually, he’s going to grow up. I guess they’re hoping they’ll be able to finally walk away from each other by then. I think it would be far less traumatizing to the kid if they just took care of it now, but they won’t listen to me. I’m just the older brother in the middle. My therapist calls it triangulation. In order to put up a united front for my brother, both of our parents have to agree on whatever decision needs to be made. But since they can’t talk directly to each other, they go through me. My mom sleeps on a pullout couch in her home office, while dad stays in the master bedroom. They coordinate their schedules so they don’t end up in the bathroom at the same time, and mom still needs to keep some closet space up there. Again, I don’t know that their youngest doesn’t notice all of this, but again, I’m actually the one coordinating it for them. I’m responsible for knowing who is going to pick him up from soccer practice, and which is available for the next game. Both of them have pretty flexible schedules, and could theoretically watch him play together, but one will always pretend to be busy, and it’s up to me to decide which, making sure that he doesn’t feel too neglected by either one. It’s such a pain. It’s also not fair. I’m 17 years old, I’m not supposed to be responsible for their relationship. My therapist says I need to stand up for myself, and he wants to have a conversation about that with all three of us, but that is just this side of completely impossible. I gave up on trying to fix them a long time ago.

It wasn’t always like this, and even after it started, it wasn’t always this bad. It’s not like they had a meeting at one point, and contrived this plan to triangulate their fourteen-year-old son. It started out small. They would fight about the baby, and one of them would sleep on the couch that night, but then they would work it out, and come back together. This happened more and more until they realized that they sometimes hadn’t spoken for two straight days. I was brought in to relay their messages, but if that got to be too complicated, they would step in, and finish the conversation themselves. But then they stopped doing that altogether, I guess because I got better at anticipating their responses, lessening the amount of back and forth necessary. I became half my father, and half my mother, so that I could act on each one’s behalf to the other without actually speaking to them about what they would choose to say under normal circumstances. It was too late before I noticed that I had lost my whole self in that chaos. I’ve been trying to get the real me back for a year, but it can’t be done unless we break the triangle. So that’s why I’m here today, Your Honor. I know it will be a long process, but it must be done, and I was advised by my counsel to begin now. I turn 18 in six months, and when that happens, I need to have full custody of my brother, so I can take him out of that toxic environment. Our parents are not going to like it, but I’m confident that I will prove myself to be the most mature person in the family. I have filled out all of the requisite paperwork, and I’m ready to plead my case, whenever you are.

Microstory 1729: Crater

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I have not been able to get very much sleep for the last few weeks. Really, when I think about it, it’s been a lifelong problem. I have too much stress. At first it was because of my parents’ hostile divorce, then my schoolwork was too hard, then I was trying to get into a good college, then I was looking for a job, then I had to deal with a terrible job. It just never ends with me. I keep thinking that things will get better if I can just solve this one major problem. Then I do, and I find that the grass actually isn’t greener on the other side. It’s mostly more dirt and I have to cross yet another void to get to something better. My therapist says that things actually have gotten better, and that just because some people at my high school reunion are CEOs and city council members, doesn’t mean I’m a failure. She suggests I stay positive. But I was born optimism-blind, and I don’t think there’s a cure. I finally get to sleep when the ground shakes, and the loudest sound that has ever pounded on my eardrums attacks me from all sides. It’s a crash, but there’s also this sizzling electrical sound. I order my smartspeaker to turn on my lights, and watch as my glass figurine collection threatens to topple over, but never does. I swear to God, some of them actually do tip before straightening back up, like some kind of ghost is there to protect them for me. The ground continues to tremble, and a deeper darkness overwhelms my windows. I switch the lights back off as I get out of bed, and move over to look outside. All I see is the black. I stand there for hours, watching it ever so slowly dissipate. It’s dust and debris, and it takes a long time to settle. No one answers the phone, not even the police. The sun comes out, and I can see a crater.

I check every window in my little house. The crater wraps all around me. It doesn’t look like a bunch of different craters, but a single one, of which I rest in the middle. A massive doughnut must have fallen from the sky, and left me unscathed. If there really was a big space doughnut, though, it still shouldn’t have spared me. I mean, the tremors alone should have sent me to hell with everyone else in my neighborhood. The hole is so large than I can’t even make out the houses that weren’t crushed by it. I see the edge in the distance, but everything left above is too far away to discern. I cautiously step outside, and crawl to the edge of my little protected patch of land. I realize, though, that if I were capable of dying, it probably would have happened already. The thing that protected my figures wasn’t likely a ghost, but a guardian angel. I don’t think I have to be careful anymore. I peek over the edge of my patch, and look for the bottom of the crater, but I can’t tell if I see it, for the light does not reach as far down. I check the GPS on my phone. No, I’m not in La Brea, so I doubt there’s a portal below me that will send me to prehistoric times where CGI monsters still roam the lands. I check all around my—I don’t know whether to call this a butte, or a mesa, or a plateau, because it’s as tall as all hell, but narrower than my now-dead neighbor’s political beliefs—patch. I see nothing that would explain what saved me, or whether the theoretical angel is still here. Just then, two helicopters fly over from different directions. One appears to be military, and the other from a news station. As they’re inspecting me, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, their rotors just stop, and they fall out of the sky, into the crater. Others come, hoping to understand, including an AirEvac, but they all suffer the same fate. I was wrong. An angel has not saved me. A demon has doomed me.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Tuesday, October 18, 2225

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Mateo sat on the bench, pressing his forehead against the palm of his hand so hard, it nearly punched a hole in his leg with his elbow. Nerakali stood before him, patiently waiting to make sure that his rant was over. “I can’t help you, Mateo,” she finally said somberly.

“I know,” Mateo replied. “No one can.”

“I don’t mean that,” Nerakali said. “I can’t help you, because I’ve never been in a relationship before. My siblings and I were all created with two powers. I have the ability to travel through time. Zef had the ability to be an asshole. Arcadia is the one with the ability to fall in love with humans. She has an unhealthy, and let’s face it, twisted way to show her love, but it’s there.”

“Are you saying I should talk to her instead?”

“Oh, absolutely not, don’t do that. You’re the target of her obsession. If you don’t get Leona back, my sister will seize her opportunity, and come after you again.”

“Great, so it’s pointless.”

She reached down, and forced his chin up to make eye contact. “I can’t help you, but I know someone who can. You should talk to her first, but I’m certain that she’ll want to do some couples counseling.”

Mateo looked away, and searched through the version of his notebook that listed all the people he knew that he kept in his mind. “Mallory Hammer?”

Nerakali smiled. “That’s right.”

“Leona won’t go for that.”

“Leave that to me. You talk to Dr. Hammer today, and I’ll make sure Leona gets there tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“All right, I’ll summon her.”

They were finally on their way to the stellar neighborhood. A lot of their transitions involved them crossing back into their own timelines, but that wasn’t so common anymore. It appeared that they were doing that again by going to Bungula, Alpha Centauri, which was where Leona was the first time she experienced 2225. At this point, both she and Mateo were off of their pattern, and living one day at a time. They weren’t together, though. While she was here, he was millions of light years away, on Dardius. This older and wiser version of Leona could remember pining after him, wanting desperately for them to reunite. That seemed so stupid now. She still loved him, sure, but their time apart probably did them good, and it would again. Either way, she was grateful right now, because if she had to meet her alternate self today, at least he would have no chance of also being there.

They connected the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to a Nexus, and jumped away to Bungula. When the transition beacon first appeared on their screens, it said that they had two hours to get there, but once they landed, the countdown started dropping rapidly. They ran out of their ship, and over to where the window was meant to be. The timer got all the way down to thirty seconds before it went back to normal speed. “What the hell was that?” Leona questioned. “Were we in a time bubble, or something?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said, “but there’s something different about this window.” He was looking around in AR mode.

“What is it?” Leona questioned, looking around herself. Bungula in the main sequence looked exactly as it did in The Parallel, which didn’t make any sense. While it was entirely possible that the people in this reality would deliberately recreate the design of their main sequence counterparts, the ones in the main sequence would not have done the same on their end, and this was of clear Parallel design. There was something wrong with the cuffs, or the transition window, or both.

“Uhh...Leona?” Olimpia said. “I see what’s different.”

“What?” Leona asked.

“It’s you,” she replied vaguely. “You’re the one flickering.”

“I’m flickering?” That didn’t sound good.

“Yeah, I see it too,” Angela confirmed. “What does that mean? Are you going to transition to the other side?”

“Oh, shit,” Leona realized. “I know what this is; it’s an ambu—” All of her friends disappeared, leaving her alone in what looked like a waiting room.

Dr. Mallory Hammer peeked her head through a door, and smiled. “Mrs. Matic? We’re ready for you now.”

Leona frowned. “I did not agree to this.”

“Still, you need it.”

“I wouldn’t think a reputable doctor would try to give someone counseling without their consent,” Leona argued.

Dr. Hammer sighed. “There are two doors in this room. You choose. Do you want things to get better, or do you wanna be a whiny little asshole? One of you has taken the first step, but this is a three-legged race, and he can’t go anywhere with you.”

“Oh, great metaphor,” Leona said sarcastically.

Dr. Hammer ducked back into the room, but left the door open.

Leona looked over to the exit, and then back to the first door. “Goddammit,” she muttered under her breath. She walked into the room to find Dr. Hammer just sitting down on her chair, holding her tablet. Mateo was on the couch, sitting as far from the door as possible. He somehow inched even farther away upon seeing her. He was recoiling. “Okay, you make it look like I’m an abusive partner.”

“Is that how you see yourself, Mrs. Matic?” Dr. Hammer posed.

“No, of course not,” she argued. “He’s being dramatic. I kicked him out of the house, because he was acting crazy, and I didn’t feel safe. Now he’s projecting that onto me, like I’m the bad guy.”

“No one said you were the bad guy,” Dr. Hammer assured her. “Why don’t you have a seat? Yes, right there, it’s fine. You don’t have to cuddle, but if you weren’t both trying to make this work, then instead of talking to me, you would be speaking with The Officiant about a divorce.”

“Is that even possible?” Leona asked.

Mateo twitched.

“I mean academically,” Leona clarified. “Sort of. No, I mean—” She was this close to hyperventilating.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Hammer said. “Take your time.”

Leona composed herself. “The Officiant made it sound like divorce wasn’t a thing. I don’t want to bring her into this, because I’m worried I misunderstood, and divorce actually is possible, and that she’ll force it upon us.”

“Okay,” Dr. Hammer said. “That’s good. Mr. Matic, do you agree? Do you not want to get divorced?”

“I don’t want a divorce,” he stated.

“So, we’re all on the same page. I don’t want you to divorce either. Now, we all know each other. My name is Dr. Mallory Hammer, but please just call me Mallory. I don’t say that just to sound friendly. I really do prefer my first name. Can we all use first names in here?”

“Yes,” both of them said.

Mallory straightened her skirt, and considered that path forward. “I would like to open the floor for each of you to...tell me where you believe this tension in your relationship is coming from. You will do this by taking turns, and will not interrupt each other. I spoke with Mateo yesterday, and I don’t want to poison the discussion with what I already know about what he believes, so Leona, you should go first.”

“It’s just been tough to be around him,” Leona began to explain. “He’s so unpredictable now. Ever since he and Angela had that run-in with the Ochivari, he’s been different. He had to literally lose his soul to save lives, and even when we got that fixed, he’s been weird. I just never know what’s going to happen. Truthfully, it scares me.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Mateo argued.

“What did I say about interruptions?” Mallory questioned.

“I’m sorry.”

Leona wanted to respond to his claim anyway. “I know it wasn’t your fault. Maybe none of this is. Maybe that psychic woman who fixed you didn’t do it right, or maybe this is just an unavoidable side effect. It doesn’t really matter, I still feel unsafe.”

The two of them waited in case Leona wasn’t finished, but she was, so Mallory prompted Mateo to tell his truth. “I think she’s been just as unpredictable. She used to be so patient and understanding. And not just with me. She would meet someone knew, and always give them the benefit of the doubt, and wanted to help. I’m not saying she doesn’t help anymore, but she just looks so...tired of it. Do you want out of this pattern?”

Leona didn’t answer.

“I don’t want to do this opening statement thing,” he complained. “I want her to answer my question.”

“I don’t have an answer,” Leona said. “That’s not true, I do. Because I don’t. I don’t want off this pattern. For the first time, I feel like I am helping people. Maybe we did it a little in the beginning, but it wasn’t our purpose. We didn’t have a purpose. Now that we’re finally free of the powers that be, I feel like we’re putting some good into the universe.”

“That may be true,” Mallory jumped in. “Of course, I mean to say that it is true, you’re doing good things. But the question is, do you have to be on the Bearimy-Matic pattern to do it? Do you have to be on any pattern to do it? Plenty of people do great things with their lives, and they live one day at a time. They don’t travel through time, or go to other planets. Do you think it’s possible that you actually are perturbed by the new pattern? It used to be that you showed up every year, but now it’s sometimes three years, and sometimes it’s twenty. That must be hard”

She hadn’t been so mindful of this, but yeah. When Jupiter was in charge, it was somewhat antagonistic. He didn’t give them a choice. Now that Nerakali was the boss, it did seem a little weird that they were still bound by the same arbitrary limitation.

“That’s true,” Mateo said. He appeared to have been thinking the same thing. “Why do we skip so much time? That’s not necessary at all. Do we even need to skip any time? Couldn’t we just take off our cuffs?”

“No,” Leona replied. “Thanks to Tamerlane Pryce. When he resurrects people, he doesn’t—or maybe can’t—give people powers, but he can replicate patterns. Or maybe he can just replicate ours, because skipping forward in time isn’t the same thing as going into the past, and creating a new reality, or manipulating time in some other way.”

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” Mateo mused. “Still, we can suppress our pattern. Or we can just suppress Jeremy’s. Our cuffs give us those options, and Nerakali gives us access. She hasn’t limited us, as far as I know.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Leona offered. “Do you want to switch off the patterns? I suppose these cuffs are exactly what Missy, and all those people in Ansutah, were looking for. We’re using them to share, but that’s only one use.”

“Are we doing this? Are we going to try to change the game?”

“We’ll have to ask the others what they think.”

“First, what do you think we should...” Mateo looked around, but there was no sign of Mallory. “Dr. Hammer? Where did you go?”

“She disappeared,” Leona revealed. “I saw her out of the corner of my eye. It looked like she did it on purpose. She picked up her phone and cup of tea just before.”

“Why?” Mateo wondered.

“I think we’re back on track. Or at least we’re on two tracks that are about to connect with each other.”

“The question is, when we do reach the railroad switch, will we slip onto the same track seamlessly, or will we crash into each other?”

Leona stood up. “I suppose that’s for us to decide. One of us will have to get there first to avoid a collision.”

He nodded.

She reached a hand out to him. “Let me be the one to speed up. If you keep going as fast as you have been, we’ll miss each other.”

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