The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 30, 2574

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

Deflinus was Olimpia’s older brother, not younger. The fact that she was the only person in the family to have an echo, even after a decade and a half, strongly suggested to all of them that there was only something wrong with her. They didn’t realize she heard these fights, but her father regularly accused her mother of having an affair, which would explain Olimpia’s unusual condition. They didn’t understand it, but it just felt like something that would be passed down the bloodline. They conducted periodic DNA tests to prove him wrong because he kept bringing it up again every few years, thinking if he could have been duped for the conception, earlier tests could have been faked too.

Olimpia’s echo was very isolating. She never grew close to her siblings. They didn’t exclude her maliciously. It really came down to their parents. They raised her differently than they raised the others, which taught them to treat her differently too. They actually got a little better when they were older, but it was too late. She was too scarred to want to stick around, and didn’t really take their feelings into account as she left home.

“You’re not still using the body that you were born in, right?” Olimpia asked.

“Delfinus lost count of how many bodies he has used since his sister abandoned him to their abusive parents. He changed substrates multiple times in an attempt to correct his curse. Nothing has worked, but he keeps trying every once in a while.”

“You can’t turn it off, what you’re doing?” Olimpia asked, pretty sure of the answer.

“He obviously can’t, or he would never. Delfinus stopped speaking for years because of it. Knowing sign language has not helped. He simply signs his narrations, instead of the actual words he wants to say. The deaf community cast him out for signing so literally, and ignoring conventional sign grammar rules. Had his sister remained, they could have at least struggled together. She should have stayed.”

Olimpia sighed and shook her head. “There was no way I could have known. You were older! It doesn’t make any sense that it should have presented itself so late in life.” When Mateo and Leona’s kids from another timeline showed up, she actually questioned whether time powers ran in the family. She was told they only did sometimes. Being that Olimpia’s parents had no apparent patterns of their own, she was likely unique. She should not have taken that as gospel, however, seeing as how she didn’t have a power or a pattern, but an affliction, and those were probably handled differently.

Olimpia’s watch beeped. “There is more to me than there once was. There’s more to the world than you know. You have only scratched the surface. In under a minute, I will quite literally disappear, and you will not see me for another year, at the earliest.”

Delfinus nodded, and didn’t act surprised at all as he looked through his bag. “Del knows of time travel. He has not been sitting idly by doing nothing. He has done his research.” He removed a pocket tent and tossed it on the ground, which exploded. “He has learned to be a patient man. He will wait a year until his sister returns.”

Exactly a year later, everything was almost exactly as it was before. The tent was still open, and Delfinus was right where he was standing when Olimpia left.

“Okay. Now we have twenty-four hours to figure this out,” she began. “If we don’t we’ll have to wait another year. I assume you have met with doctors over the years?”

“Delfinus hates doctors. They always call what he does a psychological concern, probably built around the trauma of having a sister with her own medical issues.”

Olimpia sighs. “Well, this one will be different. Doctor Mallory Hammer will actually listen to what you have to say, and will believe you.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2702: Alternate Arrangements and Agendas

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

It’s time for Ronan to speak. In the old ways, a witness would be assigned either the defendant or the plaintiff or prosecutor. They were on one side or the other. Over time, this started to feel too combative. Society decided that the point of the justice system should be to uncover the truth, and balance fairness. There were different variations for the setup, but the changes were sweeping. A whole new vocabulary was created, which alone, made everything seem less partial. Lawyers became advocates or adherents to more clearly define their roles. Defendants became accused, and were considered pending so as not to bias the decision from minute one. Even juries changed. Half of the arbitration panels deliberated in one room while half did so in another. If they came to the same decision, maybe it was more likely right. Ronan still remembers the old ways and the old terms, and since this is the first time he’s ever been in any court in the centuries he’s been alive, he still frames everything he’s seeing through that lens. It’s jarring when they contradict it.

He must remember that he’s an attestant, not a witness. Attestant, not witness. Because he didn’t witness Talus do anything, he can’t attest to it. He can only tell the court what he knows, and what he knows is that Talus is not right in the head. As he’s sitting up here, not answering the most recent question that he was asked, he’s thinking about who else could be blamed for his son’s behavior. He keeps coming back to the implantation procedure. Something must have gone wrong. They must have made some mistake. They...spliced the wrong genes, or—he doesn’t know, he—

“Mister Truett. Mister Truett,” Jericho Hagen urges. “Have you seen any other behavior out of the accused which you might categorize as abhorrent?” he repeats.

Ronan was zoning out, but now he’s more sure of what he wants. He waits to answer again, but this time, he’s looking the attorney—no adherent—dead in the eye. “I wish to make an alternative accusation.” He looks up at the judge—adjudicator. “Did I do that right? Am I supposed to say it another way?”

“There is no formal syntax,” she replies. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I—” Ronan begins to say.

“This is not the place for that. We will have to schedule a new inquisition to formalize your accusation. Until then, you cannot be expected to attest further at the current proceedings. But I must warn you, people have used this as a delaying tactic in the past. I will not stand for it in my court, so you better have a plausible accusation.”

“I do, your honor.” What Talus did was wrong, but it may not be his fault. Ronan is not going to try to stop Talus from being dealt with accordingly, but those bot doctors need to answer too, and he doesn’t want to continue until they do. He stands from the chair, and begins walking back towards the attestant waiting area.

“Agent, please prepare the next attestant for a round of assertions,” the adjudicator orders. They changed it from bailiff to fit all the other A-terms. So stupid.

The agent escorts Ronan back into the joint chamber, where he is supposed to go into his own little private room. They keep attestants separate, again to maintain impartiality. Something has gone wrong here too, though. The next attestant is out of her own room already. She seems as surprised to see him as he is to see her.

“Mayumi.”

She doesn’t speak. She picks her jaw off of the floor, and slips back into her room.

Microstory 2546: Midwife

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I am a Certified Nurse-Midwife, and the only one that this Foundation has ever seen. I have delivered every single child born of Landis, and many of the children of staff members who happened to get pregnant while they were employed, and chose our team instead of another facility. Landis makes an attempt to procreate with one of the legacy consorts once per night, which means that, on average, I deliver one baby a night. But of course, the timing doesn’t work out perfectly. Everybody is different, and every body is different. It has been known to happen that I’ve delivered two babies in one day. My busiest day was on October 7, 2023 when a perfect storm of storks arrived all at once. I’m mixing metaphors here, but I delivered six babies within a period of 24 hours. It was crazy, but an amazing experience. I’m obviously not entirely alone here. There is an obstetrician, and a host of other nurses and doctors. We’re a pretty streamlined outfit, but every mother here is very well-taken care of. Or I should say family. We take care of families here; that’s our mission. I don’t know much about the healing side of things. I’m pretty busy in the Legacy Department. I do know Landis, though. He doesn’t have the time or bandwidth to raise all of the children, and in order for it to be fair, the decision has been made that he doesn’t raise any of them. Researchers fought against this. They actually wanted there to be an imbalance, so they could measure any differences in development. But the psychological well-being of these kids is more important than their research. There are 815 of them right now, and they deserve stability and predictability, as any child would. They are each raised by a single parent, which that parent is fully aware of when she signs up for the program. She’s then reminded time and time again throughout the program that she will be on her own, except for the care that we provide as third party participants. Landis meets every one of his babies once. He holds them for 15 to 30 minutes, and then they move on with their lives. It might sound cold, but it would be impossible for him to be there for them all, and worse for him to give preferential treatment to a handful of them, or some arbitrary number. I can’t speak to his mental state, but outwardly, he has accepted this dynamic. I don’t think it’s easy, but I had nothing to do with the plan for the Legacy program. I just deliver the babies. Some of my colleagues have told me that it’s unethical, and honestly, they may be right; you’re having babies as an experiment. But I do stress to them that the children will be protected for their whole lives, and they don’t undergo tests. They don’t have their blood drawn, or receive shots, or anything that goes beyond the normal, conventional means of physical health. We had to fight the researchers on that too, but the kids aren’t lab rats. They’re people, and if they develop abilities later in life, they will come to that realization on their own, not because some lab tech sequenced their genome. I won’t have it, and I’m backed by the support of everyone at the Foundation, including Landis, as well as the mothers. Like I said, I don’t know if we should be doing this, but since we are, at least I know that we’re doing it the right way.