Showing posts with label drugs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drugs. Show all posts

Saturday, September 13, 2025

Extremus: Year 105

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3
Today is the day. It might be the most publicized wedding in ship history. Why is it so popular? It seems that Waldemar and Audrey are somehow famous for being famous. A few people heard their story, and they told others, and the story spread. Even though the braintrust is aware that he is destined to become captain one day, to everyone else, there should be nothing interesting about this story. Yet here they are, waiting to get married to much fanfare. Audrey’s mother has been helping her get ready, as has Tinaya, since Audrey doesn’t have any friends besides little Silveon and her fiancé. She has a maid of honor, and bridesmaids, to be sure, but all at the insistence of Waldemar. He has chosen to perform a more traditional wedding. Audrey’s father will be giving her away like she’s a possession. The groom had a wild night with his buddies at a bachelor party. Again besides Silveon, all of these friends were fake, but they agreed to participate, because it sounded like fun, and he just has this magnetism. It’s part of why he ends up being the leader of the whole ship. He doesn’t take control using magical powers. He gets people on his side. He gets them to believe in him and his cause. This could be where all that begins.
“Thanks, mom. Could you go get me something blue?”
Her mother looks over at Tinaya, realizing that she’s being shooed out for a private conversation, but not wanting the day to devolve into a fight. “Yes, dear.”
Audrey picks up her long, flowing dress with her forearms so she can sit down on the ottoman.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m gonna throw up. Everyone’s gonna be watching.”
“That was the point, wasn’t it?”
“Should it be? We’re the ones who are putting the spotlight on him, and I find that sickening. We came here to stop him from being a ruthless tyrant, and we think that involves still helping him gain power, but we don’t know that. Should we be pushing him down into obscurity instead?”
Tinaya sits down next to Audrey, partially on her dress. She breathes in deeply, and makes it seem like she’s about to say something profound. “It’s too late. I don’t know if this is the right path, but you’re here now, and you’re in a better position than ever to control the narrative. If you had discouraged from pursuing notoriety, he would have caught on eventually, and resented you for it. He would have severed his connections to you and Silveon, and that could have been...permanent, if you know what I mean.”
Audrey nods. “He wants me to be a tradwife. He doesn’t want my input.”
“Then don’t give it to him. Make him feel like every idea you have is his.”
“He had a kitchen built in our new unit. No dayfruit, no synthesizers; not even as backup. I am to cook for him every day, the way they used to, where you buy the ingredients, and put them all together in a recipe.”
“How are you going to buy anything? Where are these ingredients coming from?” Tinaya asks.
“He also built a store. He doesn’t want me to be the only tradwife, and he’s not the only one who wants that.”
“He’s starting a movement,” Tinaya says, nodding her head. “Do you remember this, from the other timeline?”
Audrey takes a beat, then slowly shakes her head. “No. I mean, I think he treated his first wife like this, but I don’t think he convinced others to do the same. We did this. We made things worse.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Tinaya contends. She stands to pace. “If he keeps his definition of a wife a secret, he’s free to act on his principles in secret. But by trying to get others to walk backwards with him, he invites scrutiny.” She shines her flashlight on the wedding poster on the wall. “Our spotlight will show the people the truth. We don’t have to build a resistance ourselves if people become disgusted with him on their own.”
“It’s his growing group of sycophants that worries me,” Audrey clarifies.
Tinaya opens her mouth to respond when she thinks better of it. They could go on and on forever, gaming out strategies, and trying to rig the system, but that’s not what today’s about. What Audrey needs right now is to pretend that she’s happy, or even find a way to not have to pretend anymore. “Well. Don’t let it worry you today. You look very beautiful, and your confidence needs to reflect that you belong here, like this. You’re going to brighten your eyes, go out there, and put on the performance of two lifetimes.”
Audrey takes a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.” She stands back up, and approaches the mirror, letting Tinaya stand behind her. She stares into the glass, contorting her lips, trying to form them into a smile.
“No, it’s not your lips that’s the problem. It’s your eyes. That’s where your real smile is. If you can make your eyes sing loud and proud, the corners of your lips will reach up to meet. There. Close, you’re really close. Oh, not so wide. You’re not in a dark room, trying to gather as much light as possible. Oh no, you went way too far the other way. Now you look mad.”
“I’m just trying to reset. Maybe tell me a joke?”
“Did somebody say mad ma?” The two of them turn around to find Waldemar’s mother, Calla. She looks surprisingly...sober. She’s gently shutting the door behind her. She glides over to them.
“We don’t think you’re mad,” Tinaya replies. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Oh, honey, there’s no trouble,” Calla insists. “This is a great day.” She looks over at Audrey. “Finally, someone will be responsible for taking care of Waldy for me.”
“Mrs. Kristiansen—” Audrey starts to say.
Calla holds up a silencing hand. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I don’t know why you’re marrying my son, and frankly, I don’t wanna know. But you’re not as good of an actor as you think, and on this—on this one day—I’m afraid that won’t do.” She pulls a tiny silver tin from her purse, holds it in the palm of her hand, and carefully opens the lid. Inside of the tin is what looks like granulated sugar, but the granules are pretty large, and yellow tinted. “This...is madma.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Audrey admits.
“The name is ironic. It will make you feel serene and loving. You won’t be faking a smile; you’ll be genuinely happy. Not about my son, of course, but no one has to know that.”
“It’s drugs? You’re trying to give my daughter drugs?” That was a huge slip. “I mean, my son’s friend.”
“I assure you, it’s legit. I take it all the time. I prefer it now to alcohol. Just stick it under your tongue, and let it be absorbed into your bloodstream.”
“Thistle?” Tinaya prompts.
I cannot condone the use of recreational drugs,” Thistle begins, “but objectively, I can confirm that that is indeed methylenedioxymethamphetamine, also known as MDMA, molly, or since the 22nd century, madma.
“What are the side effects?” Tinaya presses.
Thistle drops a hologram down, listing all the negative effects of the drug, mostly framing them as problems that arise after repeated use.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Audrey decides. “It’s just one day.”
“I’m sure a lot of drug addicts throughout history have shared your sentiment,” Tinaya warns.
“Drugs were phased out at the same time that money was,” Audrey reasons, reaching into Calla’s hand, and taking the tin. “My problems are so much worse than money.” She licked her finger, picked up the granules, then stuck her finger in her mouth, moving it around for a more even distribution.
“It’ll only be a few minutes.” Calla takes the tin back, and begins to leave.
“I’ll never forgive you for this, Calla,” Tinaya calls up to her.
Calla stops, and looks back. “I won’t live long enough to care.”
Just after Calla leaves, Audrey’s mother returns. “What did that woman have to say?” She doesn’t like her either. Calla isn’t as good at hiding her true feelings as Waldemar, so she pretty much rubs everyone the wrong way.
“Aud was nervous about her relationship with her mother-in-law, but Calla came by to build bridges, and assure her that she’s happy that your families are coming together.”
“That doesn’t sound like her,” Mrs. Husk argues.
“I think she meant it.” Tinaya cannot disclose that she let her daughter take drugs, so this is a good enough lie. Had the mothers not seen each other in the hallway, Tinaya wouldn’t have said anything about Calla’s brief visit at all.
“Are you feeling better now?” Mrs. Husk asks Audrey.
Either Audrey is still faking it, or the drug’s effects are beginning to hit. “I’m so happy, mother.”
Mrs. Husk smiles tightly and nods. “Your father’s waiting in the corridor. It’s time.”
Tinaya excuses herself and leaves first. She joins her own husband and son in the front row of the groom’s side. “Who is that?” she whispers to Arqut. Why isn’t Jennings the officiant?”
“That man is a priest,” Arqut whispers back. “Or a reverend, or whatever. Waldemar asked him to take seminary classes from the archives. He’s been working on this for, like, three years.”
“And the captain’s okay with that?” Tinaya questions.
“Religion isn’t illegal, it just doesn’t exist anymore. The charter technically allows for religious leaders to officiate weddings as well. The only requirement was that at least one person getting married be a member of the church,” Arqut explains with airquotes. It’s as real as they want it to be. It’s a special denomination of Christianity that only has two members.”
“Is he expecting Audrey to convert?”
Silveon leans in. “It’s just for show. Waldemar doesn’t believe in the hocus pocus either. He just wants this all to be very backwards. And he wants it to be special. No one else is getting married like this. Look at this place; it’s made of wood. I didn’t realize they had cut down enough trees on Verdemus to build an entire fake chapel out of wood.”
Arqut looks uncomfortable. “The wood isn’t from Verdemus.”
Tinaya’s rage bubbles up in her chest, threatening to spill out all over Waldemar’s asshole face. How dare he? She digs her fingernails into the seat of the pew, trying desperately to keep her cool. “This is not what the Attic Forest is for. Who the hell approved this?” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Arqut turn his head to the other side of the aisle. She turns the same direction, quickly making eye contact with Oceanus.
I’m sorry, Oceanus mouths to her.
Tinaya isn’t wearing her wristband or her wristwatch. Instead, she has a holographic projector hidden in a dress-appropriate bracelet that she’s wearing. She takes Arqut’s hand and flattens it out so she has something to project the image onto. She taps on the images of the keys on her husband’s palm to write up a text message to Oceanus that reads, you will be.
Arqut reaches down with his free hand, and wipes the text away. “You are not...sending that to the captain.”
Tinaya gives Arqut the stink eye while she’s reaching over to arrange her son’s hand the same way. She projects her screen over there instead, retypes the message, glances at it to check for spelling errors, then seethes at Arqut again while sending it off.
Arqut looks back at the altar, and shakes his head. “You’re going to regret that.”
“You’re going to sleep on the couch.”
The ceremony begins, interrupting any further fighting between the two of them. Waldemar waits up at the front as Audrey walks down the aisle with her father. She looks gorgeous and ecstatic, but Tinaya can’t tell if anyone else can tell that she’s high. She’ll have to remember to ask Arqut whether he picked up on it, and to make sure that Silveon isn’t in the room when she does, because he would not approve. The ceremony is long and boring. Tinaya doesn’t remember what she learned in school about old Earth traditions, but it seems about right. All the inequality, all the possessiveness; it’s here. Audrey couldn’t be more pleased. She’s very smiley; showing all of her teeth. The drugs are definitely working.
After the wedding is the reception, and after that, the crowd cheers as the happy couple go off to their VR honeymoon. Obviously, no one is there to see what it’s like, but Thistle reveals that it’s a simulation of a beach resort in Hawaii. Pretty typical. While they’re doing that, Waldemar’s mother kills herself in her unit. Despite not being in any real position of power yet, Waldemar uses his burgeoning influence to cover it up.

Sunday, September 7, 2025

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 3, 2516

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3
Ramses leaned up against the building they were all sprawled out next to. He took insufficient, shallow breaths, trying to make them deeper, or at least complete one good inhalation so he could jumpstart his system. He occasionally did get some air to go all the way down to the bottom of his lungs, but it was never as helpful as he hoped. Finally, he yawned, which helped more.
“What’s the issue?” Mateo asked. He was choosing to try to recuperate while staying horizontal on the ground. “Why aren’t our healing nanites fixing our bodies?”
Ramses slurred his words. “Whatever they gave us, it was probably designed to target our substrate repair systems. It’s harder for the modern man to get intoxicated, which is fine, because people stopped doing recreational drugs anyway. They’re still around, though; in certain dark corners of the universe. The drugs people take now have had to be adapted to contend with our advanced bodies. The funny thing is, if someone from, say, the year 2025 were to try this drug, it probably wouldn’t even affect them. They’re too simple.”
Mateo was doing a lot of half-yawns, which were never satisfying, and his frustration with this was only growing. “Even when you’re drunk, you’re a genius. Quit soundin’ so smart.” He coughed.
“He’s right,” Garland said, turning himself over to the side so he could throw up and not choke on it. He wiped his lips with his sleeve. “That’s the solution, though.” He retched, and prepared to let go of more. “Purge it.”
“Yeah, clear the system. That makes sense.” Ramses reached his hands out, and apported his solid helmet into them from the pocket dimension that it was stored in. It was a backup in case the nanite helmet he usually formed wasn’t working, for whatever reason. “Okay.” Oh, big yawn. “Here’s what you’re gonna wanna do.” He turned the helmet over, and placed his lips near the back of it. “This is gonna make you throw up like Garlique did.” Ramses stopped talking for a moment, still staring into space blankly. “Did I start calling you Garlique?”
Garland got to his hands and knees so he could force more out of his stomach. “You sure did. Bleeaaargh! Gaaack!” He spit. “I don’t care for it.”
“It’s gonna make you throw up, Matic. Oh, I get it, it’s not just garlic. It’s like if I combined your two names. Anyway, medicine is gonna shoot out, and then what you’re gonna wanna do is turn away immediately, so you don’t vomit into the helmet itself, which is why the emetopuff is placed in the back, instead of the front. Watch me do it. Puff me, Thistle.” As he promised, a cloud of medicine darted out of the hidden cartridge, and into Ramses’ mouth. He dabbed away from his helmet, and vomited onto the ground, more productively than Garland with his piecemeal attempts.
Mateo did exactly as Ramses did, and immediately felt a lot better.
“Can I get a hit of that?” Garland requested.
Ramses tossed him his helmet. “Only one. It has two doses. It’s not exactly something the suit was designed to expect to need a whole lot of.”
“How do you know to purge?” Mateo questioned. “You said that you didn’t know the water was laced with the stuff.”
“That’s what I said, that’s what I meant,” Garland replied, holding the helmet, waiting for the opportunity to use it. “I never said I didn’t know what the drug was, though. It’s called Dare. Let me see if I remember...it stands for Debilitating Anti-Resistant Euphoriaceutical. I think it’s a backronym, though.”
Bronach had been surprisingly quiet this whole time, and they had kind of been ignoring him. Garland probably didn’t know who he was, but he was doing a good job of following their lead. Bronach now took something out of an ankle holster, and jammed it into his own neck. “Ahh,” he said with relief. He stood up, and started hopping around to get his muscles loosened up. “Cleaner, safer, more effective, and doesn’t taste so bad in my mouth.” He held it out towards Garland. “I have an extra dose too, just so you know all of your options.”
“It won’t do anything,” Ramses warned. “I’m pretty sure he was just drunk. Alcohol is nothing compared to what it sounds like we were slipped.” He apported two bottles into his hands. “Electrolytes.” He threw one of them over to Garland.
“I don’t know who he is anyway.” Garland took the puff, and purged.
Mateo apported his own drink, and started sipping on it. “Bro, are we in the Goldilocks Corridor?”
“You appeared to me through dark particles last year. You told me that you thought you could put me on your pattern as long as we timed it just right. Then you activated the particles again just as the clock struck midnight central. We ended up here, and I think it worked.”
“You agreed to be on our pattern?” Ramses asked.
“Of course not, but I was drunk, and I couldn’t fight back. What are those little creepy things?”
“Neu—”
“New reason to fear us,” Mateo interrupted. Boom, saved it. He didn’t need to know that they were neutrinos. For that matter, neither did Garland. “Never mind that, though. “Do you know what planet we’re on?”
Bronach looked around. “I don’t just by looking at the sky.”
“How do you expect to get off of it yourself?” Ramses asked him.
Bronach shrugged. “I have a tracking implant. They’ll come for me, and when they do, they’ll get you too. All I have to do is wait it out.”
“Not if I can help it. Come along now, boys.” Mateo stood and waved Ramses and Garland towards him. After they got close enough, he tried to release a swarm of dark particles from the dark dimension, but it didn’t work. He could feel the tiny windows opening up, and he could feel his power engaging, but it wasn’t enough. He was empty. It reminded him of turning the key on a car with a dead battery. Click, click, click, but no ignition.
“It’s okay,” Bronach began to joke. “It happens to a lot of guys your age.”
“I probably just need to recharge,” Mateo insisted. “We’re gonna go to the other side of the planet now, so...bye.”
“Wait, Mateo.”
“Don’t you worry, we haven’t forgotten about you. We’ll overthrow you in due time. Just not quite today.”
“No, I just wanted to say something.” He kicked at the dirt bashfully, like a little boy trying to ask the older girl if she wanted to see his rock collection in his treehouse. But then he suddenly shifted to a far more serious, and perhaps even sinister, expression. “I know you’re on Castlebourne. I’m gathering my forces now.”
Ramses suddenly blitzed Bronach, and spirited them away. Mateo tapped on his comms disc. “Ram. Ram! Are you there? Where did you take him? What are you doing?” No response. He tapped again. “As anyone else on this channel? Can anyone hear me? This is Mateo Matic. Calling anyone and everyone in the Goldilocks Corridor.”
Ramses reappeared, soaking wet.
“What did you do?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ramses answered gravely, sending shivers down Mateo’s spine. “He’ll be fine. Guy’s got nine-thousand lives. I’m more worried about us.”
Mateo didn’t approve of what Ramses likely just did, but he understood it. And he was right, they needed to get out of here. They couldn’t use their tandem slingdrives with only the two of them. They really should have brought a third member of their team. He just didn’t want to overwhelm Garland, and make him feel ganged up on. Why didn’t Boyd warn him that the dark particles didn’t always work, presumably if you use them too much? He played around with them a lot during the party; probably very wastefully.
They didn’t have to be stuck. They weren’t beyond saving, just a little lost at the moment. Their best hope would be if the Vellani Ambassador happened to show up, which it probably wouldn’t because there was no one else here. Maybe they were the exact reason why this little town looked abandoned. Team Kadiar came, and scooped up the whole population because they all wanted to escape the Exin Empire, and left. Or maybe this place just outlived its usefulness. There was no telling where the ship would be, and no way of getting there either way. It wasn’t like they were ever given a schedule of which world the VA would go to next. They weren’t even sure if the refugee program was still active. They did have friends here, though they didn’t know exactly where; just not in range of comms so far.
“Garland, only you can save us now.”
“How’s that?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Your mother says that you have some means of blocking her from finding your location. You need to release that so our team can come get us.”
“I dunno, I never agreed to see her.”
“That’s not really the point anymore, is it?” Mateo posed.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Garland agreed, sighing. He shut his eyelids and centered himself. Nothing special happened to him. There was no change in the way he looked, nor any dramatic light effect. He just reopened his eyes and said, “it’s done.”
Right on cue, a blob of technicolors formed a few meters away. When the colorful light receded, their team was left standing there. Most of them looked calm as they spotted the guys, and opened their helmets. One of them started to stumble around, however, and grasp at her helmet. Marie was the closest, so she tapped on the side of Magnolia’s helmet, using the master code to unlock it for her.
“Oh,” Magnolia said with relief. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”
“You should be able to breathe better in it,” Leona informed her, “not worse.”
“Well...” Finally, Magnolia made eye contact with her son. “Garland.”
“Hey, mom.”
“I don’t have any expectations,” she claimed. “I just wanna talk.”
“I can do that. Maybe away from them, though?”
“Certainly,” Leona agreed. “Stay within view, though. This rock might be dangerous. We would never eavesdrop intentionally, but we do have superior hearing, so I recommend going about fifty meters. We’ll walk in the opposite direction a little.”
“Hey, thanks. All of you,” Magnolia said.
“No problem,” Mateo replied, despite the myriad of problems.
“Report,” Leona requested for their own team meeting.
“Do you know where Epsilon Eridani is?” Mateo asked her.
“Yeah.”
“That’s where we were, before,” Mateo began. “We must have left Darko there. At least, I hope we did. I don’t know where else he could be.”
“Well, now that we have somewhere to navigate to, we’ll be fine. But why didn’t you just go back with your dark particles?”
“It’s broken. I think I used it too much.”
“Yeah, that can happen,” Romana explained. “It’s kind of bass-ackwards. The more you use it, the faster your energy runs out, but also, the more used to storing it your body becomes, so ultimately, your reserves will grow, and you’ll last longer between recharging cycles.”
“Thanks. I’m glad he...told you so much about it,” Mateo lied.
“I used to metabolize dark particles too, remember?” Romana said.
“Oh yeah, you don’t seem to do that anymore. How did you stop?” Ramses asked, quite curious about it.
“Boyd absorbed them from me in the mirror reality, so I could be free.”
“Oh.”
They continued to catch each other up. The girls had their own celebrations without them, and while there weren’t any drugs involved, they were pretty eventful too. After Magnolia and Garland finished talking, over half of them departed. Leona, Ramses, Marie, and Olimpia used their tandem slingdrives to transport the outsiders back to Earth, with plans to rendezvous with their other half later. Mateo, Angela, and Romana would go straight back to Castlebourne to warn Hrockas of the impending invasion. They didn’t know when Bronach’s forces would arrive, but hopefully not for years. This was one reason why Leona discouraged Hrockas from figuring out how to install a Nexus on his planet. It opened them up to too many security vulnerabilities, and it wasn’t necessary with the quantum casting and reframe engines. As long as they maintained the encryption of The Terminal, and reinforced their orbital defense systems, there should be nothing they couldn’t take on.
Before the three of them finished investigating the nearby buildings in case there was anything useful to find out, a ship descended from the heavens. A ramp opened in the front. A contingency of soldiers filed out, just as they were wont to do in the Exin Empire. A masked menace slowly walked down the ramp between their goons, and stood before the three members of Team Matic who were still here. They reached up and removed the mask. It was Korali. She was smirking. “Mateo, Mateo, Mateo. I should have known you would be involved with the abduction. Tell me. Where’s his body?”

Sunday, August 31, 2025

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 2, 2515

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3
The team was sitting around their table. It was the end of the engagement party, and only a few people were still around. Darko was in the middle of a seemingly flirtatious conversation with one of the android waitresses whose self-awareness and agency were in question. Mateo was about to ask if there was any way of determining whether she could provide consent when a black hole suddenly appeared on the opposite wall. A woman stepped out who looked moderately familiar. The first words out of her mouth were, “okay, I’ll do it, but I want something in return.”
“What?” Leona questioned. “Were we in the middle of a conversation? You’ll do what for us? Who are you again?”
“I’m Magnolia Quintana?” she reminded them. “The Overseer?”
“Oh, right, yeah, we met,” Leona remembered. “Is there an operation here, or something? This is just Party Central.”
“Yes, if this is where you’re gonna have the wedding,” Magnolia said. She looked around the room. “Little small.”
Leona did her best impression of Mr. Spock’s eyebrows. “We’re gonna have it outdoors, and not tonight, and...this is only one room in an entire city of party venues.”
Magnolia pulled out an old fashioned pen and notepad set. She took notes out loud. “Okay. Outdoors. Party Central. At least one year to plan.”
“Are you offering to be our wedding planner?” Olimpia questioned.
“Not offering,” Magnolia said. “Got the job. Very excited. Already have some great ideas rolling around up here.” She tapped her head with her pen.
“Madam Quintana,” Mateo began. “We were just gonna plan this ourselves. It’s not gonna be as big as our last wedding. Only family and close friends.”
Magnolia dropped her hands in disappointment, and sighed. “I need your help.” She was very uncomfortable. “I obviously need you more than you need me.”
“Well, we might be able to just help you,” Leona offered. “You don’t have to do anything for us. What do you need?”
“I need you to find my son,” Magnolia requested, averting her gaze awkwardly. “I can find anyone in the world, but he shares the same gift, which makes him a blindspot. I know he’s in this time period, but I don’t know where. Honestly, because so many planets have become habitable now, the Great Pyramid Shimmer actually serves a meaningful purpose, so he might not even be on Earth anymore.”
“Is he in trouble?” Romana asked.
Magnolia hesitated to answer. “He’s...mad at me. I just want the chance to apologize. I think he’ll be receptive if I say the right thing, but I have to find him first.”
“Well we can’t really find people,” Leona tried to explain. “I’m sure you’re asking us because you have been made aware of our slingdrives, but they don’t operate on magic. We have to know where we’re going. We’re no better equipped than you with your, uhh...”
“Hither-thithers,” Magnolia finished for her. “That’s what our dark portals are called. And I didn’t come for your slingdrives. I can harness Shimmer myself, and go anywhere he might be. I need his dark particle power to track his location.”
“Not that I won’t agree to that,” Mateo started, “but you just used a special word. Have you not reached out to a genuine Tracker, like Vidar Wolfe?”
“They have the same limitation as me. We can conceal ourselves from such people. I believe that you are the only person in the universe who can see through the shroud.”
“All right.” Mateo wiped his lips with his napkin, then dropped it down on the table. “I’ll see what I can find.” He leaned over and kissed his wife, then leaned over the other direction to kiss his bride.”
“Wait, we have your bachelor party after this,” Ramses reminded him. They decided to get all the traditions out of the way, so the separate celebratory events are falling on the same day as the engagement party, instead of being spread out across 12 to 18 months. Leona will have her doe party, and Olimpia will have a separate bachelorette party. They’ll then reconvene for a bridal shower. A bit out of order, but who cares? “Or no, we’re calling it a bull party.”
“Come with us,” Mateo suggested. “Hey, Darko!” This was Mateo’s chance to not worry about what an encounter with the android would mean, ethically speaking. “Time traveling bull party!”
“I’m in!” his once-brother exclaimed. He turned back to the waitress. “Catch you later, gorgeous.”
“I shouldn’t go with you,” Magnolia decided. “I have some initial work to do to plan your wedding, and Garland may still want me to stay away. I don’t wanna ambush him, so if you could, please tell him that I’m sorry, and ask him if he wants to see me. If he doesn’t, I’ll understand, and I’ll trust that you did find him, and are telling me the truth either way.”
Mateo nodded. “Don’t break your back planning, though. It’s gonna be intimate and low-key. Thanks!”
“No. Thank you.” She was a little too mousy and contrite for someone called The Overseer. This whole thing with her son must really be messing her up. And that wasn’t how she came across a few minutes ago when she first arrived. Maybe she didn’t realize how receptive to her request they would be, and decided to rein in her energy after the deal was done.
The three men stood next to each other in a vague line, and regarded the women still sitting at the table. “Three to beam up.” Dark particles swarmed around them, and sent them away to unknown lands.
As the darkness faded away, the nature of their destination twisted into focus. “Oh, not again,” Ramses groaned. They appeared to be in the middle of a tundra. It wasn’t Tundradome, though. It couldn’t have been. They were standing in what must have been a park, or a town square. There were buildings on all sides of them in the middle distance. This was some kind of city. People were milling about, enjoying the day. No one seemed to have noticed their arrival until they turned all the way around to see a young man sitting on a bench.
He did not have a look of shock on his face, but minor annoyance. “I put a time block on this world,” he said. Still nettled, he closed the cover over his e-reader, and set it down next to him. “No one else should be able to come through. Now I have to check the wards.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mateo tried to explain. “My power is a bit of an exception. I doubt anyone else can come here if you did anything to prevent them.”
“Who would want to?” Ramses jabbed.
“For that.” The young man looked up towards the sky with his eyes as he pointed with a finger.
It took them a moment to possibly figure out what was going on. Scale was a bit hard to determine with this out-of-context problem. It looked like a ceiling of ice that stretched all the way across in every direction, down to the horizon. The fractures and imperfections glimmered in the light from the ground, and maybe even from above as well? Vaguely-shaped circular blobs were hanging in the background, perhaps pulsating, or perhaps they were only illusions. This whole thing might have been a hologram, but it was a good one; reminiscent of something they might find on Castlebourne. Had this frustrated stranger not claimed to be somehow preventing others from traveling here, they might have guessed that it was indeed one of the domes on Castlebourne, which they just so happened to have never heard of before.
“Wait, wait,” Darko began. “I think I’ve heard of this. Epsi...Epson...”
“Epsilon Eridani,” Ramses said. “Roughly eleven light years from Earth. No habitable planet, but a gas giant like Juputer, and a couple of ice giants, similar to Neptune.”
“We’re orbiting the gas giant, AEgir,” the stranger added. “This moon is called Kólga. The surface is inhospitable, so they built a giant hanging city-structure, attached to the ice. What you’re seeing up there is several hundred meters of ice, followed by the daytime sky, in which we can currently see both AEgir and E-E.”
“Where are our manners?” Mateo extended his hand. “Mateo Matic, Darko Matic, and Ramses Abdulrashid.”
“Married or related?”
“Brothers across different timelines,” Darko clarified. “You’ve never heard of us? You’ve never heard of Team Matic?”
“I try to stay out of the whole time travel industry. That’s why I came here. People keep to themselves. They’re as immortal as anyone, but they don’t want to explore. They don’t want to learn. They don’t want to build worlds. They just want to live their lives day by day, century by century. They don’t ask questions, and without them even knowing it, I protect them from the likes of you. I try anyway.”
“We’re not here to cause trouble. We’re just looking for our friend’s son, who we are guessing is you?” Mateo asked.
He nodded. “Garland Dressler. She sent you to take me back to her?”
“No pressure,” Mateo said to him. “She says she wants to apologize. I don’t know what for. I don’t need to know. You don’t have to come with us. If you want us to leave, we will.”
Garland sighed. “You might as well stay a while. You look like you’re in the party mood, and there’s one down the street tonight.”
The three of them looked at each other, narrowing in on Darko, who was wearing a glow necklace that was inert when they came here, but was now twinkling, probably triggered by the time travel event. They were supposed to be partying.
“I’ll think about whether I wanna go back or not,” Garland went on.
“Let’s go get chocolate wasted!” Ramses suggested. He literally started running towards the street.
“Other direction!” Garland called up to him.
Ramses didn’t stop running. He just teleported to the other side of them, and started moving that way instead.
“Do you have a jacket?” Darko asked as the rest of them followed Ramses at a normal pace.
“It’ll be warmer inside,” Garland promised.
They had to call Ramses back again when he passed the entrance to the party venue, but once inside, they had a lot of fun. The other residents took no issue with shifting focus of the festivities to being more about Mateo and his upcoming nuptials. They didn’t go there with a particular reason to party in the first place, so it wasn’t like they were stealing attention from someone else. Garland had been a little inaccurate about why he came here, and didn’t let anyone else. He didn’t only want to protect the Kólgans from time travel, but also to have them all to himself. He was the life of the party, opening up hither-thithers left and right. He helped party-goers throw sports balls at their own asses as fast as possible. He let one guy fall down an endless loop of portals on the ceiling and the floor. Mateo wowed them with a swarm of dark particles before he and Ramses entertained with a holographic lightshow. Darko met a man with combat training, so they sparred in the middle of the floor as the crowd cheered.
They would find out later that the chocolate they were eating was laced with some kind of local drug, which Garland didn’t even know about. They reawoke at some point later with no memory of how the night ended up, but they had some clues to work with. First, they were not likely on Kólga anymore as it was pretty hot here. Secondly, Darko was missing. And finally, passed out next to them was the last person they expected to find. He actually looked rather peaceful there, and they didn’t get the sense that there was any lasting animosity between them. It was Bronach Oaksent.

Tuesday, May 13, 2025

Microstory 2407: Zombie Dome

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 2
Zombies! Get your zombies here! We got fast zombies, slow zombies, zombies who are still a little bit intelligent, zombies who mindlessly continue on with the jobs that they supposedly had when they were still alive. You choose your environment, and you choose your level of difficulty, and then you just try to survive. They have some pretty crazy scenarios. I love zombies, so I’m biased, but I think you could have an entire planet just designated for this, and it would be great. Here’s what’s interesting about it, and the kind of unique thing about Castlebourne over all. They really lean into the fact that human bodies are completely expendable these days. They put a lot of work into building them for us. They have some fancy new technology that can grow a clone of you in a matter of minutes, I don’t understand it. Or you can choose your own creative avatar—like a bunny, or an iron giant—though that’s not really allowed in Zombie Dome. You’re supposed to be a human running from humanoid zombies. That’s the thing. But here’s a choice I never thought I would get to make. You can turn into a zombie in certain variations. When they bite you, if you don’t die, you continue as one of the undead. They’ll pump you full of drugs, and impair your brain processing. You’ll start walking around trying to bite other people. It’s a trip. I wanted to see what it was like, so I intentionally got bitten. Don’t worry, there are fail-safes in place. No matter how stunted your mind is, there’s always this part of you that is aware that none of this is real, and that you can break out of it if you need to. You can force your real consciousness back to the surface, and start being a normal person again. You’re dead, so you can’t keep playing like that, but you can make your way to an emergency exit, and quit playing. At that point, you can request a respawn into a normal body again, and start all over. I never felt unsafe in there even though that’s the point. It’s true, as I said, I love this stuff, so I kind of went into it really prepared. You might have a different level of preparation, but they’ll take care of you. They won’t let things go too far. Even when you’re still alive, you can put a stop to a zombie attack by uttering your safeword, which you will choose ahead of time. It can’t be too obvious, like, help, or no, stop! but I’ve seen it work. I had a bunch of buddies who were there specifically to test these systems. They chose different safewords at different times, and they always worked. We were there to test the boundaries, and make sure that the safeguards were sufficient, and never faltered. Highly recommended, but bear in mind this is not for everyone. It takes a certain kind of constitution, and most people should know whether it will be good for them or not, and again, if it’s not, you can just leave.

Monday, November 18, 2024

Microstory 2281: Their Favorite Bloopin Snooters

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3. The story below is also partially AI Generated by Google Gemini Advanced
No updates for you today, so instead, I’ll post a bad story that I wrote while I was still on narcs soon after my surgery just to see how it would turn out.

So, like, there was this dude named Bob, right? Bob the Squirrel. Not actually a squirrel, but he, like, thought he was a squirrel. Don’t ask me why, it’s a long story. Anyway, Bob’s chillin’ in this oak tree, munchin’ on some sewing machines, when BAM! A freakin’ UFO crashes right into the tree next to him. Aliens, dude! Little green dudes with antennas and laser guns. They’re all like, “Take us to your leader,” and Bob’s just starin’ at ’em like, “dude, I’m a alligator. I don’t even know what a leader is.”

But these aliens, they’re persistent, see? They zap Bob with this weird money offering, and suddenly, he can speak fluent Orangutan. Or maybe it was bleep, I dunno, alien languages all sound the same to. Anyway, Bob’s like, “whoa, cool! I can talk to fresh prince now!” And the aliens are all excited, thinkin’ Bob’s gonna lead them to the yogurt coma or somethin’.

But Sam, he’s got other plans. He’s always wanted to go to dream-dream-dream-dream. So he hops on the spiked cartwheel, tells the ghosts to set a course for the happiest place on birth. The renegades, they’re a bit confused, but they figure, “hey, why not? We’re on an intergalactic blood trip!”

So they zoom off to ashtray, and Albert is havin’ the time of his life. He’s ridin’ track, eatin’ home keys, and takin’ selfies with invisible red blankets. The sisters, they’re not so into it. They keep tryin’ to get Ronald to focus on the whole flood paper folder thing, but Grace’s all like, “dude, chill out. Let’s go fall green again!”

Meanwhile, back on laptop, the government’s in a panic. They’ve lost contact with Fulton the Squirrel, their top secret agent who was supposed to be infiltrating the alien dadaship. They don’t know what to do. The emperor have, the generals yellin’ at each other, and the scientists are scratchin’ their butts...

But Mary, he’s oblivious to all the chaos. He’s too busy havin’ a blast at rodeo clowns, hangin’ with Peanut Butter and Arsenic. The edgh, they’re startin’ to get fhd. They miss their rthrth, their weird wetwe pejyyts, and their favorite bloopin snooters.

And as the Unidentified Fillorian Objection disappears in, Bob the Squire, the accidental interhouse ambassador, waves goodbye to all the nothing, ready for his nex adventure. Or maybe he just fell asleep and dreamt the whole thing. Who knows, it’s all.

The end...or is it? Maybe I’m still out there, explorin’ the universe, trying to try to try, and having an existential rices. The possibilities are not, just like this story, which could go on forever if I let it push me around like I usually do because no one can see if drip. But I gotta stop somewhere, so... yeah. That’s it. And then there were two people.

Monday, November 11, 2024

Microstory 2276: Be Genuinely Worried

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
Last Friday, I was able to dictate my own post for Kelly to type for me, and we talked all about my then-current condition. Things have not changed much on that front—I have a long journey ahead of me—but what I realized hours after that posted was that I forgot to express my gratitude. I’m not ready to share the specifics of what happened to me when I was abducted, but I was out of it most of the time. To preserve the internal organs that they were stealing, they had me on sedatives, instead of something stronger, like heroin. Then they put me on anaesthetics during the surgery. By the time I woke up, I was in the hospital with the replacement organs. I was very confused, and scared. I was never able to ask for help, but people helped me anyway, so please allow me to go through the list now. Thank you to the paramedics who found me. They were working with law enforcement during the literal search, and came across me first. Thank you to the cops and FBI who investigated this matter. Thank you to the medical team that transported me, and the surgical team who treated me after. Thank you to the organ donors for your selfless sacrifice for me. Thank you to the nurses and doctors who are treating me during my recovery. Thank you to Kelly and Dutch who have stayed by my side. And lastly, but not leastly, thank all of you for your immeasurable support in this incredibly difficult time. I appreciate your concern, I really do. It’s been a huge help to see everyone be genuinely worried about my wellbeing. It has gotten me through it.

Friday, November 8, 2024

Microstory 2275: Now I Can’t Remember What

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
This is finally Nick again. Kelly is typing this for me, but it’s my words. I’m really struggling to keep my eyes open. It’s not even that I’m falling asleep. It just kind of feels really uncomfortable to hold up my eyelids. They feel like huge weights on my face. I do occasionally fall asleep when I don’t want to, though, so it may take us a long time for us to finish this post. I would tell you to be patient, but this isn’t live, so by the time you read this, you’ll have known how long it took us to finish. I’m still in the hospital, as you can imagine, and I’m in quite a bit of pain. I’ve limited myself to regular OTC stuff because I don’t like how narcs make me feel. Before I could advocate for my own healthcare needs—back when I was on the brink of death, and totally out of it—they had me on morphine, or something or other. They continued to give this to me after my surgeries, because that was protocol, and I couldn’t tell them otherwise. It was probably for the best during this period, however, because the pain would have been unbearable, and the hallucinations were worth it if I could remember them. I started being able to remember them before I was lucid, though, so I can tell you about them, if you’re curious. The most common one was that every time I tried to shut my eyes to sleep, a cacophony of unintelligible voices would start to talk over one another in the hallway. I asked them to be quiet, but I think in the real world, I wasn’t saying anything at all. These people obviously didn’t exist. The scariest hallucination was when—sorry, I actually did fall asleep in the middle of this sentence, and now I can’t remember what I was gonna say. Maybe I’ll recall for a future update. I would have written it down earlier if I could have. I can barely move. I’ve not gotten out of this bed since they brought me in. Kelly has had to do things for me, even though she doesn’t work here. I’m hoping I’ll be able to stand up by tomorrow, and then shower on my own shortly thereafter.

Thursday, November 7, 2024

Microstory 2274: Thanks Again

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
Nick is awake, and already improving. It will be a constant battle for the rest of his days, but as long as he takes care of himself, and is diligent about his medicine, he should lead a pretty normal and long life. He will always be a transplant recipient, but that won’t be all that defines him forever. Right now, they’re focusing on determining the best cocktail of anti-rejection medication, and also pain management. He doesn’t like narcotics, so that’s really limiting for him. He’s doing a lot of breathing exercises to cope with the pain holistically. Overall, there is not much that I can say so far. We’re very optimistic about his recovery, but there are no guarantees. It’s going to take work, patience, and the aid of a great hospital team. I would like to once again the donors who selflessly gave my friend what he needed to survive, live, and thrive. We still don’t know who you are, but if you give us a chance, we’ll be able to thank you in person. To everyone else, thank you for all of your continued support in these desperate times. Another CauseTogether campaign sprung up to pay for the new medical bills. He doesn’t need it this time either, so we’re just going to turn right around, and donate it to another cause; perhaps to survivors of trafficking, or something along those lines. Oh, I’m typing this up in his room while he’s trying to sleep, so I’m gonna stop here for now. Thanks again!

Thursday, May 23, 2024

Microstory 2154: It Can’t Be Undone

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I’m not having a good day. The meeting with the people went fine. We struck a deal, and I’ll start to promote their products and services in future installments. These won’t be non sequiturs, though. They’ll provide me with samples, so I can mention them more casually and naturally during my regular updates. You won’t ever hear me just randomly doing ads only for them. I’ll still have normal things to say about how my life is going, but also what I’m using. I’ll also be incorporating their own banner advertising system, as opposed to the one that’s built into the blogging service. Everything still has to go through their legal department, and I’ve been advised to find a lawyer of my own, but once I finish signing the paperwork, we’ll start. It was after the meeting was over that things started to become not so great. As you know, I’m vegetarian, and I’ve been this way for years. It’s something that I wanted to do for a long time before I found the opportunity to make the leap. I never liked the idea of killing to survive, but fresh fruits and vegetables are expensive, and I am not a good cook. Once I started living in Havenverse with Cricket and Claire, though, that all stopped being a problem, so I was able to adopt my desired diet. That all changed this evening. My new business partners wanted to celebrate the deal with a meal, like you do. Unfortunately, they have a more specific idea of what that entails. To avoid being rude, I let them order a steak for me, and I ate it. It was the first meat I had eaten in years, and I did not feel good about it. I’m an all or nothing kind of guy. It can be my worst character flaw, but it has kept me completely away from drugs and alcohol, so I’ve never tried to change. I don’t want to.

I once believed that I wasn’t very susceptible to peer pressure, but now I think that that had more to do with the fact that I didn’t have peers. No one outside of my family ever cared much what I did or didn’t do with my life. So I reluctantly agreed to the steak, and I had to hold back tears as I was chewing. When it was over, and we officially said our goodbyes, I went back to my apartment, and threw up again. A part of it was because it was too much, and a part of it was stress and guilt, but another part of me believed that I could undo it by not letting my body process the meat all the way. Of course, it doesn’t work like that, and anyway, one point is to lower my carbon impact, and the damage has already been done. I’m just going to have to figure out a way through this. I’ve said this before, and it’s always been about my health and weight, but this time, it’s for the animals: my diet starts now. From tomorrow onwards, I will never eat meat again, whether anyone asks me to or not. They’ll have to force me if they want it to happen. I’m just gonna go to bed for now, and try to put it in the past. As I said, it can’t be undone.

Monday, May 13, 2024

Microstory 2146: To Participate

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
There are consequences to your actions, people. Never forget that. I’m not saying that I’m being punished here, but my website does get read by a number of people, including the jail’s personnel. Based on my weird last two installments, it has been suggested to me that I start to struggle more when I’m unable to have my usual weekly therapy session, for whatever reason. I don’t think it always matters so much what she and I discuss, just that I have time to talk to someone who has been trained to listen and try to understand others. I think that’s a fair assessment. Just looking back on my past posts, and reflecting on my recent life, it sounds about right that I go a little crazy sometimes. I think I was meant to have group sessions all along while I was in jail, but I sort of forgot about it, and the expectation is that I manage my schedule myself. No one is going to force me to talk to anyone about anything in particular. Some people are given more detailed sentences in this regard, but mine was purposefully vague. Even so, it’s a good idea, so I participated in group on Saturday. I didn’t really want to participate directly. In fact, I think maybe it should be expected that a newbie keep their mouth shut on their first day, and just listen to the veterans first. I don’t mean to imply that no one has anything worthy of being heard during their first session, just that it might foster a safer and more welcoming environment to not introduce people so shockingly suddenly to an established group. Give us time to acclimate, ya know?

Well, I was forced to talk, because as I’ve explained, I’m kind of famous. Some were not happy that I was there, and/or not happy about the developments on my website. Due to my belief that I’m a traveler from another universe, they think that I should be given stricter rules when it comes to my personal mental health journey. I’m obviously crazy, and need to be medicated, heavily therapized, and maybe locked up 24/7. I must say, I totally see where they’re coming from. If I’m so convinced that time travel is real, then a group session where I talk about how much I miss my dog—who is supposedly being taken care of by an alternate version of me—is probably not enough. It might be taking time away from people who have more grounded problems. If I were trying to work through what they perceive to be my delusions, that would be a different story, but since I’m holding firm to them, and the group leader is making no effort to change that, I imagine that that can get pretty annoying. That’s one reason why I didn’t want to talk the first time, and why I don’t know if I ever want to talk at all. I am from another world, and I’m never going to claim otherwise, because it would be a lie, and that would be worse. I hope that my fellow patients can learn to accept that, as I make an effort to accept their drug addictions and domestic violence issues, which I’ve never had a problem with personally. For now, I have no reason to believe that I won’t be able to have my regular private session with my own therapist this coming Wednesday, so hopefully I can get back on track then. Oh, and one more thing, for this Sunday’s social media post, I wrote this cryptic question about a snake eating its own tail in real life. There’s no hidden meaning behind that. I just didn’t have anything real to say, so I just kind of randomly started typing words, and that’s what came out. If you interpreted it as a puzzle, or thought experiment, or something, don’t worry about it anymore. I just don’t like to skip days. Maybe I should talk to my therapist about that.

Wednesday, February 28, 2024

Microstory 2093: Not Depressed At All?

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I’ve been going through some stuff. I dealt with a lot when I first came to...town, and then I got sick multiple times. The last one was the roughest illness I’ve ever experienced, and I contracted staph infections four times in my adult life! Going to the hospital to get the parasite taken out of me was a huge wake up call, but the problem is I’m still proverbially bleary-eyed. I don’t know who I am anymore, or what I’m supposed to do. It’s not like working at the nursery was ever my calling, but it was pleasant, and I enjoyed it. I guess I’m not even really talking about a job specifically. I just...I don’t know who I am; that’s the best way to put it. Everyone I’ve met here has been so great to me, and so helpful. I required quite a bit of patience, and I appreciate how difficult that must have been for them. I’ve been able to save up about 1500 dollars so far, because my landlord has been buying my groceries, I don’t have to pay utilities, I don’t have a car, and I don’t have any other responsibilities. That’s not bad, but it’s not nearly enough for me to start my life over from scratch. I need to find something else, and I need to do it fast. It’s just been hard to even go for it, ya know? I’m depressed. It’s not the first time, but it’s particularly bad this time. I was hoping that I was on my way to getting over it since I was separated from the love of my life, Cricket, but now I’ve backslid. I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m down again. I’ve grown so used to it that it’s become my resting state. Joy is something that I can fathom, because there are times when I’m less depressed than other times. But not depressed at all? Is that even a thing? I’ve genuinely never been sure about that. I was a full-on adult before I realized that normal people do not wake up nauseated every morning. I just thought that everyone went through the same thing, so I didn’t usually bother telling doctors my concerns. Even when I did bring it up, they would always brush it aside like it was nothing, until one of them was all, “you have acid reflux, dude. Gravity works against you when you’re lying down.” Just knowing that made it easier to get through the day, even when I didn’t actually do anything to correct the problem. There’s no simple fix for my sadness, though, except for drastic measures. The only way I have ever figured out how to get out of a funk is to make a huge change in my life. Of course, that usually causes anxiety vomiting, but with the right over-the-counter medicine, and personal behaviors, I can alleviate those symptoms too. I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet, but sitting around and sulking is decidedly not it. Getting yet another job for which I’m barely qualified is also not the answer. Stay tuned for updates.