The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 26, 2570

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Everyone was depressed after Romana was locked up. How had things spiraled so quickly, how did they miss the signs, and how were they going to get through this? Romana was comfortable in the VIP holding block, but she couldn’t leave, and keeping her there was only making her angrier. They would have to let her out eventually, but no one knew when. The elephant in the room was whether they would ever forgive her, and whether she would apologize for her own actions. It was complicated, because while many of her choices were clearly wrong—forcing them to go on missions against their will, and misappropriating dangerous equipment—was the end result wrong? Did she not deserve to be happy? More importantly, did Boyd 3.0 not deserve to live?

“Lock me up forever,” Boyd suggested when Mateo had no more options but to ask him for his own opinion on all this. No one else knew of a solution.

“We can’t. You’ve not broken any laws, and it’s not sustainable,” Mateo argued.

“I don’t have to have broken laws,” Boyd reasoned. “You’re thinking very much like a 21st century boy. Legal quarantine doesn’t always happen as punishment for something you’ve already done. Unlike in your time, it is entirely plausible that a dangerous entity’s first criminal act is genocide. Humans need time and experience to escalate their behavior. A rogue intelligence might skip right to complete annihilation, if only due to a missing proverbial semicolon in their code.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re not living in a dystopia. They don’t just throw people in jail left, right, and center. You have to prove that they’re a danger to life and peace, but that proof doesn’t have to come from an irreversible past tragedy anymore. I’m too much of a wildcard. I must be dealt with.”

“It’s big of you to be saying all this,” Mateo admitted.

“Again, you’re thinking of a human. I’m not asking to die. I will live as long as you, if not longer. Virtual quarantine is considered the most humane response to an existential threat. Once the longevity escape velocity progressed into virtual immortality, life sentences became nearly entirely meaningless. What if the individual requires persistent longevity treatments? Are they entitled to those? Or is it better to let them die, rather than torturing them with an eternity of imprisonment? What if they were constructed out of code from minute one? Is it possible to kill them, or is it no different than deleting a blurry photo from your camera roll? What if they want to die?

“The legal system decided that the nuance was too much to bear, so they came up with the best singular answer for extreme cases. You keep them in an airgapped environment, where they’re free to do whatever they want, even if it’s destructive, because they can’t actually gain access to base reality, or other virtual worlds.”

“They stay there forever?” Mateo questioned. “Many law-abiding citizens live like that already. Most crabitat owners don’t ever visit networked simulations.”

Boyd nodded. “Yes, that’s why it’s humane, because it’s not about punishment. It’s about removing them from where they can do harm to anyone but an NPC.”

“It sounds like there’s no rehabilitation in this method. Is that an option?”

Boyd’s face dropped a little. “Not really. Hyperintelligences are more difficult to trust than baseline humans, believe it or not. Of course people like you are capable of deception, it happens all the time. That’s why recidivism is a legal term. But over time, you can learn to trust in a human’s future actions by their past and current ones. Something made of code, regardless of their origin, might end up with a bad over-the-air update which causes them to snap one day. And it will be completely unpredictable.”

“This is all sounding pretty dystopian to me,” Mateo pointed out.

“Some see it that way,” Boyd acknowledged. “There are alternatives but they take effort. A current proposal is that you can use a separate intelligence to audit every single character in a rogue intelligence’s code to track aberrations. This governor intelligence would keep an eye on them as they receive updates, upgrades, and interact with other code. But that comes with its own philosophical questions. What if the governor itself breaks? What if its charge actually corrupts its governor. Their systems have to interact, after all. And is it morally right to scrutinize independent beings like this? What does that mean for privacy? Is this not simply prison in a different form factor?”

Mateo frowned. “I didn’t realize how complex the universe was now. Everything people have been saying is that it’s more simple. You don’t have competing machines that do the same thing because information is shared and distributed, so everyone has the best model. But there’s all this underlying structure that I didn’t realize.”

Boyd nodded in agreement. “Possibilities are now endless, both good and bad. You have to do this. And you can’t have Ramses construct his own quarantine. It obviously failed when he tried that before. We need institutional insulation, and that can only be found in one place. Well, it’s only other planets, but these guys do it the best.”

“Where would that be?” Mateo asked.

“The virtual reality capital of the galaxy,” Boyd answered, “Varkas Reflex.”

“Makes sense. It’s a big rock. There could be an entire continent dedicated to it.”

Boyd chuckled. “It’s not quite that big. For the most part, crime isn’t much of a thing anymore. If it is, it’s generally beyond the stellar neighborhood, and they have their own laws. We don’t wanna be in the wild west. We want redundancies.”

“I’ll call a meeting,” Mateo decided with a heavy sigh.

“No, you have to do this on your own,” Boyd insists. “No one can know until after it’s done. Romana will forgive you...eventually. Not everyone is that safe.”

“I can’t go on my own. I mean, I could, but then I couldn’t come back.”

“There are ways,” Boyd says. “I won’t tell you, but I know you can figure it out. This won’t be the first time you have had to separate yourself from your family.”

Mateo didn’t use the base’s slingdrive to sling himself and Boyd to Varkas Reflex, but he did use its power. That way, there would be no trace of where he went, and no one could follow. As soon as he showed up, he dropped his name to the first workerbot he saw, who fed it up the pipeline where an old friend of Leona’s heard it. She came right away. She wasn’t in charge of the virtual quarantine sector specifically, but she had plenty of pull around here. She said she trusted Mateo’s judgment, and fast-tracked the process because knew that they would otherwise have to wait for an entire year.

Boyd was now leaning back in his upload chair, appearing calm and stoic. He didn’t look mad or vengeful, which was what Mateo was most worried about coming into this. He wasn’t sure he agreed with this form of imprisonment. It always left the door open for a return, not that the alternative was morally or ethically superior. Maybe it was a trick, though. Maybe Boyd set all this up because he knew of some way to escape it. Maybe Mateo was a fool by unilaterally deciding what would become of him. He chose to place his trust in someone he hadn’t always liked.

The upload was complete, the body was destroyed, and Mateo left. Without a slingdrive array to latch onto, there was no way back to Ramosus. He accepted a reframe ship which Loa lent him, and began the journey back to Earth.

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Microstory 2673: Verbal Disagreement

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Resi goes back to his hotel room to get some sleep as they will be leaving in the morning. Some of the other Fold Leaders are waiting for him at his door. He unlocks it and lets them in. “I’m sorry this hasn’t turned out how we wanted it to. I was just about to pick up the tablet they gave me to look for a new island for us. If we can get ourselves there, even if it’s not much, I know we can survive. It won’t be Yana, the Bungulans won’t have helped us. The only issue is the boats. We’ll need to steal fishing boats.”

“We already have a plan to steal a boat,” Selda says. “The one that brought us to Anchor Island. It’s more than big enough for all members of House Kutelin.”

“Are you crazy?” Resi speaks quieter, hoping they will too. “Do you have any idea how advanced these people are? They built an elevator...in the sky. You’re not gonna capture a ship of theirs. Even if you did, how long before they just blow you out of the water? Actually, I’m sure they’re more sophisticated than that. They can probably just turn it off remotely, or pilot it somewhere else. You have not thought this through.”

“Yes, we have,” Medenn contends. He makes one tap on his handheld device.

There’s a knock at the door. Vantu, who still fancies himself Resi’s bodyguard, opens it. “It’s Arumay, boss.”

“Let her in, and make sure the door’s closed. How did you get here?” he asks her.

“I was able to find a backdoor into the Bungulan systems,” Arumay begins. “I called a minisub to come pick me up. Yeah, I was a little skeptical, but it obviously worked. I could take control over the whole system from here, maybe even the island. That would be ridiculous, but I think it’s possible.”

“Arumay, have you ever heard of a honeypot?” Resi asks her.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing,” Arumay complains. “These people are all lovey-dovey, we don’t need money or work to be happy, let’s just fly in a spaceship and smile. They don’t have any network security, because they don’t need it. It would be like your right foot locking the door so your left foot can’t get in. It’s just unnecessary. When they gave us the tech that we use on Yana, they locked us out of their network, but they engaged a connection so you could maintain contact with the rest of our House. That was my way in. Trust me, I’ve not slept this whole time. I’ve been checking for traps and alarms the whole time. The only action I took was calling that minisub.”

“I trust you, Arumay, but we can’t get away with this,” Resi insists.

“Boss, you don’t even know what our actual plan is,” Selda claims.

“There are only two things you would want to do with that boat. You either want to take over Yana, or to take over Anchor Island. Even if we manage to take initial hold over the latter, the Bungulans will fight back and win. But they may leave us alone if we only attack our own people. They’ll just write off that one little boat, and let it go. Am I close? Did I get it? I’m right, aren’t I? It’s okay, you can admit it.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Medenn admits, “but what you described is an idea, not a plan.” He gestures to the group to everyone but Resi. “We have a real plan.”

“I’m not a part of this, sir,” Vantu counters.

“I know you aren’t, Van.”

“Please,” Arumay pleads. “This is bigger than you now, Res. Everyone wants you to remain our leader, but if you don’t listen to the plan, and sign off on it, they will cut you out of it. They will move forward. You gotta meet us halfway.”

Resi looks at her, and then over at the other mini-traitors. “If I refuse?”

Medenn tenses up. One of the ones who hasn’t spoken prepares to hold him back.

“Oh, I see,” Resi realizes. “You won’t let me go. Will you hurt me?”

“No,” Arumay promises. “I won’t let that happen. But they may...detain you.”

Vantu steps a little in front of Resi. He cracks his knuckles. “Try it. I was gonna Kidjum into Enaiyo, but leave the House after a few months to join island security. I’ve been wanting to swing these fists my whole life. Just give me a reason.”

“No, that won’t happen,” Resi tries to mediate. He breathes deliberately, hoping it will be contagious. “Selda, when you chose House Kidjum, did you sign any papers?”

“No. What are you talking about? Was I meant to sign something?”

“Did anybody sign anything?” Resi asks rhetorically. “No? So you just...said out loud that you were House Kutelin. You could have just as easily said you were House Caterpillar, or House Ice Cream. There was nothing official. I asked you where you wanted to go, and you told me. Out of all of us here, and everyone on Yana...hell, everyone in the universe, I am the only member of House Kutelin. I am the only one whose Kidjum told him to join. You’re all only guests. If I kick you out, you’ll be out.”

“We’re still taking the boat,” Medenn assures him.

“That may be, but you won’t be doing it under the Aether banner. You’ll be...unkidjumed at best.” Resi balks at his own words. That’s it. That’s the solution. That’s what Speaker Sherman was going on about. In order to stop the exile, they have to reject the premise in its entirety. He thought he was distancing him and his sister from the traitors, but he’ll really be helping them. He looks down and sighs.

“What?” Arumay questions. “You were building to something, but then you stopped. Even if you kick us all out, we’ll take that boat. We still need a place to live.”

“You already have it. Whether you like it or not,” Resi determines, “you are no longer House Kutelin. You never really were. Only I am. I am the only exile here.”

“You can’t do that,” Selda argues. “You can’t just say that and make it happen. You gave us something we didn’t know we deserved. Now we’re in it. Even if we don’t call ourselves Kutelin anymore, we still aren’t assigned any of the other four Houses.”

“They’ll let you back in,” Resi says, sure of himself. “All they want is Tamboran cohesion. Kutelin was a deviation. You have to reintegrate. It’s the only way. Please don’t commandeer a ship. Zenith was telling me a little bit about themselves. Someone once took a giant spaceship from them, so they’re pretty sore about it. They may not be prone to violence, but they’ll go there if they have to.” He starts to leave. “No. Vantu, you stay here. I’m kicking you out too.”

“Sir. My alliances have not shifted,” Vantu says firmly.

Resi nods. “I can’t tell any of you what to do, but I urge you to Kidjum. Show that they work. Follow the system. I’ve been fighting for a life of hardship. That was foolish. I treated the status quo like a dystopia, but it’s not. It may not be the lovey-dovey paradise the rest of the Core Worlds have, but it was working. Let it work once more. Again, I don’t need your permission to do this. I’m going to Zenith and the Speaker, and explaining my decision.” He turns, and immediately feels a pain in the back of his head. Then everything turns black.

Microstory 2464: Hivedome

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There are all kinds of hive minds, and some are more dangerous than others. According to the Core World definition, however, all hive minds are dangerous, because they have the potential to destroy all individuality in the entire universe. I used to think that that was an exaggeration, but I feel differently now. I am a former member of the Baileribo Colony. Founded by a man whose last name you can probably guess, the Baileribo Society first formed in the year 2062. At the time, mind uploading and consciousness transference were still in their infancy, and a true hive mind was beyond our grasp. Archaea Baileribo died before his dream was realized, but the hive mind honors his name to this day. I used to believe in that, but what I didn’t understand was that I didn’t believe in anything. The collective believed in it, and I was forced to agree. I won’t go too much into what my life was like before, but I was born about 300 years ago in a libertarian lunar base. It was a hellscape, and I wanted to get out. Everything was about individual liberties, but nothing was about community. I yearned for something better. Then along came a group of Baileriban recruits, and I was instantly hooked. The promised to take me out of the dystopia, and into paradise. I believed them, I trusted them. Now, I’m not saying that Baileribo is an evil entity, just that it could stand to be more honest and transparent. I didn’t have the chance to learn all the facts before it was too late, and at that point, I wasn’t myself anymore. The Baileriban are telepathic, but the means of telepathy is not something that can be genetically engineered. I don’t know why. It wasn’t my department. That might sound paradoxical, but I’ll get into that. In order to join the collective, they implant a special telepathy organ called a baileriboport, which allows forces you to share your thoughts with everyone. It takes a few weeks to get used to, but then it’s a magical sensation. I won’t lie to you, I was the happiest when I was connected. Then I saw something that I wasn’t meant to. The hive mind isn’t the only entity in Hivedome—which I should have told you before, we fled to recently to avoid persecution by the Stellar Neighborhood establishment. It’s only one layer of the lie. It’s run by a group of individuals who can share their thoughts with each other, but don’t have to. They can block their own signals, keep secrets from each other, and can even disconnect at will. They are the elite. They make all the decisions while making it seem like a group idea. They were walking amongst us without the rest of us knowing. Seeing this truth broke my brain, and allowed me to override my own baileriboport just enough to start behaving erratically. They didn’t know why I wasn’t conforming, but it was disruptive, and I had to be stopped. I wasn’t the first to exhibit idiosyncratic conduct, and I won’t be the last, but I do believe that I’m the only one whose memories weren’t successfully erased after expulsion. Again, I don’t think that the Baileriban have any plans to hurt anyone, and they don’t technically coerce recruits. But they certainly don’t tell you everything. The Castlebourne government has granted me this opportunity to write a review of this permanently isolated dome which no one else has been allowed to speak on, because anyone who knows anything wouldn’t dare reveal our secrets. I implore you, if a recruiter comes to you, remember that they’re not really part of the hive mind. They’re just part of the people who control it from the outside. They can’t be trusted.

Microstory 101: Bellevue Profiles

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A very long time ago, a group of scientists were living in a dystopia. Because of this, the regulations on scientific endeavors were all but nonexistent. They broke nearly every law of ethics and began to perform genetic manipulation experiments on human subjects. Their results were inconclusive at best, and extremely volatile at worst. Many of their guinea pigs died, but a few of them survived and propagated the species. Their bloodlines showed little to no signs of being different than regular universal humans. Eventually, their history was forgotten as lore. Thousands of years later, however, upon the birth of The Keystone, these anomalies were awakened. During evolution’s final push back towards the mean, a certain number of people began to exhibit extraordinary abilities. Each of these had their own particular set of skills, and Generation Twos were notably rare. The Keystone gathered them to an abandoned hotel in the middle of nowhere. There they taught each other further skills, and argued over what their purpose in the world may be. But very few of their origin stories took place in Bellevue.

For the next one hundred microstories, I will be giving you a short introduction to each one of these anomalies, along with a few members that had no abilities at all, but still contributed immensely to history. I’ve actually already begun. Due to extenuating circumstances, Starla’s story requires a full weekly series. I have 21 Saturdays total to do something with, and we’ll cross the next bridge once we’re over this one (why did they build consecutive bridges?). I will also be profiling a number of antagonists who acted against Bellevue, but you won’t know who they are from only this. If you want more details, keep reading my stories. I need a following if I’m going to be able to produce more. Please note that these profiles are subject to change according to later decisions and collaborative developments. I still think you’ll find them interesting, but I would consider these early introductions as subcanon; that is, mostly canonical.