The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 16, 2498

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Olimpia had been working here for a few weeks now, and everything was going great. He had an assistant before her, but he was nothing special. She quickly learned to anticipate Mateo’s needs, and they had developed a nice rapport with each other. Being the Fleet Commander for the entire Central Midwest region meant that he had to do a lot of traveling. It wasn’t all over the country, of course, but it was a regular thing. He had just spent most of the last week in Cedar Rapids, which was horrible enough, but going it alone was just too much. Typically, the office assistant stayed in the office, so they could respond to driver issues from their desk, and take in any walk-ins. But with SRW headphones and a cell phone capable of accepting forwarded calls, she really could do her job from just about anywhere. Ramses always stayed next to his precious servers, so he could answer the door if anyone were to show up. Mateo really needed Olimpia there with him when he was on the road. “Are you interested in that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“It’s not a monarchy,” he reminded her. “I didn’t hire you for travel, and that’s not in the job description. It would therefore come with a new job description, and a modest wage increase. You can say no, though.”

“I have no ties,” Olimpia replied with a shake of her head. “Before I found you, I was applying to jobs in most of the lower 48 states. I like to move around, and stay busy. Honestly—and I probably shouldn’t tell you this—I get bored with a job after a few years, and tend to start looking elsewhere. If I’m traveling, I’m sure it won’t get so tedious.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Mateo said. “I know I just got back, but I have to fly up to Minneapolis tomorrow, and I could really use your help.”

“I didn’t think Minnesota was in our region,” Olimpia said.

“It’s not, I’m meeting with my equivalent for the Northern Midwest. The guy from the Northern Mountain region will be there too. I’m not a hundred percent sure what it’s about. I think they want to have some kind of convention, or something. This has been on the books for a couple months.”

“Well, I’m in, I’ll change the plane tickets.”

“Great! And hey, why don’t you come for dinner tonight, meet the family? My daughter is cooking something. She’s gotten really good lately. It will be vegetarian though, so if you have a problem...”

“No, I can be there, that sounds great. I really appreciate it, sir.”

“You can just call me Mateo. We’re not formal here.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ramses said, appearing at the entrance to Mateo’s cubicle. He stretched, and pretended to take a drink from a flask.

“Don’t worry, it’s empty,” Mateo explained to Olimpia. “We got those as gifts at a company retreat last year. Ridiculous, if you ask me, but I like how they etched in the RideSauce logo.”

“Oh, yeah.” Olimpia was being polite, but she didn’t care.

“Well, I’ll see you at 17:30 for dinner? I’ll be sure to get you home early enough to pack for the trip. We’ll be gone for three days.”

“I’m already packed,” she said. “I haven’t unpacked since I came to Kansas City.”

“We’ll be traveling a lot,” Mateo reminded her, “but you should still try to dig in and put down some roots.”

“I’ll get right on that. Why don’t we ride to your house together?”

“Okay.”

That evening, after work, Mateo called a RideSauce Hot. He usually went with a Mild, because he didn’t want to feel like an elitist, but he wanted to impress Olimpia. Plus, Boyd liked to hang out in this area around the end of the work day specifically in hopes of answering a request from the boss. It was unclear what he was after, because he wasn’t really on track for a promotion. Maybe he was just a bit of a kiss-ass, and couldn’t help himself. He didn’t qualify for the request today, though, not with that jalopy he was driving. A bluish-purple Aevum Magnitude showed up instead. The driver stepped out, and came around to let them in the back like a real chauffeur. That was part of what you were paying for when you selected Hot.

“Thanks,” Mateo began before remembering that he didn’t notice the name on the app.

“Dave, sir,” the driver replied. He was dressed in the full get-up, all black with a sleek driving cap.

“Dave,” Mateo echoed. He slipped him a 20-dollar bill.

“Thank you, sir.” Dave shut the door behind him, and went around to get back in the car. He received another 20-buck tip at the end of the ride.

Mateo laughed when his daughter answered the door. She was wearing 2450s housewife attire; a pink shirtwaist dress with darker pink flowers and a pleated skirt. Her hair was done up however you would think for that time period, though he didn’t know what to call it. She had deep red lipstick, and smiled in that fake, dying-on-the-inside, sort of way. “Welcome to our home? May I take your coat?”

“Why, that would be swell, ya see? Thanks, sweetheart, you’re a doll.”

“That’s the 2440s, dad,” Romana complained. She shook it off. “Hi, you must be Olimpia. I’m Romana.”

They shook hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Olimpia. I mean—you just said that.” She was embarrassed.

Romana smiled kindly. “I really will take your coats. Come on in.”

They sipped tea and talked for about a half hour in the kitchen while Romana was finished preparing the food. Leona helped, but Romana was running the show. It was typically Mateo’s job to stay out of the way when they were in their teacher-student mode. He felt uncomfortable this time since he was expected to be in here while entertaining their guest. Fortunately, they had a rather large kitchen. This was the kind of thing you got when you lived in Mission Hills. Olimpia seemed a little uncomfortable too as she was looking up at the architecture, probably because she wasn’t used to all this fancy stuff that rich people had. Or he could have been completely misinterpreting everything. Maybe she just didn’t like him. Or she was starving, and this was taking too long. Or she was craving meat, and was just trying to get through this. That was enough of letting his neuroses take over. He could have been misinterpreting her facial expressions entirely. It was time to eat.

Dinner was lovely, Romana really was getting a lot better. It was probably time that she stepped out from under her mother’s wing, and started seriously thinking about culinary school. She was acting a little weird while they were eating, like she was keeping a secret. Maybe she was about to reveal to them that she knew exactly where she wanted to study, and Olimpia’s presence was overshadowing the announcement. “Lechuga, is there something you wanna tell us?”

“What? No.” she answered.

“Wait, why Lechuga?” Olimpia had to ask.

Mateo smirked. “Romana, romaine, lettuce, lechuga.”

“Oh.” Olimpia giggled.

“There’s something on your mind. You can tell us,” Leona encouraged her daughter. “You know we don’t tell lies in this house.”

Romana sighed, but it was more like a coo. “Okay. Well, you know that I wanted to go to culinary school.”

They nodded, even Olimpia, who just wanted to fit it.

“Well, Boyd said there’s a great one in Hawaii.”

“Boyd, who the hell is Boyd?” Mateo questioned.

“Boyd Maestri, your...driver.”

Mateo feigns ignorance. “Uh, I don’t have a driver named Boyd Maestri who is between 15 and 18 years old. I think you’re confused.” Mateo was never under the impression that his daughter wouldn’t eventually grow up and become sexually active, but there were still rules. The half your age plus seven rule may not have had any scientific basis, but it seemed sound to him. Boyd was way too old for her, and Mateo wouldn’t have it.

“Relax, dad, we’re not doing anything. We just talk sometimes.”

“Why would he be talking to you?” Mateo pressed.

“Calm down, Matt,” Leona urged.

“No. I’m going to be however I need to be,” Mateo insisted. “I get it, Romana. I want you to understand that you did nothing wrong. But he did. I don’t know what you two talk about in your secret little phone calls. It could be politics, or the weather, or cooking. It doesn’t matter. It’s about the reason that he’s talking to you. Even if you don’t see it, I do, because I was him. Your mother was a lot younger than me when we first met. But we didn’t really start talking until we were the same age.”

Romana winced, as did everyone else. “What do you mean, she was younger? How could she have aged while you stayed the same?”

Mateo uttered a single unintelligible sound before he became blocked and frozen. He could not explain what he had just said. Leona was younger? And then she got older, and now  they were the same age? That didn’t make any sense at all. He had to cover. He had to figure a way out of this. “You know what I mean, she was just a little too young for me, but as we both aged at the same time, the gap remained the same, but it became less pronounced.” That wasn’t right either. They were the same age!

“And how long would I have to wait before someone Boyd’s age would be appropriate for me?”

“Someone Boyd’s age? Maybe ten years. Boyd himself? Uh, after the sun goes supernova, I guess.”

“The sun’s not going to go supernova, it’s going to expand, cool off, and shrink,” Leona clarified.

Mateo narrowed his eyes at her wife. “Thanks.”

Romana scoffed. “For your information, I know what boys want from me. I mean...look at me. It’s irrelevant what Boyd thinks he’s gonna get in return for helping me, because if I don’t wanna give it, I won’t. He has a friend who works at the Hilo Culinary Arts Institute, so I’m using him however I must to get into that school. We can’t all have careers that fall into our laps just because we got a 100% on our first driving tests, and it inflated our egos.”

“It was 101%,” Mateo reminded her. “I corrected one of the questions for its ambiguity.”

“Oh, how could I forget?” Ramona said in a mocking tone, crossing her arms.

“You can get into whatever school you want, Lechuga—”

“You don’t call me that when we’re fighting,” she argued in a raised voice.

He closed his eyes. They did agree to that. It was a pet name, and those should not be associated with negative emotions or hostilities. “Romana. You’re extremely talented, and we are doing well for ourselves. You don’t have to go to a school nearby, though I would love to have you stay in the area. What I will not tolerate is you using someone for their connections. I’m not saying that you should give it up for him instead, but I didn’t raise you to exploit people any more than I raised you to be careless with your heart and body. You are to treat others with kindness and respect, and if that means losing out on an opportunity, then that’s what will happen. Your integrity is more important.”

This seemed to speak to her. “Yeah,” she said in a lowered voice. She let out an exasperated and disappointed sigh. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for starting a fight.” He turned his attention. “Olimpia, I’m sorry that you saw us fight.”

“It’s okay,” she replied sincerely.

There was an awkward silence, which Leona broke. “I didn’t want to be completely useless tonight, so I made the dessert all by myself. Who here likes sand cake?”

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Extremus: Year 89

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Tinaya has done something unusual, but it’s not illegal. It’s a bit of a gray area when it comes to her son, because he can’t consent to the link, but as long as they don’t perform a medical procedure, there shouldn’t be a problem. That’s how Tinaya and Arqut made their connection to each other. It’s called a spatio-temporal tether, and just as it says on the tin, it connects two people spatially and temporally. There are different kinds, though. The two of them have the most intense version, and their respective tethers to little Silveon are somewhere in the middle. If he’s ever lost in space and-or time, Tinaya will automatically travel to that location with him, no matter what method is used, even if he grows up, and does it on purpose. Arqut, meanwhile, will know when and where they went, and can make efforts to bring them back, should they need it. Or he can send himself off to join them. If either Arqut or Tinaya is transported somewhere, the other will become cognizant of their partner’s location for retrieval or reunion, while Silveon will remain safely wherever he is. They obviously decided to do this after Arqut’s disappearance, which neither of them wants to happen again. But the rest of their family isn’t sure they agree with how extreme they took it.

Arqut and Tinaya joined together in something called a lifelink, which connects two individuals on a biological level. Not only will they always be able to find each other across spacetime, but what happens to one will happen to the other. If she gets a paper cut, so will he. If he gets the flu, she’ll start to suffer as well. When it comes time for one of them to die, the other will succumb as well, even if they are otherwise perfectly healthy. This is a fairly rare dynamic that only the strongest of bonds—or the most reckless of ones—have led to. You really only wanna do it if both partners are at about the same age, and neither one’s daily life is particularly dangerous. There’s also a rigorous evaluation process, which even the Captain and Superintendent had to go through. They have chosen to keep it a secret from the crew and the passengers for now, but everyone will figure it out eventually when they keel over dead at the same time.

This is a risky situation, because it will leave their child alone, regardless of the circumstances of death, which explains why they haven’t told very many people about it. At the moment, should something unfortunate happen while Silveon is still too young to care for himself, their families will obviously take up the responsibility. The law will accept and honor this. But it’s time for them to come up with a real plan, and select at least one designated guardian. They actually have two in mind, but as these two are not in a relationship with each other, it may take some convincing.

Arqut’s half sister is fully 29 years younger than him. His mom did not have a tether to her husband, so after he died, she was able to live on, and fall in love again. She and her new beau never got married, but they had a daughter together. Zefbiri and Arqut are not the closest of siblings, due to the huge age gap, but they love and trust each other. They’re just at such different stages of their life, so she feels more like a daughter, or maybe a niece, to him than anything. She’s currently unattached, though that could change in the future. One reason they would like to select her as one of Silveon’s designated guardians is that she already knows the truth about Verdemus. While Omega and Valencia are both immortal, they are also really busy and unreliable. A team has to be responsible for the Nexa at all times, so knowledge of it must be passed down the generations, just like every other system on the ship. Zefbiri is currently in the process of learning every square micrometer of this building. She’s here now, doing her thing, but she has time for a break.

“Have you met Niobe Schur?” They’re sitting in the Nexus cavity at the moment for lunch. People aren’t really supposed to eat in here, but as long as they’re not sloppy, it should be fine, or really even then. This machine was designed to transport people across millions of light years. A little salad dressing shouldn’t be able to do any damage.

“Uh, I’ve heard of her,” Zefbiri replies. “We’ve never met, though.” She takes a second bite of her sandwich. She doesn’t know what this conversation is about yet.

Tinaya switches breasts for Silveon, which she doesn’t typically have to do this early in the feeding process. Hopefully there’s nothing wrong with her supply. “Well, we would like you to meet her today. We’ve already time mirrored her, but we were hoping to make a holo-call. I believe it’s her dinner time.”

“Sure, that’s fine. The more the merrier, as the Earthans say,” Zefbiri decides.

Arqut taps on the control tablet, and initiates the call. Niobe is suddenly sitting next to them. “You started without me?”

“Sorry,” Tinaya replies.” Silvy was impatient.”

Niobe smiles. “It’s fine. So, what’s up?” She sits down at her own table

“Are you alone on your end by chance?”

“Vaska,” Niobe calls up towards the control room as she’s starting to stretch. “Vaska!” She has her hands against the back of her head, and she’s pulling her muscles apart as far as they can possibly go. “Get out!”

There is no way to know if Vaska really has left, or if anyone else is lurking. A crowd of a dozen people could be watching them in secret from outside the perimeter of the cavity, and as long as they stayed quiet, the people on the call from the ship would never be able to tell. They have to trust Niobe, which is why they’re here. Tinaya leans her chin forward like a baby bird so Arqut can slip her some soup. She likes to keep hold of her baby with both arms while he’s nursing. “Listen, we brought you two together, because we ain’t gettin’ any younger. Arqy used to be older than me, that’s how crazy the world we live in is. Anything could happen at any moment. Zef already knows this, but I need to explain to you, Niobe, that he and I are linked. We will both die at the same time, and since we had this little guy when we were so old, there’s a chance that he’ll still be quite young when that happens.”

“You two are also young, but old enough to care for a child,” Arqut continues. “The only question is if you would be willing to take on that responsibility, should the need arise within the next couple of decades. We would like to ask you both to agree to be Silveon’s designated guardians. I know it’s a lot. How do you feel about it?”

Niobe was setting up her meal, but she stops short. Zefbiri stopped eating when Tinaya started talking, but she still had the sandwich in her hand. She unwittingly loosens her grip too much, and it falls to the floor. She doesn’t notice it right away, but then she looks down, and freaks out. “Oh my God. No, I’m sorry.” She desperately reaches down, and begins to put the pieces back together. “I promise, I would never drop your baby. Oh my God, no!” She’s even more desperate now, trying to wipe up every bit of mustard.

“Zef. Zef.” Arqut gently takes her by the wrist, and lifts it up. “The sandwich isn’t a metaphor for our baby. It’s all right. Relax.”

“I’m sorry,” Zefbiri still isn’t really getting that the food accident has nothing to do with their decision.

“Really, don’t worry.” Arqut pauses for a moment. “So, is that a yes? Do you want to be Silveon’s guardian?”

Zefbiri looks over at Niobe, who is still in shock. “Are we a package deal?”

“No,” Tinaya answers. “We wanted to ask you together, but if only one of you wants to sign the papers, that’s okay. Please look into your own hearts, and decide for yourselves.”

Niobe lets out a prolonged squeak, like someone with sleep paralysis who’s screaming in their head, but barely audible in the real world. “I would be honored,” she finally manages to articulate.

“Yeah!” Tinaya shouts. She high-fives Arqut. “One down, one to go! Give me some soup.” She accepts another sip off the spoon.

“Okay,” Zefbiri begins. “I don’t want this to sound like I’m being ungrateful, or anything, but if she and I are going to be in this together, then I think it only makes sense that we meet each other for real. I mean, when something happens—if!” She corrects herself. “If something happens, then either I’m going to move to Verdemus, or—”

“You’re going to move to Verdemus,” Niobe decides without discussion.

Zefbiri turns her head back away from her, and tries to work it out in her head. “Right. I would move there,” she agrees, seemingly not knowing the logic in that, but not wanting to be a contrarian.

“Actually, Niobe,” Tinaya says. “As complicated as it is with you not being on the Extremus manifest, we could figure out how to swing that. What we can’t do is let the dead Captain’s son mysteriously disappear forever without an explanation. You would have to come live here instead. Given this clarification, if you feel the need to change your answer, we totally understand. We chose you both...despite your current interstellar disassociation, because we love and trust you both. That was our only concern when we were making the list, who do we think could handle this responsibility? Others fit the bill, and live at the same place, but the problem with them is that they’re...”

“Of the older persuasion,” Arqut finishes her thought for her again.

“Exactly,” Tinaya confirms. “You two are of the perfect age.”

Niobe stands back up, and starts to pace around, occasionally stepping out of the bounds of the holographic cameras. “I’m still in,” she eventually says, “but if that’s a requirement, then I think I should just move here now, and establish myself as preexisting member of society. We wouldn’t want me to show up on day one, and have the Extremusians question who the hell I am, and where I came from. Like you said, we would need to make an identity for me, but that’s better done now than later.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Arqut replies. “We just didn’t want to throw too much at you. We’re already asking so much.”

“No, it’s everything I ever wanted.”

They all look back at Zefbiri, who has yet to give them an official answer. “Okay, so I thought I would feed two birds with one worm, but I still...I...”

“What is it?” Arqut asks.

“I’m still hoping to go to check out Verdemus. I’ve always wanted to go.” Her gaze switches uncomfortably between Tinaya and Arqut, and the floor.

Arqut chuckles. “I think that can be arranged, sister.”

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Microstory 2263: A Long Road Trip

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In 2008, city planners from Kansas City, and those from Chicago came together with an idea. There were, of course, ways to travel between the two domains, but these pathways weren’t built specifically for this purpose. They twisted and turned to stop at other places, which was fine, but KC and Chicago enjoyed many special political and business relationships with each other, so they wanted something new. They began planning what would eventually come to be known as the Heartland Expressway, with a numbering designation of Interstate-56. It took sixteen years, but that highway is now officially complete, though people have been driving on sections of it for years. A couple of months ago, they held an event that was publicized as the Maiden Voyage of the Heartland Expressway. The current mayor of Kansas City, Missouri drove the roughly seven hours to Chicago with her whole family. Meanwhile, the mayor of Chicago did the same with his own family, stopping in the middle to have lunch with each other in a border town named River City, Illinois. It was a little funny, because the Chicago mayor’s family took too long to get going, and drove a little slower, so they were just a little bit late. His kids are younger, and you know how often they need to stop and get out during long road trips. Once they were finished with their meal, they went their separate ways, and ended up having dinner with each other’s deputy mayors. I’m sure you probably already heard about this, because it was a fun and innocuous story in the midst of all the bad news. It’s just relevant to today, because Kelly, Dutch and I just drove that route. It’s 428 miles from start to finish, which was perfect, because my EV gets about 450 miles to the charge. I wanted to test it out, and also just go somewhere. It was just a day trip, if you can believe it. We left at 5:00 in the morning, spent some time wandering around the city, particularly the pier, and waited for the car to charge up before leaving at around 14:00. We got home fairly late last night, and we were pretty tired, but we’re millionaires, so we didn’t have to worry about going into work today.

Microstory 2248: Deliberately

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Hey, everyone, this is Kelly again. Things are not going well. As you may have realized, Nick is not well. We thought that we were totally past this, but we were wrong. He proved that he was once immortal by being cured of the prion disease, and now he’s incidentally proving that he’s no longer immortal by suffering from something else. We didn’t know what we were dealing with at first, but we were very worried for him. He’s been very fatigued and weak lately, which he attributed to a lack of consistent and comfortable sleeping situations. But that just didn’t seem to be enough to explain how dramatically he was declining. And then that last post. It was written so poorly, and wasn’t like him at all. We knew that something else had gone wrong; something specific that could be tested for, and not just remedied homeopathically. Everyone’s first thought was yet another pathogen of some kind, since he seems to have become a magnet for them. I’m sure that a lot of you were all thinking the same thing, as his posts were reminiscent of the kind that he wrote during other infections. That’s not what it is, though, and not because he’s run out of those. Some of you seem to feel like he can’t get another infection, because he’s already had every kind, but that’s not how it works. He’s had every classification. He could get a thousand different ones over the course of the next half century, and he will still not have contracted everything that the world has to offer. And you can become reinfected with the same exact disease anyway; we’ve never cured any of them. But no, that has nothing to do with it anyway. It’s poison. He has been poisoned. The hospital ran a battery of tests, and came to the conclusion that it’s an organophosphate. Don’t ask me to say that out loud. They are commonly found in pesticides, which is why the majority of patients live or work on farms, or in facilities would use these pesticides, or which take part in the manufacturing of them. But those are not the only ways to encounter it. You can eat contaminated food, or even be exposed to it from a chemical explosion. None of these apply to Nick. Well, he’s eaten food, of course, but we’ve all eaten the same things, and have not tested positive for the stuff. The most likely answer is that someone poisoned him deliberately. I don’t know if they were trying to kill him, or only wrongly trying to prove that he’s still immortal, or what, but we will not tolerate that. We’ve spoken with the proper authorities, and a major investigation is underway. Since these chemicals are sometimes used in terroristic plots, the FBI is on the case, not just for Nick, but because such a bad actor places the whole country at risk. So be warned, they’re going to find you, and you will pay. As for Nick himself, he is receiving the treatment that he needs, and the medical professionals expect a full recovery eventually. If you did this to him, you better hope for a positive outcome, or you will be in even bigger trouble than you already are.

Microstory 2245: Complaint to You

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I had lunch with my old friends today. It was my former assistant, who replaced me at the jail, and my former parole officer. At first, I thought that Leonard was being respectful by ordering a vegetarian meal, but as it turns out, I inspired him to become a vegetarian. I’m really happy about that, and I hope the trend continues, if only due to the fear of a prion disease. They ran a full investigation of the restaurant where I allegedly (I legally have to say it like that) ate contaminated meat, and they were unable to find evidence of further contamination. So you should be able to eat there again if you want, in case you were waiting for an answer regarding that problem. I guess I should have said something earlier. Anyway, the meal we had today was great, and I enjoyed the company. It was nice to be out in public again, even though men in suits were standing at the ready. I always wanted to be famous, but important—like a politician would be—is a different concept. Someone like that is a target. I did not want it to be like this. I knew there was a chance that I may end up with a stalker or two, but not that everyone I saw was a potential threat. People were staring, not only because it was me, but because I was clearly under protection. Fortunately, it didn’t get any worse than that. I’m not one to advertise my location, so it didn’t draw a big crowd, or anything, but I fear that this might start happening if the media begins to track my movements. Maybe I should just stay home all the time, and never show my face. That may sound like a complaint to you, but it doesn’t sound like one to me. There are worse ways to live, believe you me. Speaking of which, we still haven’t gotten word on whether my offer on the house has been approved. Even if it is, it will still take some time to complete all the paperwork, and whathaveyou. Until next week, goodbye.

Microstory 2223: Goodbye

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People are evidently fascinated by my story, and have a morbid curiosity for my terrible prognosis. They want to know what it’s like, living with this day to day, and knowing that my life will be over soon. Well, it’s actually kind of boring. Since I don’t have the freedom to move around where I want to, and everything I do need to accomplish has to be planned out in advance, I mostly just repeat the same routine every day. I wake up at 07:15. For now, I can brush my teeth on my own, because my arm tremors don’t prevent me from doing it, especially not so early in the morning. It gets to be problematic later in the day, when my arm starts to kind of flail about more unpredictably. I guess the prions need time to wake up too. Anyway, after I take my first round of medicine, Kelly helps me with some physical therapy exercises for about an hour. After that, I need a break, so she plants me in front of the TV for maybe a couple of hours. At that point, I’m getting hungry, so she makes me something simple for lunch, usually a sandwich or a wrap, along with fruit and vegetables. I’ve never eaten so healthily, but that was always my problem, having to be inconvenienced by preparing the food myself. I’ve never cared that much about the taste or quality, it was always just easier eating something prepackaged, or delivered right to my door. That’s probably the best thing about having an assistant, be it a medical professional, or no. Then after lunch, Kelly takes me for a walk in the wheelchair, or if she’s being a big meany, the walker. I’m joking, I know that it’s good for me to stay active and mobile. There will come a day when even sitting in a wheelchair will feel like too much. The walk takes as long as I can handle it, because I’ve always needed a nap right after it, and in some cases, during. She usually has to wake me up to take more pills, and then I just stay awake for more TV, more physical therapy, dinner, more pills, and more recently, writing these posts. Finally, it’s time for bed. That’s pretty much it. Exciting, I know. It’s so interesting, in fact, I think I’ll start a vlog about it, so a company can offer to sponsor me, then get mad when things don’t work out (probably because I’ll be dead). So. You’ve all been writing me letters, and that’s a very lovely thought, but I’m not going to tell you where I live, I do not have a publicist, because it’s a waste of money at this point, and the jail shouldn’t be worrying about them. They have enough on their plate. Here’s the deal, if you send more letters addressed to me, they have been instructed to literally throw them away. They’re not even gonna open them. So please, stop killing trees for no reason. If you want to say something to me, you can send a quick message below, or catch me on social. I still might not be able to read them, though, because it’s getting harder and harder for me to keep my eyes open in front of screens. And my lifecare assistant isn’t getting paid for all that extra stuff. Thank you for understanding. Goodbye.

Microstory 2216: Him to Survive

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Nick is catatonic today, not in the literal sense, but in the faking sort of way. I know that he can hear me, and that he’s processing information just fine. He’s anxious about the results of the latest test, which are said to be coming by the end of the week. The diagnostics doctor doesn’t want to say beforehand what he’s thinking, or what specifically the test is for, but Nick says that he has this feeling that the answer is on its way. He believes that we will know what we’re dealing with on Friday. The anticipation is killing him faster than the disease probably could. So he’s refusing to eat or communicate, or even sleep. He just lies there, staring up at the ceiling. I’m taking care of his bodily imperatives, but there are ways for him to still handle some of that himself, so I will not continue doing it all for him for an extended period of time. It’s okay for now, but he’ll have to get back to work on his own recovery tomorrow. This is a home care program, so if that’s not enough for him to survive, then I’ll have no choice but to check him into a facility full time. I don’t think he wants that. He’s gotta meet me halfway. I think he thought that he would be a pro at this, but his reaction to all this change is perfectly normal. We will get through it. Together.

Microstory 2176: And Young

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The thing about the way that I’ve developed my website is that I can sometimes get trapped in my own format. When I started out, I wanted to do really short stories on weekdays, and my permanent story on one day of the weekend. I didn’t know what I was going to do with the other day of the weekend, and I didn’t know how canonical I was going to get with the whole thing. It’s the numbers that make the decisions for me. The numbers dictate all. Once I started doing continuous microfiction stories, I decided that I liked to block them out in batches of 100, but there are roughly 260 weekdays every year, and I don’t like to cross the December 31 border, so I can’t always do the 100 installment thing. I end up with remainders, and the value of each remainder often determines what that shorter series is all about. The reason I wrote exactly fourteen sonnets in 2022 is because I had a remainder of fifteen, and could use one of them for an intro. If the remainder had instead been, say, nineteen, I doubt I would have ever thought to do them. I actually decided to change everything up this year by shifting to a regular blog format, hoping that I would have an interesting enough life for that to make sense. As 2024 approached, and I realized that it wasn’t the right call, I had to alter the plan into a fake blog format. That’s what we’ve been doing every weekday since January 1. And like all series here, I don’t get much of a chance to do something different when the situation arises. But it does sometimes arise, and I occasionally have to briefly put my ideas on hold in order to detour to something else. Something important.

I was running a series in 2020 set in another universe. Each installment was told from the perspective of a different fictional character. But then my grandfather died in real life, and I wanted to say something about him. I wanted to get real with my site, so I hit pause on Reactions, and shared my true thoughts. I’m spending a lot of time explaining myself, but I think it’s important for you to understand what a big deal it is for me to deviate from the structure that I’ve limited myself to. The last time I did it was when I lost a dear loved one. Yeah, I do it during introductions too, but those are strongly dependent upon the forthcoming series. These are true shifts, and come from the real me, rather than the fictional version of me. Though, it was fitting back then, since Reactions was about death, and fitting now for other reasons. Last month, my alternate self was pressured into eating meat, even though he was a vegetarian. I was the one who gave him that diet in the first place, even though I hadn’t mentioned it before when he was first introduced, and that’s because I had become a vegetarian myself since then. I’ve struggled with the idea of harming the environment, and killing animals since I was a child. I just didn’t think that I could get all of my nutrition if I cut out meat, and as it turned out, I was spot on. I’ve struggled with my health and weight since college. I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted, and still be quite thin, because I was unwittingly super active. And young. As I’ve aged, it’s become harder and harder to match my calorie intake with activity, and if anyone told me that that would happen, I didn’t listen to them. One thing I didn’t think that much about was that most junk food is vegetarian. Sure, I can have an entire pizza, just don’t put pepperoni or sausage on it. Ice cream? Of course! Pastries, chocolate, all the cheese in the world? No problem. Just don’t give me any meat, because animals died to make it, and I don’t like that. In addition to how much you can eat as a vegetarian before you feel full, you have to eat so much to get the comparable protein. So it was really easy to justify the binging regardless of what the food actually was. I have come to the profoundly difficult decision to press pause on my vegetarian diet recently. I’m going to focus on lowering my caloric intake, and erasing my reliance on comfort food that doesn’t do anything for me except make me feel full, and add fat to my belly. It won’t be forever. I just have to get down to my goal, then I know I can start maintaining. I was so close before, I’m certain that I can get there and stay as long as I stop resorting to garbage. Then I’ll go back to where I want to be, for the environment, and for the animals. I just hope this months-long detour doesn’t end up giving me some terminal disease, or something. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? Oh wait, careful...spoilers. That’s it for me. Nick Fisherman IV will be back tomorrow.

Microstory 2159: Can’t Ever Be Happy

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Yesterday evening, I had my usual meeting with my therapist. We talked about the storm a little, but it was mostly about the volunteer work I’ve been doing. It was no big secret that I got an early jump on my community service due to the traumatizing meat-eating incident the other day. She was able to piece together that I’ve been pretty depressed about it, and I think I knew that; I just didn’t want to think about it. I’ve been filling my days with tons of stuff to do so that my brain doesn’t get a chance to stop and ponder my life choices. It’s been really hard on me. I feel like I’m an addict, and I just had a relapse. It’s super not the same thing as a real addiction, like drugs, or sex, or even food in general. I made a decision to become a vegetarian for several reasons, none of which was that it was harming my life, or causing issues with others. Even so, I made a commitment to stop, and I broke that promise to myself. It can’t be reversed. It will always mark a new beginning, but in a bad way. The streak cannot be repaired, no matter how long I live without ever doing it again. And that sucks. It’s gonna take a lot, and a lot of time, for me to be able to move past it, especially since depression always reinforces itself with dark thoughts on other things. I start to think about every bad thing that has happened to me in my life, and all the mistakes that I’ve made. I dwell on it, and everything negative. My therapist tried to figure out what brings me out of my funks, but I don’t know that anything ever really has. It just kind of stays with me. It subsides after things regress towards the mean, but I can’t ever be happy. Happiness is a concept that I only understand through the lens of relativity. I’ve been happier at times than at other times, but true contentment sounds impossible, and if you tell me that you’ve experienced it, I may not believe it. If you tell me that you’re in the middle of experiencing it, I can’t promise that I won’t punch you in the face, so just don’t give me that BS. Sorry, didn’t mean to become so violent, but it’s impossible to delete my words, so I won’t. I just don’t care for braggers. We get it, you love life, now shut up about it, and leave me to brood in the shadows.

Microstory 2154: It Can’t Be Undone

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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.

Microstory 2153: New Future Business Partners

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My new future business partners have come into town. They decided to fly in a day early to see the city. They’ve never been here before, so I toured them around. I did my best with it anyway, it’s not like I’m some kind of an expert. Not only am I from an alternate version of Kansas City, but I’m just not interested in that sort of thing. Still, I did a little bit of research, and found a local company that specializes in itineraries for tourists. We’re going to have our meeting tomorrow, so this was just something fun before all that. We ended up spending so much time together that we had lunch in the early afternoon, and dinner tonight. That’s why this is posting so late. We stopped for ice cream in between meals, so I’m probably not going to feel great for the next few days. I’m not lactose intolerant, I just tend to go overboard. I’ve never done anything like this before, with people that I’m not related to, I mean. Anytime I’ve traveled, I’ve gone with family, because I never had any friends. It was surreal, socializing with others, but I got through it, and I’m glad that I did. I won’t bore you with the details, or regale you with the juicy ones that we talked about over the meals, because it’s none of your business. I’m sure that I’ll have more that I’ll want to say after our meeting tomorrow, but I’m equally sure that I won’t actually be able to say any of that either. Perhaps in a few months, it will be declassified. Anyway, I’m super tired, so I gotta get to bed. I still have to work in the morning, and am only taking a couple hours for lunch to discuss business matters. This new partnership won’t be interfering with my regular job.

Microstory 2148: Wokest of Folk

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I agreed to have dinner with my neighbor yesterday evening. She framed the invitation as a friendly stranger passing by me in the hallway, but she knew who I was, and has read some of my blog. She’s not a crazy stalker, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve just been pretty good at marketing my site in the local area. There’s a bulletin board in the lobby of our apartment complex, for instance, where people can post lost animal flyers, or musical instrument lessons. I printed out a slip of paper that just gives my address, and tacked it up there. It doesn’t even say what the site is, so people have to try it to see. There aren’t enough people living here to make much of a dent in my readership—especially not these days—but marketing is all about cost versus return, and it cost me almost nothing. Anyway, the dinner went well, she was very nice, and a really good cook. She’s a vegetarian too, so I didn’t have to worry about making her feel bad about making something special on my account. She prepared us sweet potato and black bean enchiladas with avocado crema. Sweet potatoes are one of those foods that I had to grow to like later in life, and I’m glad I did for this situation. I’m sure you’re all wondering if sparks were flying, but please don’t. Where I’m from, it’s annoyingly taboo for a man and a woman to be friends. Even the wokest of folk think that it doesn’t work, but as an omnisexual, I say, what even is a man, and what is a woman? Your “theory” may stop making sense when you answer that. There’s nothing romantic going on between us, and there wouldn’t be even if I weren’t loyal to Cricket.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 26, 2447

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Olimpia looked like she was about to follow Marie back to the magic tree. “No,” Leona stopped her physically. “It will be much easier for us to protect one in our group for breaking the rules than for us all to have to defend ourselves equally. So just let her go. She’s on her own.”

“Understood,” Marie said back through comms before disabling the connection. She was standing before the tree, as well as Princess Honeypea.

“You have the patience of a hummingbird.”

“I’m as fast as one too.”

Honeypea sighed. “We are obviously all pacifists. This place survives on the goodwill of others. We cannot protect ourselves. We are uncomfortably open for attack.”

“I’m not here to attack you,” Marie insisted. “I just want one fruit. You may see it as an act of aggression, but it is truly one of love. I need to put my family back together.”

Honeypea nodded, and pulled a fruit pod down. “Results not guaranteed.” She reached out to hand it to Marie, then pulled it back at the last second. “We believe this tree has a consciousness of sorts, and if it does, its intentions and motivations are unclear. It could be an amalgam of disparate identities. It might want to kill you for all we know. That’s why we asked for time to study it.”

“I’ll risk it.” She took the pod, pulled one piece of fruit off of it, and tossed it in her mouth. It was an unsettling and unpleasant experience. She expected juices to flow down her tongue when she bit into it, but this was not what happened. First off, it was bitter and oddly spicy, like a combination of paprika and ginger. And instead of juices, fibers spilled out. The insides must have existed in a pocket dimension of their own, or something, because these fibers continued to grow and spread like slime mold. Tendrils reached down her throat, into her lungs, and down her esophagus to her stomach and intestines. They broke through the tissue, and circulated into her blood, her nerves, and even her bones. Her veins popped out and glowed the same brilliant blue as the Magnolia’s leaves. Her hair stood on end, and an energy surged all around her skin. A glow filled her eyes, blinding her to her surroundings, and when it receded, she wasn’t standing on the conflux anymore. She was on the floor of a great indoor expanse, accompanied by a ton of other people, none of which was paying her any mind.

It took her a few seconds to realize that the hundreds of people moving about were mostly duplicates of each other. There were only a handful unique individuals, with dozens of copies scattered about. And a lot of them were part of the crew who stole Angela from them. Yeah, this was the right place. She took one version of Briar by the arm, not worried about hurting him. “Where’s my sister?”

“I didn’t even know you had a sister, Leona.”

Marie was so confused by this, she didn’t even try to stop him when he ran off again. “Leona?” she whispered. What was that gesture that they taught her? The suit could change to any color. Every single pixel could hypothetically be its own shade on the spectrum. But there was also this one particular setting that was different than the others. Remembering how it went, she half-crossed her index and middle fingers so that the former was right under the latter. Then she tapped on the inside of her elbow three times before separating the fingers by a few centimeters, and dragging them both towards her wrist. A mirror appeared all along her forearm. Her eyes were not staring back at her through the reflection. She looked like Leona now. She was holding a holographic impersonation without even realizing. And she couldn’t drop it, even if she wanted to, suggesting that Honeypea was right that the tree was sentient.

She took a deep breath. This made more sense, and she probably should have thought of it herself. None of these people knew who she was, or that they should trust her, but they knew Leona, and they probably all loved her. By the time she could reach out to another one of them to ask after Angela, she felt another pull, and found herself back at the tree.

“How did that go?” Honeypea asked.

Marie reached up to massage her neck. “Whiplash.”

“Interesting, interesting.” Honeypea licked the tip of her pin, and wrote that down in her notepad. “Tell me more.”

Marie was anxious to get back to her search, but she could spare a few minutes. She certainly wasn’t eager to eat another fruit. She explained why, which Honeypea found fascinating, and also helpful. Being able to explain to people how caustic—and perhaps even traumatizing—the experience was could make it easier to discourage others from attempting it themselves. Marie had no problem with this tactic, and would even be prepared to exaggerate the discomfort to prevent a flurry of people from coming to this delicate world, hoping to travel the universe and the timeline. She needed to be able to do this, but she didn’t need anyone else to. Once the brief debrief was over, she reluctantly pulled another piece off, and made a second trip. This time, there was less glowing, but it felt exactly the same, and maybe even hurt a little more? The strain on her body was only going to increase each time.

She pulled a version of Goswin aside, and showed him an image of Angela to ask if he knew where she was, but he had never met her before. Only one copy of this group had taken her away, and it was going to take some time to figure out which. It would be a hell of a lot easier if they stopped moving around so goddamn much! Each time she ate another fruit, and went back, she had to hope she wasn’t talking to someone she had already tried. It happened a couple of times, but the more she went through this, the more she picked up her speed. She asked the question in the most succinct way possible, and she quickly learned that Eight Point Seven was the easiest to get through to, and Briar the worst. He questioned being questioned, but the android always just got to the point. Yes or no, that’s all Marie needed, and some understood that better than others.

Those four main people had the highest number of copies, but there were also others, and she occasionally spoke to these people too, just in case they happened to know something. Their presence amongst the rest was too noticeable not to include them to some degree. One group of four in particular didn’t appear to have any alternates. They lorded over the crowd from a balcony above, and started making proclamations about how they were going to literally move mountains together, or some shit. Marie obviously wasn’t paying much attention to that, and she hoped they wouldn’t pay any attention to her either. She continued to jump back and forth, but started to whisper. “Are you the ones who took Angela?” she asked another one of the Goswins.

“Who?”

“That’s a no.” She turned away to see if she could squeeze in one more.

He stopped her. “Wait. What does she look like?”

She held up her palm to show him the holographic photo. “A core crew was on our ship, and when they left, she disappeared along with them. She’s not here, so they left her somewhere else in spacetime, but if you don’t recognize her, then it wasn’t you.”

He looked at his group. “Let’s find her. Just like Misha.”

They nodded in agreement, and suddenly, Angela was standing next to them. “Oh, thank God,” she exclaimed, hugging who she believed to be Leona.

That was when Lord Tamerlane Pryce noticed that not everyone was listening to his speech, which Marie was sure he thought was pretty damn good. The helpful Goswin tried to explain to him what was going on, so Marie and Angela just decided to shrink away, and try to be as inconspicuous as possible. They held each other tightly, though Angela wouldn’t know that this was for a specific reason. They should have disappeared by now. Something was stopping her, and it was probably her worst fear, which was that she would not be allowed to return to the others. The fruit could only transport one person, with no hangers-on. Still, she hung on, because if they couldn’t go back together, well, then she wouldn’t go back at all. At least Angela wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Tamerlane and the helpful Goswin continued to argue with each other. The Lords had apparently erected some kind of time barrier, which prevented anyone from being able to leave, which explained why no one was trying, despite the fact that they clearly didn’t want to be here. The defiant Goswin was up on the balcony by now. He approached the railing to address the audience. “Do you all wanna be here? Raise your hand if you do.”

A few people actually did raise their hands, apparently into this whole being conscripted for the Reality Wars in the Sixth Key.

“Then be free.” Goswin!Prime swept his hands forward from his chest.

Marie and Angela saw everyone begin to disappear before they too were spirited away, finally to the Garden dimension.

“It worked,” Honeypea noted with a wide smile. “And just in time too.” She nodded down towards the pod. There was only one fruit left.

“Not quite. “I still need Ramses. I made a promise. I just...I don’t know how. Honeypea, I didn’t bring her back. Goswin had to do it for me. This was before he lost his power I guess. How could I get Ramses? Goswin won’t be there this time.”

Honeypea looked for answers in the clouds. “I don’t know. We need time to study it. That’s what I’ve been saying. That’s why we were asking you to wait.”

Marie took a breath, and reached up to turn her comms back on. The real Leona would know what to do. But her finger never made it to her neck. She had to do this herself. She made this choice, and Leona made it clear that she was on her own. Marie turned away, and walked down to thoughtlessly splash one foot in the water several times. Then she walked back up the hill. “Tell my sister where to go, to the others. I can figure this out.” She pulled the last fruit from the pod. “I just need to test it first.”

“There’s no time to test anything!” Honeypea exclaimed, but it was too late.

Marie was home, or at least what passed for a home as she was growing up. If she aimed right—which she expected to have, since she was always right on the money in the Nucleus—this was 1816, following her death at the hands of Milford. She wanted to marry Ed Bolton, but her father had other plans, so she had always partially blamed him, as well as the actual murderer. Plus, there was that whole owning slaves thing that she could never forgive him for.

He walked into the kitchen to find her standing there. “Angela, my precious girl. You’re here. You’re alive.”

She waved her hands in front of her, and sarcastically howled, “I’m a ghooooost!” As he came towards her for a hug, she reached over and grabbed their cast iron kettle. She swung it around, and smacked him right in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. “Black lives matter, bitch.” She had mixed feelings about this word choice.

He was not liable to change his ways from this one short experience, but it felt cathartic on her end, and there was a chance that he would shout her return from the dead on the rooftops, which might land him in an insane asylum, and that would be retribution enough. The Magnolia fruit forced her back to the Garden Dimension. Angela was still there, having presumably been worried about what her sister was doing. Marie dropped the kettle on the ground.

“Is that what I think it is?” Angela asked.

“Yeah. He doesn’t need one this big now that I’m dead.”

“Why did you take it?” she pressed.

Marie interlaced her fingers, and cracked them. “It’s about the same weight as the pocket dimensional generator.” She reached up to harvest another fruit pod.

“No!” Honeypea shouted, in a far more serious tone than she had ever exhibited up until now. “I never said you could take a second fruit! I’m putting my foot down!”

“So am I,” Marie replied calmly. She stepped up, took Princess Honeypea by the shoulders, and teleported her halfway across the dimension, to a random spot, which happened to be in a cluster of delvidians.

“Don’t do this,” Honeypea begged.

Marie didn’t respond. She jumped back to the tree to carry Angela to the inn. Then she went off to her own random spot to avoid detection. She ate one more fruit even though she was quite full, and sent herself to the Vellani Ambassador.

“Marie, where were you guys?” Ramses asked. “What happened? I lost your comms signals. My probes have been looking for you for two years.”

“Get in the pocket dimension,” Angela ordered.

“What?”

“Get in the pocket before it’s too late. I’m taking you back, but you’re too heavy.”

“Well, I need to uninstall it from the door frame first.”

Marie had by now figured out how long she could stay before the fruit called her back, and her time was now up. “I’ll come back in ten minutes. Be ready.” She thought that she would return to where she had last left, but the fruit forced her back to the tree instead. Honeypea was there, and she was not alone. Everyone was there too, including Team Matic, the Horticulturalists, and Goswin’s crew. Most of them were not happy.

Onyx immediately snatched the pod out of her hand. That’s enough of that.”

“Please. I just need one more fruit for one more jump. That’s it! Ramses will be ready to go, and it will be over. Just let me go.”

“You lost all the goodwill that you had,” Storm argued. “You will never be allowed back in this dimension.”

“That’s fine! Just let me go get Ramses first!”

They shook their heads, determined not to change their minds, but the tree had other plans. It began to glow and pulse, and then it sent Marie back to the ship one more time, fruit not required.

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