Microstory 2472: Anadome

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Let’s talk about the Amish and the Mennonite communities. First, actually, let’s discuss what they’re not. They are not people who simply reject all forms of technology. After all, the plow is technology. It’s millennia old, but its novelty was never the concern. The only concern that these Anabaptists have is whether something supports their community, or harms it. Does it please God, or does it pull you away from Him? Vehicles, for instance, are not the issue. It’s whether that vehicle will be used to take a driver away from their family and community. If it’s being used to transport their wares to buyers, they’ve never had a problem with it, but that is why they held onto the horse and buggy for so long, because it would have been an impractical form of escape. Their way of life has changed over time, but their goals and principles have not. Work within the community, serve God. It’s a pretty simple concept. While religion has all but died out in the galaxy, the Anabaptists have persisted, and that’s because their beliefs inform their practices to a degree that other religions and sects could never have hoped to replicate. Sure, if you were Catholic, you went to service once or twice a week, and you performed your rituals. And maybe every night you prayed over your bed. That’s all well and good, but you didn’t live Catholicism. You just did things here and there, and while your convictions could inform your behavior in general, they couldn’t necessarily survive across the generations, because children come up with their own relationship to God. That was usually encouraged, but it was also the source of religion’s ultimate fading from the world, because people focused less and less on it, and it became less vital to how they lived their lives, and the choices that they made.

Anabaptists were always different, because God lives at the core of their ideals, and their daily patterns. In the past, the Anabaptists were able to maintain their practices by having a symbiotic relationship with society in general. They sold us their goods, and used our payment to support their communities. Centuries ago, however, currency disappeared from modern society, as we transitioned to a post-scarcity economy. A new relationship was developed to prevent the Anabaptists from going extinct. Instead of selling what they make to us, they barter it. In return, we give them whatever they require to survive, be it medicine, protection, transportation, etc. We don’t ask for a certain amount of goods in order for them to get a certain amount of return. It’s not simply symbolic—their customers benefit from the human touch and the craftsmanship, which is hard to find these days—but it’s not perfectly ratioed either. We take care of them regardless of the price. If one community gives us ten chairs one month, but can only make five chairs the next, we still give them whatever they need. That’s not us being generous. That’s how we operate internally anyway. We don’t ask a whole lot out of our citizens, so why would we ask anything out of these fine folk? Over a century ago, some of the Anabaptists decided that they wanted to found a new community on Castlebourne. They wanted to start from scratch. Till new lands. So Castlebourne made room for them. You can’t visit Anadome, and gawk at them. I’m here as an anthropologist, to educate you on what this community is all about. Click below for my full report.

Microstory 2469: Gambledome

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Here’s the thing about gambling in a post-scarcity society...it’s not any fun! When money isn’t real, the stakes aren’t real, and there’s nothing interesting about it. The creators of Gambledome have managed to subvert this about as well as possible without completely shifting the paradigm of the economy. In Gambledome, money kind of is real, but only here. You start out with a modest amount of cash to spend on chips, and as you play, you win and lose those chips. If your stack starts piling up, you can cash them out, and spend it on things. You can get yourself a nice, luxurious room to stay in. You can spring for the (faux) lobster at dinner. You can give it away to your friends to make them like you. This is how it worked in other gambling communities on Earth back in the before-fore times, like Las Vegas. Here, it’s a recreation, which may make you think that your life can only get better, but that’s not true. If you run into the negative, you’re in trouble. You can’t leave the dome, and go back to the utopia that vonearthans have created since automation made fiat-based economies obsolete. You have to stick around, and pay off your debts. That’s right, there are real consequences. Some of the humans walking around as staff may be there because that is the experience that they have asked to be assigned while staying in the dome, but some are there because they have to be. Don’t come here if you don’t genuinely want to pretend to be an ancient human, because that’s the thing about gambling. You don’t know if you’re gonna win, and people lose all the time. A note on cheating: while they won’t torture you, it can land you in jail, where you’ll pay off your social debt by being locked up in a cell, unable to leave. We still have jails in the 27th century, of course, but the percentage of incarcerated individuals has never been lower, so this is rare. One woman lost her money on purpose, threw a tantrum, and tried to steal it all back, specifically so they would throw her in a cell, because it just doesn’t happen all that often anymore, and she certainly didn’t want to break any real laws. She didn’t want to go through the real justice system, and go to a real jail, where she might never get out. Overall, this place is a lot of fun, but only temporarily. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life here, and I certainly wouldn’t want to live in a world where people are sincerely desperate enough to gamble because they think they have no other choice. I don’t know if Gambledome is fostering any real addicts, but I sure would be interested to know if it’s happening, and if it is, whether the creators have any plans to do anything about it.

Microstory 2448: Chinadome

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China is one the largest, and most populated, nations on Earth. Historically, it has been a technological powerhouse, and a major player on the global economic stage. It’s so big that individuals emigrating out of China to other towns would often settle in such high numbers that they ended up transforming part of their city to a sector known as Chinatown. These were divisions of the established city in question—New York, San Francisco, Binondo—typically not in an official or legal capacity, but culturally relevant nonetheless. Since those of Chinese ancestry represent a large portion of people back on Earth, it stands to reason that a great deal of people who have chosen to travel to Castlebourne would be Chinese too. To be clear, you don’t have to have any Chinese heritage to come here. In reality, they encourage you to visit regardless of your family background or creed, and learn about Chinese history and culture. That’s the whole point of cultural domes. You can come here to see what it’s like, to engage in their events, or if you just feel comfortable in this environment. The dome holds all the same traditional observances here as they still do on Earth, such as Chinese New Year. It also recognizes the shift in sociopolitical practices that resulted from the adoption of more modern political ideas, particularly post-scarcity economic conventions. It’s a respectful blend of the historical China and the new China that most people living today are more familiar with. I agonized over how to phrase that, which is why, readers, this review is a bit later than usual. I think that’s the most P.C. way for me to say it. I’ll edit you according to your comments. But just this once. I recommend everyone on Castlebourne come for a visit. Even if you saw a Chinatown or two on Earth, there’s always something new to learn, and perspective to be gained.

Microstory 2427: Great Depression Dome

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Not everything on this planet has to be fun. Some of it should be a somber reflection of real life, and in this case, the inspiration is depressing. I don’t use that as a pun, but it’s a really good word to describe the nature of the source for the dome’s theme. The Great Depression was a period of worldwide economic turmoil that began in October of 1929, and continued on into the 1940s for some regions. It is defined by a global high of unemployment, institutional financial failure, and trade conflicts, among other things. I’m not here to give you a history lesson, though; that’s the dome’s job. This is a recreation of the conditions that a lot of people lived in during this time. There’s a swath of land representing the dust bowl, there’s a seemingly endless unemployment line, situated not too far from the soup kitchen line. They make excellent use of the entire area of the dome, exhibiting the various negative impacts of life on Earth in this time period. I’m glad that they put this dome here, because it happened 550 years ago. So many people alive today don’t even know what you’re talking about. There is so much to learn in your education that things fall through the cracks, and one of the biggest sacrifices we make is history. Science and math is always changing, and while it might be interesting to know how things used to be, it’s not vital. It’s more important to understand the present day concepts. History, on the other hand, never stops coming. Students today have more background to draw from than the students of yesterday, and the students of tomorrow will have even more. That is why it is so important to keep building places like this. People need to see how things were like in the past, especially in times before they were born. No one still alive right now was around to witness the Great Depression. The oldest in our population wasn’t even born yet, and that’s really sad. I don’t even know how many people can’t even grasp the very concept of a monetary-based economy. That’s where you have to start. You have to know what money is before you can comprehend what it meant to not have any of it. To not have everything you need just to survive as a living organism. Water, food, shelter. These are fundamental rights that we take for granted, but for most of human history, none of these things was guaranteed. The people who lived during the Depression understood that. I won’t lie to you, if you come here, you’re not going to “enjoy” it, but unless you’ve been studying this stuff in particular already, you are going to learn something. They do a really great job of framing the curriculum through the present-day lens, recognizing the shortcomings of conventional contemporary education, which again, must prioritize more “relevant” topics. I implore you to give it a try. Even though it’s not an adventure, and it may not be your cup of tea, it will be good for you. It would be good for everyone.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 16, 2398

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Finland. That’s where they want to go. Mateo doesn’t remember a whole lot from school, but he does recall a classmate of his once getting into an argument with their math teacher. The teacher claimed that the shortest distance between two points is a line, and she illustrated this using a geographical map. The student argued that it didn’t matter if the line was the shortest, because it wasn’t the fastest. Going that direction meant trudging through thick brush, and over a lake or two. It meant crossing straight through streets, and climbing over buildings. The fastest route was to get on the freeway, pass the destination just a little until the next exit, and cut through the city. The teacher insisted that this wasn’t what she was trying to teach, and he contended that she should be. Mateo recalls one quote quite clearly when his classmate said, “if what you teach us can’t be applied to the real world, then why are you trying to teach us anything at all?” He failed the assignment, and came this close to flunking out of the class.

To get back home, their shortest route would take them pretty much directly southward until hitting mainland Norway. There they could resupply, repair The Olimpia to its former glory, and contact their friends back in Kansas City with reliable cell service. They can’t do that, though, because in addition to it being the most direct route for them, it simultaneously creates the shortest distance between the island of Svalbard and the United States government, who they know they can’t trust. To protect Amir, and all the locals of Vertegen, they have to take the scenic route. Fortunately, they have a way to create a distraction in the form of Russia.

The Republican Federation of Russia bears an even more tumultuous history here than its counterpart in the main sequence. It has been on the sidelines of nearly every major world war since the first one. Funny enough, it doesn’t seem to experience much direct conflict with other states. It’s just been known to wait until the hostilities between two or more parties begin, and then choose a side. Some xenophobes might chalk this up to them making their choice randomly. A number of political cartoons, comedy sketches, and modern memes feature a blindfolded Russian leader throwing darts towards a map, or some variation therein. The reality is that Russia always chooses to back the belligerents whose victory would spell some kind of success for Russia. Russia chooses Russia is a slogan from a certain social awareness organization that is always trying to help people understand this.

The Russian government holds no convictions, and has no strong feelings about any specific faction. They are probably the least religious nation in the world—or maybe just when accounting for its sheer mass. The presidents have run their nation like a business, accepting benefits to their economy wherever they can find it, be it with a neighbor, a former enemy, or even a terrorist sect. At the moment, the United States is its biggest competitor, because while citizens of the U.S. would deny, deny, deny, their social practices are not without their similarities. They would never work with terrorists, but freedom fighters are just fine, and the difference between the two can often be found only in the nuance of personal perspective. So while Mateo labeled Russia the enemy, they are in fact more like a rival, and the Olimpia’s presence within their territory is no more dangerous than meeting an industry colleague for coffee in the cafeteria on the first floor of their office building.

Still, as stated, this is a distraction. If the team is spotted making their way through the White Sea, this will be all that Senator Honeycutt—and anyone else involved in all this—will focus on. They won’t even consider the possibility that they were once on Svalbard, or make any attempts to retrace their steps at all. It’s been a long journey, but thanks to Mateo’s new knife, not as long as it could have been. They’ve not had to stay on the surface of the water for the whole trip. Short bursts. They can stay in the air for a limited amount of time, which is what has allowed them to cross the distance as fast as they have so far, but they’re running out of power, and they need a new tactic. Leona may have come with the solution. “Well, if you have this thing, why can’t you just replace the solar panels altogether?” Solar power has been providing them enough energy to fly for a little bit, but they use that energy faster than it can come in, which is why they always have to drop back down to the water.

“I don’t know how to work this knife,” Mateo explains. I can’t get it to replace the entire panel. I can either replace part of the framing, or an individual...what did you call them?”

“Tiles,” Ramses helps. “Each time he stabs a panel, it only destroys that specific tile, and spits out a new one. I can’t figure out why efficiency is so low. It could be one or more of the tiles, but which ones?”

Leona takes the knife from Mateo, and examines it. Before anyone can stop her, she downs the rest of her water, sets the cub back on the counter, and tries to stab it. Nothing happens. “What did I do wrong?”

“You accidentally aren’t your husband, Mateo,” Angela says.

“What?”

“Only he can use it. We’ve both tried.”

“Well, I suppose I had to try too, given our connection, and the fact that some of that Existence water is still swimming through my veins.”

“Well, that was my favorite cup,” Angela laments.

“Then you shouldn’t have let me use it.”

Mateo chuckles once. He takes the knife back, and stabs the mangled cup himself, which generates a pristine replacement.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Leona shouts. “Okay, it makes a new one; it’s quantum duplication, whatever. But why does it make an unbroken one? It goes back in time to before it was damaged? How far back in time? How much damage does it correct? What if there was a dent in it that had been there for twenty years?”

“These are all questions that none of us can answer,” Ramses tells her.

“Did you try asking the Rakripa where they got it, and what they thought of it?”

“Yes,” Angela says, looking suddenly tired. “I asked them a lot of questions. Communication was difficult, and I eventually learned that it wasn’t only because our languages aren’t mutually intelligible. They were cagey. They were nice...but they didn’t want us to stick around. So we didn’t.”

Leona sighs. “Where is that lantern thing you were talking about?”

Ramses goes back down to engineering to retrieve it. “I’ve been all over this thing. I don’t think anything else needs to be replaced. What we need is power.”

“And I’m going to get it for you,” Leona says. She sets the lantern on the counter, and arranges her husband in front of it. She adjusts his arms and hands like a sexy golf instructor, or a pottery ghost. “Okay. Go for it.”

Microstory 1733: The ESS Dorado

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When the first of the asteroid miners went up into space, they were looking to make some money. There were tons of resources up there that they hoped would make them rich. It was probably about to, but it wasn’t long before the economy shifted, and no more value was placed in things that once meant everything. Yes, the metals and minerals they mined and processed from the asteroids were still incredibly important for the future of the human race, but everything they could exchange them for was now readily available, and distributed freely. That material was now only useful for making spaceships, and other vacuum structures. Trying to take it all the way down into Earth’s gravity well was a waste of time and energy. Still, their lives weren’t purposeless. Someone would have to build those ships, so it might as well be them. They still weren’t making any money, because it didn’t exist anymore, but people were grateful for their efforts, and the species was quickly becoming a multiplanetary culture. They kept working, kept looking for more, and were surprised about how much gold there was up there. Back in the ancient days, gold was the standard for monetary value. Everything was based upon its worth according to scarcity, measure of work needed to refine the raw material, and an arbitrary love of all that was shiny. Even after gold stopped being the official standard, people placed value on it simply because of how pretty it looked. To this day, it’s used in a number of technological instruments, but in relatively small amounts. As it turns out, the solar system is chock full of the stuff. Scarcity was a component of man’s inability to reach beyond the atmosphere at the time, and that is no longer the case. Still, what are they going to do with all this gold? Sure, some of it can go to those devices, but there will be a lot left over. This gave one of them a crazy idea.

They decided to build a ship. This ship would be composed almost entirely of gold. Propulsion, of course, and wiring systems, required specific materials in order to function, but the basic idea was that if it could exist in gold form, it was to be manufactured out of pure gold. It was the dumbest thing that anyone on Earth had ever heard of, but they too realized they had plenty of gold to satisfy their needs, and they recognized that the asteroid miners earned rightful control over everything they found that wasn’t claimed by someone else. It took them years to gather all the gold they would need, and refine it, but they were essentially immortal now, and most of the business was automated, so what did they care? It wasn’t until they were just about finished when they noticed that no one had thought about what they were going to actually do with the darn thing. Even with their indefinite lifespans, it wasn’t a good way to get to other planets in the solar system, or to other stars. It was more a piece of art; a think piece, a proof of concept...a proof of strength. They didn’t know if there were any aliens flying around out there, but they figured that their big gold ship would be a pretty good message to send anyone looking to see if the Earthans were weak enough to attack. If humans were advanced enough—and bored enough—to construct a literal golden ship, they were probably nothing anyone should want to trifle with. So they placed it in a permanent stable orbit around Earth, and named it The ESS Dorado. People came to visit occasionally, but it was mostly there to be marveled and appreciated from a distance. Aliens never came, and eventually they let it burn up in the atmosphere.

Microstory 1359: Flex

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TDS Management Representative: Hello, and welcome to TDS Management. I’ll be your TDS Rep today. Go ahead and have a seat. Did you happen to bring in an updated résumé?

Single Father: I do, right here. I have many copies, in case you wanna pass them out at your coffee shop.

TDS Rep: Haha, well, we don’t have to do that. I’m sure we’ll find you something good. Um, wow. This is a busy résumé. It looks like you have quite a bit of experience. Everything from gardening to middle management.

Single Father: Do I?

TDS Rep: Yes, when I see two-pagers, it’s usually because it’s filled with high school minimum wage jobs, but you have some real stuff on here.

Single Father: Yes, I moved around a lot in my younger years. I also just kept getting really good opportunities that I couldn’t pass up. I assure you that I’ve never been fired. All of these transitions were my idea.

TDS Rep: I would assume that. The gaps you have between positions aren’t large enough to suggest you were fired, and had no choice but to look for something else. Um, according to this, you’re still in a management position at a Magnate manufacturing facility. Are you not happy there?

Single Father: Oh, no. I fully intend to keep that job. It pays well, but maybe not quite well enough. I need a little bit extra now. I just adopted an older son. He has some special needs, and I’m not sure I can afford everything on my current salary alone.

TDS Rep: I see. Well, does your employer know you’re looking for a secondary job?

Single Father: They do not.

TDS Rep: Are they going to become more flexible on your hours, or...?

Single Father: No, everything about that job will stay the same. I just need a little more.

TDS Rep: If you take on another job, will you have time to care for your son? I only ask, because you specifically mentioned his special needs.

Single Father: It’s not going to be easy; I probably won’t get much sleep, but it’s gotta be done. I was hoping you could find me something with flexible hours, so I can decide when my son doesn’t need me. The job board listings aren’t that precise or detailed. I’ve been having to contact the employers directly, and ask them if they could theoretically accommodate me. You can imagine how awkward those conversations go.

TDS Rep: I don’t have to imagine. I’ve heard those conversations before. Look, flex-time is trending right now, but that still generally involves an individual only having the one job. Even grocery stores need you there at a certain time, and for a certain number of hours. You’re not going to find anything on the job boards, and I’m not going to fare any better.

Single Father: So, there’s nothing I can do?

TDS Rep: I didn’t say that. The gig economy is also trending. You could work for a ride-sourcing service, or a third-party delivery service. There are several apps you can download that let you just complete short tasks for people, like moving a TV, or waiting in line for a highly anticipated video game. Your résumé says that you have experience in graphic design. I’m sure there’s some kind of freelancing website that lets you advertise your skills. That would let you work from home, even when your son is there with you.

Single Father: These are all really good ideas.

TDS Rep: We can work together to develop a plan. That’s not what I generally do, obviously, but I don’t see any reason not to. If I had a full plate, I would have to turn you down, but I have some time right now.

Single Father: That would be lovely. Thank you.

Microstory 1357: Elevated

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High School Student: It’s very nice to meet you. My name is High School Student.

Elevator Supervisor: Nice to meet you too. I’m Elevator Supervisor. I wouldn’t normally entertain an interview from a high school student, but your brother speaks very highly of you, and thinks I should give you a chance. Just so you understand, there is a very slim chance that I’ll be able to hire you for this position, or any position. All of our work is full-time, and you’re still attending classes in high school, correct?

High School Student: I am, yes, but I’m very interested in working with you once I graduate. I only have one more year left, and then I’ll be able to commit more hours.

Elevator Supervisor: Why don’t you just focus on your studies, and wait until they’re over.

High School Student: I’m a very good student, I don’t have to try very hard, and I still get good grades. I don’t have to focus in order to pass my classes, and if this is what I want to do with my life, then I don’t see a problem with that.

Elevator Supervisor: If you’re such a good student, why don’t you go to college?

High School Student: My family can’t afford it.

Elevator Supervisor: I don’t claim to understand your family’s financial situation, but they do have loans, grants, scholarships. I went to college myself, and didn’t pay a dime until I was finished.

High School Student: I should rephrase that. My family can’t afford for me to remain outside of the workforce for the next five years. I need to get into it now.

Elevator Supervisor: Well, there are plenty of part-time jobs around here. You could work concessions at a movie theatre, or lifeguard in an indoor pool.

High School Student: That’s still a money thing. I don’t expect to be paid as much as an experienced elevator installer, but I can’t imagine starting salary is less than minimum wage.

Elevator Supervisor: Well, it’s not, but there’s a reason why there’s a difference between minimum wage part-time jobs, and full-time jobs, like this one. Those jobs require no experience, and hardly any skills. They let you make money for situations just like this, when the worker is still in school. I understand that it may not be enough, but that doesn’t mean you’re entitled to more. If everyone who needed money was always just given that money, then would money even hold meaning?

High School Student: Actually, it would, yeah. Money is only as valuable as the economy determines. Traditionally, we’ve based that value on the labor that went into generating it, but that is not the only method. Universal Basic Income studies have proved that people still contribute to society, even when they’re handed money they didn’t do anything to earn. In fact, some data even suggests people in those studies are even more willing to be productive, because they’re not so stressed out about finances.

Elevator Supervisor: Well. This isn’t a universal basic income study. We would expect you to be at work every day, complete the jobs as requested, and earn your paycheck. Like I said, we currently have no part-time positions available. I would have to make an exception, and I’m not sure that’s fair to the rest of my workers.

High School Student: Why would it not be fair? I don’t wanna be rude, but I don’t understand the logic there. The people who work full-time for you, I imagine are not wishing they could work fewer hours if it meant they would make less money. Who among them would look at me and my exception as a goal they envy? Give me less than you do them per hour, and give me fewer hours. No one is going to covet my circumstances.

Elevator Supervisor: That is a good point. I just don’t want to set a precedent, and start encouraging other people to beg us for work. A part-time elevator installer can install fewer elevators per day, which means the rest of your team will have to pick up the slack once you leave, or before you get there, depending.

High School Student: That is a valid concern, and I have no argument against it. I certainly don’t want to make it harder for others.

Elevator Supervisor: [...]

High School Student: [...]

Elevator Supervisor: Here. I’ll give you the number for my parts supplier. They’re local, so you wouldn’t have to drive far. They don’t rely on a team structure either, so your logic behind an exception could work on them. They may even have part-time positions, I don’t really know. Don’t tell them this, but if you work for them for a year, and don’t cause any problems, I’ll consider adding you to my own roster once you’re completely available for it.

High School Student: Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to be so kind.

Microstory 1257: Thando Kovar

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Thando Kovar was one of the hardest working men on Durus. He didn’t much mind doing the dirty jobs that no one else wanted to do, and even though he was fairly intelligent, and pretty well-educated, those were the jobs he stuck to, just so no one else would have to do them. It wasn’t until he was older that he realized he was taking those unglamorous jobs from people who didn’t have any choice, but by then, it was too late. He kept his head down, and didn’t make trouble. People would have called him average if they even knew who you were talking about when you brought it up. Still, there was this side of them that craved adventure. He wasn’t constantly pining after a more interesting life, but he not infrequently wondered what it would be like to see other places, and try new things. He hadn’t even realized he wanted this until The Elizabeth Warren came to his planet, and gave him the chance to throw his hat in the ring. He applied for passenger status, but did nothing else to help his case. He didn’t make conversation with the crew, or attach a letter. He just quietly delivered the application, and walked away. It was his good track record that ultimately won him a spot on the ship, but as soon as he boarded, he knew he had to voice his concerns. He didn’t want to just sit around and wait until they arrived at their destination. He had been a worker his entire life, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself without it. His parents taught him the value of work, which was a lesson not so easily shaken. It wasn’t until he finally made it to Earth that he saw how fulfilling life could be when one’s days could be dedicated to hobbies, rather than tedious labor. While all the others were just hanging out in the pocket dimensions, Thando remained on the ship proper, and kept it clean and maintained. Sure, there were lots of automated systems to take care of that, but the captain turned some of these off, just to make him feel useful. He attempted to continue the way his life had always been upon reaching the homeworld, but that was a lot more difficult. Earth had transformed enormously since the first refugees were stranded on Durus. They had done away with work for the most part. People made themselves useful by creating new things, participating in socio-political debates, and preparing to colonize other planets. He wasn’t really qualified to do anything like that, so if he wanted to help, he would need a more relevant education. Before he got started on that, his case workers set him up with a new identity, and a new life, in what was formerly North America. They all but forced him to go on an extended vacation, so he could really think about whether he wanted to be part of the optional workforce, or if he just wanted to enjoy his life. After only a couple weeks of this, he decided on the latter, even though it was a choice he never could have fathomed making just a couple months ago. He forwent his education, and spent his days traveling the world. He didn’t much care for the virtual constructs that other people were visiting, but he saw a lot of fascinating things until he died of age-related causes many years later. He could have upgraded himself to live forever, but there was still a line he wouldn’t cross, and that was it.

Microstory 1256: Elliot Channing

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Most people can probably accept that, while they’re the hero in their own story, others may not look so favorably upon their actions. Elliot Channing hated this possibility, and was on a constant quest to somehow become the hero in everyone’s story. He knew this was an absurd goal, and he wasn’t delusional, but he figured the closest he could get to achieving it would be to get himself into politics. Elliot could always see the difference between a good politician, and a bad one. He would often overreact to other people’s claims that all politicians were dirty, and could not be trusted. It was his own damn fault for getting into those arguments, as he would goad people into them by volunteering his opinion unprompted. His was an altered perspective, however, as he believed these were debates that would bolster his experience. His efforts did not prove pointless, as he was routinely elected into higher and higher office, until he really made his mark as a Missouri state senator, where he served his eight full years. By then, he had had a lot of experience in lower offices, including having been part of the House of Representatives for eight years, and he was showing no signs of stopping. Many believed he was going to be Missouri’s next Governor, but life took him in a different direction. He suddenly pulled out of the race, and permanently joined the City Frenzy committee. He never vocalized his reasons for this, but the truth was he was instructed to do this by an individual who claimed to be able to see the future. The Frenzy was a different kind of race; a literal foot race, but it was important to the Kansas City economy. And if it was important to his constituents, then it was important to him. After all this time, making sure both Kansas and Missouri were  financially and socially prosperous seemed like the most important thing to accomplish. Though he had been a lifelong civil servant, most of the electorate did not pay much attention to him until he switched tactics. The average voter only notices whether a candidate has a little D next to their name, or an R. He didn’t feel like he wanted to be part of that anymore, and also that he wasn’t doing much good. It was under his leadership that the event committee grew, and eventually took on more than the annual race. Soon, they were drawing in crowds from all over the country—and even out of the country—for all sorts of concerts, fairs, sports exhibitions, and more. It’s uncertain whether anyone would have called Channing a hero, but he was inarguably a celebrity, and he decided that this was what he truly wanted all along.

Microstory 1162: Dave Seidel

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David Seidel was not born with any special time powers. He was just an average human being who couldn’t hold down a job for very long. He had trouble working with people, and wasn’t what multiple unrelated employers would call a team player. He was so happy when the gig economy started really taking off. Almost overnight, he was able to start making money by being self-employed. He would never become a millionaire this way, but it let him make his own schedule, and pay the bills. He was particularly suitable for driving jobs. At first, he was just delivering food, but he wasn’t making enough money that way, so he knew he would have to expand to passengers. Of course, this meant interacting with people, but he soon realized he had a secret weapon. He spoke Icelandic. He spent his summers with his aunt on the other side of the state, because she retired early, and his parents were too busy to watch him, and too poor to send him to camp. He remembers fondly his time over there, but she never explained to him why she taught him a language with only a few hundred thousand speakers. Perhaps she could see the future, and knew it would come in handy one day. It was easy for him to pretend he didn’t speak English, so as to dissuade his passengers from trying to make conversation. All he had to do was say a few random things to get people cheerful, and they would give him a five star rating. It only got him into trouble a few times when they got the bright idea of using a virtual translator. Then he actually had to have a conversation. One woman even used it in secret, and heard Dave spout the random assortment of words that had no semantic meaning. Not only was she cool with what he had done, but she offered him a permanent position, and a literal blank check. He was free to choose his own salary, and that was an opportunity he could not pass up.

The job was not without its risk, however. This woman was named Meliora Reaver. She was born with pretty much every time power there was, and had attempted all of them, except for one. She had never tried to give someone their own power, and wasn’t sure she could do it. It wasn’t exactly a painless procedure, but Dave came out with the ability to teleport. Teleportation is a not uncommon ability, but his version of it was unique. Salmon and choosers are basically subspecies of human, which allows them to experience nonlinear time in practically any way, whether it be by their own hand, or someone else’s. Regular humans are not capable of this, however, and are in danger of contracting time illness. Not only could Dave teleport, he could ferry other people with him, and if they were human, they would not fall ill because of it. This was the perfect power for him to have while under Meliora’s employ. She needed someone who could rescue people in danger from violent choosing ones, and transport them to her Sanctuary on Dardius. She didn’t know what she was doing when she gave him this power, so she couldn’t be so deliberate. It just so happened that he had life experience as a transporter, and that she needed someone with those particular set of skills. She only chose him because she was aware he had worked for a not so great person in an alternate timeline, and maybe needed a little nudge in the right direction. As it turned out, though Dave did not need to become a villain, he also wasn’t likely to become a hero. He treated his job at Sanctuary as just that; a job, and had no strong feelings about the people he was helping. He was neutral about the whole thing, just like had been his whole life. He never considered himself to be special, even though there was no one like him. To him, he was just The Chauffeur.

Microstory 1143: Mahala Davidyan

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Out of everyone in the Freemarketeer faction, Mahala Davidyan was one of the least capitalistic, second only to Ramses Abdulrashid, though the question remains if Ramses was ever that open-minded, or if he managed to improve a great deal, due to his exposure to Brooke Prieto and her friends. Mahala was never much for change, even though the entire point of her faction was to completely alter the way the economy operated. She didn’t outwardly question her parents’ convictions, because she didn’t really have any of her own, but she didn’t exactly agree with them either. No one was forcing her to stick around, but she saw no reason to live any other way. If there was one thing the Freemarketeers did right, it’s that they didn’t force anyone to be part of the group. Anyone born into it was given the choice to leave with no social controversy. Mahala didn’t leave, though she probably should have. And that’s not just true because of how badly things turned out. After decades of scarce recruitment, and zero progress towards their goals of a capitalistic society, the Freemarketeers realized the only way they would be able to live how they wanted was if they did it somewhere else. The ship that was trying to transport them to a nearby exoplanet, however, suffered a cataclysmic malfunction, prompted by their own resentful leader. They thought they were rescued when a comprehensive network of portals opened up, and spirited them away, but they soon found them in a complicated situation when the same exact thing kept happening. Parallel timelines are nearly impossible to stabilize for an extended period of time. Most potential outcomes only last for microseconds, which is why they’re known as microrealities. For most universes, this is completely irrelevant on a practical level, because people aren’t conscious of the path they might have taken, especially since they’re not the only ones walking down the metaphorical path. When you’re dealing with time travel, it’s entirely possible to access these short-lived realities, and even steal from them. They’re about to collapse, so it doesn’t matter much anyway, except when it becomes cancerous. For some reason, the technology that rescued them had a malfunction of its own, and kept trying to rescue them, over and over and over again. It just kept drawing alternate versions of the same people from microrealities, and transporting them to the planet of Dardius. Every day, a new batch of alternates would arrive. This was causing problems for the planet’s natives, and for the Freemarketeers, and war broke out for resources. Both sides knew that nothing was going to get better if they didn’t start communicating with each other. Mahala was chosen as the Ambassador to Dardius primarily for her apathy. It was a strange tactic, but the truth is the Freemarketeers wanted a solution just as much as the Dardieti. They didn’t want to keep fighting either, so if Mahala could negotiate a peace, and they would have to make sacrifices, then fine. This is what she did, and after years of fighting, the war was finally over. But that didn’t mean all of the issues between them were resolved. Mahala’s job as an ambassador was just getting started.

Microstory 1043: Mollie

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Thanks for doing this over the phone, Miss...what was your name again? Alma? I was still going to school when Viola died, but I had kind of totally checked out by then. I worked really hard in school, so that I could graduate a semester early, but what really gave me the edge was being homeschooled until freshman year. You see, it’s really hard to determine what kind of classes I’ve already theoretically passed, and where I need improvement. So when I finally started at public school, there were probably some credits that I hadn’t truly earned. I shouldn’t say probably. Possibly is a better word, because we don’t really know for sure. Don’t get the wrong idea, though. I got near-perfect grades for the years once I was coming here, and I was accepted into college fair and square. I will say this, though, I’m not sure I would have gotten in without Viola’s help. One subject I’ve always struggled in was math. The thing about homeschooling is that, just because you want to shelter your kids from the world, doesn’t mean you can provide them with the best learning environment. Sure, I had the advantage with a scientist mother, and economic historian father, but there were just some things I was missing. Don’t tell my parents I said that, though. I practically had to submit an application to them just to go to a real high school. Anyway, even with a literal genius trying to teach me mathematics, I can’t wrap my brain around it. I ended up resigning myself to the fact that I’ll never be the next Pythagoras, and for a couple years, I thought that was okay. But then for my junior year, I had the opportunity to take a more advanced class, or just play it safe, like I always had. Though Viola and I hadn’t spoken much, because I was hardly a member of society at the time, she urged me to take the harder class. I mean, she was heavily invested in my future, and I had no clue why. I also had no reason to actually follow her advice, because at the time, I was considering a career in social work. It wasn’t until my last semester that I realized that I was falling in love with psychology. In particular, I want to be on the research side of the field, which requires a not insignificant mathematical background. I might have been able to get by without those last two classes, but I would have been behind, and it probably gives me another advantage when I’m applying for grad school in a few years. I’m on track to graduating in just three years, and I owe it all to Viola, who got this close to offering me money to take her advice. Looking back, she had talked about it like something like this was going to happen, rather than her just wanting me to take risks, or something. How could she have known?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 10, 2217

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Mateo woke up in a bed with a terrible headache. He reached for his head, where he found some kind of cap on it that he figured he better leave alone. Leona was reading next to him. “You have to stop doing that to me,” she said.

“What happened?” he asked.

She kind of acted like she was still half-reading her book, and wasn’t too concerned with his wellbeing. “For starters, it didn’t work. I guess a grave chamber is not the same thing as a real grave in the ground. We shouldn’t be surprised. It’s only a meter deep, too wide, and not long enough. You didn’t manage to travel to Dardius, but you did hit your head somethin’ fierce on the side of the chamber. You’ve been out cold since last year.”

“Christ, it hurts.”

Leona reached for an IV bag hanging in the corner, and examined it. “Ahh, you ran out of painkillers. On the bright side, the pain is probably what woke up again.”

“So, it’s 2217?”

“Yes.”

“I better get up, then. We need a real grave this time.”

She flipped the page. “Way ahead of you. Ramses dug it while we were gone. I’m not convinced you should do it, though.”

“Was anyone else able to do it?”

“No, but they got hurt in the trying; not quite as bad as you, but...”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one what can summon Halifax with an open grave,” Mateo said, “other than Serkan Demir, of course.”

“You’re in no condition to be falling backfirst into a hole.”

“I have to try, and I have to do it now. We don’t know when the Maramon will find the human Ansutahan. They haven’t yet, right?”

“Serif is coordinating with the leadership on the other side of the bridge right now. No, I don’t think the Maramon have found them yet.”

Mateo slid the needle out of his arm, and started climbing out of bed. “Take me to the grave.”

She sighed, and dropped her book on the mattress. “Very well. It’s in the Blacklight District.”

She led him outside, or to what passed for the outside under a giant city-sized dome that protected the human inhabitants from the harsh conditions of Jungula’s surface. People were watching them curiously, but someone had already provided the Jungulans with sufficient explanation.

Ramses was waiting for them with a big smile on his face. “I didn’t know when you would come to, but I knew you would come to here once you did.”

“Are you going to Dardius with us?” Mateo asked him.

“No, he’s not,” Leona answered quickly.

“She’s kidding,” Ramses said. “Yes, I am.”

“We need you to stay here, and keep watch over the ship.”

“That’s bullshit. Put me in, coach. I have to see this.”

Mateo gave Leona this look. “We’ve no right to keep him away from this. He’s been proving himself trustworthy since before I existed.”

Leona sighed again. “Fine. I don’t want you out of our sight, though. When it’s time to come back, it’s time to come back.”

“Absolutely,” Ramses agreed.

They huddled together, and fell back into the grave. The light above them changed, revealing that their plan had worked. They climbed out of the hole, and looked around. They were in a cemetery on the edge of a city, but The Gravedigger was nowhere to be found. “Hmm, he must be busy,” Mateo guessed. “He had enough time to transport us, but no time to talk.”

“As long as he takes us back, with everything we need, I’m okay with that,” Leona noted. “Come on, we have to get our bearings. Sharice indicated the beacon would be in something called the Intake Building.”

As it turned out, they were in Sutvindr, which Mateo recalled being considered the Kansas of Dardius. It was the central region of the world, where everything began. A friendly passerby gave them directions to the Intake Building, and didn’t ask why they didn’t already know it. The three of them moved on until they came upon it, and then they walked in, and up to the reception desk.

“Welcome to Intake, how may I help you?”

“Yes, umm...” Leona hesitated. “What is this place?”

“Everyone who comes to this planet does so through this facility.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone, even you. Unless...” The receptionist peered at them. Then she looked over to the far wall, where they found a gigantic painting of Mateo, Leona, and a few of their closest friends. “Oh my God, you’re back.” She didn’t know how she was supposed to handle this situation.

“Please don’t make a fuss,” Mateo asked of her. “We’re just looking for the Muster Beacon.”

She was taken aback by this. “Well, that’s what we use to summon massive numbers of refugees from Earth. The last time we used it was for the arcology hanging tower in Panama.”

“Ooooohhh,” Leona said. “This is where it went.” Years ago, when Leona was deep in the fight against Ulinthra in the corrupted reality, the former tried to kill thousands of people by dropping their building, which was hanging from a platform, to the ground. A portal had opened up, and taken the building away, but Leona never found out where. Now it was all coming together.”

“Does that mean you’re done with it, and we can take it?” Ramses asked her.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” The receptionist questioned.

“A new series regular,” he replied.

She ignored him, and went back to the celebrities. “Mister Matic, it’s true you still own this planet, but in your absence, a governing body is elected to maintain order.” She frowned, worried about their reactions.

He wasn’t offended in the least. “Naturally.”

“I’m not saying you can’t have the Muster Beacon, but I also can’t say that you can. This may be a decision for the Senior Administrator. I don’t personally have a way to contact her, but I can get you close.”

“That would be lovely, thanks.”

The receptionist dialed the phone, and spoke into her headset. “Hello, this is Reception. I have two executive guests, plus an undesignated associate, here to see Transportation Administrator Moss.” She waited for the person on the other end to talk. “Uhh, the tippy top.—Yes, those two.—Just tell her the owners are here, thank you!” She hung up, probably in the middle of the other person’s sentence. She looked back up at them and smiled. “Please have a seat.”

They waited for about ten minutes before a woman that looked familiar walked down the steps, and greeted them. “Mister and Missus Matic, thank you for coming in. Who else do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

He shook her hand. “Captain Ramses Abdulrashid. I don’t own any planets, but I’m happy to be here.”

“Great, great. How can I help you?”

“We would like to...borrow your Muster Beacon.”

“For what?”

“Refugees, just like how you use it. Eleven billion humans, trapped in another universe, with no time to evacuate them all once.”

“I should say so,” Administrator Moss agreed. She consulted her tablet. “If they’re in another universe, that explains why we haven’t been notified of their need for help. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I can give up the beacon. We will be needing it for a pressing matter. Dozens of helpless passengers are requiring extraction from two related ships. Let’s see, The...Vosa, and The Sharice.”

Mateo, Leona, and Ramses looked amongst each other. “You’re saving them?”

“Quite.”

“The Vosa, I understand,” Leano said.

“But the Sharice?” Ramses questioned emphatically. “Those people are horrendous. I would know, I used to be one of them. I was on that ship, and they don’t deserve to be saved!”

Moss looked back at her tablet. “Captain Abdulrashid? You were a mechanic.”

“Engineer,” he corrected. “I’ve transcended my old life.”

“It’s already happened, right?” Mateo asked. “I mean those ships blew up years ago?”

“Yes.”

“So, it doesn’t matter when you extract them, because it’s time travel anyway.”

Moss nodded her head. “Yes, but we do have a schedule. It may seem arbitrary to you, but the assimilation of new people into our society is a very delicate process. Our experts have spent months dedicated to research and predictive modeling. They must arrive within the next seven weeks to safely acclimate to our way of life.”

“The Muster Lighter,” Leona said simply.

“I’m sorry?” Moss turned the tablet’s screen off so she could pay Leona attention.

“When I was on the Vosa, trying to get back to Earth, I spoke with Holly Blue about all the objects that I had accumulated. She said the Muster Lighter is capable of summoning hundreds of people at once. You don’t need the beacon for this mission. The lighter could do it.”

“We don’t have the Muster Lighter,” Moss reminded her.

“Something tells me you have ways of getting the things you need from Earth. If the beacon reach out and find its predecessor, maybe you still have access to the Nexus we once had on Tribulation Island.”

“Yes, it’s still there. We use it for recon missions.”

“Find a chooser with potential permission to go to The Constant. If the Muster Lighter isn’t still there, The Concierge will know what happened to it. Tell her I sent ya.”

Administrator Moss cleared her throat, and thought over this proposal. “I’m inclined to accept your exchange, but only because you’re the owner. I need assurances that you will bring it back as soon as you’re done with it, in pristine condition. Just because we may not need it for the next arrivals, doesn’t mean we’ll never need it again.”

“Of course, you have our word.”

“Huntsville Waterdome,” Mateo suddenly blurted out.

Administrator Moss had mixed feelings about hearing this, but she knew exactly what he meant by that.

“What?” Leona said.

“This was her. This was the woman who flew us all the way from Ontario to San Diego when we were trying to save my mother and Samsonite. She saved their lives, with little hesitation, even though she had no idea who we were.”

The Administrator was quiet and reticent.

“Oh, he’s right,” Leona realized. “I remember you. That was in another reality.”

“Yes, Dardius is aware of changes to the timeline. We save people from every reality, so even when one collapses, the people we took from there will still get to live out their lives in whatever reality remains.”

“You’re a good person, Administrator Moss,” Leona reminded her. “Like he said, you helped us when you had no reason to. You’ll do the right thing now.”

She considered it once more, then finally gave in. “Okay. You can take the beacon, but we do still need it back.”

“I promise.”

“I’m staying here,” Ramses said.

“You said you would come back when it was time,” Leona said, only a bit upset.

“I know, and I meant it, but if the Freemarketeers are coming here, I just...I don’t trust that they’ll accept their new reality.” He faced Admin Moss. “I don’t know what kind of economy and government you have on this world, but they’re fiercely capitalistic. I’m not sure you’re fully prepared to change their minds. My mind has already been changed, so I know what it’s going to take.”

“It’s fine with me,” Moss said. “I can help you get your citizenship request forms started.”

“Very well,” Leona relented. I do want to get back before 2218,” she said to Mateo.

“Me too,” he said. “But there’s no reason we can’t have some dinner at Lorenzo’s Grill.”

“It’s midmorning,” Moss said.

“Then we’ll have quiche at Reaver’s.”

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Microstory 946: Taxes

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I know it’s an extremely unpopular opinion, but I very much love taxes. In 2011, I worked for the IRS for a short stint during tax season. A year later, I worked at H&R Block as an editor in a temporary capacity in the Learning Department for several months. Almost exactly a year after my first day, I was rehired there in a similar position, which only lasted a couple months. I applied for these jobs very much on purpose, and only don’t still do them, because I was just a temp, and they weren’t going anywhere. Now, why would I like taxes? They’re a pain to fill out, and “that’s my hard-earned money”. Well, that’s true. You did earn that money, so the question is now, what are you going to do with it? Are you going to buy more guns? Cigarettes? Tiki torches? Or do you want to spend it on improvements to your community? Libertarians would say, “hell no” to the latter, and “you should be able to, if you want,” to any other option. If you think spending a day or two filling out tax forms each year is a huge hassle, you are in for a real treat, if we ever get rid of them. Let’s go on a hypothetical walk, and take a look around. You’re on a sidewalk, next to a road. Let’s say it’s the evening, which means there are streetlights, lighting your way, along with traffic lights keeping cars from killing you. There’s a county hospital. That’s a public a school. Right across the street from that police station is a fire station. Wave hello to that postal worker, on his way to delivering your paycheck. Oh, now we’re in a not so great neighborhood. These people are struggling to get by, but fortunately, the government helps them out. They provide them with a little bit extra, to make their lives easier, so they have some money left over, which they spend on goods and services, which stimulates the economy. Which helps us all. See that house with a flag in the front, still in “bad” neighborhood? A marine once lived there. Not anymore, though. She was killed in action fighting for your freedom, and is survived by her husband, and two little children. Your taxes paid for her gear, and then it paid for her memorial services. Your taxes paid for that road, sidewalk, and lights. It paid for police protection, fire safety, health care, community education, and mail. It even paid some welfare, and other assistance programs.

Some of things I’ve discussed you like, and some you don’t. Some you use, and some you don’t. But I guarantee you know at least one person who has, at some point, benefited from each of these things. An educated populace is a prosperous one, and I think it would be difficult to argue against the idea of safety and health. You may want these individual services to be paid for by the consumer on an as-needed basis. You may want everything to be privatized, so that companies compete for your business. That’s what capitalism is about, so why wouldn’t we use it for this? Well, because that would be hell. I don’t want to have to pay a toll every time I switch from one street to the next. L.A. traffic would look like racetrack compared to how that would be. Maybe we simplify it, by adding stickers to your car that indicates which streets you’ve paid for, and which you haven’t. Could you imagine the amount of manpower it would take to regulate this, however you set it  up? A labor shortage would put this nation into just as much turmoil as unemployment has in recent history. You may hate taxes, but they are the most efficient means of distributing wealth across the whole country. I’m not saying it’s a perfect system. There are so many ways we can make it better. I don’t understand why I fill out any forms at all. The government should know where I work, how much money I earned, and even what I did with it. Just take what you need, send me a statement, and give me back my Aprils. I also don’t always agree with what they spend my tax dollars on, but the solution to this is not to simply eliminate the concept completely. The solution is to vote for civil servants who I believe will change laws according to what’s best for society. If you agree with this sentiment, then come the next two elections...#votethemout.

Microstory 865: Cashier or Credit

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After seven years, the war is finally over, and wouldn’t you know it, it ended in peace. No side truly won over the other, but compromises were made. Hell would continue to house all the dead bad people, but exactly what qualifies as bad would be drastically altered. There would also be limitations on the conditions of the hellscape, rendering the place more depressing and banal than torturous. Heaven would be turned over completely to be run by the hypostates, with very little cross traffic, save for checks and balances. Earth would be left mostly to its own devices, with an interesting twist. Any demon wishing to relinquish their connection to the other realms would be free to start new lives, alongside living humans, with no repercussions. The apostates agreed to this, not thinking it would make any difference. A surprisingly high number of demons wanted to live with mortals, which was actually rather beneficial to the global economy. The world was primed to restabilize after the apocalypse, but that didn’t mean demons were automatically awarded decent jobs, or that they would be happy about it, or that they would not revert to their old ways. Most of them ended up with dead-end, minimum wage, high school jobs. If you were a law-abiding demon who went an entire workday without doing anything with trash, you were lucky, just that good, or had brilliant connections. With this in mind, I get into the line at the grocery store that’s being run by a demon cashier. The woman ahead of me is wearing that infamous tattoo, indicating that she was a warrior for The Lightbringer during the war, which explains why she’s the only other human willing to risk it. I’m here because demons don’t bother me that much, and the other lines are far too long. It doesn’t hurt that the demon cashier is extremely beautiful. I identified as pansexual even before the armies of darkness brought hellfire to the surface, as many people did. I know a lot of others started questioning their sexuality when that happened, never having before been confronted with the puzzle of how to feel about someone who we would best be described as a monster. I had no problem with it, and were we not literal born enemies, I would have considered a relationship with a demon years ago. I treat individuals individually, and try not to judge people until I know more about what they’ve been through. The warrior takes her groceries, along with the fiver that the cashier tried to pocket. She doesn’t even argue about it; she just gets it back, and walks away. I throw my own stuff on the belt, and try to swipe my credit card. The cashier tells me that the reader is broken, and she’ll have to swipe it for me. Extra cautious from what she tried to do to the warrior, I watch her carefully, easily catching her slipping the card into her cleavage while replacing it with another one. She tries to give me the wrong one, likely hoping I’ll put it away without even looking. I politely ask for the right one, and remind her to return this other one to its rightful owner. “And one more thing,” I say. Her eyes dart over to her supervisor. This may be the straw that causes the camel to fire her. “Would you like to get some coffee sometime?”