Microstory 2758: Headwater

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The survivors look up at the sky, expecting Hrockas to reappear to announce Miracle’s death, like this is some kind of dystopian survival game. He doesn’t do that, though, and doesn’t need to. They all saw it. Miracle’s first teleportation could have been a weird trick of the mind, but it’s harder to explain it away this time. It looks like various forms of time travel are possible, and that one of these forms killed her. She will survive, or at least one version of her will. She will have no memories of her life after she was taken from her hotel room, and thrown out the window at the start of this. It’s unclear what she’ll think happened, or what she’ll do now. She may try to fight her way back, but if they really are in another dimension, that might be impossible.

The stakes have officially been raised. Death is plainly on the table, and the traps might be unpredictable, and even inexplicable. They have no idea where any other mines could be hiding. Hrockas wouldn’t have let them get this far if there were no way out, though. If he actually didn’t want them to find the treasure, he probably would have simply erased their memories. That’s not illegal here in the Charter Cloud of the galaxy.

“This is another escape room,” Rage determines. “I’ve even played one very similar to this before. They were regular land mines, of course, but the trick is finding the only safe path between them. We need to get to higher ground.”

“I will take care of that,” Zelda volunteers. She tries to jump up to a beam attached to the outside of the dome, but she can’t get that high in her tiny frame.

Minotaur helps her up. They’re taller, so they follow on their own with less issue.

They can’t climb up too far because they’re constantly curving away from the street, eventually reaching a point where they would lose the perspective advantage.

“See anything notable?” Rage shouts up to them. “Darkened squares? Anything?”

“There’s nothing!” Zelda cries back. “Minotaur is getting nauseated!”

“Come on back down!” Rage tells them. “It’s not safe!”

Everyone has been looking up at them, of course, but Elise has just now realized that Colley has been looking in the wrong direction. His eyesight is darting back and forth across the sky, and he sometimes turns completely. “What is it?” she asks.

“Has anyone here been to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida?” Colley asks.

“I have,” says one of the only two remaining hunters from Miracle’s team. Elise has not even gotten the chance to learn her name yet, even though it would have been plastered on her locker at the starting line. “I was born on a stasis ship that was part of the original fleet because my parents were awake the whole time as Shepherds.”

“Do you know Bida’s constellations?” Colley presses. “Because I don’t...except for that one.” He points. “That’s the feather duster, which is how I know this is a clue, because we’re a hundred light years from Tau Ceti. It has to be on purpose.”

The girl looks up as well. “Umm...I think you’re right, but I’m not much into the astrology. Unlike Earth, my ancestors never needed stars to navigate. Colonists contrived constellations for fun, according to what I remember. I think that might be the River Dhel, though. It’s the most important one for many of the world’s superstitions because it reflects the real river for a brief window every night.”

“When is the window?” Elise asks her. “And does anyone have a watch?”

“I have a watch on my multitool,” Minotaur says as Jolanda is helping them back down to the ground. “Why do we need it? What did we miss while we were up there?”

“The window depends on what day of year it is,” Colley explains. “We would need a Bidan calendar, and we would need to know what time it is—”

“We don’t need a Bidan calendar,” the Bidan girl argues. “I know we don’t need it because we don’t have it, and had no chance of taking one with us. I just need to know what time it is right now. It doesn’t even have to be the right time according to anyone in the outside world. Hrockas would have accounted for that when programming it.”

“She’s right,” Elise agrees. “You have a timekeeper because he wanted you to.”

“It’s 20:42,” Minotaur answers. “It’s true, I don’t know what planet.”

“For now, it’s Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida,” the Bidan decides, “and we’re too late. The reflection happens at the same time as the lunar culmination every year on the same night between 20:24 and 20:31. It’s a holiday. We took too long to figure out the clue.”

“Point out the river again,” Colley says. He moves over to stand next to her. They quietly work out exactly which stars make up the constellation while he looks down at the ground, a little off to the side, away from Miracle’s still dead body. “We got it.”

“You remember where the stars were fifteen minutes ago?” Rage asks him.

Colley clicks his tongue and taps on his head. “Hrockas can force me into any substrate he wants, but he can’t stop me from having an eidetic memory,” he echoes Miracle from before she hit an apparent teleportation mine and fell to her death.

Rage takes a breath. “Okay, we’ll draw for lead. Colley, you’re out of the running this time since you have the map. Our new Bidan friend is too for the same reason.”

“No, please don’t draw,” Jolanda says. “I’ve not been contributing anything to the hunt, and need to feel useful. I’ll take lead. I had a conversation with myself shortly before my consciousness stream was cut. I’m prepared to wake up without memories.”

“Okay, we have a volunteer.” Rage looks around at the group. “Any objections?”

No one objects, so Jolanda stands in front. Colley stands behind her, but far enough away to be hopefully safe from the blast of a land mine. It will hopefully not happen at all, but they’re not too naïve to be prepared for it. Everyone else walks in a single-file line behind him and the Bidan. Colley directs Jolanda slowly. The assumption is that the river mouth ends at the fountain in the center of the square. It’s less likely that they would have to walk the entire length of the river in order to perfectly replicate what the believers on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida would do during their special annual holiday. They seem to be correct once they reach that fountain and no one has died yet. Assuming this will lead them further down the path to their prize, there’s now another puzzle to solve, though. And they don’t know where to begin.

Zelda sticks her face in the dark water. She then slowly starts diving deeper and deeper until only her feet remain, which Rage and Elise have to hold onto so she doesn’t sink to the bottom. After a few more seconds, she taps on her own hip, which they take to mean it’s time to pull her up. “It’s bottomless.”

“You don’t know that,” the other non-team member contends.

“I think we’re supposed to get in,” Zelda figures. “A leap of faith.”

The Bidan nods. “In my planet’s origin story, which we all know someone made up, the creator God takes a leap of faith in the River Dhel where she finds the energy she needs to conjure the star.” She points to a sculpture. “She is represented by a fish.”

That’s all Zelda needs. She jumps in headfirst. Nearly everyone else follow.

Microstory 157: Cambrio Yates

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There are a few different kinds of memory. Semantic memory includes the things you know about the world around you, regardless of the means you took to learn them. This helps you recognize what a car is, or what planet we’re on, or that you’re a human. Episodic memory refers to everything that you have experienced; all the events in your life. Cases of amnesia are usually portrayed as affecting episodic memory (i.e. memories) but leave semantic memory alone, so that you’re not freaked out by the “first time” you see an airplane. Finally, procedural memory handles task that you are familiar with performing. It’s commonly known as muscle memory. You don’t actively concentrate on driving a vehicle. You’ve done it so much that it’s become second nature, and your body handles it on its own. Whereas Dathan Shapiro simply had a more robust memory system, Cambrio Yates had the ability to manipulate the functions of his own brain; primarily, but not limited to, memory. He was born with a sort of second brain that he likes to call the governor. It maintains control over the rest of his brain, and will revert his mind to its standard settings as needed. Though Cambrio is capable of having 100% recall of everything he’s ever experienced or learned, he can also delete information and suppress function at will. He’s been known to play around with his own brain, making himself blind, or temporarily hiding all semantic memory, so that everything he encounters feels completely unfamiliar. He’s watched movies for the first time multiple times, and even read books with his eyes closed by taking mental photographs of the pages in rapid succession, and then recalling the words gradually. His brother, Fraser could do the same things as him, but with other people. Cambrio encouraged him to experiment and practice his gift, but he was always very reluctant. Still, Fraser listened to his brother, and tried a few things out, and it got him killed. Cambrio blamed himself for his brother’s murder, and so he permanently deleted the traumatic memory from his brain, careful to leave himself with the knowledge that he should never attempt to remember.

Microstory 125: Alonso Silva

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Alonso Silva grew up in a small and quiet town in Spain. He had a passion for knowledge, but a complete hatred for learning. Going to school, listening to teachers, and reading books all felt like such a waste of time. He just wanted to get to the end where he knew everything. Fortunately, he was biologically designed to achieve such a thing. Once, when walking back home from school, he discovered a loosened eyelash on his cheek. He blew on it and made a wish. As the hair was drifting down to the ground, it started to glow with a grayish light. As the light increased, it began to take the shape of a door. When the door faded away, an exact copy of Alonso was left standing in front of him, wearing a simple gray tunic of some kind. There appeared to be no limit to the number of clones Alonso was able to conjure at any one time, however, each clone would only last for exactly four days. At that point, it would fade back into the gray, and Alonso would absorb its memories. The clones were not intelligent enough to make their own decisions, nor was he able to connect with them remotely, but they did have eidetic memories. It was this exploit that allowed the original to never go back to class, or anywhere else he wasn’t interested in, for the rest of his life. When Alonso was older, he found himself the owner of a factory in midwest Usonia with almost no employees. Nearly the entire workforce was made up of his clones, and they required no compensation for their work. There were only a few workers with their own identities that were used for appearance’s sake. These people signed nondisclosure agreements that basically set them up with guaranteed wages for the rest of their lives. Very little changed in terms of the factory’s day-to-day activities when Bellevue uncovered Alonso’s secret. He ultimately moved to the hotel, primarily to work in the medical department, but also to use his clones for grunt work. By the time the government started an investigation into the factory’s financials, Bellevue had gone public, and legal precedents needed to be set.

Microstory 64: The Package

My parents are on vacation in Hawaii, so I’ve been going to their house every few days to grab the mail and water some plants. When I get there today, I see a package. The label has their address, but it lists two names that I do not recognize. I send a text message to my mother, and she tells me that one of the people listed lives to the West of them, while the other lives to the East. She must be busy, because I don’t get a response when I ask which house I should take it to. It seems strange to me that two people who live in separate houses would both receive a single package. Perhaps the sender realized this and decided to split the difference by sending it to the house in between them. I flip a proverbial coin and walk over to place the package at the West house. When I get back to my parents’ I see the package has returned. And it must be the same package. I don’t have an eidetic memory, or anything, but the creases on the cardboard and the marks on the corners are the same as I remember them. If it’s just a duplicate, it’s a very good one. I take it back over to the West house, but the same thing happens again. I decide that the package magically knows where it’s supposed to be, and will default to the beginning until it’s put in the right place, so I take it over to the East house. Yet again, I find that it has defaulted to my parents’ porch. Before I can think of a third option, I hear ticking. On instinct, I run towards the street, but it isn’t far enough. The package explodes and sends me colliding into my car. When I wake up hours later at the hospital, the police inform me that the explosion stretched across all three houses, killing all those inside.