Microstory 2277: But Also of Everything Else

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The doctors are impressed. I’m recovering quite nicely. Don’t you go getting any ideas about stealing my eyeballs, or my fingernails. I’m not doing well because of any supernatural magic. I have a great medical team at a great facility, the support of my friends and fans, and the luck of great health prior to this. So yeah, I guess there was something supernatural about it. I was healed from the prion disease weeks ago, but also of everything else, including any aches, and phantom pains that people at my age experience all the time. So I went into that illegal, unethical, and immoral organ-stealing surgery in tip-top shape, which gave me an edge. Plus, they found me rather quickly, all things considered. Had it taken them only a few more hours to locate the site of the crime, I might be telling you a different story today. Or I might not be able to tell you any story at all, because I also could have died. But they found me, and treated me accordingly. I’m so grateful for that; I’m not sure if I can ever say that enough. This is all just to explain that I’m going to be okay, but that won’t work a second time. If anyone tries to do anything like that to me again, I will die. And for anyone who isn’t bothered by that, and is interested in trying anyway, you will be punished for it. We’re boosting our security team, as you can imagine. Law enforcement is rounding up all of the people who were involved in taking me, or my organs. No one has won. No one has gained anything. When my original organs are located, if they don’t need to be preserved as evidence, they will be destroyed as biowaste. I don’t know what that means if they’ve already been transplanted to someone else, but I don’t think they’ll be happy with the outcome. On that negative note, I’m very tired now, so I’m gonna go back to bed. Night!

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 9, 2398

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Mateo is just driving a regular car, rather than the flying carboat—a form factor which definitely needs a new name, or at least that particular vehicle needs its own designation. This car he’s using today is not even Heath’s at all. Ramses and Leona pooled the money they made from their first paychecks at their three jobs, and put a down payment on a second one for the team. It’s an SUV that can fit all six of them, and then some. It just makes practical sense to have two standard forms of transport, even if two members will soon embark on a long-term mission with that third vehicle. Mateo didn’t tell anyone that he was leaving. Well, he leaves every day, usually to go to therapy, or the library, so the real problem is that he didn’t tell them where he was going this time. About halfway into the trip, Ramses evidently experiences a psychic vision, and decides to call him up on the video screen, which is overlaid on the windshield.

“You don’t need to know that,” Mateo replies when asked for his whereabouts.

“Something is wrong, I can feel it.”

“I thought we weren’t empaths anymore,” Mateo says.

“We shouldn’t be, but maybe our powers are slowly coming back. Or you’re drawing nearer to a location of great power, and that’s helping? Where are you?”

“You tell me.”

“If I had to guess? Lebanon.”

“Close. Manhattan.”

“What’s in Manhattan?”

“It’s...on the way to Lebanon.”

“So I’m right. You’re hoping to get into the Constant.”

“I am, yes. It will be harder since it’s not the center of the country in this reality, so they won’t advertise the location, but the Constant was built billions of years ago. There is no reason to believe there’s not a version of it here, and if there is, it’s an hour from my current location.”

“We don’t know where the point of divergence was,” Ramses reasons. “Angela is still researching history. The Constant is a secret place, which could have been moved without anyone knowing.”

“Why would they do that?”

“That, sir, is an unknown unknown.”

“I’m gonna check anyway.”

“What are you looking for, the church above?”

“Why don’t these cars have autopilot?”

“I don’t know,” Ramses says.

They do have some advanced cruise control features, which allows Mateo to participate in a video call, and also reach behind his seat to struggle to lift a box up with one hand. “Can you..can you see that?”

“I see a box. What is it?”

“Ground-penetrating radar.”

“You’re just going to go to where you think the church would be in the main sequence, and search for signs of an access shaft?”

“Bingo was his name-o,” Mateo confirms.

“Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you just waiting until Heath, Marie, and Angela can get their affairs in order? Are you really this anxious for answers?”

He’s not doing it for himself, or even to get his people back home. It’s for Marie. The Constant was designed with all sorts of advanced technology, including medical equipment. They don’t need to trust an outsider if he can make contact with Danica. “If I can find my cousin, she can help us complete Marie’s procedure, and she can do it in such a way that it doesn’t leave evidence, and we know that she won’t rat us out. It’s a far better alternative than Croatia.”

“Why didn’t you tell us, or ask one of us to come with you? Do you even know how to use GPR?”

“I don’t know how to use GPR. It comes with instructions. I didn’t tell anyone, because I don’t want to spook her. She trusts me more than anyone, and I’m more likely to be invited if I’m alone.”

“That’s a stretch,” Ramses contends. “We’ve all been down there too.”

“And you will again one day,” Mateo promises. “Just not today. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just looking for help.”

“Fine. Just be careful, and stay in touch.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Having spent a relatively small amount of time in the Lebanon area in the past, Mateo doesn’t know exactly where he’s going. He sort of has to take for granted the likelihood that the roads at least are the same. He starts in the town proper, then makes his way North, backtracking a little until he figures he has reached the correct crossroads. In the main sequence, the actual center of the U.S. is located in a rough triangle, rather than a four-way intersection, which makes it even harder to guess, but this must be it. It’s just about two miles from town, yeah, it has to be.

He removes the various parts of the radar thing from the box, and begins to assemble it. It takes him a few hours to get through it, at which point he finds himself too hungry to go on with the mission, so he stops to eat some lunch. Then he spends the rest of the sunlit hours scanning the ground, hoping to find any evidence that there’s something below his feet besides more dirt and rocks. He looks for landmarks on the surface too; perhaps an interesting tree, or a boulder. They don’t really have that second thing in Kansas, so it would be very out of place. He’s assuming that this version of Danica opted out of an entrance for normal people, and just teleports herself whenever she needs to, but there might be an emergency exit somewhere too.

The machine isn’t designed to just beep when it finds some kind of anomaly. It sends waves into the ground, which detect impediments along the way. This is how the machine measures density, and estimates composition. A picture of the soil below does begin to form on the data screen, but it’s incomplete until the entire data can be synthesized into a full image. He pretty much has to scan the whole area strip by strip before he can find out whether it’s found anything of note. He’s done with a good chunk of land when the sun sets, so he stuffs the thing back in the back, crawls into the passenger seat, and goes to sleep so the computer can continue its work. He’ll check it in the morning.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 8, 2398

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Everyone seems to be having problems at their jobs, but Angela’s is going well. She likes the people she works with, and she likes the work itself. She feels a little guilty about this, though, so she doesn’t talk about it at home. The team dynamic has definitely shifted. They used to pretty much go through everything together, with only a few major exceptions, like when almost all of them died, leaving Leona alone to deal with the aftermath. Now it feels like Angela is the one left out, unable to really do anything to help, while the rest struggle. She works on her studies, and helps other library-goers do the same, but she doesn’t contribute to her family. Mateo was feeling this before, but it’s only recently come to her attention that she’s kind of in the same boat. She’s smart, experienced, and knowledgeable, but what good is that if she doesn’t do anything with it?

“Hey.”

“Oh, hi, Rance.” Rance volunteers here too, and started around the same time she did, so he thinks of them as friends. She does too, but maybe it’s a little more than that?

“Need any help with those encyclopedias?”

“No, I’m all right.”

“Okay.” He looks nervous.

“Is everything all right?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I just...” He sighs. “My friends told me to come up with a cool pickup line, but I’m too honest to say something like that, so I’m just going to be blunt. Do you want to go on a date with me tonight or tomorrow night?”

Yeah, she would. He’s a nice guy who cares about people. He likes to read too, which is high up on her list of preferable traits. She smiles, and tries to say yes, but for some reason, it sounds a little more like, “I’m married.” What the hell was that?

“Oh, I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry, you just never talk about your partner.”

“Well, he’s real. His name is Heath, and I have to go. Can you cover for me?”

“Of course,” Rance promises. “See you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” She runs off.

She burst into the condo. She had the evening shift, so everyone is home already, except for Leona, who is still at her primary job. She leans back against the door to catch her breath.

“Angela, are you okay?” Mateo asks. He’s probably getting ready to go pick Leona up.

“My name is Marie.”

He flinches, and walks backwards down the entryway, until he can see the living area. “No, she’s over here. Right? You’re Marie?”

“Yep,” the real Marie answers.

Angela follows him around the corner. “No, I’m Marie. You don’t even exist.”

“Whoa,” Marie says with a frown, “what are we talking about here?”

Angela gathers her composure. “You’re going to Croatia to get an abortion.”

Marie’s frown deepens. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“But when you come back, they’ll know that you went there, and they’ll question whether that’s why you were there, especially since you’ve already been to the doctor, so they already know about the baby.”

“They won’t necessarily know,” Heath contends. “When you fly private, there are certain ways you can get around being discovered.”

“But they could still find out,” Marie adds. “Angela, we’ve already discussed the plan. I’m going to fake a miscarriage before we even leave.”

“That’s not going to work,” Angela argues. “The authorities are not stupid. Nor are your medical professionals.”

“We have to try,” Heath insists.

“Or you don’t. Like I said, one of us doesn’t exist,” Angela repeats.

“Please explain,” Marie urges.

“I have never been pregnant before,” Angela begins to reason. “If the authorities attempt to examine me, they will find no proof that I was pregnant, or that I had an abortion. So I need to take your place. I need to become you, and you need to become nobody, like I am right now.”

“You have an identity now,” Ramses reminds her. “You’re Angela Bolton.”

Angela shakes her head. “That’s never been scrutinized. The forger inserted my name into the system. She can take it back out. Meanwhile, I take on Marie’s identity, and Marie just becomes this secret person with no identity. If she ever needs to prove who she is, she’ll pretend to be herself again, but hopefully we can just keep her under wraps, because I need to be the one available for a pregnancy test.”

“How will you explain why all those medical professionals you mentioned all believed that I was pregnant at one point?” Marie questions.

Angela scoffs. “They’re liars. They’re dirty, rotten liars, the lot of ‘em. Prove it. Prove that I ever took a blood test with them, or had an examination. You can’t, can you, because Leona is going to hack into their records, and erase them, and once it’s done, it’s their word against mine, but the authorities will believe me, because they’ll find no evidence that I was pregnant, as I’ve said.”

Heath looks over at his wife. “This is just gonna complicate things even more. It won’t make it easier.”

“But it will make it safer,” Mateo determines. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter what claims the people at the doctor’s office make. They’ll be proven wrong. They can run a million tests if they want, but they will not find the evidence they’re looking for in Angela’s body.”

“Marie will have to live the rest of her life in hiding,” Heath argues. “We had an excuse for her long-lost twin sister. Now they can’t ever show their faces in public simultaneously, because they’ll quite quickly realize what’s happening.”

“That’s assuming anyone even wonders whether Marie had an abortion in the first place,” Ramses says. “They may never knock on our door. You’re not going to be telling people that you went to Croatia.”

“Plus,” Angela goes on, “there will be undeniable proof that I didn’t even leave the country, because I’ll be taking her place at work, and the grocery store, and whatever. I’ll get myself under as many security cameras as I can find while you’re gone.”

Heath looks back at his wife. “It’s up to you. I’m worried about the risk. Abortion is illegal, and it comes with consequences, but combined with fraud, I don’t know what they’ll do to you. I doubt anything like this has ever been attempted.”

Marie faces him. “This is kind of what we do. We have a long and complicated history of tricking the bad guys into believing things that aren’t true. I’m willing to try, but only if you’re sure, Angie.”

“Let’s do it,” Angela agrees with a nod. “The first step is you telling me what you do for a living again?”

Microstory 1870: Nullified

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I can’t tell you how many regrets rest on my shoulders that will burden me until the moment I die, which is coming up soon. The biggest thing I did with my life, however, is not one of them. The day I pulled that trigger was the proudest of my life, second only to the day when that choice was validated. I never officially admitted to any wrongdoing. I pleaded not guilty because of a loophole. You see, they charged me with murder, and I still don’t count my actions as murder. It was self-defense; I did it in protection of others. That’s not murder, so we went forward with the trial. I didn’t do that in the hopes that I would be set free—the evidence against me was insurmountable—but I wanted the facts to get out there, so the world would understand why. I didn’t care how the judge and jury saw me. I wanted everyone else to judge me for themselves. The verdict was a bonus that made the whole ordeal taste sweeter, but it wasn’t necessary. Several years ago, a pharmaceutical company made a breakthrough in their research, which made lifesaving medicine ten times cheaper to produce, and ten times more effective. It was revolutionary, and should have been the best news for millions of people. Instead, the company buried the true cost, and only promoted the benefits, which allowed them to charge more than they were before, and it was already really inexpensive, sometimes prohibitively so. The General in this army of scoundrels was the most evil of them all, and he shall remain nameless, because he’s dead now, and justice prevailed, even though it did not bring back the estimated 56,000 people who died as a result of his wicked practices. He could have saved them, but he chose not to, and it was for that reason that I chose to send him to hell. But it was no choice at all.

I didn’t know anyone who suffered from the disease, let alone died from it. It was because of the children. I was outraged when I found out, as were most others. But I trusted in the judicial system, because that was what we were taught to believe. I have mixed feelings about it now. He was going to get away with it. The jury found him not guilty, and he was just going to walk. His purse might have gotten lighter in a civil case, but he was a billionaire, he didn’t care. Someone had to do something. Others tried, but they couldn’t get close. I was fortunate enough to have been working at the hotel where he was staying while the government worked on reopening his assets. No one pays attention to the invisible maid, so I found it easy to slip in with a revolver my late father left me, and which I wasn’t even sure would function. I didn’t make him beg or suffer like he did so many others. I told him why I was there, and then ended his life painlessly. I won’t get into how the trial went. It would have been brutal for someone who hadn’t resigned themselves to their fate, but I was comfortable, and like I said, I regret nothing. After a few hours, the jury returned with a not guilty verdict, despite all the facts, including my admission that I did it. The judge called it jury nullification, but there was evidently nothing she could do. I was already becoming a folk hero, and if they thought it was hard to find an unbiased jury before, it would have been impossible after all this publicity, so declaring a mistrial probably would have probably just been a waste of everyone’s time. The prosecutor chose to let it go, probably out of a secret sympathy for my decision. Now, according to my attorney, all I needed to worry about was a civil trial. But this never came to fruition, because no one cared about him.

Microstory 1778: Bullsh

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I was a terrible liar when I was young. I would keep doing bad things, and trying to hide it from my parents, and they always realized right away that I wasn’t telling the truth. I just kept trying, and they kept seeing right through it. My father would get angry about it, and my mom was always disappointed, but not in the way you think. She too was a liar, but an expert at it. Over the years, I learned more about who she was, and what she did behind everybody’s backs. She shoplifted, pulled mean-spirited pranks on complete strangers, and cheated on her husband more times than want to think about. I was basically just like her, except that I wasn’t good at keeping secrets. Seeing my potential, she took special interest in me, but you wouldn’t know it if you were looking from the outside. She treated our lessons just like she did anything else, as nobody else’s business. Mother was a grifter before she met dad. He was the first man she met who she didn’t want to screw over, so she gave up that life, and settled down. She couldn’t let go of her compulsive habits, but she was no longer taking thousands of dollars from her victims. He provided them both with more than enough money, and that was really all she cared about, unlike the con artists you see in the movies, who apparently mostly do it for the thrill. She couldn’t be sure I would grow up to be a functioning member of society with a decent job, so she felt that she needed to teach me her old ways so I would have something to fall back on no matter what. It wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t moral, but she taught me that everyone has to come up with their own set of morals, and I believed her without question, because I couldn’t tell when she was lying. I’m better at spotting it now that I’ve gone through all my lessons, so I know that she legitimately believed that. Before she passed, she lived her life with no regrets, and she wanted me to live mine the same way. I have, but not as she imagined. I use my powers for good.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation has an entire division dedicated to fraud, and that’s all well and good, but they don’t do what I do. They investigate crimes with forensics, by hunting for, and searching through, evidence. They don’t know what a grifter looks like. They just know what their victims look like when they’re done with them. It’s really obvious too, when a corporate executive turns out to have been embezzling, or cheating their customers out of the product or services they paid for. How do you find out which ones are bad, and which ones are good? Simple: they’re all bad. Every single one of them is a devil, and they’re not even in disguise. What I do is go after the people that are in disguise, or who work in the shadows. They make small scams here and there, which add up to a lot, and ruin a lot of people’s lives without anyone ever knowing their true identities. I can practically smell when someone is getting scammed. There’s a certain lightness in the air that most people can’t detect. I can teach you to find these people too. I believe everyone at this continuing education seminar can help me grow my team of investigators, which focuses on stopping the fraudsters that aren’t out in the open, and don’t ever end up in the news. I know I can do this for you, because I...do not even work for the FBI. I made this badge in the bathroom this morning, after waking up and deciding on a whim what I was going to do today. I’m that good. Your real teacher will be coming in soon, but don’t tell her that I was here. She’ll ground me for a month if she finds out that I snuck into her building yet again. Parents just don’t understand, right?

Microstory 1659: Self-Sabotage

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I told you about how the people in Area Doubleuniverse primarily use their alternate realities to protect witnesses. Seemingly unrelated to the fact that this universe possess thousands of concurrent realities, there’s a lot of crime on this version of Earth. It’s just rampant and no one really knows why. I mean, they don’t have access to other universes, so they don’t know it’s abnormal, but from my perspective, as I watch history unfold, I can’t explain how it happened. I can say that the prevention of crime is neither a priority, nor technically possible. It’s not illegal to plan a crime, and a lot of things you or I might consider crimes are not actually illegal until certain things take place as a result. For instance, it’s perfectly fine to grow or manufacture recreational drugs. It only becomes a problem once someone tries to sell it, or use it. If the authorities discovered the location of a drug plant, they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, and in fact, they wouldn’t be allowed to surveil the people working there, waiting for them to commit a crime later. Surveillance just isn’t a thing there. Furthermore, physical evidence alone is not usually enough to convict someone of a crime. They rely much more heavily on witness testimony, so the human element is far more important, and that makes it much more dangerous to be a witness. That’s why the Alternate Reality Witness Protection Program exists. Instead of trying to keep witnesses away from the criminals who would have them killed to prevent them from testifying, they just relocate that witness to a reality where the criminal doesn’t exist at all. This is an extremely delicate dance, and there is pretty much no room for error. For the most part, the people in charge of the program know what they’re doing, and they don’t make mistakes. But of course, it wouldn’t be a story if it never happened. Knowing which parallel reality to relocate a witness takes a lot of data, so they can make sure the criminal they’re hiding from doesn’t have an alternate who may want to harm them as well. It would probably be okay most of the time, because even if the criminal did exist, they probably didn’t commit the same crime, or weren’t going up against the same witness. This is what happened once, when a woman named Azalea found herself face to face with the man she was trying to avoid at all costs. Fortunately for her, the alternate version of this man was not the same one she knew in her reality. He wasn’t that bad of a guy, and even wanted to help. This particular case came with all sorts of errors, which resulted in the original criminal figuring out where Azalea was. After breaking out of jail, he snuck into Area W, and traveled through a portal, to search for the one woman who could send him to prison forever. His alternate self, meanwhile, didn’t want this to happen, so he vowed to protect her. But would he be able to do what needed to be done to keep his promise?

Microstory 1397: Evidence

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Fiore Stern [on audio recording]: Yes, I agree. We should nip it in the bud, lest you poison the world with your claims about me.

Psychiatrist [on audio recording]: Mr. Stern, what are you talking about?

Fiore Stern [on audio recording]: Why don’t you stop recording, and I’ll explain.

Psychiatrist [on audio recording]: Stop. Don’t touch that. Please keep your distance, Mr. Stern. Mr. Stern! If you don’t—

Detective: That was the last recording from your psychiatrist. We couldn’t find a local copy on her computer, so I bet you erased it without realizing her sessions are automatically uploaded to the cloud so her assistant can transcribe them for her later.

Fiore Stern: Why are you playing this audio for me? If you want me to sue the psychiatric practice for breaching my privacy, then okay, I’m in.

Detective: That’s not why you’re here, and you know it. Madam Psychiatrist was killed two days ago. Her assistant happily supplied us with this evidence, because it appears to suggest you killed her to cover up whatever it is you shut off the recording to prevent anyone from finding out about.

Fiore Stern: Well, play the rest of it.

Detective: There is no rest of it. That was it.

Fiore Stern: Oh? So you don’t actually have any evidence that I killed her. All you’ve heard is that my psychiatrist didn’t want me touching her crystal awards, and then some kind of technical malfunction ended the recording.

Detective: You literally ask her to stop recording, and then your voice becomes slightly louder, which suggests you approached the microphone. You’re not going to get me to believe you didn’t turn it off. Now all I have to do is prove that you killed her. And honestly, I don’t really care why you did it; just that you go down for it.

Fiore Stern: This  is exactly what’s wrong with this country. You’re so eager to punish whoever you find first, you end up letting a lot of guilty people walk away unscathed.

Detective: You didn’t seem to hate the authorities very much when you were praising how well they handled your case with that bomb-making organization you worked for.

Fiore Stern: I was playing nice for the cameras, but the truth is that company wasn’t even on anyone’s radar. Hell, the Financial Regulation Commision didn’t even suspect there was something wrong with their books. I only needed the authorities, because I’m not allowed to arrest people. You’re completely incompetent, and totally pointless without people like me.

Detective: I suppose that’s true. I wouldn’t have a job if killers like you didn’t exist.

Fiore Stern: That’s not what I was talking about—I mean, that’s not what I meant, because I’m not a killer, and you have nothing on me.

Detective: I have an adjudicator working on a warrant for your apartment as we speak.

Fiore Stern: Great, I’m happy for ya. All they’ll find is a stack of dishes I wasn’t able to clean before you so rudely forced me to come down to the station, and a bunch of requests for book deals to tell the world my story. When you don’t find anything illegal, I’ll have even more material for a tell-all book. It’ll be a scathing indictment of Usonian Law EnFARCEment.

Detective: The warrant’s just for safety. We didn’t need one to search your greenhouse.

Fiore Stern: What?

Detective: Yeah, we had probable cause. One of our officers saw some splatter on the glass that looked a little like blood.

Fiore Stern: It was paint. I use some of those plants to make art supplies.

Detective: No matter. We couldn’t know for sure. The only way we could run a test to see whether that was true was if we went in, and procured a sample.

Fiore Stern: This will never hold up in court. A little red on the window isn’t enough for probable cause. Besides, I built that greenhouse with my own two hands in the middle of the woods, which means there aren’t any public records of a property, so you couldn’t have known about it unless you broke the law to peek at my GPS history.

Detective: We didn’t need that. Your mother told us where to find it.

Fiore Stern: She doesn’t know anything.

Detective: She’s seen you go out there. She’s worried about you, Mr. Stern. You’ve always been a dark person with a frightening fascination with deadly plants.

Fiore Stern: You can go to hell.

Detective: We have you, Mr. Stern. You don’t have to tell us anything. Everything will come out in court, but you can help your situation if you talk to us now. Start by telling me how your colleagues from the garden team died.

Microstory 1392: Fertilizer

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Fertilizer Developer: Mr. Fiore, thanks for coming in.

Fiore Stern: No, thank you. I’ve been having a hell of a time getting interviews. I had honestly forgotten about this posting. It’s been a couple months.

Fertilizer Developer: I bet you have, and yes it has. We like to be...particular.

Fiore Stern: Oh, okay. That makes sense, and I guess that’s a good sign.

Fertilizer Developer: It is. Now. It says here you graduated with honors from Hillside University?

Fiore Stern: That’s right. Go Wild Turkeys!

Fertilizer Developer: Right. Well, we do things a little differently here. The first time we run a background check on someone we’re interested in comes before the interview, using a system called Generiport. It quickly verifies certain key information. I’m talkin’ minutes. We know where you went to high school and college, if you’re a citizen, whether you have a criminal history, and a few other bits of info. It doesn’t get too deep, but it gets us just enough information to see if we want to pursue you.

Fiore Stern: Oh. I understand, I’ll go.

Fertilizer Developer: No, don’t do that.

Fiore Stern: Well, you’re obviously about to tell me you know I have a criminal record, and that I didn’t go to college at all.

Fertilizer Developer: That was indeed what I was going to say, but I wasn’t going to tell you it would be a problem. You see, here at Hemming Fertilizer, we look for candidates just like you. We’re about more than just fertilizing gardens. We help the country by keeping its citizens in line. Some don’t like it, but it is our sacred duty, and people like you are vital to that mission.

Fiore Stern: Really? Are you trying to tell me that you regularly hire criminals, and not as part of a public service program, but to use the skills they possess as criminals?

Fertilizer Developer: [...] That’s exactly what I’m telling you.

Fiore Stern: I don’t know what to say.

Fertilizer Developer: I told you about the quick report we ran, but what I didn’t tell you is that your résumé triggered a more comprehensive report, which involves one of our people going through your entire history with a fine-toothed comb. We know about the things you’ve done, and the things done to you. We know the reason you didn’t go to Hillside U is because they wouldn’t take someone who had—give me a second—and I quote, a peculiar and unsettling preoccupation with poisonous plants, and the body decomposition process. Apparently you were caught trying to use the school library?

Fiore Stern: The library never said it was for students only. They just didn’t like what I wanted to research.

Fertilizer Developer: I don’t doubt it.

Fiore Stern: So that quote. The security guard wrote that, and kept my name on file, even though I wasn’t a student, and wasn’t arrested?

Fertilizer Developer: He did, but don’t worry. We took care of it.

Fiore Stern: What do you mean?

Fertilizer Developer: I mean, if someone were to look you up in campus security records, they wouldn’t find anything about you. We couldn’t clear your criminal record—or the time you spent in prison because of what you did—but we got rid of all the evidence that put you there.

Fiore Stern: It sounds like you got me in your debt.

Fertilizer Developer: We don’t like to look at it that way. We see this as an opportunity for you to contribute to society in a way you never knew was possible. Let’s go talk to the clearance department.