Microstory 2475: Fashiondome

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If you’ve ever been to Bot Farm, you know how much work goes into creating all the androids that populate the domes to make them feel real and lived in, even when there aren’t very many visitors. Eventually, I believe the droid population will begin to decrease as more and more people move here, but for now, production does nothing but ramp up. That’s not about the bots themselves, though. It’s about their clothes! It’s also about your clothes. Every garment worn anywhere on the planet—unless you brought it with you—has been manufactured here. We’re talkin’ IMS units. We’re talkin’ themewear. We’re talkin’ bathing suits. If you go to Wild Wild Dome, you’re gonna see a lot of cowboy outfits, won’t you? Well, they made those here, and shipped them off when they were ready. You get it, I don’t need to list any more examples. You know what clothes are. In one sector, there are just rows and rows of industrial printers, fiber class. In another sector, there are rows and rows of racks where the finished products are stored. It’s precisely what you would expect out of a place like this. They don’t only make 3D printed clothes. It’s not even just about the products that need to go out to other domes. You can actually come here to design and fabricate your own clothes, at whatever level of technological advancement you prefer. They have electrical sewing machines, mechanical machines, and even just needle and thread. You can knit a scarf or crochet a hat. It doesn’t even have to be good, it just has to be fun. They also have fashion shows. Some of them are recreations of real shows from the past, while others are entirely original. They’re all produced by visitors like you. Nothing is made by a superintelligence, because that wouldn’t be very interesting, would it? If anything you can think of is even remotely tied to the fashion industry, both past and present, it’s here somewhere. Come here, and find your bliss. Funnily enough, however...clothing optional, just as it is anywhere.

Microstory 2460: Shmupdome

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This is a violent dome, which is why it has those restrictions where you’re not allowed to even step foot under the dome without a temporary substrate. You have some leeway when it comes to the characteristics of your body, but at any rate, your mind has to be able to be uploaded upon death. Even if you choose a body that is all but invincible, they make you take these precautions. I don’t know why I said all that. I guess I just know that some people ignore the prospectus info, and go straight to the reviews, so I want to do my part to make the rules clear. This is a shoot-em-up game, but in real life. There are different scenarios that you can play, and each has its own pros and cons. You might go in there totally unarmed in a sort of if I need a gun, I’ll take one situation. You might have weapons, but no ammunition. Hell, you could go in there with a bow and arrow if you find that an interesting challenge. There are limitations, but the guides will go over all that when you show up. Everyone gets a tap out button in case things get too intense. Some of the guns may look ancient, but they’re fully programmable. If someone in your area taps out, the system-controlled androids will freeze entirely, and everyone else’s gun will stop functioning. Even though you can’t really die permanently, you can allow yourself to feel pain, and you can’t turn that trait off at will. It may also just become overwhelming for someone, and they want it to stop. I didn’t actually see any issues, but I did hear some anecdotes, and I would like to take a second to urge you to respect other people’s needs. Everyone is unique, and you don’t know what others have been through. And it really doesn’t matter. If someone has to leave in the middle of the fight, just accept that, and don’t make them feel bad about themselves. This is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be fun for all involved, and if even one person is struggling to enjoy it, they should be able to get out of it without any ridicule or whispers. As I said, this is violent. And it’s something that you could never get away with on Earth, even though it has all the same quasi-immortality technology. Nearly all of the death that the human race and the vonearthans have experienced has happened on Earth. That’s just too much history. If you wanna know what it’s like to shoot your way out of a clothing factory, or a jungle, this is the place for you. I won’t list all the environments or scenarios that you can select, but obviously, if you’re done with one, you can choose another. If this is your thing, you’re not gonna get bored. Even if you exhaust all of the various locations, you won’t have done them all with the same weapons or vehicles, or at the same difficulty level, or with the same allies, or against the same opponents. Don’t come here if you don’t think you can take it, but if you do, and it turns out to be harder than you thought, don’t be afraid to tap out. That’s what the button is there for.

Microstory 2456: Bot Farm

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If you’ve been anywhere on this planet, you’ve probably run into an AI of some kind. Some of these are more intelligent and self-aware than others. Some look like humans, and some are very clearly mechanical. It just depends on their purpose, and the kind of feel they want to give the visitors. Well, all those AI bodies have to come from somewhere. I had the pleasure of getting a tour of a dome that we like to call Bot Farm. The official name is Synthetic Production Dome, but that’s a mouthful, so no one actually called it that. It’s 2500, so y’all already know, but there are different types of substrates. Some include a consciousness that was born to an organic body, while others were programmed, or primed for self-learning and growth. Some are purely mechanical—referred to as mechs—while others have some organic components. An “artificial” being that is purely organic is basically the Holy Grail of synthetic intelligence development, and something that researchers are still working on. It would be a quantum brain inside of a living being with no mechanical parts—designed from the start, but conceivably something that could have evolved naturally. Can you imagine? With today’s technology, we can only get kind of close. Most of the AIs on Castlebourne are skinned mechs, meaning they’re made of metals and metamaterials, but also have a dermal layer over them, so they look more like real humans. This isn’t to trick you, but as a way to step over to this side of the uncanny valley. There are very few stages in between full mech and skinned mech. We’re talking about very niche use cases, including some with organic eyes, ears, or tongues for sensory research. They also grow organs for medical research, though those don’t usually need a full body anyway, unless they’re testing some sort of mobility variable. There are also places where you can find mechs with certain other organic body parts that are used for...adult purposes. To each their own, I guess. I never saw a section that designed any of these types of bots. Most of these were skinned. I’ll tell ya, though, it was a tad bit eerie to see those ones being manufactured. While they were assembling the internal components, they most of the time looked no different than a car, or some other machine, but then they moved on to the skinning process. Seeing them look like half people was unnerving, and maybe horrific? This tour will be fascinating for some, but disturbing for others, even though again, it’s the year 2500, and we’re all used to synthetics by now. I asked about it, and they don’t have a tour for kids that would be a little less disquieting, so just know that if you sign your family up. There was one kid on my tour, who seemed fine. To be honest, maybe he was an adult in a child substrate. How should I know? It’s not illegal, it’s just a little weird in my book. So that’s it; that’s Bot Farm. Go see how they’re made.

Microstory 2454: Elizabeth Victoria

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If you’re looking for something anachronistic and weird, you’ve come to the right place. The Elizabethan Era ran from 1558 to 1603, during Queen Elizabeth’s reign. The Victorian Era started in 1837 and ended in 1901. They are both iconic periods in Great Britain’s history, but vastly different as they were separated by more than 200 years. The technology here is hard to get a grasp of. Not only are we dealing with stuff that they were using nearly a millennium ago, but they’re juxtaposed by each other. When you walk into a building, you never know if it’s going to be lit by gas lamps, or incandescent bulbs. It could be both! Which, I mean, it’s not like they destroyed all the gas lamps when they invented electricity, did they, innit? People walk around in all sorts of different clothes. They all looked alien to me, but I could tell that some of them were really old, and some were really, really old. The architecture is a mix, of course, with wooden cottages and natural stone buildings right next to giant even-stoned factories. Again, I’m sure a lot of the old stuff still existed in the new era, but the way they have it organized so randomly, it seems very forced and intentional. I’m not sure if I was supposed to learn something here, but it was fun to spend an afternoon getting a look around. I don’t think I would want to spend a lot of time there, though. I don’t much care either way, but I went with a historian friend, and they didn’t like it. They would prefer a historical dome to be accurate. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like they were shocked and appalled. The design was very clear in the prospectus, and you know they read that whole damn thing, because I waited for them to finish it while we were sitting in the vactrain station. They told us that it was intentionally incongruent, and in that goal, they delivered. That’s all you can ask sometimes, innit? (Hey, am I using that word right? I don’t even know.)

PS: Please read my friend’s review. They actually know all the historical and cultural stuff that kind of flew over my head anyway.

Microstory 2002: Montana

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When my papa was younger than me, he lived in a city called Billings, Montana, but like Alabama, he doesn’t remember it. Also like Alabama, he went back a few times when he was older to visit friends of the family. He only lived there for real for three years before my grandpa found a better job in Wyoming. For three years, he worked at things that my dad calls odd jobs, which means that they didn’t last very long. He was always very stressed and angry because he lost his factory job, but he was still a very nice man. He always gave my cousins a lot of great presents before he died. Grandpa died eight years ago, so I never knew him. He was born in Montana, and lived there for many years before he had his own kids. He retired in Florida, but that’s a story for another slide. I’m telling you about Montana now, which is where my papa lived until he was three. The house that they lived in was very small, because his family didn’t have very much money. He and his sister had to share a room with the dog. When my grandma was talking about this, she said that my papa was the best baby she had ever met in her life. Her daughter was a very fussy baby, but not my papa. Papa’s sister, who is my aunt, was only two years older than him, so she was born in 1971. Her name is Aunt Cooper. My grandma said that papa was a very happy baby, who was happy where they were living. Luckily, he didn’t have to be like that for very long when his father got a great opportunity to run a new plant in Wyoming. You can go to the next slide to hear about that.

Microstory 2001: Alabama

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My papa, Aubrey was born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama on July 26, 1973 to father Burchard Jardine, and mother Daphne Smolak. Smolak was her maiden name, which means that that’s what her name was before she was married. She was a schoolteacher, and he worked in a factory. They were on their way back from a trip to Alabama when his mom gave birth at a hospital. It was about a month before papa was supposed to be born, so he was very small, and a little sick. He had to stay in the hospital for 11 days before the doctors said that he was healthy enough to leave and go home. He wasn’t able to breathe on his own, so they put him in a plastic box, and hooked him up to all these machines. They were also worried that he would get really sick, so they had to watch him all the time. My grandparents were sad and scared, but they prayed, and knew that he would get better, and he did. While they were there, papa’s dad lost his job at the factory, because he was supposed to be back at work on Monday, and his boss wasn’t very nice about it. It was the summertime, so my grandma didn’t lose her job. It was fine. Since he was just a baby, papa doesn’t even remember being in Alabama, but he went back when he was older to meet the doctor who delivered him. The doctor was very old by then, but he was still alive! He is not anymore, or he would be over 100 years old! My papa was 50 when he died, which is very young to die. Anyway, when papa was better, his parents left Alabama, and drove back to where they lived, which was Montana. It’s really far away, so it took them three days of driving. I bet they were pretty tired.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 14, 2398

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Leona stands on the edge of the field as the helicopter drops from the sky to land on the grass. Leaves, loose blade, and other debris assault her face, but she remains steadfast. Her colleagues are more easily flapped. “Aren’t you nervous?” one of them asks, trying to whisper above the noise.

“Why would I be?” Leona asks.

“It’s a United States senator, coming here to evaluate your work.”

Leona waits until Senator Honeycutt is within earshot, and the bird quiets down a little. “He’s just a man; not someone to be feared.”

Her colleague is even more scared now.

“Thank you for taking the time, Dr. Matic,” Senator Honeycutt says, ignoring her remark in the way a statesman should.

“Same to you,” Leona replies sincerely. She does recognize that he’s busy, and the tour will eat into his schedule significantly. She genuinely appreciates it. “Follow me.”

She leads him across the grounds, and into the building. This is not the underground lab where the rocketship was constructed, nor the little lab that the Honeycutts gave her and Ramses. It’s a decommissioned muscle car factory about an hour from the KC metro, which came ready with the space, ventilation, and powerload operationalization potential that they require for this venture.

Petra is in the lobby, and only didn’t greet the senator on the lawn so she could present all the team leaders in a neat, orderly row, like the children in The Sound of Music before bedtime. They seem to be standing in order of height, though that may be a coincidence. One can only hope. It’s nice that he’s here, but Leona wasn’t being facetious when she said that he was just a man. He nods appropriately as Petra lists off the team leaders’ names, and each time she does, that leader runs off in a show of work ethic that suggests they barely have enough time for even a moment such as this.

“Could I please see the staging area?” Melville asks.

Petra is perturbed. She had more grandstanding and fanfare to go through.

Leona saves it. “Of course, sir. Right this way.” He follows her onto the mezzanine that overlooks the factory floor below. They walk along it, to another section.

Most of the space has been devoted to part fabrication. The area where they will all be put together into the form of a working fusion reactor is small. Early reactors in the main sequence were gigantic because they had to be to get anywhere close to net positive output. Leona has decided to not worry about doing this. She considered starting them off slow, but she promised them a fusion-powered rocket, and she may not be around long enough to see it through if she doesn’t jump right to real progress. Hopefully the Prime Directive isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

All businesslike, with a brilliant poker face, Melville looks down at the space. He snaps a few photos, and nods. “How long does it take to build one reactor?”

“One year for the first one,” Leona replies. “With staff experience, we’ll cut that down to seven months for the next one...should you want another.”

“Oh, we’ll want more,” he says. “We’re currently scouting eighty-two more sites which...” He makes a quick calculation on his handheld, “...based on your estimates, means phase two manufacturing will take less than four years for all major U.S. cities.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 5, 2394

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Skylar led the team into the building, and up the elevators, which was a tight squeeze with her bodyguards. As the sister of the apparent leader of the entire metropolis, it was understandable that she needed to be protected. The only weird part was that they made no attempt to pat the team down, or assess them as a threat in any way. Perhaps they just knew enough about the future.

They spilled out at the top floor, and headed to the left for the Night President’s Office. This should be interesting, learning why there was a different president for each half of the day. Skylar nodded to her guards as they entered the Night Vice President’s Office. They stayed outside by the door, and gave them some privacy. Instead of sitting at her desk, she chose a chair in the center of the room, and had everyone choose a spot on one of the two couches. “I don’t normally work here. By design, we’re usually kept separate to insulate against a discontinuity of government. We knew you would head here for help first, though, and at the moment, my brother has to sleep, so I’m the only one available.”

“This sounds like a fascinating form of government,” Ramses pointed out. “Night and day?”

Skylar laughed. “It’s by necessity. One of us wanted to run for office, and the others sort of had to follow suit. We never thought we would win, because of our unusual situation, but the people seem cool with it, and we’re making it work.”

“You’re making what work?” Marie asked. “What’s your situation?”

“We’re gargoyles,” she answered. They had seen a lot over the years, but a stone monster person would be a first. She giggled again. “A specific kind of gargoyle. Oliver and I are the originals. We were born this way. It’s what the powers that be chose for us. Due to a series of unlikely events, we transferred our patterns to Kostya and Lucy, except diametrically. We only exist between sundown and sunrise. They only exist between sunrise and sundown.”

“So you can’t cooperate?” Leona noted.

“We leave each other messages. That’s not the issue.”

Olimpia tilted her head, and twitched an eye. “Love,” she guessed.

Skylar nodded. “Oliver loves Lucy, and she him. They haven’t seen each other in person in a very long time. There’s one way that we could do it, but...there’s an obstacle. That’s what we were hoping you would be able to help us with.” She checked her watch. “It’ll have to be next year, but...would you be willing?”

“Depends on what it is,” Mateo said cautiously.

“Of course,” Skylar said understandingly. “You’ve heard of the Salmonday Club?”

“Yeah,” they answered, except for Angela and Marie.

“It adds an extra day between Saturday and Sunday,” Leona explained to them. “It exists within a pocket dimension of extra temporal energy. Clubgoers spend one minute inside, but it feels like twenty-four hours.”

“People run in when the timer starts,” Ramses continued, “and rush back out before time runs out at the end.”

“Wait,” Angela said. “What happens if they don’t get out in time?”

“They jump to the end of the next week,” Leona answered. “If you never left the club, it would always be Salmonday for you, and you would basically live for fifty-two days a year. Their pattern would be not unlike ours.” She turned back to Vice President Spout. “Is that why you think we can help, because of our pattern?”

“No, it’s because we don’t have any teleporters left,” Skylar clarified. “The obstacle is pretty simple, you should be able to jump past it, and once inside, you can shut it down. If you can do this for us, we can get you back to the main sequence.”

“You say obstacle like you don’t wanna talk about what it really is,” Olimpia realized.

“It’s an abyss,” Skylar said. “Some of that temporal energy escaped, and formed a cloud around the entrances to the club. Fortunately it has never spread farther, because that would be bad. We don’t know how slow time moves inside, but it’s very slow. We can see people just stuck there in place. There’s a way to purge it, but again, it’s inside the club, and we can’t reach it. You wouldn’t just be helping my brother and the love of his life touch each other once more. You would be freeing all the innocent curious people, and the volunteers, who have been trapped for decades.”

“Why do we have to wait until next year?” Angela asked. “We still have a few hours left before midnight central.”

“All four leaders have to sign off on it,” Skylar began, “and the other three refuse to do so until they meet you. If we had known exactly where you were going to show up, we could have planned it better, but unfortunately, our seer wasn’t that specific. So here’s what will happen—if you agree to even entertain the idea—”

“We’ll do it,” Leona answered plainly. There was no doubt about it. This was right in their wheelhouse, especially now that they were full-fledged teleporters.

“That would be great. Just so you understand, I’ve met you, I sign off. I’m easy. I trust our seers, and the historical records that have recounted your dealings with the Fourth Quadrant, and other points in spacetime. Next year, when you come back, it will be nighttime again, and you can meet Oliver. Come sunrise, you can meet with Lucy and Kostya. Does that sound fair?”

“What are the chances they won’t sign off?” Mateo asked her.

Skylar sighed. “Nearly zero. I think this is more of a CYA operation. We need the citizens—the voters—to know that we didn’t just send a team of strangers to a hazardous temporal anomaly, on a potentially dangerous mission, without so much as shaking your hands.”

“Okay, we’ll do it,” Leona repeated.

“You don’t need to discuss it?” Skylar pressed.

“We can feel each other’s emotions,” Mateo divulged. “We’re all in. We would know if there was any reluctance amongst us.”

“Very well,” Skylar said, standing back up. “I’m just now realizing, though, that we did not factor in any rest time for you. You can wait to meet my brother until later. It just can’t be after 6:56. Well, it needs to be reasonably before that. I suppose we could—”

“We’re fine,” Leona interrupted again. “We don’t need very much sleep anymore either.”

“Brilliant,” Skylar said. “I wish I had that luxury. I only exist an average of twelve hours a day, but I still need to sleep at least seven.”

The team looked around at each other, particularly Ramses and Leona.

“What? What is it?”

“The way we understand it,” Ramses started to say, “the powers that be have no control over salmon once they cross into other realities, like this one.”

“I assure you, we are still bound to our pattern.”

“Yes, you are,” Leona presumed, “but there might be a way around that. Our pattern, for instance, was encoded into our neurology. Take it away from us, and we’re no longer us. This is tantamount to murder or suicide. But that was done to us by a man...a very powerful man. We’ve not been beholden to the PTB for years. The fact that our current pattern matches the original one was deliberate and arbitrary. He could just as easily have chosen some other random pattern.”

“What are you saying?” Skylar sat back down, curious. “This man could do the same for us, but change our pattern?”

“Oh, no,” Mateo said. “We wouldn’t have you deal with him. It would be us. Well, it would be Ramses and Leona.”

Ramses reached into his bag, and retrieved an object that resembled an ancient wireless cellphone charging stand. He set it on Skylar’s coffee table. It looked wholly unremarkable, but it was incredibly advanced. “This is called a nanoforge, specifically a lab creator. I might need to tweak it a little bit, but the last time I used it, it was for the same thing you’ll need. It’s mostly automated, but you’ll have to provide it with raw materials, and it’ll let you know what those are. It can build a cloning laboratory, based on the number of gestational pods you require, and the speed of development you wish to wait for. You can then transfer your respective consciousnesses to your new bodies, and if all goes well, you’ll leave your patterns behind. You’ll be a salmonfree you.”

Skylar was shocked. “You would do this for us? You would grant us this technology?”

“It comes with an expiration date,” Leona clarified. “You won’t be able to keep it. The lab will literally implode, as well as the forge. We’re not in the habit of interfering with the development of a given culture. We don’t know what you would do with cloning tech if you don’t already have it. If you would like to invent it yourself afterwards, we won’t stop you, but we’re not going to let you just jump into it...except to help the four of you this once.”

“Of course we’ll still shut off your weird time cloud,” Olimpia reminded her. “It’s not an either-or thing.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Ramses took out his tablet, and paired it with the nanoforge. “I’ll stay here to program it. The rest of you should scout the location.”

“Yes,” Leona agreed.

“Why don’t you...?” Skylar began, but trailed off out of seeming embarrassment.

“Go ahead and say it,” Mateo encouraged.

“Would you consider just staying here? We do have a way to get you back to the main reality, but I think you six could do quite well here, and you’re always welcome.”

It was certainly a thought to think on, but they had already considered it as an option while they were still in the Fifth Division. They didn’t leave because of any particular danger they were in. They were always in danger. They wanted to return home. Leona was about to say as much when a feeling she received from Mateo changed her approach. “We’ll talk about it. Thanks for the offer.”

They teleported away, except for Ramses, who was working on the nanoforge, and Marie, who felt like sticking around.”

The next day was as breezy as Skylar made it sound. They met with her brother, Oliver soon after returning to the timestream. They then waited several hours, when the two of them were stuck in impenetrable time bubbles, and the other two were free of theirs. Apparently, each one lasted a few seconds, but spanned roughly half a day. It didn’t matter what time of year it was, or where they were. Their pattern was coded to this region, according to the rotation of the Earth. Sunrise and sunset times changed every day, and their patterns changed with them. Winters were better for the night team, but summers were better for the day team. One day, they would be free of all that, and that day was going to come sooner than they could have imagined. The cloning process was going to take years to complete the safest way, but there was a workaround in the meantime. In fact, it could be a permanent solution if that was what they chose.

Fixing the Salmonday Club temporal issue was easy too. The emergency shutoff button was exactly where everyone said it would be, in the manager office. Mateo and Marie teleported in alone, pressed it, and the nightmare was over. It was no longer a club for Salmonday. They could start it back up again, but would probably just demolish the place. The intention was to repurpose it as a neutral zone for the two disparate leadership factions to reunite periodically, but they shouldn’t need it anymore.

Shortly before sunset, and after ensuring that the leak was repaired, they flipped the dimension back on, and let Kostya and Lucy inside. Once the Spouts were back, Olimpia and Leona transported them there too. After witnessing the heartfelt reunion between them, Leona presented them with four Cassidy cuffs. “Unlike the laboratory, these will not self-destruct. They can also not be reprogrammed according to your whims. They’ll work with your DNA only. You can’t even swap them among each other.” She handed each one to the salmon, careful to make sure she didn’t get them mixed up. “All you’ll be able to do is suppress your pattern. They’re not communicators, they’re not teleporters. I left the clock on there, but that’s it. They’re all juiced up, and should last you centuries. You’ll probably have to transfer your consciousnesses to other substrates to survive that long anyway.

“Thank you,” Lucy said graciously.

“Thanks to all of you,” Kostya added.

“The seer did not predict any of this,” Oliver said.

“I’m sure they saw it coming,” Leona figured. “They just didn’t tell you about it. They like to withhold.”

Skylar frowned, and hastily attached her cuff to her wrist. “Put them on,” she ordered the other three. Put them on now.”

“It’s okay,” Leona said. “There’s no rush. I mean, it’s fine, but...”

“It’s not fine,” Skylar said in an apologetic tone. “We’ve been withholding as well. We can’t get you back to the main sequence. That’s never been something we could do. We probably would have had migration with those kinds of capabilities. Our technology has grown, since we sped up time to match that of true Earth, but we didn’t advance as fast as them, I’m sure. I’m sorry, we lied.”

The team smiled. “We know.”

“You do?” Oliver asked.

“We’re good at reading microexpressions,” Marie told them.

“You’re not mad?” Lucy asked.

“Don’t inspire anger in them,” Kostya advised.

“Really, it’s all right,” Leona assured them. “We’ll find a way eventually.”

“Eventually has come!” came a voice from across the room.

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Microstory 1839: Bad Blood

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I donated whole blood every 56 days for decades before I had to stop. Back then, it was legal for a child of at least 14 years in my country to donate. They raised the age up to 16 while I was still 15, but they grandfathered me into it, because I was so dedicated. It was a girl I liked in school who got me into it. She was so pretty, she always wore this big black bow in her hair, and I would have done anything for her. She organized a blood drive, and I was one of the few kids who took her up on it, so we actually did become friends. I thought my tactic was working until she confided in me that she liked girls. We remained close, because I didn’t have a problem with it, and by then, I was already heavily invested in the blood donation thing. I scheduled classes around it, I scheduled my vacations around it. I made sure everyone who ever needed me for anything knew that I wouldn’t be able to help them on particular days. Over time, the donation process became faster and more efficient, so it was easier to schedule other things, but I still had to be careful. If I waited even one extra day for my next appointment, I would feel like I was letting someone down. I felt compelled to maximize my availability. I got to know the people at the clinic. They could count on me to always show up with clean blood. I knew their names, and even hung out with them outside of their work. Meanwhile, I was working in a factory. Do you know those little wheels in the center of computer mouses? You spin them, and it scrolls the elevator on the screen? Yeah, we make those. My boss is literally the one who invented them. Before that, we worked together to make other early computer parts, but she brought me on when she started her own company.

That was when the clinic moved locations. They didn’t move for me. I had inspired my boss to get involved in charity work. Donating a portion of our building to a brand new state-of-the-art clinic was a great way to get the word out about what we do. Everyone loves that kind of mouse, because it makes using a machine so much easier, and we all but monopolized it. Anyway, my life was good for a time. I was making great money, and never had to waver in my commitment to giving blood. One day, in the middle of my recovery cycle, the train I was on went off the rails. Dozens of people died, and the rest of us were very badly injured. We needed blood. We needed a lot of it. I remember thinking that this was going to screw up my schedule for the rest of my life, but as it turned out, that was the least of my problems. A few weeks later, I was doing fine, and eagerly awaiting the day I could get back to giving back. I had a lot to make up for. A lawyer showed up at my door to deliver me some bad news. Apparently, a mixup at a different clinic resulted in the transfusion of blood from a gay man. I’m like, “so the hell what?” Well, he explained that gay people transmitted STDs, so they weren’t allowed to donate blood. Okay, the guy lied on his form, but he didn’t even have a bloodborne disease! Now, you’ll remember that my best friend was a lesbian, and we grew up in the subculture together, because I was an ally. I had experimented a bit myself too, and I didn’t absolutely hate it. I was pissed. I knew that this was a law, but hadn’t thought much about it. I fought and protested, but nothing changed. So many people could die because of an outdated discriminatory law. So I did something foolish. I recorded myself having relations with a man, and sent it to the president of the national organization that ran my clinic. He was appalled, and decided to use his power to ban me for life.

Microstory 1739: Jana Crane

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For the most part, Jana Crane tried to keep to herself. She kept her head down, did her job, and didn’t complain when the people she worked with treated her like crap. She tried to be as accommodating as possible, without being a pushover who no one respected. She was a factory inspector, who would go around her region, making sure that the businesses she was assigned to were maintaining health and safety standards. She was thorough and careful, and didn’t let anything slide. Forgetting to fill out your monthly logs completely is one thing, but not properly securing a piece of incredibly dangerous equipment was just something that could not be tolerated. Her reports were not meant to get anyone in trouble, but she saw them as a way for the companies to improve themselves, and prevent anything from going terribly wrong. It would be bad for the floor workers if one of them became injured, and bad for the employers if that injured worker sued the company, or otherwise cost them money. Everyone should love inspectors for preventing such tragedies. At least that was how Jana saw it, but no one else shared her sentiments, even people whose lives she was trying to preserve. Perhaps if she wore a cape, and a symbol of some kind on her chest, they would think differently of her. One person in particular could have done with a little more perspective. He was a floor supervisor who probably should have never been promoted, but far be it for Jana to judge the process. What she could judge, however, was how casual he was with the safety protocols. He didn’t worry about locking down the machines. He let his people go in there without safety goggles. He didn’t care about anything. If she didn’t know any better, she might think he was asking for a bad outcome. Sadly, she was the one who ended up in a bad situation. She gave him low marks too many times, and he had had enough. She was going to stop inspecting his work, whether she wanted to or not.

The last thing she saw before the darkness was his face. He wasn’t wearing a mask, or anything. He probably thought she wouldn’t recognize him, and since she wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a lineup later, he would get away with it. Or maybe he was just a moron who didn’t think things through carefully. That was the most likely reason he not only showed his face, but spoke to her after throwing the acid in her eyes, and made references to their previous encounters with each other. She screamed, but couldn’t cry, on account of the acid. She just tried her best to wipe the chemicals off of her face. She pulled her shirt off, and wiped some more. It got the excess off, but it didn’t stop the pain, and it wouldn’t give her her sight back. He didn’t laugh. He was angry; talking about how this was her fault, and if she had just ignored the infractions, this wouldn’t have had to happen. All this, like it was completely unavoidable. An unlocked chemical cabinet was unsafe, but he didn’t appear to recognize the irony. She could hear his footsteps grow fainter, so she started to reach out around her. Feeling around was taking too long, so Jana had to be bolder. By the end of this, she was going to have a lot of bruises, but she would live. Every second she waited would make it that much harder for the doctors to fix her eyes. She began to run. She didn’t run into anything, so she went faster and faster through the factory, all the way out into the cold, and over to a warehouse down the street, which she knew operated 24/7. Her vision was never quite the same after that, but she didn’t go blind, and the floor supervisor didn’t go free.

Microstory 1369: Jury Selection

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Jury Selector: Jury Candidate, where do you work?

Jury Candidate: I work for a paperclip manufacturing company, based out of Kansas City. We’re the largest papercl—

Jury Selector: Great, and what are your primary responsibilities there?

Jury Candidate: I...I make paperclips. Like, I literally make the paperclips on the factory floor. I’m hoping for a promotion into an administrative department, though. I have really great interpersonal skills.

Jury Selector: Are you in charge of one or more other workers?

Jury Candidate: Uh...not yet. But again, it’s only a matter of time before I get that promotion, and show them what I’m worth.

Jury Selector: Okay. According to this questionnaire, you have served on a jury before. Were you the foreperson?

Jury Candidate: No, but I wanted to be, and I would like to be this time, so I’m throwing my hat in the ring now, before anyone else can.

Jury Selector: That will be up to the rest of the jury, and will happen at the beginning of deliberations, if you are chosen for a seat. We will not be involved with that decision. Now. Have you ever heard of RandoCorp?

Jury Candidate: You could say that. Yes, I have heard of it, yes.

Jury Selector: Have you, or anyone close to you, ever worked for RandoCorp, its parent company, CompreCo, or any of its subsidiaries, including Ordinariosa, Mundane Solutions, or Triviam Inc.

Jury Candidate: No, I would never. I mean, I have never.

Jury Selector: That was an interesting answer. What have you heard about the case for which you would be serving, RandoCorp v. Plaintiff?

Jury Candidate: I have heard nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Jury Selector: I find that rather hard to believe. This situation has been in the news for the past three weeks.

Jury Candidate: Well, I don’t really read the news. I don’t drive anymore either, so I don’t pay much attention to the software that goes into vehicles.

Jury Selector: If you’ve never heard anything about it, how do you know the case involves vehicular software?

Jury Candidate: Well, that’s what the company does. I just made a guess.

Jury Selector: RandoCorp does a lot of very different things; hence their name. There’s no way you could have guessed which division is pertinent here. Tell me, Jury Candidate, have you ever known anyone to be involved in a vehicular collision?

Jury Candidate: I don’t see how that’s relevant.

Jury Selector: The plaintiff is suing RandoCorp for alleged mishandling of an automated braking system. Vehicular collisions are completely relevant. Please answer the question.

Jury Candidate: Yeah, I have. My cousin died in a car accident, but it had nothing to do with the brakes.

Jury Selector: What did it have to do with?

Jury Candidate: Don’t worry about it.

Jury Selector: Your Honor, we reject this candidate for the jury.

Jury Candidate: No, don’t! What are you talking about?

Jury Selector: If you can’t give a reasonable answer to the question, I’m afraid we cannot trust you to be a fair and impartial member of the jury.

Jury Candidate: You work for the plaintiff! Why would you kick me out! I’m gonna find RandoCorp guilty.

Jury Selector: I am here to serve my client to the best of my ability, but I will not corrupt the judicial system for it. Again, Your Honor, we reject this candidate for the jury.

Selection Process Judge: Defendant’s Jury Selector, do you concur?

Defendant’s Jury Selector: One hundred percent, Your Honor. Reject.

Jury Selector: This is bullcrap! Unhand me, sir! RandoCorp is going down! If it’s not because of this, it’ll be because of something. I swear to God, I’m gonna figure out how to...!

Microstory 1323: Inspectorate

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New Clearance Investigator: Are you nervous? You look nervous.

Inspector Job Candidate: You look nervous. I’m sorry, that sounded like a burn. You just actually look nervous to me.

New Clearance Investigator: I’m a little nervous, yes. This is my first clearance interview.

Inspector Job Candidate: What did you do before this?

New Clearance Investigator: I was a postal worker, but I’m the one meant to be asking the questions here.

Inspector Job Candidate: Right, of course. Everything you need to know should be on the forms I filled out. I’m here to be a factory oversight inspector.

New Clearance Investigator: Yes, they are, and yes, you are. We just need some clarification on a few things.

Inspector Job Candidate: Go ahead, I’m an open book. I’m not sure why I was flagged for face-to-face, though. I’ve never been out of the city, let alone the country.

New Clearance Investigator: That’s exactly why you were flagged. It’s a bit unusual for a candidate to have almost no housing history. According to these records, you were literally born in your childhood home, you grew up there, you stayed there through college—

Inspector Job Candidate: Well, it’s a college town...surrounding a really good college.

New Clearance Investigator: That’s fair. And you still live there, but not with your parents?

Inspector Job Candidate: My mother died when I was in high school, and I had to move my father to an assisted living facility a few blocks away two years ago, because I couldn’t take care of him while I was in class. So yes, I still live there, but I’m fully independent. It’s my house now.

New Clearance Investigator: Okay. This was an open-ended question about your travel. You responded that you’ve never gone anywhere, for any reason. Is this because of your family situation?

Inspector Job Candidate: Not exactly, per se. My parents hated traveling, my grandparents hated traveling. I had no strong feelings about it, but I also had no experience with it, so I suppose it never came up, even when I became an adult. I wasn’t ever actively thinking about the fact that I never went anywhere; it just never happened.

New Clearance Investigator: Yet here you are, applying to a position with—let’s see...an 85% travel requirement.

Inspector Job Candidate: Oh, I can see how that would look weird. I imagine it doesn’t help that I’m not acting like it’s always been my dream to finally break free from this one-horse town, or something.

New Clearance Investigator: This city has more than one horse, so to speak.

Inspector Job Candidate: Exactly. So I haven’t been to somewhere exotic, like Tokyo, or Peru. Lots of people can’t afford to go on big vacations. Yeah, I realize it’s strange that I haven’t even been to the other side of the state, but this city has everything I need, and I have been all over it. The form didn’t really ask me how active I’ve been within the city limits.

New Clearance Investigator: This is true. Neither the form, nor the interview, can account for everything. It’s designed to help us find out whether you met a terrorist group when you studied abroad one semester, but there’s no way to know if the terrorist group came here, and met you on the other side of town.

Inspector Job Candidate: ...

New Clearance Investigator: I’m not accusing you of that, but again, that’s why you were flagged. The form you filled out simply does not have much information about you. It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t be punished for leading a reasonable life that appears boring on paper. But they called me in, because I can find out what the forms don’t tell us. So, let’s begin.

Inspector Job Candidate: Wait, we haven’t begun yet?

New Clearance Investigator: Ha. No. Get comfortable. This might take a couple hours.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 31, 2238

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It was time to leave. Mateo first went to Dardius to retrieve the Muster Beacon, so he could save Serif’s people. He then went to Gatewood to make sure they really were saved. Then Cassidy showed up, and he felt very protective of her, but he was otherwise pretty useless here. He wasn’t a scientist or engineer. He wasn’t a civil servant or pilot. He was just some guy; some guy light years away from his wife. He needed to reunite with Leona, and it wasn’t like the people here were begging him to stick around. It was kind of surreal going straight from a world where he was the leader of billions of people, to one where he could do little to help. He hadn’t realized until last year how unnerving he felt. It was best to get out of here, even without the other reasons.

He wasn’t setting about on the journey alone. As awkward as things were still with Cassidy, he hoped she was coming. That was a conversation they needed to have. Goswin was finished setting up the system of governance on these worlds. Many people wanted him to run for elected office, but he evidently didn’t think that was a good idea. He was, and always would be, an outsider. The Ansutahan refugees had this shared history he could never understand, so they were better served with a leader of their own. Weaver too was coming, but that was more about her curiosity. She was kind of steampunk, and spent a lot of time enjoying advanced technology in the nineteenth century in her reality of origin. She had never been to other planets before, and now she was anxious to see more. There was one last passenger, and it was a good thing he was the only one. Though the ship was built with six grave chambers, for a maximum complement of twelve people, chamber four was heavily damaged from having been used as a link to the Ansutahan universe bridge. It could be repaired, but no one had bothered to do it yet.

“Why do you wanna come?” Mateo asked.

“There’s nothing for me here,” Thor replied.

“What about your partner, Saxon, and Operation Starseed?”

“That was more his thing. I’m kind of all about the neighbors. If not for him and the project, I would have probably chosen to travel to Varkas Reflex. This my opportunity.”

“Well, we have room for ya, but I don’t know if I can trust you. I know Juliu—Saxon. Sure, it was in an alternate reality, but that’s something, and I don’t know you at all.”

“I just need a ride, man. I’m not here to steal your girlfriend, or whatever.”

“Cassidy is not my girlfriend. I’m just in charge of her safety.”

“Whatever, dude.”

There was only one person Mateo could talk to about this. He didn’t exactly trust her either, but that was only because everyone is capable of betrayal. It wasn’t safe to let just anyone board the AOC, but if Mirage said he was cool, Mateo would accept it. He made his way to the VR room in the command center building, and was surprised to find Cassidy already there, removing the needle from her skull. “You were talking to her?”

“I was, yes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I was asking her whether we can trust Saxon and Thor.”

Mateo smiled. Great minds. “And...?”

“She says they can be trusted indubitably.”

“Very well. I guess it’s a good thing you sat in the chair, because I can’t be sure she would even talk to me a second time.”

“Yeah, she said you would be coming, and confirmed your suspicions.”

“I’m leaving today. I’m going to go find my wife. I would like you to accompany us. That is, unless Mirage told you not to.”

“She frustratingly made a point of leaving that decision up to me.”

“You frustratingly made a point of not answering what that decision is.”

She didn’t want to, but couldn’t keep herself from cracking a smile. “I’ll go with you. It’s the right move. Just so you understand, it’s not that I need a big strong man to keep me safe.”

“Good, because Goswin is more of an intellectual, so I don’t know that you’ll find someone like that on our ship. Then again, apparently Thor is coming...”

“Mateo. You and I are not a thing. We had a moment; a three minute moment, and it’s gone. We can fly in the same spaceship together without it getting weird.”

“I agree.”

“So, we’re not going to talk about it anymore.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Captain McBride to Mateo Matic,” they heard on the radio.

“This is Mateo, go ahead.”

“Please report to the throne room.”

“Very good, sir.” Mateo called the area where Kestral and Ishida’s worked the throne room offhand one time, and since there was no better term for it, it sort of stuck. The two of them were responsible for the scientific projects going on here, and of the cylinders themselves, but had little control over what the people living on them did. So they were decidedly not rulers. The throne room was used as an office, a laboratory, even sleeping quarters, and probably at the moment, a discussion room. Mateo speedwalked as fast as he could over there, not wanting to make them wait for him.

“Are you all ready to go?” Kestral asked him once he arrived.

He presented his bag. “Everything I have in thirty litres or less.”

“Mister Thompson will be joining you?”

“Looks like it; is that okay?”

“It is.” she nodded. “Mister Parker, on the other hand, will be joining us, just to keep you updated.”

“So, you’re moving forward with Operation Starseed?”

“Is that a problem?” she questioned.

“Not at all. Just...staying updated.”

“It’s why I called you here. The Ansutahan humans are aware that we are manufacturing exploratory ships in this system. What they don’t know is the magnitude of our mission, nor any of the details, including anything about the Starseed aspect.”

“I appreciate the need for secrecy and security.”

“Good. I need you to keep exercising that belief. Starseed is a sensitive subject. It’s not...strictly speaking, legal. The general vonearthan population did not vote to allow it. This is one of the reasons we’re building and departing from Gatewood, and why Saxon’s cargoship originated from Titan, rather than Earth. It’s our responsibility to insulate the Earthan leadership from any blowback. They’re hoping that, by the time anyone finds out about it, public opinion will have swayed in our favor. People may have reached the longevity escape velocity, which endangers progress from taking shape due to mortal turnover, but that doesn’t mean new generations don’t influence social politics. Still, Stargate is quite deliberately avoiding all systems within fifty light years of Earth. They’ll be sending independent missions to those systems, on an as needed basis, like we’ve already been doing with the closest stellar neighbors.”

“You don’t want me telling anyone what I know about these projects,” Mateo presumed. “I get it.”

“I know that you and Leona are close, and I assume you tell each other everything.”

Mateo opened his mouth to promise not to say anything, even to her, but she interrupted him before he could get one sound out.

“I’m not going to ask you to lie to her. Way I understand it, she already suspects the program exists, so denying it would put undue strain on your relationship. I’m fine with you being completely honest with her, because I know she can keep a secret. No one else needs to know, though.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. Now, Lieutenant Caldwell is currently running diagnostics on your ship’s new engines. Then you’ll be good to go.”

“New engines, sir?” He didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Yes, we’ve upgraded them to more recent speed standards. You’ll be able to reach a maximum of point-nine-three-c, though the average might be closer to point-nine-two.”

“That’s amazing. Thank you.”

“You should be able to reach Varkas Reflex inside of twelve years. It’s more like eleven, but the AOC is not likely to arrive on your day.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you again.”

“It’s been a delight, Mister Matic. You and the rest of your crew are always welcome back on Gatewood.”

“I appreciate your support. What could I ever do to repay you?”

“I haven’t thought of anything yet.”

“Anything yet?” Leona asked.

“Leona,” Eight Point Seven said, “there’s nothing down there.”

“You’re telling me they built nothing on the surface?”

“They built nothing on the surface, or just below it.”

“Does that mean the humans aren’t coming?”

“You know I don’t know. Nothing in the reports I received while I was administrator on Bungula led me to believe that they had abandoned missions to colonize this world.”

“This is a super-Earth, Eight Point Seven, with nearly six times its mass. Humans can’t survive on it without technological intervention.”

“I understand that. Either the nanofactories they sent ahead of time never arrived, or they arrived, but malfunctioned. I’m not picking up any signals, and the surface appears clear.”

“This must be why we’re here. But surely the Earthans know. I mean, the factory was meant to give them the thumbs up. Even without quantum communication, they would have had seventeen years to get the message that something went wrong.”

“I agree, it doesn’t make much sense.”

“Okay, let’s go down and fix this. You know the landing points?”

“I do, but you can’t go down there.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason the other humans can’t! Surface gravity is way too high for a standard biological.”

“Well, you have to go down there, and if you don’t come back up and get me in a year, I could reappear in the timestream in the vacuum.”

“Wouldn’t you reappear in the ship, just like you always do, even though it’s moved?”

“You might have to cannibalize the ship to fix the factory, so...maybe not. I might be able to walk on the surface. My legs are artificial, remember?”

“It has more to do with your lungs and heart, and your legs aren’t the only parts of you with bones and muscles.”

“Eight Point Seven, you don’t have hands. I might be able to build you a new body here, but I gotta get down there first.”

“This could kill you.”

“Anything could kill me. My life is hella dangerous. The powers that be have it in their hands. There’s a certain freedom in that. Get. Me. Down there.”

“As you wish. You better make like a jock, and strap in! It’s about to get real!”

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