Microstory 2489: Coasterdome

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It’s the largest amusement park in the known universe. Varkas Reflex has some pretty crazy stuff, but there’s not as much diversity with their rides. When I say that this one is the largest, that doesn’t mean it takes up the whole dome. In fact, I believe they intentionally left room for expansion, basing their future plans on feedback from the fans. So I’ll use this space to discuss my ideas. First off, the rides they have are great. I have no notes on them. There are so many of them, and they’re all different, and there are hardly any lines, and people just kind of naturally spread out. One thing is when you show up, you’re transported to a different entrance using an underground local vactrain network. So I think they were always aware of the concern for bottlenecking, and deliberately assign you an area to start with. It’s not like you’re not allowed to travel as far as you want, but this helps with overcrowding. I will say that as far as the layout itself goes, there doesn’t really seem to be any sense of organization, which I think is probably a consequence of this multi-entrance thing. There’s no dedicated area for the slower rides, or one which aren’t really rides at all, but still belong in an amusement park. There’s no gaming zone, or eating establishment neighborhood. They’re all spread out, and the map is hard to get a handle on. It’s interactive, so you can tell it what you’re looking for, and it will give you options, and show you the directions, so it’s not like all hope is lost. I dunno, I guess this is how they’ve designed it, and there’s no changing it now. As far as new rides are concerned, you could take the megaengineering aspect of Castlebourne more seriously. I propose a drop tower right in the center that goes all the way up to the apex of the dome. That’s 41.5 kilometers, in case you forgot. It would be the most impressive ride I’ve ever heard of. You could also go to the other axis, and design a coaster that flies around the whole perimeter without any lulls. It would be like the trains in Eldome, but much faster. Of course, organies might face health and safety issues with a ride that long, or a drop tower that tall, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t exist. You just tell people who can’t handle it that they can’t go. I already came up with some great names for these new rides, but I don’t want to share them here, because I don’t want someone to steal them. Perhaps you’re already thinking about these things, I just thought I would offer a few ideas. You can even contact me if you want more. I got loads of ‘em. I’m kind of famous in certain circles for designing the craziest of rides in VR. I have a bit of a following, no big deal. But I’m just telling you that I do have experience, and I’m not just some rando. HMU, if you want.

Microstory 2449: Windbourne

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Holy crap, it’s windy here! It’s almost like that’s the point! I’m yelling, because it’s hard to hear with all this wind! Did I mention that it was very windy? Why did they make a dome that’s just super windy? Well, I don’t know, why the hell not? What would you do instead? I’m asking a lot of questions, and I’m not a prolific reviewer on the network, so no one’s going to answer them. The staff certainly didn’t. It’s windy here, because that’s the way they wanted it, and they were technologically capable of it. Before you read on (if you do manage to find this review) you should know that I’m one of the uneducated. By early 21st century standards, I would have been an average student. By today’s standards, with perfections in educational tools, and individualized lesson planning, I’m well-below average. I did this on purpose. I don’t find value in learning beyond a certain point. I’m happy, and I’m content with who I am. So if you’re looking for a scientifically dense explanation for how the wind generation works here, tap on, buddy...tap on. Windbourne. It’s windy. The topography has been moulded to create the perfect conditions for wind, where they want it, when they want it. Air is heated and cooled in very precise configurations to create the wind patterns as planned. Temperature usually flows spontaneously from hot to cold, I remember that. I’m not sure how they’re heated, but I think the process is solar-powered, perhaps by use of mirrors, rather than just solar panels to convert into electricity. They also use gargantuan fans to control the airflow, but I didn’t see them, so the must have cleverly hidden them behind geographic features, or maybe holographic illusions. Some regions are windier than others, of course, and they tell you where these are. The map color-codes the zones by the speed of the wind, so if you just want a light breeze, you can stay there. If you want near tornado-like conditions, baby, you’re gonna wanna go to Gale City. Winds in this area reach up to 400 kilometers per hour. That sounded like a lot to me, but I didn’t have much of a frame of reference until I tried it myself. What you do is enter a tunnel where you can walk through, or stand on people movers. Once you’re on the other side of the Arnett Mountains, you climb up to these towers. There are robot staff here, so they’ll tell you where to go, and how to get there. You get to your platform, which is fully protected by walls, and situate yourself in the waiting station. You have a few options here. You can strap yourself in, hold onto the straps, hold onto a bar, or freehand it. Once you’re ready, they’ll open the flap behind you. At this point, you can hear the wind roaring at your sides, and above you, but you’re still protected. This only lasts for a few moments before the wall opposite you opens up. The wind rushes in, as I said, at 400 km/h. What happens to you next is entirely dependent upon your choices, both leading up to it, and once you hit the point of no return. Did you grab on to something? Can you keep holding onto it? Are you gonna fly over the edge? If you do, will you activate a parachute, or a wingsuit? If not, will you manage to land in one of the scattered foam pits, or plummet to your death? Please note that, due to the obvious dangers, there are certain criteria that you must meet before they let you go to Gale City, such as, do you have a heart condition, and do you have mind-transference on, or are you a suicidal moron? I’ve already gone on the ride several times, and I’m gonna end this here, so I can go back to see if I can beat my own record for the farthest fall without wings. Wild ride, friends, wild ride. Catch the wind, and fly out of control!

Microstory 2311: Nice to Be Back

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Hello readers, this is Jasmine again. I asked Nick if I could write another guest post for his blog. This was obviously before he died, and it never ended up happening. I was having tea with Kelly this weekend, though, and mentioned it, so she asked me to finally follow through with it. I was gonna say a whole bunch of stuff back then that’s no longer relevant nor appropriate, but it’s nice to be back here. This website feels like home. When I was his assistant, I helped a lot with managing it, and making it look better than it did before. I rearranged some of the auxiliary elements, and reformatted some old posts. He had to use a number of different word processors over time when his life was all about staying in motion, so things were just a little messy in the beginning, but he had always wanted everything to be more consistent. Anyway, I’m still working at the jail, and things are going very well. He did a great job formulating this team, so if anyone asks whether he made a positive impact on the world, there can be no doubt. I’ve run into a surprising number of people who assumed the whole project fell apart when he was forced to leave, but that’s not how he set it up. Nothing was ever balanced on the shoulders of one person, not even him. We’re still working our butts off. We hope to see real changes in the system by the end of next year. For those of you who watched the memorials, I was present at both. I even spoke at both, so now you know what I look and sound like. It was my honor to relate my experiences with such a great friend. I’ll never forget what it was like to meet him and know him. I appreciate that he’s being kept alive, not only through the work he did, but through this site, and all of his friends, followers, and fans. It’s sad, but it’s sweet too. I’ll miss him, but at least I knew him at all. Thanks.

Microstory 2203: Supported by Fans

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Okay, I’ve seen some weird stuff in my day, and I actually do believe in coincidence, because I’ve witnessed more variables than most people have, but this is so weird. It was extremely hot in my apartment when I woke up this morning. I was sweating through the sheets, and having trouble breathing. My air conditioning must have gone out pretty early for my thermostat to have been reading 26 degrees. The power seems to be okay. I placed a call with the super, so she’s been working through the problem. I didn’t think that it was too terribly urgent, because I was going to have to spend most of the day at work anyway. But guess what? The AC is out there too. It’s out across the entire jail. Fortunately, everyone in my team has been issued a laptop. When we’re at our respective workstations, we dock it so we can use the external IOs, but we can also carry them around if we would prefer to work elsewhere. The interesting thing about your world is that you’ve championed retractable power cables for your mobile devices. It makes the machine a little thicker, but this cable unit can be pretty easily removed if need be. If not, it makes for a quick getaway. Anyway, that’s not what’s important, because we would have made it work either way. The point of the story was that we were able to go to our Jail Counselor’s house to work there. It was a bit cramped with all of us together, but we’re very grateful for the option. The guests in the jail had no such choice. They spent extra time in communal areas, supported by fans, but all those people so close together made it so that it was more like two steps forward, one step back, at best. Now, I’m not here to discuss prison reform as a whole. Our mandate is to understand group dynamics, and nothing more. But it just goes to show how important it is to treat our incarcerated with respect and care. These people had nowhere to go. The county had plans in place to address it, but unlike you, who can just go to the movie theatre when things get rough, it’s vital to remember that some people have it rougher.

Microstory 2117: Cosmic Frequency

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Since I have nowhere else to live, I’m still in the hotel room that the government is paying for. I spoke with my lawyer yesterday—the one that my former employer is paying for—and also this morning. It looks like this thing isn’t going to be going to a full trial. The FBI and my benefactors are going to be vouching for me to the judge, as will reportedly my social worker. I’ll most likely serve some time in prison, but not in the way that you think. Have you ever heard anyone on a police or lawyer procedural say that a convict is being sentenced to consecutive time? Have you ever wondered if that means that there’s such a thing as nonconsecutive prison time? Well, yes, young Padawan, there is! It’s often called weekend jail, and it’s generally meant to allow people to continue working throughout the week, and/or take care of their families. I’m currently in between jobs, so I’ve been advised to start working closely with my social worker to change that. He’ll probably have ideas on an employer who would be willing to deal with what will become an unusual schedule. Or maybe it’s not that unusual. My frame of reference isn’t perfect, but I do believe that intermittent confinement is more common on this world. That reminds me, I’m a visitor from another universe, and people are very interested in that. That’s why they’ve been so helpful, because they want to understand if it’s even a little bit true. They don’t believe me entirely, but who could expect them to? I have no proof, and no way to prove it. A science fiction story would suggest that people from different universes have different quarks, or something, but I’m not sure if that’s true. I wrote a story once where a character was in a similar situation. He ended up in a highly advanced galaxy, where a group of doctors were able to run a “cosmic frequency” test on him to confirm his alien origins. I’m not sure how difficult it would be to do that here, but if researchers want to know how I tick, I guess I’ll suggest that, and see what they say. This is all in the very early stages. The military isn’t going to spend too many resources studying me until they have some real reason to believe that I’m telling the truth. For now, everyone’s playing this by ear, including me. Not everyone is gonna believe me at all, or be on my side. They’ll expect me to pay for my crimes, and won’t let the FBI, a private organization, or anyone else exonerate me, even under special circumstances. Weekend jail sounds like a good deal to me. I’m not a partier, so it’s not like I’m known to do anything special with my days off. Plus, that would allow me to stay online throughout my sentence. That would be cool, wouldn’t it? I am getting the sense that they want me to keep up with my blog too. My view count has been skyrocketing lately. Word is spreading about my life story, and people are catching up on my previous posts. It’s surreal. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Microstory 2012: California

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As I mentioned on the last slide, my papa one time went to two different states. Actually, he also went through Utah, but he would not have counted that yet, because he didn’t even stay the night. After the college tour in Arizona, he went on to San Diego, California. It was here that people were holding a convention for EmptyCon. You’ve probably never heard of it. They don’t do them anymore, because most of the fans are dead now. The first time they did it was the first convention in the history of the world. Soon after movies were invented, a bunch of them were made that told the story of a man who accidentally traveled to a thing called EmptySpace where there weren’t any suns or planets. Aliens only had ships, and there were stars that were far away that gave them light. I’m not sure how they were able to build ships without planets, but whatever. Papa was probably the youngest fan of the movies, which are kind of stupid now that scientists know more about space than way back before. He spent the rest of the weekend in San Diego, talking with other fans, and the people who owned the movies, but none of the actors who were actually in them, because they were long dead even by then. I’m not into the movies, and neither is my dad. That’s not a problem, though. Both of them taught me that it’s okay to not like everything that the people you love like. I did some things with my papa, and sometimes he did things on his own. It’s the same with my dad. They did things without me too. Always keep an open mind, though. They taught me that too, so maybe I’ll start liking EmptySpace one day when I’m older.

Microstory 1831: Tour de Force

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At the moment, there are 216 countries in the world, but it wasn’t always like that, and not all of them are recognized by every international governmental body. That doesn’t matter to me, though. I’m not traveling to these places as a diplomat. If they have declared themselves to be an independent state, I have to visit them, even if I was technically already there when it was part of a different nation. Well, I don’t have to do any of this, but I’ve made it this far, so I need to see it through. Let me explain. When I was a girl, my parents received a hefty inheritance from a distant relative that my mother didn’t even know existed. According to her executor, my mom’s great aunt something-something didn’t have any other family left by the time she died. Mom didn’t get this inheritance just because she was next of kin, though. Her aunt knew of her, and even followed her career as a trombonist. Sadly, we never got to meet her, but we did get that money. The two of them took some time off work one summer to travel. We went to several countries in Europe, plus Egypt, plus India. Just like that, I found myself having seen three continents, and one subcontinent. I felt compelled to continue, so before I began my studies at university, I spent a gap year backpacking through Asia, seeing five more countries. Every year, I became more obsessed with adding to my itinerary. North America, South America, even Antarctica. I developed rules about my stays. I had to remain for at least one week for it to count, and I had to go to multiple cities. I couldn’t just hang out near the airport, or straddle the border between two neighbors. I could have done it much faster without these rules—which some people do, thinking faster is better—but money runs low fast, so I still had to work. It took me decades to do it right.

Word spread what I was doing. As I said, I wasn’t the only one, but I was famous for it before I was halfway through, because I was actually spending time absorbing culture. Airlines would send me free tickets to promote their planes. Countries would pay my way to draw in tourism. Everybody wanted a piece of the action, and it was totally fine by me. I was the girl who saw it all, and people wanted me to tell them about it. I tried to write a book about my travels once, but I’m not a very good writer, so I hired others to do it for me. I sent them updates to include in the book, and we realized that it was going to be too long for one volume. This wasn’t a travel guide; it was deeply personal, but the audience ate it up, because there are so many people out there who will never get to see this stuff. Finally, in my old age, I reached my goal. I went to some of the most dangerous parts of the world, but I survived, and no one could take that away from me. Except they almost did. A few years ago, a community in Spain called Catalonia declared its independence. Just last month, the rest of the world finally agreed to recognize this independence, and the Catalan Republic entered the United Nations as a separate body. This is great, but things are still shifting, and during this time, travel to Catalan is incredibly restricted. All tourism has been blocked. But that put me in a pickle. It was a new country, and we all knew it, but I couldn’t go there. Now, had I spent time in the area when it was considered only a community, I might have argued success, but I never did, and I needed to get there. The world united in my favor, and pleaded with the governments involved to let me in, just for one week. Surprisingly, my request was actually granted, and it is in a hospital in Barcelona where I draw my last breath.

Microstory 1830: Extreme to the End

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I am an adventurer. I like going to the most extreme places on Earth, and participating in the most extreme sports. I kayak on rapids, and run marathons, and even learned how to dance fight. That last one wasn’t especially dangerous, but it wasn’t sitting at home on your couch either, let me tell you that. I’ve climbed the highest mountains, and dove the deepest oceans. If I’m not risking my life, I’m not happy. I can’t say how many times I’ve been seconds or centimeters away from death, but I like to tell people that that is my comfort zone. One day, I thought it could eventually get me, but if the story is crazy enough, my legacy will live on without me. Until then, living on the edge makes me feel alive, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. That’s why I’m so disappointed in myself right now. I did all these things, and expected to die from something amazing, but that’s not what’s happening. It’s so boring, and pathetic, and embarrassing. I would say I’ll never get over it, but that’s an understatement, because this is it. Someone is going to find me like this, and that will be my entire story. They won’t talk about the time I ran with the bulls, or when I swung over the streets like a certain red and blue costumed hero, from one building to another. That one landed me in jail, and it was my proudest moment. My fan base grew, like, a thousand percent that day. I can’t bear to lose them. I know—again—I’ll be dead anyway, but that shouldn’t mean they all start making fun of me. They should continue to watch my stuff, and talk about me. They should flip off their mothers once she closes the door behind her after scolding them for watching those dumb videos. They should aspire to be me no matter what.

I slipped in the shower, how pitiful is that? I was just trying to step out when I lost my balance, and knocked my head against the porcelain. I don’t mind dying, but not like this, dammit! I struggle to grab my phone from the vanity. It falls right into the toilet. I didn’t bother buying something rugged or waterproof, because I’m not about that virtual life. I live in the moment, in the real world. It’s dead, and I don’t have any other way of reaching out for help, which means the end is near, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. But maybe I can make it a little better. Maybe I can die as I lived, like a freakin’ badass that people look up to. I turn the water back on, and shove the blood down the drain, but it just keeps leaking from my head. But it has to stop at some point, right? No one can know that it started here, or the ruse won’t work. It’s still coming? Seriously!? This isn’t fair! I’ll wrap a towel around it to keep it from dripping on the floors. Must. Get. To. The. Window. This is gonna work. It’s a foolproof plan. They’re gonna find me on the pavement, and they won’t know why I did it, but they’ll call me a hero. Because I am a hero. I crawl across the tiles, onto the hardwood floors of the hallway, and then onto the carpet of the guest bedroom. Some blood does drip from the towel, so I wipe it up with my hand, and keep going. Yeah, I’m not leavin’ a trail. This is definitely gonna work. It’s getting harder to move, but it’s not much farther now. Damn, the window is locked, and I’m getting woozy. I don’t think I can figure out how to open the latch in this state. It’s too complicated. Why do they make windows so complicated? That’s all right. Better even. Going through the glass will just make me look awesomer. I get to my feet, and slam my head against it. It cracks, but doesn’t shatter. I strike it again. It breaks, but not all the way. One more time...and I’m free. Oh, wait, no. I live on the first floor.

Microstory 1818: Grandfather Death

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About a year ago, the papers and the public began to call me Grandfather Death. Capital punishment has been abolished in every country in the developed world, and much of the developing world as well. Mine was the last holdout, and I fall into a special category. You see, my trial was going on at about the same time as the law was being debated, so once they finally settled on abolishment, they realized that I was in a bit of a gray area. Two others were executed once the new law was passed, but before it went into effect. No others were on death row with us at the time, so there was a question as to whether I should be grandfathered into the old law, or placed back in the normal prison system to carry out a life sentence. Being grandfathered into a prior law is often a good thing, like back in the day when I could drive a car at the age of 15 even after they suddenly upped the minimum age from 14 to 16. This time, it’s not so good, and the whole thing was all really complicated and over my head. Because of the way the proceedings happened, I didn’t technically have a life sentence. I was sentenced to death, so there was nothing for them to fall back on. It was a weird loophole that everyone missed, and as much as it would benefit me to go free, it was honestly a huge mistake that never should have occurred. They considered retrying me, and reconvicting me, so they could do it right this time, but I think there was a legal precedent issue with that. It was just easier if they went ahead with the plan, and assured the public that this would be the very last execution ever. There were a lot of protests that I remember seeing outside my window. That was a concession, I guess, or a consolation prize. Death row was built underground, but they moved me to luxury accommodations for the last several months of my life. I’m not using that word sarcastically either. I would have killed to live in a place like that before I went to prison, it was so nice. Even for white collar criminals, this seems like far too much creature comfort. Why does it exist at all?

I’m not going to lie here and try to tell you that I don’t belong in this room, with these straps around my body, and this needle in my arm. I did what they said I did, and I would do it again. People sometimes ask me if I truly had to beat him as hard as I did, and like, that was the whole point. I wasn’t actually trying to kill him; that was just what happened to him in the end, because he couldn’t survive his injuries. My intent was for him to feel pain like all his victims did. He got in trouble for taking people’s money, but he didn’t suffer. Meanwhile hundreds of families were still destitute, and unable to believe in the concept of justice. I had to right that wrong, and I have no regrets. I made no attempt to conceal my actions, and when the police came, I did not resist. I knew that things could get this bad for me, because that man had a lot of loyalists that were holding onto a lot of strings. But he finally suffered, and that’s what matters, even if it means I go down too. Because, you see, even though he had people honorbound to him because of how much money he made them, I’m the one with fans. I’m the one with a following. I’m not just talking about the victims and their families either, but people who agree with my solution, and only wish they could have done it themselves. That’s what I gave them; peace of mind that he can’t hurt anyone anymore, and that they aren’t responsible for stopping him. I’m sacrificing myself so that they can get on with their lives. Yes, I lie on this table fully at peace—smiling, even—because today...I die a martyr.

Microstory 1817: Vector

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A lot of people think I’m a dumb meathead, but just because I was good at sports doesn’t mean I didn’t exercise my brain. I’m actually really smart and well-read, but I chose not to go to an Ivy League school, because my family didn’t have the money for it. Of course now we know that I could have taken out loans, and had them paid off after my first vector season, but we couldn’t run that risk. Besides, I ended up becoming a professional vector player because of a series of events in my life, starting with birth, and being admitted to my state school somewhere in the middle. So no, I don’t walk around with that prestige, but I’m happy with my choices, and you can’t argue with the results. There was a reason that I did so well in sports. I possessed a naturally high degree of precision. I could hit or throw a ball exactly where I wanted it to go, at least as long as it was within an acceptable range. I didn’t have all that much strength, so yeah, I could throw it towards the moon, but it would never reach it. I did not exactly choose Vector so much as it chose me. I liked to play a lot of different sports, but when it became clear which one was on the path of least resistance, I took my opportunity. I worked really hard to show the scouts that I had what it took to do this for real. I could play every position, but I was mostly a grabber. For those who don’t know, the grabber is the one that’s blindfolded much of the time. I had to take direction from the caller, and find the balls scattered throughout the field. At that point, I could remove my blindfold, and pass it to the wielder. I did things a little differently, and built up a nice reputation.

Here’s the thing, the opposing team’s jacker is watching you at all times, and as soon as they see your eyes, they know you have a ball, and they come after you. If they reach you before you can pass the ball, you lose that ball, and have to find it all over again, and good hiders do not make that easy. That’s why I just never took my blindfold off. It’s a strategy that had never been employed until then, and one that no player replicated quite as well after I started it. Man, I knew where my wielder was, and the jackers, and even the shielders, even though I didn’t need to know that information. I kept my ear on the whole game, and could give you the play-by-play later even though my eyes were covered the whole time, and I was busy with my own job. I could covertly pick up that ball, and toss it over before anyone could stop me. I was sneaky about it too, sometimes pretending to have a ball when I didn’t. If a jacker tags you, and your pocket is empty, they incur a penalty, so they better be right. They learned to be real careful when I was on the other side, but it still didn’t usually do them any good. Yeah, I was a great player, but like all good things, it was destined to come to an end. My game partner, the caller, was my best friend. We had to have a good relationship, and a secret language, in order to communicate effectively without anyone else knowing what was going on. One night, he took me to dinner to tell me that I ought to think about stepping down, and letting a new generation take over. It was tough, being told that it was time for me to leave. I felt like I had a few good years in me. I chose to go through with it, and I think my fans respected my decision. Looking back, I'm grateful for the honesty, and wish I had told him as much. I loved being the star of the show, but he was right. There were so many great kids whose chances I was stealing just by sticking around. I kept enough money to live comfortably, then gave the rest to charity. I never married, nor had kids.

Microstory 1360: Talent

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Talent Agent: Miss Influencer, it’s very nice to meet you. My daughter loves your stuff—loves it.

Influencer: Well, that’s great. Send her my regards.

Talent Agent: Wonderful, wonderful. Now, it says here that you’re a social media influencer. What exactly does that mean?

Influencer: Well, companies send me samples of their products, and pay me to advertise those products on my social media profiles. I’m particularly popular on Photogander.

Talent Agent: That’s the apps that turns movies into still pictures, or sumthin’?

Influencer: Sort of. You can move the camera around an object, and it will stitch together a 3D tour-like photo of that object. Users can then turn the object around, to see what it looks like from other angles. Other photo-sharing services focus on selfies, but this is better for objects, since it’s kind of difficult to move the camera around your own body, and remain in the same position. Of course, I’m sometimes in the shot myself, which is why I have a partner take the pictures for me.

Talent Agent: And you like the products you advertise?

Influencer: Sometimes.

Talent Agent: Well, isn’t that a bit dishonest? I mean, don’t your fans—

Influencer: Gagglers. They’re called gagglers on the site. And they give you honks when they like a photo.

Talent Agent: Whatever. So when your gagglers see you’ve promoted a product, theoretically they go out and buy it. But if you don’t even believe in the product, you’re just lying.

Influencer: I never said I didn’t believe in them. I support everything I advertise. I would never promote cigarettes or vaping paraphernalia, for instance. I just don’t always love them. Sometimes there’s an alternative I prefer, but if they haven’t hired me, I don’t post it on my business account. It’s just like acting in a commercial. No one expects the actor to have any strong feelings about dish soap, but they pretend to for the role. That’s fine.

Talent Agent: Yeah, I guess I get it. So look, I can make you a star, but you gotta do what I say. We’re a special kind of agency here. We’re only lookin’ for the best, but that don’t mean everyone’s ready. If you’ve never had any experience, then we gotta make you ready. We have a class you can take. It’s four hundred dollars per session for five sessions, but I promise it’s worth it. If these follower—I’m sorry; gaggler—numbers are any indication, two thousand dollars probably won’t be a problem.

Influencer: Well, I have taken some acting classes, and I’ve participated in live appearances, where I’ve been told I have good presence.

Talent Agent: Eh, yeah, but this is a special thing. We really want you to go through the class, so we know what we got. We gotta be able to tell the casting directors you know what you’re doin’.

Influencer: Uh, give me one second. I just need to look something up.

Talent Agent: Okay, sure.

Influencer: Yeah, the internet says don’t accept help from a talent agent who asks you to take a class. Like, it specifically mentions that it’s probably a scam. It warns readers that a scammer will claim it has more to do with evaluating your skills, so they can talk you up with casting directors.

Talent Agent: Ah, you can’t believe everything you find on the internet. I mean, just look at you! You say you love dish soap, but apparently that’s just a photo.

Influencer: Right, but I don’t make false claims about what the products do. I don’t try to convince my gagglers the soap will give them superpowers, or make them more attractive. Everything I say about the product is a hundred percent true.

Talent Agent: Well, it sounds like a gray area to me. I’ll tell you what, since we already know you have fans, and they’ll be wanting to see what you do, I’ll give you half off the class? How’s that sound? Influencing ain’t acting, but I believe you on the thing about your presence. You lit up the room when you walked in. Half off is best I can do.

Influencer: Nah, I think I better go look for someone else. Even if this is a legit operation, it’s not worth the risk, and it’s not like you have a monopoly on the industry.

Talent Agent: Well, I can’t make you stay, but we make stars, so I think you’ll be happy here.

Influencer: I’m okay. Thanks for the interview, though.

Talent Agent: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, wait. Can my daughter get your autograph?

Influencer: I better not. Just get one of your stars to do it instead. I’m sure they’re all much bigger than me. Have a nice day.

Microstory 1356: Self-Helper

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Self-Help Superfan: It is such an honor to meet you, sir. I was a huge fan of your first book, and almost scooped the moon when I found out you were soon to release a follow-up.

Self-Helper: Ah, scoop the moon. I like the reference. That was smart, starting out like that. It proves that you actually read my book, and you’re not just BSing me.

Self-Help Superfan: No, sir. I would not have asked for this interview if I hadn’t read it twice all the way through.

Self-Helper: Well, that’s great. I’m glad it’s helping you.

Self-Help Superfan: Oh, it definitely has. I’m already finding so much more success in my career than I ever thought possible, and it’s all thanks to you.

Self-Helper: No, no, no. Don’t say that. The point of my book is to find out what you can do for you. You’re already the pilot. I just cleaned your engines.

Self-Help Superfan: Haha, yes, of course. On that note, why don’t we get right into it? Your first self-help book was entitled The Astronaut in You. This next one is called The Ocean Above You. Did you mean for it to be so poetic? First we go up, then we come back down, and explore the depths?

Self-Helper: Honestly, I didn’t give it that much thought when I started out. I didn’t plan it to be like that. I suppose that goes to show how much profound truth there is to what I say. First you want to get as far from your comfort zone as possible. It’s only then that you can gain perspective, and an appreciation for where you came from. It’s also only after that when you can really get back to your roots, and explore who you are inside.

Self-Help Superfan: Excellent, excellent. So, the first chapter—and I don’t want to give anything away for my listeners—starts out with the Astronaut splashing down into the ocean to begin the second part of their journey. That wasn’t planned from the start?

Self-Helper: No, I wrote the first draft of the whole second book before I realized I could connect it to the astronaut motif in that way. I had to rewrite a lot of the rest to make it make sense, but that’s okay, because I was going to do another draft anyway. It’s important to understand—and don’t think any of my readers don’t—is that the Astronaut and the Diver are just metaphors. I don’t know what other metaphors I could have chosen, but the point is they’re just tools to help you comprehend how you can change your life for the better. That’s not the say I chose them at random. There is a reason for it, and it’s because most people reading these books are neither astronauts, nor deep sea divers. This sort of allows everyone to be on an even playing field. We can all relate to the archetypes in about the same way. Well, not all; chapter four of The Astronaut in You talks about diversity, but you get what I mean.

Self-Help Superfan: Yeah, I totally get it. There aren’t a lot of readers who can relate to the character too terribly much, because if they did, they might lose the message.

Self-Helper: That’s right. It’s about the message, and I don’t just want people reading a good story about themselves. It’s only moderately fictional to keep people interested, and to get them to read it straight through. People often try to pick and choose what parts of a self-help book will help them the quickest, and they ignore a lot of good material because of it. It’s not a piece of fiction, but it’s not an encyclopedia either. You’re meant to go from page one to the conclusion.

Self-Help Superfan: Oh, I know I certainly did. Now, a lot of self-help authors have come up with life-changing advice based on their own past experiences. But you didn’t really talk about your personal life in the first book. The second one seems to suggest writing the first one was actually an exercise in itself. You learned the hidden tricks by trying them out?

Self-Helper: That’s exactly what happened. The first one started out as a series of letters to my therapist. I was so anxious around people back then that I never got out what I really wanted to say during my sessions. She suggested that I write my questions down. She intended to answer them in-person, but we kind of became pen pals. That’s why she enjoys a collaborative credit in the book jacket.

Self-Help Superfan: That’s amazing. I want to know more about her; as much as you’re allowed to say, of course.

Self-Helper: I can say quite a bit. How long you got?

Microstory 1325: Sports Man

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Sportscaster: I’m here with legendary athlete, Jools Hooper, a.k.a. Sports Man. He earned his nickname in 1987—by an avid fan, and six-year-old daughter of his new general manager—when he started playing for the Kansas Titanium. It was his third major league team over the course of his career, but he didn’t stop there. Many have attempted to interview Hooper, most to no avail. He’s always been too busy with his work, but he has an important announcement to make, and he’s agreed to let me...be the vehicle that transports his words to all of you. It is an honor just to be in your presence, Mr. Hopper.

Sports Man: Thank you, Sportscaster. I’m honored to be here as well. I’m a huge fan of your work.

Sportscaster: Oh dear me, Jools Hooper is a fan of my work. Did you hear that, everybody? Did you get that on camera? Ha-ha-ha. Anyway, before we get to your announcement, I would like to ask you a few questions, so the audience will have a better understanding of your background.

Sports Man: Certainly. Shoot, so to speak.

Sportscaster: After playing college basketball for Hillside University, you were immediately drafted into the Kansas City Cougars, right?

Sports Man: That’s right. I played for them for nine years. Basketball is my main game.

Sportscaster: What made you move over to association football?

Sports Man: Well, Sportscaster, that’s exactly why I haven’t done any interviews since. I literally don’t remember. That whole time in my life is a haze. I was doing a lot of drugs back then—no athletic enhancements, mind you—but I was well out of my mind, which is why I only played soccer for two seasons. I don’t recall why I switched sports, or how I joined the team, or anything about it. It was probably for a stupid reason, like a bet, or a prank that got out of hand.

Sportscaster: According to reports, you sobered up in 1984, but you didn’t start playing Vector until three years later. Tell me about that.

Sports Man: Recovery is a long process, and it never ends. I didn’t feel comfortable doing anything with my life until that billionaire announced he was founding an entirely new sport. I just knew I had to get into it. It’s funny; all that fame and applause got me into drugs when I was a baller, but sports helped me stay out of it later in life. I haven’t touched the stuff since.

Sportscaster: Well, that’s great. We’re all very glad you made your comeback. I know, when I’m having a bad day, I’ll throw on a tape of your 1993 tournament performance. You were so amazing.

Sports Man: It was a team effort; we all had to be really in sync.

Sportscaster: Of course. Moving on, you retired from Vector in 1999, at age fifty. Everyone thought you were done for good, but then you surprised us with a tennis run.

Sports Man: I loved tennis. It was such a new experience, ya know? I had always been on a team, but suddenly it was just me out there. Honestly, it made me really uncomfortable, which I think made for a great watch, which is why I stuck with it for five years. I like to entertain. I probably only quit that, because I was getting a little old.

Sportscaster: That’s when you discovered golf.

Sports Man: Yep. I went from two huge team sports to one that’s a little more individualistic, but still requires teamwork, to a completely individual sport with an opponent, to one that doesn’t require an opponent at all. Golf has been really great for me. It’s slow and methodical, which has been good for this 70-year-old.

Sportscaster: So, what’s next for Sports Man, Jools Hooper? I believe the general assumption is that you’re here to announce your retirement from sports altogether.

Sports Man: That is the rumor I’ve heard, but if that’s what you were hoping for, I’m afraid I will have to disappoint. I am indeed retiring, but not from sports; just golf. I’m going back to basketball. I aim to be the oldest player in association history. I’m currently a free agent, and I have a message for all managers...come at me.

Microstory 1205: Marcy Calligaris

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Universally belovèd artist, Marcy Calligaris worked really hard at making the people around her feel at ease, no matter who those people were. The only exception to her rule of accommodation was when someone she truly cared about was in danger, then she could go into mama bear mode. Born of an antimatter rocket engineer mother, and a health translator father, Marcy loved to create beautiful things, be that paintings, sculptures, or even sand castles. She was known by those closest to her as someone who could be trusted, and whose temper was always steady. She wasn’t one of those people who had huge anger issues as a child, and had to learn to move to the other extreme. She was, however—throughout her entire life—capable of getting angry, and when that happened, it usually freaked people out. Fortunately, she could always find peace in her creations, and knew this about herself, so she did not take that for granted. She was born at a time beyond money, where every positive member of society was given everything they needed to live contently. As there was more time to pursue so-called unproductive dreams, this new dynamic ultimately led to the genesis of an explosion of artists. Not all of them were good, but they were okay with this, because it gave them joy. Many worked in virtual constructs, building vast and impressive worlds where people’s minds could go and appreciate the intricacies. Marcy was a true artist, and also preferred to work almost exclusively in the physical world. Her pieces could be seen all over the world. She never grew to become famous, but she did have the urge to spread her beauty far and wide. She ended up with a small following of fans, who encouraged each other to go on Marcy Calligaris Visitation Journeys. They would travel to the random locations of Marcy’s art, and visit other sites in the area. These were dentist offices, and elevators, and some museums, so the locations themselves weren’t always all that remarkable, but they loved the adventure. Marcy was appreciative of her fans, but made a point to never meet them in person. She wanted her art to speak for itself, and didn’t want to answer any questions about inspiration, or deeper meaning. Marcy’s modest fame disappeared when she was spirited away from her life, and removed from time itself. During this period, in the corrupted timeline, her fans had no recollection of her existence at all, nor her art. But the art itself was not removed from time. Each piece remained where it was, and no one really wondered where it had come from, or who had created it. When she was finally returned to the timestream, and everyone’s memories came back, enough time had passed that her following had moved on from her. While they could now remember all the fun they had visiting her work, that was a long time ago for them, and fame in the modern world had a short shelf life, because there were just too many people who were doing too many great things, that any market was necessarily saturated. She lived on after this ordeal, and went right back to doing what she did best, though now with a little less notoriety, but of course, it was better than not existing at all.

Microstory 1065: Joan

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I was on the plane when the tire broke off of the landing gear, and fell down towards Blast City. Of course, as passengers, we didn’t have any idea that that is what happened, but it was frightening and frustrating for us too. We still haven’t been told why the landing gear failed to retract into the bottom of the plane, or how a major piece of it managed to fall off, but it caused a great deal of turbulence. What’s more is that the pilots obviously knew what had happened, so they immediately turned to go back to the departing airport. But that didn’t mean they could land, so we just flew in circles for hours, until a bunch of stressed out tin pushers on the ground figured out that the only way to get the plane back on the ground safely was to drop it in water. A guy sitting in a seat near me was telling people about something called a belly landing, which is one possible way to do it without wheels, but I guess the air traffic controllers didn’t think that was going to fly in this case. Pardon the pun. Anyway, the reason he was able to explain that while all of this was happening was because everyone in the cabin was completely calm. And they were completely calm, because I made them that way. About a year ago, Viola shows up at my house and tells me I’ve been chosen. She performs some ritual over my head, which I am helpless to resist, and transforms me into a sort of witch. She then teaches me a special command that allows me to tranquilize anyone in the immediate vicinity. I won’t tell you the word itself, because even though you can’t use it just because you know it, I don’t want it getting out there. She told me I would need it around this time, but didn’t give me a specific date, probably so I wouldn’t alter my course. Had I known I was going need this ability for a plane trip, I would have possibly taken a different flight. She wanted me there, on that day, so I could help in my own special way. She urged me not to use it except in an emergency, and that she was trusting me not to abuse the gift. I could go to a sportsball game, for instance, and totally deaden the crowd. I could turn the players docile, and just make them stand there on the field or court for an indefinite amount of time. I could end a lot of suffering, but also cause problems. She did say, however, that I would need to practice, so I took it upon myself to work closely with an anger management class. I won’t tell you who’s in it, but one of them is in our grade level, and knows exactly what I can do. Viola didn’t say I couldn’t reveal my secret to anyone. They helped me understand my ability, and be prepared for when I would really need it. I find it strange that she called me a witch, though. I don’t find the term offensive, but it seems a little too...comprehensive? Witches in fiction can perform lots of different spells, rather than just the one. I’m only wondering now whether there’s anything else I can do. It’s time I start practicing again.

Microstory 1051: Bert

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No, you’re not the first person to realize how many Berts we have at this school. Bertha, Herbert, a freshman named Bertil, and me. It’s actually my full name; it’s not short of Albert, or something. My parents came up with something simple, because they’re pretty lowkey, unremarkable people. That’s why I decided to start a band. Chester probably made you think it was his idea, but I’m the one who first suggested it. It may sound petty, but if we ever break up, it’s important to know who the name belongs to. Without any legal clarity, the primary founder basically has dibs. Besides, who’s ever heard of a drummer who’s in charge, am I right? I may not be much of a singer, but I can pluck a guitar with the best of ‘em, and nobody’s fawning over his drum solos, lemme tell you that. The truth is that I play a lot of instruments, but most of them aren’t heard much in bands. Many of them are brass, but I’m not much into ska, so we really need to keep away from that kind of sound. I suppose you could say we’re like Cherry Glazerr meets Of Monsters and Men. We’re great with that really rough, noisy grunge, but also love to focus on crystal vocals for some songs. Pearl was really great with that, and we’re all going to miss her. Hearing Addie, though, that’s really made me think that we’ve been going about this all wrong. She was the voice we were missing. They should have been handling that together. I don’t think we should be using her in a temporary capacity. We need to be finding a good, feminine voice that meshes well with Addie’s. I would rather sound more like Tegan and Sara than Chester’s Drum Circle Emporium. I didn’t make that up, by the way. Before I found him, he was trying to get all the percussionists in the high school band together to do an all drummers act. Can you imagine how terrible that would be? I love the guy, but he’s got some crazy ideas. I gotta remember to be more positive, and less critical, though. All bands fall apart because the members can’t work together. I don’t care what you say about your Yoko Onos, or that bullshit term “creative differences”. The one and only reason is they can’t get along, so it’s important that we continue to communicate, and find a new second singer who wants what we all want. Viola knew that, she was my girl. I don’t mean, like, she was my girlfriend, but she really understood what we were going for, even when we didn’t realize it ourselves. Did Chester tell you she designed our website, and supported us before anyone else did? She also got us this huge festival gig in Jordan that I’m really looking forward to. We can’t go in there with only three people, though. Duos and trios can sound great, but we’re not making it work. We need a fourth. I would even propose a fifth if we weren’t already in such a heavy transitional period. I’m thinking about asking Dolly if she wants to audition. Then we could change our name to ABCD. I’m fine with goin’ second. Wadya think? You ever hear her sing?

Microstory 1050: Chester

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Hey, I’m Chester. I’m the drummer for our band, Random Spans. You can get one of our shirts, just like this one, on our website, which Viola helped us set up, by the way. She was secretly a programmer, I don’t know if you knew that. She also came up with our name, but I don’t get it. Rhythm is about the only thing I understand in this world, so I’ve embraced it. I’m not the worst student, but I just don’t care about it. To make matters worse, I kind of have this flaky voice that makes me sound like I’m high all the time. I don’t do drugs at all, though. “Keep off the grass,” my mom would always say, and I listened. I just talk like this. My parents set me up with a speech pathologist when I was younger, but it didn’t really help. I still sound like a big stoner, which is why I try not to talk too much. That was totally fine until we lost our lead singer. Pearl didn’t really quit, but she hasn’t been able to work with us lately. Do you know how many appointments pregnant women have to go to? It’s crazy. We tried to work it out, but she just can’t make it happen anymore, and she didn’t really want to have to stand at the mic all the time anymore anyway. We are not trying to find a new vocalist, though. Addie has really stepped up, and filled that role. And she’s said this herself—so don’t think I’m being mean—she’s not as good as Pearl, so Bert and I are singing some too. Meanwhile, we have a new bassist, and if Pearl is ever able to come back, I guess we’ll just have two bassists. That’s not a particularly common dynamic, but it’s also not unheard of. I dunno, maybe we’re just kidding ourselves. Pearl is starting a new life with Vester, and we have to be happy for them. The band will survive without her, even if we also lost our biggest fan. The pool hall was the only gig we had for a good long while, and Viola was the only one who showed up. Everyone else there was there for the booze, and just tolerated the music, but she always stood up, and cheered for us. I think that’s where she met Finley, and they started playing pool together. Anyway, the day we found out about her death was bittersweet. She said she was working on getting us a huge gig, and that we would find out the details soon. She said it was going to be in the next three weeks, and then two, and then one. She just kept counting down, and on the day she died, we got a call from an event coordinator out in Jordan. They have an annual music festival, and they want us to play. We’re not headlining, or anything, but our set starts at nine-thirty, which is pretty damn good for a group of nobodies from Blast City. I just wish Pearl could be there, and Viola. On second thought, don’t buy one of these shirts. I’m gonna have the shop make us new ones, dedicated to her.

Microstory 981: Upcoming Equality

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In my research for a topic I originally called Growing Equality, I learned that inequality is actually on the rise, much like violent crime, both of which I found surprising. While I can’t actually give you the statistics proving my supposition that things are getting better, I can promise that trends do not necessarily predict the outcome. When you’re watching a sports competition, and things start looking bad for your team, you don’t immediately turn it off and assume you’re going to lose, do you? Well, maybe you do, as I’ve heard fans nauseatingly recount to other fans what they missed when they did this. But you shouldn’t, because there is always hope for a shift. While recent data demonstrates that inequality has increased in every single region of the world, that doesn’t mean we won’t win in the end. The rich are getting richer, the poorer poorer, and hostilities are adding up, but we are working on ways to fix these problems. I keep bringing up automated labor, and universal basic income, because tests have proven that they work, when implemented properly. I believe strongly that they are the future of our global economy, and I won’t believe otherwise unless I find myself on my deathbed, having lost out on the opportunity to use other technologies to become immortal. Basically, if we don’t progress enough to conquer death by the time I’m old enough to die of age-related medical issues, I can’t be sure it will ever happen, because we are on course to solving that problem. It won’t matter how much richer the rich are when we decide money is worth nothing anyway, and the first step towards that is increasing the value of material objects that really matter—like computers, 3D printers, and nanotechnology—decreasing the value of pointless trinkets and wasteful machines, and decreasing human labor. The reason there is still so much inequality is not because that’s what the people want, but because most of our governing systems were built on a foundation of injustice. The majority are, at the very least, tolerant of people who are unlike them. Many accept our differences, and some even love diversity. It is the system that’s working against us, but systems can be changed within the span of a political campaign. If a bad candidate can suddenly wrest control over a state from its people, than certainly a good candidate can do the same thing next time. No, equality may not growing, but it doesn’t have to, because the strongest opposing actors are operating under borrowed time. They will die soon, and we will prevail, but only if we keep preaching our love, and not giving into discrimination. Love trumps hate.

Microstory 980: Disco

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I just have one question for you: why does everyone seem to hate disco so much? It’s not like everyone who listened to it when it was first popular is dead, so why is disco itself dead? We still listen to all kinds of music that isn’t trending right now; wasn’t created just a year or two ago, so why is this one genre so largely despised? Well, I’ve done a bit of research on the matter, and learned that it all stems from people’s hatred of it back when it was first being created. Or rather it comes from people being convinced that there was something wrong with it. Evidently, radio station personalities began a national campaign to combat the genre; a coordinated strike against what they perceived to be a threat to real music. Disco was catchy, but often overproduced. It gave rise to discotheques, which replaced live bands, souring people’s perception of it. Basically, all the complaints we had about disco are the same ones we’re seeing today with pop. There is a markèd difference between a band who writes and performs their own music—who believes in what they’re making, and has something to say—and a pop singer who hires a lyricist and composer to make something for them, and essentially absorb all the credit. But not all art is the same, and performers and audience members don’t all get the same thing out of that art. It’s okay that Miley Cyrus doesn’t have any strong feelings about Jay-Z or Britney Spears, yet they were both included in her song Party in the USA, because her fans like the sound, and that’s really all that matters. While art is always in competition with other art for your attention, it’s not designed to be better than anything else. I love disco, and I won’t apologize for that, just like I don’t expect you to apologize for listening to crap, like The 1975, or The Lumineers.

Microstory 912: Fandom

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I have mixed feelings about this topic. On the one hand, I love that people love to love things, but I think they can take it a bit too far. Back in the day, men were allowed to like sports, boobs, explosions, and more sports. Women were allowed to like horses, and making sure my dinner was ready by 5:15. These days, it’s cool to like comic books and video games, and it’s not really cool to like those traditional things. I take issue with this too, because while the jocks ruled the school of yesterday, the nerds run the show now. There’s just as much judgment and animosity as there was before, but now with different divisions of people. I admit that this is getting better already, with the mini-generation after millennials basically not caring what anyone does, as long is it doesn’t negatively impact the world. I also think there is quite a bit of materialism going on, even more than there used to be. Man, my goal of being more positive for this series isn’t going all that, is it? I’ll do better next time. For now, I want to talk about all the stuff. Major content creators make more money off of merchandise than they could ever hope to make from the source material. Why is that? Why do full-grown adults find satisfaction from owning an action figure, while doing nothing with it but set it on a shelf. Or they own so much of this crap, they can’t even display it all. Do you not find that absurd? Exactly how many plush porgs do you need? If you’re about to look around the room and count your porgs, don’t bother. The answer is a hard zero. I’m all for expressing your love for whatever, but there’s a way to do it without losing half your income. You need a cup to put your drinks in, so buy a cup with some insider quote from your favorite show, like “I’m the one who knocks” or “time out on this game of thrones; I need to pee!”. You need a bag to carry your essentials, so that one works out as well. But all these little stickers, trinkets, figurines, and costumes you never wear; it’s all just useless junk to which one of two things will happen. Either you’ll die, and burden your family with all that stuff you overestimated how much they would want, or you’ll become immortal, your priorities will shift, and you’ll wish you didn’t have it anymore. And you won’t be able to sell it, because guess what, everyone around you feels the same way. So now the world is down in resources, but up in full-sized pokeballs. Like I said, it’s all about priorities. If you have some disposable income to burn on a real 1940s police box, why not instead give that money to charity? You’re not gonna make me feel bad about trying to make you feel bad for wasting your money on a sonic screwdriver that stopped making noise after a week.