The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 22, 2535

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Ramses and Leona were going to have to spend all of their time in the new lab. Since the former lost his forge core, he wasn’t able to build everything they needed in only a year. He kept a data chip on his person too, which at least stored all of the equipment specifications, but it couldn’t build anything, so the process was slow. There wasn’t much waiting for them when they returned. Most of the resources available out here had been used to excavate and habitize the celestial body itself, so the lab would even have a place to sit. Instead of dragging him to some central location, Pribadium opted to lock the prisoner up here, so part of the work was dedicated to constructing that as well.

Not useful in the lab, Mateo decided to go visit the prisoner. “How are they treating you?”

“They’re fine.” He was down, and couldn’t look Mateo in the eye. This facility was entirely automated, so he probably hadn’t spoken to a human-level intelligence in almost a year.

“Linwood, right?” Mateo asked. “Linwood Meyers?”

“That’s what they called me, back when they called me anything.” His accommodations weren’t just some tiny cell with concrete walls. It was a luxury condo, not much worse than the coin habitat. The psychological toll of not having a choice, however, was the real problem, and there were probably missing amenities.

“What did you have in your personal crabitat that you don’t have here?” A crabitat was a kind of habitat that hermits lived in. Just a bit of play on words.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I wanna help. What are you missing?”

“Well, I didn’t just sit on my ass on the beach all day,” Linwood said. “I spent most of my time in simulations. My coin was just to keep me alive while I did that, and the planetesimal was there for raw materials.”

“And armor.”

“And armor,” he acknowledged.

“So, they didn’t let you keep your VR setup. Do you know why not?”

“Takes power,” Linwood admitted. “There’s plenty of it here, but I wouldn’t be able to manage it myself. They would have to let me have a dedicated bot to do it, and that’s just giving me too much. I have a holoscreen, with basic entertainment, but nothing immersive. And also...”

“Also what? You can tell me,” Mateo encouraged.

“I wasn’t always in sims, and even when I was, I wasn’t always alone. There’s a reason why I built myself a staff.”

“You need companionship,” Mateo realized. “They destroyed those too? They destroyed life?”

“They boxed their consciousnesses, and are storing them somewhere. They only destroyed the substrates.”

“Harsh system they designed here. Why did you choose Gatewood? Why not Proxima, or the Alpha system?”

“I wanted to be alone. Those are too heavily populated. I know it seems ridiculous. In any case, I would be millions and millions of kilometers away from civilization, but I want to be very isolated. I’m afraid of people.” He gestured at his environment in general. “I was right to be.”

“Well, you’re not dead yet, which should really be your only concern.”

“I’m not entitled to life extension procedures here either. Reactive medicine only. I will die eventually.”

Mateo nodded. “Well, that settles it. The Gatewood establishment wants us to take you away from here, so that’s what we’ll do. You’ll get your dwarf planet, and all the equipment you need to hermit back up, including your staff.”

“I don’t need a dwarf planet,” Linwood said, “I’m not greedy.”

“My wife says that you can live off the in-situ resources in a dwarf planet for around a hundred billion years or longer.”

“They’re too valuable,” Linwood contended, shaking his head. “No one would let me keep that.”

“We can take you somewhere so far away, it won’t be another 150,000 years before anyone can reach you. In all that time, you can burn some hydrogen going into the intergalactic void, where you’ll never be found.”

“Well, it’s not really practical to move a dwarf planet...”

“That’s your call. Burn bright and fast, or slow and long. Either way, you’ll have that choice, and like I said, you’ll also have tens of thousands of years to change your mind. Change your mind a thousand times, whatever. But the only option you won’t have is coming back to the stellar neighborhood. At least not quickly. We can take you out, but we won’t come back if you get bored, lonely, or homesick.”

“How do you have the power to do this? How do you have FTL?” Linwood questioned.

“We’ll place you in stasis, and not wake you up until we’ve arrived. You will never know how we did it.”

“Do I get to choose the direction, at least? So I at least have some idea of where I’ve ended up.”

“You’ll be on the other side of the Zone of Avoidance. Someone else will work out the particulars with you.”

“Not that I’m not grateful, but why would you do all this for me? I tried to kill you when we met.”

Mateo winced. “That was a year ago. I’m over it.” Obviously, it hadn’t been a full year for the team, but he genuinely wasn’t holding onto any grudge. The guy was trying to protect his home, and the bullets were no match for their armor. Not a big deal.

Linwood narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you...aliens?”

Mateo thought about this for a moment. “We’re all aliens now, aren’t we? It used to be that there was only one dominant species. You could carry on a conversation with another human, and that was pretty much it. Sure, you could engage in some basic communication with your pets. Elephants buried their dead, dolphins handed people their phones back, but by and large, it was just us. Now, I doubt there’s an official record of how many species there are. How could there be? You could genetically engineer yourself to be quite literally unique, making you incompatible with anyone else. So either alien needs to take on a new meaning, or simply be retired as a concept. I know what you’re asking, if I came from an independent evolutionary line, and the answer to that is no. I was born on Earth, in Kansas. But the true spirit of your question is why should you trust me when I’m behaving in a way that you don’t understand? In that sense, yes, I’m an alien, because my experiences in this universe have diverged from your own in unprecedented ways. You don’t have to understand, just accept the gift.”

“I accept the gift.”

“Great! In the meantime, as it will take another year at least before we can leave, I’ll speak with Pribadium about better arrangements. I get that she might not what to build you a master escape artist who can get you out of here, but you deserve companionship. That is a basic human right. Or whatever you identify as, if not human.”

“I would appreciate your assistance. That’s quite magnanimous of you.”

Mateo returned with a tight nod, and then left the visitors area.

Pribadium was standing just outside the door. “Making promises that you are not authorized to keep?” she asked.

Mateo looked back into the little prison where Linwood probably heard that. He closed the door behind him now. “All he wants is his favorite entertainment, which keeps him occupied in there, and some companionship, which keeps him from going insane. This doesn’t have to be punishment, which is what prisons were back in the dark ages of the 21st century. You’re just trying to keep him from roaming free, so what exactly is the problem?”

“The problem is optics,” Pribadium said. “We can’t have people thinking that our response to illegal possession is getting whatever they need to live comfortably anyway.”

“No one is coming all the way out here, stealing an entire icy body, making it a home, hoping that you will give them a different home. They’re not unhoused. They just want to leave wherever they already were before. You cannot provide them with anything that they couldn’t get on their own somewhere else without all the headache of dealing with your rules, and the risk of being locked up like this.”

She shook her head. “I’m not trying to torture the guy, but I have to draw lines somewhere. You’re right, this won’t inspire a bunch of people to come here with the hopes that I will give them free room and boarding, but they might risk stealing material because they know that getting caught isn’t a big deal. We’ll give them whatever they need until we can get rid of them, and they’ll be fine.”

Mateo sighed. “Those cameras in there. Are they for security, or a reality show?”

“Huh?” She was confused about the sudden shift in the topic, and the topic itself.

“Is it to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or break out, or is his life being broadcast for people’s entertainment?”

“They’re just for security, of course, I’m not a monster.”

Mateo nodded. That wasn’t what he was thinking. He knew what the answer was, but getting her to vocalize the answer was necessary for him to prove his point. Or rather, it was better that she walked the path with him, instead of him just jumping there. “We are taking him clear across to the other side of the galaxy. Who the hell cares about the optics? You don’t have to tell them about it. Like I said, the VR keeps him inside. He’s not making phone calls or anything.”

Now Pribadium sighed. “I appreciate your point of view. It’s just not as easy as you say. You have no idea the kind of pressure I’m under, running an entire solar system of resources. I am being scrutinized by everyone; not just the other core worlds, but everyone, because this is where everyone comes to get their shit. Even if it’s a state-sanctioned colonial mission, we’re only six light years away, so Earth usually chooses to come here for their resources too. We’re the biggest store in the universe. Practically a monopoly.”

“I know what it’s like to be scrutinized,” Mateo argued. “It wasn’t technically an entire star system, but there were billions of people who were looking to me for guidance in their everyday lives. And that’s people, not assets. I didn’t have the benefit of much established institutionalism. They expected me to help come up with the new laws. That’s why I was there.”

She put her tail between her legs. “I kind of forgot about that part of your life. Running Dardius must not have been easy.”

“It wasn’t, but it was rewarding, and everything was so much easier when we were able to be generous and hospitable to people, rather than restrictive. I know, you have your laws, and I respect that. Just don’t become a tyrant. Not only is that bad for people, but it’s bad for you. It doesn’t ever end well.”

“I appreciate your advice.”

Mateo smiled awkwardly. “I’m not trying to mansplain your job to you. I apologize if I strayed in that direction.”

“It’s okay. Mansplaining isn’t much of a thing anymore as gender isn’t as important as it was in your time.”

“Right.” They stood there in silence for a bit. “It’s been a long time, and I don’t feel like we ever knew each other all that well, but would you be amenable to a hug?”

“I would like that.”

They hugged.

“Do you know how it’s going in the lab?” Mateo asked once they released.

“I never gave you an answer on whether I was gonna give the guy VR and his companions back.”

He turned his chin up thoughtfully. “I know you’ll do the right thing. You’re not a monster, right?”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “The lab people are fine. I offered my assistance, but he, uh...”

“Doesn’t know you,” Mateo finished, knowing full well that it wasn’t what she was going to say.

“Yes, let’s go with that.”

“Does he think that we’ll be ready to go by the end of the day next year?”

“I would assume so. I also offered to make his lab better during his interim year, but he declined. I think he’s treating this as quite temporary, so he’s limiting his projects to only what he needs to get you guys out of here. You should know, though, that you are welcome to stay. I do have some leeway. I can essentially put you on the payroll without actually giving you any jobs, which would allow you to live here. Plus, not existing for most of the year works in our favor. For the optics.”

“That’s very kind of you, but it looks like you have everything well in hand, and we typically try to go where we’re needed.”

“I understand. I just want to make sure that our relationship remains healthy.”

“We’ll always be friends,” he promised. After a proper beat, he continued, “I’m gonna go check on my wife.”

“Which one?” she asked after he had already passed her. “You dog,” she joked.

He looked back with a wide smile. “Why, you wanna split me into thirds?”

She shrugged. “I’ll consider it.” It almost didn’t sound like a joke.

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Microstory 2395: Earth, January 4, 2180

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Dear Velia,

I know that the blackout is coming, and I really hope this letter gets to you in time. I don’t have very much time to write it, so pleaser excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes, nad anything that I probably should have said, but failed to. I’m working with a really old spellcheck program, so it misses a lot of thing, and doesn’t even autocorrect a lot of the time. I feel like I’m using a lot of the same words over and over again, but whatever. I can’t slow down. I won’t have time to proofread before it’s time to cleave. There I go again, using the word time. It’s been so many times. Speaking oftime, we did not get enough. There’s still so much that I don’t know about you, and vice versa. What do you find most and least attractive in a person, not necessarily romantic, but just with people in general. Like, what are your pet peeves? What annoys you about people. These are rhetorical questions. Even if you have time to respond to me before the Valkyries, I won’t be Abel to receive any messages at all. I’m going away on a little trip, and there will almost no technology there. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but I am as scared as I am excited and enthusiastic. It’s going to be a real adventure. When I get back, and you get back online, we’re going to have a lot more to talk about. And who knows, we may be able to do it in realtime next time. They’re working on faster-than-light communication technology, but if that doesn’t work out, there may be other options that we haven’t even ever thought of before. You said it before I could get the chance, but let me say...officially and without any reservations, that I love you. I want to do all the things you said you wanted us to do, and more. I could get pretty graphic, but I really don’t have time to get everything out. They’re starting up the engines, and we’re about to leave. I need to make sure I’m in range of the towers before we take off, or it will be this whole thing. I promise that this isn’t over between us. I’ll wait for you. But as I’ve said before, if you can’t...if you find someone else. Don’t let them walk away. I just want you to be happy.

I’ll be seeing ya, sweetheart,

Condor

Microstory 2387: Earth, December 5, 2179

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Dear Velia,

I just wanted to touch base with you, and make sure that we really are on the same page. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and scare you off. I can be a little intense and focused sometimes, and it can get me into trouble. It’s not my fault, it’s the kind of life that I had to lead. While we were transporting people to the safe zones, I had to be single-minded, and ignore all distractions. That’s kind of where I feel most comfortable. Now that my job is kind of cushy and breezy, I rarely ever feel that rush of adrenaline anymore. Reading your letters gave me that intensity that I guess I’ve been missing in my life. I hope I’ve not gotten too carried away about it. So, you tell me. Do you think we’re somehow moving too fast? The way I see it, we can’t see each other face to face, so we kind of have to make up for it by being a little over the top. Maybe that’s the wrong way to look at it, though. Perhaps we should just be sending each other letters as friends. When you think about it, that’s about as far as things can go anyway. I suppose we could start being really graphic and suggestive, but would that even work? Argh, I’m in my head. This would go a lot smoother if you could reply to each question or comment as I said them. Dumping them all into one message sounds so strategic and calculating, like I have to get out all my thoughts. Which I pretty much do with the time lag. Some friends at Mauna Kea connected me with their colleagues who were working on faster-than-light communication. Or should I say, that’s what they say they’re doing. They’re pretty convinced that it’s an impossibility. There are no wormholes. There’s no warping space. There’s just the constant speed of the propagation of information, and we, the slaves to its tyranny. Okay, now I’m getting poetic. Just message me back when you can. I meant what I said, that you have the right to look for companionship closer to home. And to be clear, I’m not telling you that because I think you don’t know it yourself. I’m telling you so that you know that I know that.

So into you,

Condor

Microstory 2385: Vacuus, November 27, 2179

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Dear Condor and Pascal,

We’re terribly sorry for the delayed response. This was one of the longest times when one of the Valkyries interfered with our communications. We thought that the attack was going to end much sooner than that. Researchers have been very worried about this phenomenon overall lately. There’s about a 24% chance that the long-cycle interruption is going to fall upon us soon, but it’s impossible to tell for sure. They don’t show up in a predictable pattern, or we would have been able to develop a reliable schedule by now. Some believe that each meteor resonates on its own frequency, which even makes it hard for us to plan for the way in which it will disrupt our signals. These electrostatic charges make random perturbations, and alter each other’s properties in more ways then just gravity. It’s basically like the three-body problem dialed up to hundred and eleven. Velia and I spoke, and we wanted to assure you that we intend to send you a message at least once a week. One of you should hear from one of us within that timeframe. Condor, you’re still getting my daily health stats anyway, but if you ever see a break in those, please don’t worry yet. There may be some other issue, like a quota constraint, which I will have to work through. I can’t get trigger reports each time there’s an error—especially not if that error comes from your end—so I may not realize that something needs to be corrected right away. Just wait a week, and you should get a regular message from Vacuus. I’m saying all this to make it clear that if you don’t hear from us at all, it’s because communications have been completely taken out, and that could last for years. We really just don’t know. I wanted to warn you about it, even though I explained it previously, so you’ll remember that I love you both, and I wish that it wasn’t out of my control. Condor, Velia wants me to let you know that she loves you too. We had a little...scuffle about it the other day, but then we talked calmly, and worked it out. She’s determined to stay connected with you in whatever way is possible given the chasm that divides you. We hope that the Valkyries will fly off into the void, and leave us alone forever, but if not, don’t forget that we’re thinking of you. And hey, maybe they’ll have that breakthrough in FTL communications, and the Valkyries won’t be able to block it. Here’s to hoping our conversations never have to end.

Best regards,

Corinthia and Velia

The Third Rail: Rock of Ages (Part I)

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Cosette DuFour is much older than she appears. When the temporal dam in her reality broke in 2399, she was on her deathbed. The doctors didn’t think that she would survive the night. A wave of temporal energy spread all over the globe, changing some people into something new, and giving them extraordinary abilities. At the eleventh hour, she was granted new life. Her body and mind were reverted to that of a newborn infant. She believes that this was no coincidence, and that time chose her specifically to absorb this kind of power. She was turning 100 at that very moment, and very well could have been breathing her last breath had the wave not miraculously saved her. It took a few days, but her memories started coming back to her, and she was able to muster up enough brainpower to age herself back up again. She wasn’t 100 years old anymore, but she wasn’t a baby either, who couldn’t string two syllables together. It was time to get back to work.

Cosette served as the longest running Ambassador-at-Large of the Global Council of Earth in what would come to be known as the Third Rail parallel reality. She was well-respected by members of competing religions, nations, and independent sociopolitical factions. That was how she made it to such an esteemed position, because the appointment-election angered the fewest number of people around the world. She retired from the job when she grew too weak and old, but after her physical rejuvenation, there was a rejuvenation in her support. The world had changed, and quickly changed again when reality quite literally collapsed, and the whole planet was shunted off to a new universe. The people overwhelmingly chose her to lead them in these difficult times. That was why she and her second-in-command were picked to represent the interests of the Third Rail population during the Rock Meetings.

Everyone thought that Carlin was in charge here, which is exactly how she liked it. She found it easier to allow others to believe that they had some control over her, and the rest of the room. She regularly employed this as a strategy in her past as a negotiator. In any good negotiation, all parties leave disappointed. But in a great negotiation, they all leave thinking that they came out on top. There was no one better in the world at making this happen than Cosette. When the realities combined during the Reconvergence, and she found out just how many people there were out there, she learned that her expertise extended above them as well. She continued to be the best of the best, and despite the fact that the Third Rail had the second smallest population of all, her people regularly won out over the opponents. They didn’t know it, though. They all thought that they had won, whatever they had negotiated, but the truth was that the Third Rail Earth held so much more power than anyone realized.

Time powers were the best thing to happen to the Third Railers, especially for the Ambassador-at-Large during her second term. Her age-shifting ability came in handy quite a bit, before the Rock, and during. Cosette sometimes needed to be taken seriously, so she turned herself into an elder, but she sometimes wanted to be underestimated, so she showed up as a teenager. Most of the time, she just wanted to feel healthy, which meant being in her mid-twenties. That’s how she is at the moment, back to where she feels more comfortable. She’s also finally back home right now, in her own personal pocket dimension that very few others have access to. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to place her head on her favorite pillow, and she certainly deserves the break.

The interdimensional intercom beeps. “Sir?”

There ain’t no rest for the wicked. Cosette lets out a frustrating sigh. Then she swings her arm over, and smashes the intercom button on the wall. “What?”

“There’s someone here to see you. It’s the representatives from the Parallel.”

“Tell ‘em to bugger off.”

“Um...you just did,” her assistant replies.

“Great, then it looks like we’re done here.” She turns over to her other side. “DuFour out.”

“They say that they have the tools necessary to access your pocket.”

“Let ‘em try,” Cosette offers. “Having the power to do something doesn’t give you the right to do it. It will still be breaking and entering, and I will be within my rights to protect my home by force. You’re in the Third Rail now, kids, and you’ll honor our laws.”

“They say—”

“Goddammit, never mind!” Cosette growls, and hops out of bed. She wraps a robe around herself, then reluctantly walks over, and out the door. “What do you want?”

“Um.” It’s the rep from the Parallel who wasn’t in the Rock Meeting. He is half of a duo who call themselves the Tanadama. They lord over their people like gods. It all sounds very sacrilege. “We were looking for the Ambassador?”

“That’s me,” Cosette explains.

“You’re not a little young?” the other guy questions. She can’t recall his name at the moment since she’s so tired and drowsy, but he was at the meeting instead, and is responsible for a profoundly huge army. 

Cosette grabs her assistant’s desk mirror. They’re right, she looks about eight or nine years old at this point. It’s only now that she realizes how big the robe feels on her. That’s the point, not for the robe, but for the bed. A king-sized mattress feels even more gigantic when she’s under four feet tall. Her body must have reyoungified itself automatically. “That’s a little embarrassing.” She transitions herself to age 24 instead. “There. Now what do you want?”

“You’ll have to come with us,” Ramses Abdulrashid claims. “You’re in the past, the Rock Meetings haven’t happened yet for the population as a whole.”

She looks over at her assistant, who confirms this, mostly with her eyes, but also a nearly imperceptible jiggle of her head. “Well, what are you gonna do about it, send me to the future?”

“That’s illegal on all worlds,” Ramses reminds her.

“Then I suppose you’re going to put me in protective custody?” Cosette asks, using air quotes. “I’ve heard many a dictator use that as an excuse to get rid of their political enemies.”

“I assure you, they are quite comfortable accommodations,” Ramses insists. “It’s important to prevent a paradox. The meeting only lasts a month. Then you’ll go back to your life. Just think of this as a long vacation.”

Cosette laughs. “Why is it I understand time better than you? The diplomatic discussions lasted a month from our perspective. We talked for about eight hours a day. We received regular input from our constituents during that time.”

“We really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Ramses urges.

“I’m trying to tell you that the talks last longer for these people than for us. The Magnolia Tree didn’t broadcast for eight hours every day. He broke it up into smaller episodes, to give people time to digest the information, and give well-thought out feedback. You’re gonna be putting us in isolation for a lot longer than a month.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ramses questions his General, or whatever the guy’s military rank is.

“I didn’t know,” Zima answers. “I suppose it makes sense. Looking back, it would have been practically impossible to sort through the public responses as quickly as they were coming in for us.”

Ramses shakes his head like there’s a bug in his hair. “It doesn’t matter. It may actually be even more vital now that you hide yourself away. Isolation is the only answer to this, again, since time travel is illegal everywhere.”

Cosette sighs. “I suppose you’re right. There’s a protocol for this. When leadership becomes unavailable, the next in line will step up.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Ramses says graciously.

“My primary assistant’s coming with me.” She faces Ayata. “You think your intern can handle the office while we’re both out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Ramses says. “What about your boss, Carlin McIver.”

Ayata can’t help but snort at the suggestion that Carlin is Cosette’s boss.

Cosette smiles at her, then looks over at the Parallelers. “Mr. McIver is not my superior. I’m his.”

“That’s not how I was to understand it,” Zima argues.

Cosette ages herself up into her eighties, and pats him on the head. “That was quite the point, sonny.” She goes down to her early forties. “Just let me go get dressed, and pack up my house.”

“You can’t take your dimensional generator with you,” Ramses tells her. “It’s a security risk.”

“Oh, I understand,” Cosette begins, “you thought I was asking. Let me say it slowly. I’m packing my house, and taking it with me. I had to spend a month in the garbage template dormitories that the Vellani Ambassador provided us. I’m not going through that again, now that I know it’s coming. I’ll be sleeping in my bed, in my house, and if you don’t want me taking it to your prison world, then I’ll just stay here. We’re not in the Parallel anymore, and you’re not a real god. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Zima holds her arm out to block Ramses from stepping up, even though the latter had no plans to do such a thing. “Could I please come in and inspect it, from a security standpoint? You have experienced security sweeps, haven’t you?”

Cosette closes her eyes, and nods her head at an angle. “I appreciate the need for caution.”

“First,” Ramses jumps in before they can leave. “We still need to know where Carlin McIver is.”

“The way I understand it, he stayed in Stoutverse.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ramses admits.

“It’s another universe, not Salmoverse, or Fort Underhill.”

“Right, I didn’t get to that point of the story yet,” Harbinger Zima says apologetically. Yeah, that’s his military rank. Harbinger. What an odd choice.

“Are you sure he never returned to the Sixth Key,” Ramses pressed.

“It’s time travel, Mr. Abdulrashid. “No, I’m not sure. He could have been gone for trillions of years, only to finally return five seconds ago. I’m not in charge of his daily routine. He operates mostly independently. I have too many other responsibilities to worry about his whereabouts.”

“We don’t have to find him,” Ramses explains. “We just need to make sure that he doesn’t create a paradox. If he’s gone, it should be fine.”

“Great,” Cosette says before leading Harbinger Zima into her pocket.

“How expansive is this?” Zima asks once they’re inside.

“The interior is roughly 300 square meters. The garden is about 150. It uses artificial grass, and doesn’t have any real trees. If you’d like, I can turn off the holographic projections, so you can see it all at once after you sweep the rooms.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he decides. He begins to go through all the rooms, looking in closets, and under beds. He’s very thorough with it, making sure there isn’t any eavesdropping equipment, or people hiding in dark corners. She follows him the whole way, making sure that he doesn’t plant his own devices, or do anything with her belongings. Finally, at the end, he asks her to take him to the back. Once they’re in the simulated outdoors, he stares at the beautiful false environment, including the fake sky above.

“It’s overcast. Is it overcast outside in this area of your Earth?”

“It’s not based on real world conditions,” she responds. “I just like the gray. I find it to be a calming presence after a long day. It feels like the clouds are protecting me, even though of course, they’re not really there at all.

He nods, and continues to enjoy the view. “May I ask, ma’am, how old are you? I only ask because you have the ability to shift your apparent age. Verters are a rare breed where I come. Most applications for age-shifting are rejected due to the sheer number of requests. I’m not sure why they don’t adapt the process to mass-producible technology.”

“I had to go on a diplomatic mission in the 2430s without an FTL ship. They put me in stasis for a couple of years, so I reckon I’m 147.”

He nods. “Me too. How did I know that? It’s like I could sense a kinship?”

“I thought you people were all thousands of years old.”

“We keep making babies. My dad chose to make a new clone 147 years ago.”

“A clone? Are you just a younger version of him?”

“I am no less a son—and an independent person—than you are a daughter to your own parents. I don’t share his memories. I think he’s just a narcissist who likes the way he looks too much.”

Cosette giggles, hopeful that she isn’t being rude and inappropriate. “Are you satisfied with the security of this home? Can I pack it up?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I didn’t notice you, during the Rock. You were just a kid, and you never spoke.”

“That was by design.”

“I must say, I prefer you like this.”

“Okay.” That was a weird thing to say.

“Is it hard?”

“Is what hard?”

“To find companionship? You can’t relate to anybody? I mean, no one else is as old as you are. I don’t mean to say that you’re old. I mean, by a lot of people’s standards where I’m from, you’re super young. Not to say that you’re too young. But, I mean, you were a teenager when we met. Which makes it a little weird. I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just a little nervous around you.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Nuadu.”

“Nuadu,” she echoes. “I was married for seventy years. They died of age-related diseases. I haven’t even thought about dating since then, even once I gained the ability to shift my age. I’ve been too busy working.”

“I see.” He nods. He’s worried that he’s crossed the line.

“I suppose I can’t rule it out.” Cosette turns around, and places a hand upon his shoulder for a few seconds. “Come on. Your god-leader must be waiting. Let’s go to prison!”

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Microstory 2326: Vacuus, November 18, 2178

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Dear Condor,

I’m sorry to hear that you were having so much trouble sleeping. If you ever need to take a few days to respond, that’s okay. You’ve already extended me the same courtesy when I was gone for weeks. It would be crazy of me to not give you a little bit of extra time if you need it. I mean, if there’s nothing to say, then there’s nothing to say. When I first wrote to you, I didn’t think that you would respond in the first place, let alone that we would start conversing on any sort or regular basis. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume that you’re waiting for something interesting to happen, or that you just don’t feel like talking. Yes, I will worry about you, and wonder if something’s happened to you, but that’s just the nature of interplanetary correspondence. I spoke with an expert on this side of the void who says that the FTL communication research has stalled, despite what some might be trying to convince the public. He’s not as hopeful as people may be making it out to be. He can’t say for sure that it’s impossible, but it’s unlikely to work any time soon, if ever. For now, we’re stuck with the light lag. Back in the old days, it was not unheard of for a letter to take weeks to get from one place to another. They were riding in carriages, and directly on horses, and even in some cases, just walking on their own two feet! Can you imagine? There was no way for them to know if their messages were being received unless and until they received a reply. At least we have the option of read receipts for our digital signals. I like when that comes in. It makes me feel a little bit better, because it would know if the message had been intercepted, which of course, it hasn’t so far. What it doesn’t tell us is whether the other twin is doing okay, but maybe there’s a way for us to handle that ourselves. I suppose that we could come up with a protocol where we reply right away with a very brief acknowledgement as a sort of manual read receipt. That way, we know that the other is still alive, but can’t reply fully yet. What do you think of that idea? Please respond at faster than light speeds so I don’t have to wait too long for your input.

From the other side of darkness,

Corinthia

The Parallel: Steady as a Rock (Part II)

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For fifty years, the citizens of the new Sixth Key have lived in relative peace, but always teetering on the threshold of war. The reason it’s taken this long to come to a head is because this is about as long as most so-called independent states have been able to manage on their own. There are some truly independent communities, which utilize the resources at their disposal, and require no external aid. These are mostly outposts built deep in outerspace, which subsist on something that some people call dark hydrogen. It’s no different than any other hydrogen, except that it’s not supplemented by solar power. They will always have at least two fusion reactors, using one to jumpstart the other should an issue occur, or if there’s a need to shut one off for maintenance. So the hydrogen isn’t really dark; it’s just kind of a nonsensical name that multiple cultures have chosen to assign such a scenario, even across multiple realities. This kind of situation isn’t even all that rare, but an outpost of this type is usually rather small. Some of them only have one family, or even one individual. There are others who need star power, or external infrastructure, in order to keep going. They have done okay for the last several decades, but people are sick of it being so crowded, and some are looking to start a fight.

That’s where The Rock Meetings came in. Representatives from each collapsed reality were convened at a neutral location. It was actually sent into the very distant past, and placed in a time bubble that slowed time on the inside. This way, no one could argue some imbalance in power from any one location, according to all four dimensions of standard spacetime. It was an important milestone in the quest for peace in the Sixth Key. Everyone watched these discussions on a special cross-temporal broadcast network. The community’s engagement with each other in response to the streamed developments slowed down the march to war, and the decisions they made would have a profound effect on the dynamics of reality once all representatives were returned home. But it was not a magic bullet. Diplomacy is an everlasting pursuit, and you can’t ever let your guard down.

Kalea and Nuadu have been returned to their territory, standing in the executive conference room on Kalea’s homeworld. This was where they happened to be when the tree god summoned them into the past for the big meeting. They were in the middle of an internal negotiation back then, but that was about a month ago. Unsure what’s been going on since they left, they walk out of the room together, and enter the lobby. The guards posted there stand up super straight out of respect. Some of them are expressing their loyalty to Kalea, while others are secretly in favor of Nuadu’s plan to take control of this universe through force. That’s what he used to want, anyway. He no longer feels the way he did when the Rock Meetings first began. He’s a much different man now. He’s still in control of the Resonant Parallel Coalition, but it’s now going to be a defensive force for all of reality, including those which he once called his enemy.

Kalea’s partner in the Tanadama, Ramses glides over. “You two are standing uncomfortably close to each other. I was worried that you would be at each other’s throats by the time I returned. I nearly went back in time so that I would have only been gone for a second.”

“What?” Kalea questions. “That was weeks ago.”

Ramses winces. “It has not been weeks for me.” He looks at the guards, still frozen in place. This is not a figure of speech. A guardsman on this world is not allowed to leave their post during their entire shift, and is literally unable to move if one of their charges is within view, except to follow that charge’s movements. They are held in place by spatial restraints. It sounds bad, but it’s actually easier on them. The restraints distribute their weight evenly, and relieve them of the pressure that would otherwise come from regular total stillness. They all basically feel like they’re lying down in the most ergonomic bed imaginable right now. Yet they’re still alert. “It’s not been weeks for them either,” he continues.

A nearby two-dimensional screen flips on. The tree man from the meetings materializes in frame. “Hello. My name is Magnolia Tree. That is not a first and last name, I’m literally a, uhh...oh, never mind. What you need to know is that your worlds are at risk of suffering from a great war. You have experienced a severe drop in resources. Or rather, you’re now being expected to share the available resources with competing civilizations. I’m not here to help with that. I’m here to introduce you to the diplomats who will be representing you in these matters. I’m calling it The Rock...” The tree goes on to explain what’s going on, but Kalea and Nuadu have already been through this, so she lowers the volume.

“The meetings he’s talking about are over for us,” Kalea explains to Ramses, but for Nuadu’s benefit. He has trouble tracking all this time travel stuff. He’s always just wanted to serve and protect, not worry about things that have already happened. Kalea goes on, “he broadcasts the meetings for the people—live and interactive—though I believe he edits for content and...bad tempers, on the fly. We’ve come to some major decisions as a result of these talks, but when we were returned to our territories, I guess we ended up in our subjective pasts.”

“I understand,” Ramses says. “You’ve already filmed all of the episodes, and now the rest of us need to catch up. We have to find the other representatives, and sequester them too.”

“Sequester us?” Nuadu questions. “Is that really necessary?”

“To avoid a paradox? Undoubtedly,” Ramses answers. “I’m not asking.” He looks over to his partner. “You’re the only one powerful enough to stop me, though.”

Kalea sighs. “Harbinger Zima and I were the first to show up in the neutral zone. Hopefully that means we have some time to intercept the others before they disrupt the spacetime continuum too much. But it may not be. It’s time travel, so the others could have been taken years ago for all we know.”

Nuadu pulls out his handheld device. “I have a list of everyone.” He hands it to Ramses. “I would imagine that you can ignore the delegates from the territories outside of the Sixth Key.”

Ramses starts scrolling through the list.

Nervous, Nuadu adds, “you can ignore the notes that I wrote on each of them too. Opposition research; you understand. I’m not proud of every first impression I received...or made to others.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely be reading those,” he says with a smug look on his face. There was actually an alternate version of Ramses who served as the engineer on the Rock host ship, The Vellani Ambassador. The delegates had little reason to interact with him much, but he was a lot nicer than this version here, who is no less formidable than a god with an immeasurable sense of self-worth. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely at no risk of ever wasting the power that he wields. “Take a shoulder,” he asks of them without looking up from the device.

The three of them teleport to the Tanadama’s private Nexus building. A Nexus is a machine capable of transporting matter across vast distances in mere moments. Given enough power, it could access the far reaches of the universe, or even other universes. However, there are restrictions on travel, some imposed by the state, and others by the mysterious secret entities who invented the network in the first place. Nuadu doesn’t know who these inventors are, nor whether the Tanadama have any information about them, though there’s a strong chance of it. This particular Nexus is the most secure of them all, and the least restricted. No one can come to this station unless invited, but the Tanadama can go wherever the want, even if the people on the other end don’t want them there. In fact, no one knows where this station is located in space. Most trips are logged on both ends, but there are ways to encrypt or erase the logs from here. Nuadu has no idea where in the galaxy he is right now.

Kalea steps into the Nexus cavity, and looks up through the window, into the control room. “We need immediate transport to Hockstep.”

Nuadu shudders. Hockstep is an entire planet of prisons. It’s not just a penal colony where people are free to move about as they please. It’s protected from outside interference, and prisoners are genuinely locked up in prison structures. They’re separated by walls, gaps, swaths of land, canyons, and oceans. You get sent here, you’re not going anywhere until it’s time for your release. Visitation is facilitated by an isolated telecommunications network, limited to a handful of highly secure interstellar relay hubs. Like the Tanadama base of operations, no one knows where Hockstep is, and almost no Nexus technician is authorized to send someone there. An elite division of prison transport specialists are the only ones with access keys, plus the Tanadama themselves...obviously.

“Come on down,” Ramses encourages.

“Is that where we’ll be living?” Nuadu asks. “It sounds like an awful place.”

Ramses looks up at the techs. “Clarification: Hockstep W.”

“Yes, sir,” the tech confirms. “Hockstep W.”

Nuada tentatively steps down into the cavity, and looks around in fear. The building itself isn’t scary, but he’s worried about what will be waiting for him on the other end. He doesn’t know what Hockstep W is, or how it differs from any other. Perhaps the planet has multiple Nexa for different continents, or whatever.

A white light overwhelms the three of them, then fades. It’s usually orange or red, but white is what appears when the Tanadama outpost is involved. They have been unwilling to explain why exactly this is. Whatever the reason, they make it to their destination, but it’s not what Nuadu expected. Theoretically, a Nexus has to be designed to be identical to all others in order to connect to the network properly. It’s a rule that Nexus builders are required to follow. If they fail in the most minute of ways, it simply won’t work, even if everything else is correct. Those in that line of business know exactly what they’re doing, and how they’re meant to do it. This place seems to be some kind of exception. The cavity is about twice as deep as a normal one. The ramp that wraps around the inside of the Nexus chamber is totally missing, leaving the stairs as the only way up to the control room. The drum on the ceiling that actually houses all of the faster-than-light parts is much lower to the floor. This is wrong. It’s all wrong.

Ramses chuckles. “Trippy, isn’t it? This one is designed to be incompatible with the rest of the network. It doesn’t even have a term sequence to punch into the computer. We’re in possession of a unique positioning algorithm that lets us beam directly here as a workaround, plus an authentication key to be let in.

A woman opens a hinge door into the chamber. That’s not where the door usually is, and the normal ones are pocket doors. The woman stands at attention, and nods to the Tanadama. “Sirs. Awaiting your orders.”

“Gather the troops,” Kalea returns, “for a prison break protocol...handle with care. The tech will have your assignments.”

The fugitive recovery agent—as Nuadu is guessing—begins to tap on her wristband.

Nuadu, meanwhile, follows Ramses, who walks up to the control room, and hands the tech Nuadu’s device. The tech sets it on the console, where it immediately begins to sync with the local systems. The list of the other delegates from the Rock Meeting pop up on a hologram, showing their respective statuses and locations. Everyone has a checkmark next to their name, as well as their specific location, except for two of them. Carlin McIver is the primary representative from the Third Rail, and Cosette DuFour served as his second. They both have red Xs next to their names, and no locations, which surely means that they’re missing.

Ramses sighs. “They’re probably in a pocket dimension. They love those things over there.” He starts to manipulate the hologram with his hands, separating the delegate pairs accordingly. Two of the delegates don’t appear to be very close together, so they’re kept separate from each other as well. There ends up being five destinations, including the blind one for the hidden delegates. “Break the team into random groups of three to find the others,” he instructs the tech. “For anyone who doesn’t go in the field, keep them here to facilitate dropshock orientation. Kalea will lead the operation. I’ll be personally handling the Third Rail Earth mission.”

“And me?” Nuadu asks, wondering if Ramses even remembers that he’s here.

“You’re coming with. I’m not much of a fighter, and we may encounter resistance.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nuadu says respectfully.

This surprises Ramses. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”

As they’re walking back out of the control room, other people wearing the same uniform as the first woman teleport in, scattered around the room, ready for battle. “You got lead on recovery, Kal. I have a solo assignment.” He turns his head to face Nuadu. “I mean a duo assignment.”

“See you on the other side,” Kalea replies.

Ramses and Nuada step back into the cavity. There’s a ramp that leads into it, but on the regular model, you don’t have to use it, because the cavity is only one step down. He’s always wondered why these machines were designed to be handicap accessible. It’s not that it’s stupid, but a race of superbeings advanced enough to have come up with it should be expected to have priorities so incommensurable that they wouldn’t think to include the feature. Yet, they did. Unfortunately, Nuadu is used to that regular version, which only has the one step. He trips, and almost falls on his face, but thankfully, Ramses catches him. Nuadu clears his throat, and decides to make a joke of it. “Gravity, right? Like a rock on a cloud.”

The recovery agents laugh, but not too hard, which is nice of them.

Ramses reaches over his head, and points at the Nexus tech as he nods once. They’re overwhelmed by white light again, and transported to the stars.

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Fluence: Aura (Part II)

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Briar was gone. Once Goswin felt like he knew enough about the Parallel justice system to trust that it was fair and, well...just, he returned to the X González to explain things to the suspect. Briar was not in his cabin, nor did it look like anyone had ever stayed there. The bedsheets were perfectly aligned, and the surfaces were dusty from disuse. Goswin stepped back into the hallway to see if he was just turned around, but this had to be the right cabin. Still, he checked all of the others, and Briar wasn’t anywhere else either. It wasn’t a huge ship. Eight Point Seven’s sensors were damaged, in addition to her memory, so she was unable to find his location. The researchers on this asteroid had their own security system, which could not find him either, nor detect that anyone besides Goswin and Weaver had ever stepped out of the González. It was a mystery, the answer to which almost certainly had something to do with time travel.

“There’s a database,” Pontus began to explain. “It stores the records of every single person in every reality, throughout all of time, in every timeline. It could trace Briar’s steps as long as he showed up somewhere that records such data. While it does have an unspeakable amount of data, it’s not magic. If someone went off somewhere alone, they could hide from it, just like you could slink through the blindspots of a security camera.”

“Might as well try it,” Goswin decided.

“It’s not that easy,” Pontus replied. “It’s not here. It’s hard to reach, and reportedly harder to access. Almost no one in the universe is granted permission, and even when they are, their activity is heavily monitored to prevent abuse. The Tanadama, which are sort of like our god-leaders, would be prone to letting someone like you use it, but you would still have to go there first, and there is no guarantee.”

“Can we just...call them?” Goswin asked. “I don’t need to look at this database myself. He’s a dangerous and unstable man. He was an adult before he met anyone besides his mother, and he found himself trusting the wrong person. I don’t know what he’s gonna do...and if he’s dead, I need to know that too.”

Pontus shook his head. “We can’t just call. Part of the point is making the journey to Sriav.” He looked towards the back entrance of the hollowed-out asteroid. “It’s out there, in the void, away from all others, in this tiny pocket of civilization. I couldn’t even give you the exact coordinates. I think you’re expected to intuit your vector somehow. They call it our sister outpost, but we’ve never interacted with them, and I’ve never given it much thought.”

“Well, this has to happen. Whatever you need from us, it will have to wait. Briar de Vries is our priority.” He turned away as he tapped on his comms disc to make it clear that he was starting a separate conversation. “Eight Point Seven, Weaver, we’re going to a world called Sriav.”

When he turned back to ask for permission to leave the asteroid, Pontus was gone. Beside him were Weaver and Eight Point Seven in her humanoid form. “How did you do that? Did you have that body ready and waiting?”

She was just as surprised as he was. She patted herself. “Are we all corporeal?”

“No way to test that,” Weaver acknowledged. “We could all be in a simulation.”

“Not a simulation,” came a voice behind them. “It’s Sriav.”

They turned to see a grand entrance to an expansive room. It was so wide and deep that they couldn’t see how big the room was. The walls and ceiling were ornately decorated, but it appeared to be completely unfurnished, like a shell waiting to be filled and used. “I’m sorry, I got the impression that this planet was located in the intergalactic void.”

“It is,” the woman confirmed. “It’s roughly a million light years from the edge of the Milky Way galaxy.”

“We were just on an asteroid in the Achernar system,” Weaver said.

“Well,” the woman began, “if you were going to be in one place one second, and another the next, it would be Po.”

“Po?”

“That’s the primary planet orbiting Alpha Eridani. Hi. I’m Madam Sriav. You came here for a reason, I presume?”

“Captain?” Eight Point Seven urged.

“We’re looking for a man by the name of Briar de Vries,” Goswin started to explain. “He disappeared from our ship. We don’t know exactly when, or how, and we certainly don’t know where we went. Our arrival here is the second time today we’ve jumped through spacetime inexplicably quick. I was told that you have a database?”

Madam Sriav smiled. “This world is quite remote, as I’ve said. We have true faster-than-light travel, of course, but you can’t use it to get here. If you try, you’ll slow down for no apparent reason. It’s a security feature. No, if you wanna come here, you have to do it the old fashioned way, with a simple reframe engine. That could take you upwards of 1400 years. Most barely try, and most of the rest quit. The few who have dedicated their lives to such a pursuit have ended up staying here. There is no better place to live, I believe.”

“Okay, but the database?” Goswin pressed.

She smiled again. “A mechanical rabbit lure, just to give people a reason to head in this direction.”

“So it doesn’t exist,” Weaver surmised.

“A computer that tracks everyone in every reality? What horrors could that lead to? I wouldn’t want to live in a universe that had something like that.”

Weaver faced Goswin. “There must be some reason we’re here. There’s a reason we were thrown to Achernar, and now this place. I think you’re doing it.”

Goswin shook his head with the confidence of a math professor. “No, I’m not.”

“There are only three reasons to slip timespace the way we’ve been doing it; incidentally, by one’s own hand...or by someone else’s,” Weaver went over.

“What is here?” Goswin asked Madam Sriav. “What is the purpose of this world?”

“If you have to ask, you don’t belong,” she answered.

“It would help us understand how we ended up here,” Eight Point Seven reasoned. “Perhaps Briar is already here.”

Madam Sriav sighed. “It would not be my place to say, but...”

“But what?” Goswin waved his loose hand in circles. “Go on.”

“You could always look for a tracker...assuming you can make it back to civilization.” Madam Sriav didn’t think that would ever happen. “There are people who specialize in it. Some have learned and trained, others are born with the gift. Some were imbued with power by the Tanadama themselves.”

“A tracker?” Goswin questioned. “Is there a real database of such people, like a...um...”

“The word you’re looking for is a phonebook,” Weaver helped. “Madam, I know you don’t use money for transactions, but if these people help people like businesses, there must be some central location to find them.”

Madam Sriav shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I was born on this world. I don’t have much of a practical understanding of the way they do things out there.”

Now Goswin sighed as he looked up at the high ceiling. “Well, do you have any ships? We forgot to bring ours.” Something weird happened. Did the ceiling change? Yeah, the ceiling appeared to change. It was sort of gradual, but also abrupt? He kept staring at it, and trying different angles. It looked more like a sky at dawn now.

“Captain. It happened again,” Eight Point Seven explained.

Goswin nodded, still checking different angles of the sky-ceiling. “Yeah, I know. I’m just afraid to look. Everytime I wanna go somewhere, we go.”

“It’s worse than that this time,” Weaver said.

Goswin dropped his chin. Madam Sriav was still here with them, and they were no longer in the frighteningly large room. They were outside, in the center of some kind of meadow nearish the top of a mountain. “I do apologize for...whatever is going on. With me, or with us. I just don’t know.”

“You need to get me back,” Madam Sriav insisted. “So please, figure it out.” She seemed like the kind of person who was not used to getting upset, and was desperately trying to keep her emotions in check, even though she had ever reason to be cross.

“Hey! Who are you?” A man was walking towards them from the slope.

“We are the crew of the X González,” Goswin replied, hoping that Madam Sriav would rather be lumped in with them than stand out in the presence of yet another stranger. “Can you tell us where we are?”

“You’re on Lorania, on the side of Mount Aura.”

“Lorania?” Eight Point Seven echoed, “as in, the island on Dardius?”

“That’s right,” the man said.

“Dardius only exists in the main sequence,” Madam Sriav revealed. “You brought us across realities. How are you doing this?”

“I still don’t know, but I’m worried that he’s accidentally joined us, and if I start thinking about going somewhere else, I’ll only make matters worse.”

“No,” Madam Sriav began to calculate. “Think about Sriav, and that’s where we’ll go. I don’t really care where anyone else goes. I welcomed you to my planet, because that is my job, and I can’t do it if I’m here, so I’m done humoring you.”

Wow, this situation escalated quickly. “Are you a tracker?” Goswin asked the new guy. “If you’re a tracker, that’s why I’m here.”

“No. I’m Harrison. Tracker Four is up there.”

“Great. Maybe they can help everyone get home,” Goswin hoped.

“She’s with another client,” Harrison said, stopping them from stepping forward with an imposing stance.

“You can come back for her later,” Sriav said to Goswin. “You take me back first.”

“I can’t control it,” Goswin argued. “I’m not even sure I am doing it. I don’t feel anything when it happens. Do either of you feel anything?”

Weaver and Eight Point Seven shook their heads.

“Yeah,” Goswin went on, “so let’s say it’s me. What if I accidentally send us to the inside of a volcano, or hell, just the vacuum of outer space?”

“Don’t even suggest things like that!” Sriav was raising her voice now. “Don’t put those thoughts in your own head!”

Goswin made prayer hands, with his index fingers wrapped around his nose, his middle fingers pressed up against his forehead, and his thumbs pushing up the corners of his lips. This is what he did when he was frustrated, and trying to solve a problem. “Harrison, is this region dangerous in any way.”

Harrison didn’t expect the question. “Uh, there’s a natural merge point a few kilometers that way, which will take you to prehistoric times. As long as you stay away from that, you should be good.”

“I’m not gonna try to do anything yet. Madam Sriav, I know that your life and your job are important to you, but you have a few hours to just wait, so I can get this right. I’m going to go meditate. When I get back, if you happen to have photos of where you live, there’s a chance that helps. I really couldn’t say for sure. I’m sorry if I did this to you, but this is uncharted territory, so your patience would be greatly appreciated.”

Still annoyed, Madam Sriav raised her eyebrows, and gestured for him to get on with it. Then she turned around, and started kicking at some nearby flowers.

Goswin wasn’t super into meditation, but he had done it a few times, and it was a great excuse to get away from everyone. If he really was responsible for all of this, standing around and being berated about it wasn’t going to help. He found a nice, soft patch of grass a couple hundred meters away from them. He sat down cross-legged, and closed his eyes, hoping to free his mind from all distractions. The birds were starting to chirp, but they were very consistent and melodic, so it actually helped. There was a slight breeze that cooled his face just enough to be comfortable in this tropical weather. He breathed in deeply, held it in for a few seconds, and exhaled through his mouth. This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He didn’t have powers, or a pattern. He was just a normal guy who met a bunch of time travelers one day. That was why he jumped at the chance to board the X González. He wanted to know more, to meet other people. He wanted to have an adventure. He didn’t want to ruin people’s lives.

He was sitting there for several minutes when it began to rain. It was only a sprinkle at first, but then the drops began to fall harder. It didn’t stop him, though. He stayed where he was, trying to find his center. This was just another distraction that he had to let go of and ignore. Before too long, though, the rain was pouring. The grass under him was pushed away to be replaced by mud. He didn’t know how long he could stand it. It wasn’t the most discomfort he had ever experienced, but he certainly didn’t want it to worsen.

“Ēalā! Eart þu hāl!” an unfamiliar voice shouted to him.

He felt like he had no choice but to open his eyes. This was definitely not Lorania anymore. “What? Sorry, I slipped, but I’m okay.” He started to stand up. “Where am I?”

She seemed quite confused at his words. “It’s England.”

“Forgive me, but...what year?”

“Oh. You must have come through the cave.”

“What cave?”

“On Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. It’s the year 1133, on Earth. My name is Irene. Irene de Vries.”

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