Microstory 2536: Executive Assistant

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They call Landis’ nurse his left-hand woman, and that’s because I’m his right-hand woman. That’s really only because I literally always stand on his right side. His left arm has better veins for drawing blood, so that’s his “medical side”. Though, they sometimes come over to my side of his body, because they need to test things like, is his blood different in his other arm? No, it’s not, by the way. As I was trying to explain, I was an assistant for three years before I landed this job. It was difficult and trying. My boss was great, but she was very demanding. She had high expectations of me, but she earned that right by building herself up from just about nothing. I figured that working for the Foundation would be a new challenge, but it’s really pretty cushy. He doesn’t exactly need me to do anything for him. His schedule is the same every day. He goes to bed by 21:30 so he can get up at 05:30 for breakfast before work at 06:00. He usually takes his half-hour lunch at 11:00. It’s his main meal, and it’s always pretty big. It’s prepared by a world-class chef whose only job is this. After his afternoon/evening healing shift is over at 18:30, he has a therapy session, which usually goes alongside his dinner. It’s much lighter than his lunch, which is important, because he then has an hour-long massage therapy session starting at 19:30. This wasn’t his idea by the way, it was prescribed to him by his doctor, who was afraid Landis would not be able to relax. He doesn’t enjoy any other relaxing hobbies, so it was kind of something they had to come up with to help. This next part is a little tricky, so let me try to keep it classy.

After the massage, Landis takes a quick shower, and then meets with a woman for about a half hour, including some light conversation. It’s a different woman every night, as coordinated by the Legacy department. This woman is virile, and of course healthy—but it’s important to note that she is typically naturally healthy. They arrange it differently sometimes for comparative experimentation, but for the most part, we’re talking about a young woman in her prime mothering years who has not undergone the healing breath treatment herself. That is what she is looking for. While the pharmaceutical company is researching paths to the panacea, an alternative program seeks to potentially expand production of the cures by simply spreading it throughout the population. Not every pregnancy takes, but all told, Landis has fathered, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......about 800 children. Woof, that’s kind of something that we don’t really talk about. Part of the funding that we receive goes into supporting these families for the rest of their lives. As of yet, no child has exhibited any special abilities, but the oldest one isn’t even five years old yet, so they’re not taking that as proof that it doesn’t work. The program continues. When I first met Landis, he was chill and funny. He liked to talk, and be around people. This experience has changed him, and while most seem to attribute his turtle-shelling to the burden of the healings, I believe the daily expectation of procreation has affected him more than anything. He likes women. He likes sex. And it’s all consensual. But it still heightens his anxiety. He still considers it part of his job. On the one hand, that makes it easier to detach himself, and simply perform. On the other hand, is that psycho-emotionally healthy? I don’t know. I really don’t. But I’m here for him every day, and if he were to ever express doubt in continuing either of his jobs, I would be the first to know. I won’t let him do anything he’s not comfortable with, even if it’s something that he’s done a thousand times before.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 12, 2525

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No one chased the team as they fled the city, probably because they hadn’t done anything wrong, so the locals had no reason to try to apprehend them. Most of the team didn’t even know why they were running. They just trusted that Leona had good reason to order them to. She had to remind them to slow down, though, because their bodies moved too fast. They were supposed to be normal humans who were born a few decades ago, and would die several more decades from now. Finally, when they were out of the city limits, and safe within the coverage of the trees, they were able to stop. “Rambo, you understand what’s going on?” Leona asked him.

“I have an idea. Fascinating development. I need to get my hands on the slingdrives, so I can figure out why we’re off the mark. Proxima Centauri is close to Sol, but it’s not Sol. We also jumped to our next year too early”

“No, I mean, with the people in this dome. Do you understand why we ran?”

“Oh, of course I do. The Oblivios.”

“Then please go check the perimeter. Do it quietly. There could be campers or homesteaders, or just hikers. I’ll explain what happened to everyone else. I’m not sure if they’ve ever heard of Oblivios.”

“On it, boss.” Ramses left.

Leona caught her breath so she could think more clearly. “Okay. Oblivios. They came to this planet with the intention of living a more simple life, with very primitive technology. It’s like Castlebourne’s Dome for Pioneers, but for real.”

“They don’t look like pioneers,” Angela pointed out.

“That was 300 years ago. The reason they’re called Oblivios is because they had their minds wiped. The first generations didn’t remember advanced technology. They didn’t even know that they were in a dome, so they didn’t pass stories onto their children. Most of the criticisms of the project were about how they would eventually end up like this. You can’t stop progress. Since whatever dogma they had against tech was lost to them, they couldn’t instill such values into their descendants, so those descendants kept trying to make their lives better.” She pointed back in the direction of the city. “This is where that leads.”

“You’re gonna wanna see this, sir,” Ramses said through comms.

“If you see people, don’t talk to yourself.”

“I’m sure they’ve developed short-range wireless by now. There’s something I don’t think they’ve made yet, though, and I’m looking right at it.”

“Be right there,” Leona responded.

The group walked over to Ramses’ location, and before they caught up, saw what he was referring to. A gargantuan tower rose up into the sky, and disappeared above the clouds. The city they came from was advanced, but not like this. It took the kind of megaengineering that the hosts needed to build the domes themselves. It was hard to tell, but it might have risen all the way up to the ceiling. It might have been structurally necessary, since this dome was so much older than the ones on Castlebourne, but probably not.

Leona tilted her head. “That looks familiar to me. Why does it look familiar?”

“We’ve seen towers before,” Mateo pointed out.

“Yeah...” Leona wasn’t so sure. It was of plain design, but not generic.

“There’s no one around,” Ramses informs them. “Let’s just jump over to the base, and see what’s up with it.”

Leona was hesitant, but she looked around too, and checked her lifesigns detector. They were calibrated for human life, and sufficiently related cousin species, so they should be pretty accurate in a world that didn’t have transhumanism yet, but there was no way to be sure. They weren’t even worried about naked eyes anyway, but surveillance. “Okay, fine. Let’s just slip back into the trees first.”

They hid away, and then teleported to the tower. As soon as they appeared, a door opened up, likely via motion sensor. They all stepped into the elevator, and let it take them all the way up to the top, which yes, was right there at the dome’s zenith. A woman greeted them when the doors opened. “Greetings, travelers. I saw you teleport in. My name is Aeterna Valeria. I run this joint.”

“The tower, or the dome?” Mateo asks.

“Both, I guess.”

“You’re related to Tertius Valerius,” Marie guessed.

“Yeah, he, uhh...he was my father.”

“We just saw him not too long ago,” Romana explained. “He’s still alive.”

“I don’t really see it that way. It’s been something like two hundred years for me.”

There was an awkward pause in the conversation, which Leona needed to break. “So...report?”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that. Are you hungry? I have a synthy. It takes a few hours, but I’ve already synthesized some mashed potatoes and green beans for myself, if you’re interested in joining me. I like leftovers, so I always make extra.”

None of them was hungry, but they agreed to eat to be polite. It was good, and interesting to go back to regular food, instead of just programmable dayfruit or dayfruit smoothie. Leona needed to break the silence again while they were eating. “The people down there. What do they think of this tower?”

“They can’t see it,” Aeterna began to explain. “I have my father’s powers. I make them forget. I make them forget the tower at the same time they’re looking at it. It’s not technically invisible, but effectively so. I exempted you from it when you showed up.”

“Did you notice that they have moved past their original mandate?” Marie pressed.

Aeterna rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. We knew it was gonna happen. Our key contact died, but before she did, she and my father would fight all the time about keeping the dream alive. He said he promised he would erase people’s memories, but that he wouldn’t govern their thoughts. If someone came up with the lightbulb, they could have a freakin’ lightbulb. So that’s what they did, and they kept doing it, and now they’re here.”

“They said something about tunnels,” Mateo brought up.

“Yeah, they interact with the other domes,” Aeterna confirmed.

“How does that work?” Romana questioned.

“The others are pretty good about it. They don’t understand the technology, and they certainly don’t know that there’s a pretty girl up in this tower with magical memory powers, but they play their parts. Most of the nearby domes were also once intentionally primitive, though with no one like me. The Oblivios don’t really get how the dome works, but they know that they can’t go outside. They used drones to find the wall a long time ago, in defiance of the sonic deterrents, and for some reason, they didn’t freak out about it. It looked like a barren wasteland, and it made them sick, but they saw through the ruse anyway, and now they’re about to figure out the whole thing. The weird part about it is that they simply accepted that this was how their little pocket of the universe functioned. I was expecting riots, but everyone’s okay. It’s crazy really; a fascinating social experiment, I’m sure.”

“If they know they’re in a dome, why are you still here?”

“They know they’re in a dome because the data told them so. The drones kept crashing into the holographic walls, and I can wipe their memories of it all I want, but they’re gonna look back at that data, and it’s going to challenge their beliefs. So yeah, I gave up. But they still can’t see the tower. I’m still making them forget that they’re looking at a superscraper in the middle of it all. It’s limited in area, so it’s easier. They’re not looking for it, whereas they were looking for a way through the wasteland.”

“You ever thought about just stopping?” Romana offered.

Aeterna consulted her watch. “Yeah, won’t be long now.”

“What do you mean?” Mateo asked.

“The planet is going through a period of instability,” Aeterna went on. “Back on Earth, technologies like LiDAR were inevitable. Earth is too big, and you gotta navigate it. It’s easier to let computers do it for you. Here, in this cramped space, they didn’t need it. Human-driven cars are fine. You never have to go very far.”

“The tremors finally gave them a reason,” Leona realized.

“Bingo. Necessity being the mother of invention, it was suddenly absolutely necessary that they build sensor arrays to measure the world around them. Weather, for the most part, can be controlled in here, but we can’t stop the ground from shaking. They feel it just like everyone in all the other domes does.”

Ramses nodded. “And as soon as they turn on one of these sensor arrays, it’s going to pick up on the tower that humans keep forgetting, even when a camera records video of it, and plays it back later.”

Aeterna nodded back. “I won’t be able to combat that. And honestly, I shouldn’t try. The tower was a dumb idea that my father had, and I stuck around because once it was built, it couldn’t be dismantled, or it would ruin everything. They thought that someone with our power would have to stay here forever to keep it working, but the scope of this place is not limitless. They were always going to find the wall, and the data from their geological surveys would always contradict their perceptions. The ancestors thought, if they just went back to the way things were, they would stay that way. But that’s not what happened before, or they wouldn’t have needed to leave Earth to reclaim that way of life in the first place. So shortsighted.”

“Why did Tertius leave? He didn’t even tell us that he had a daughter,” Mateo said, worried about how she would react.

“Well, he gave up on the Oblivios a long time ago. I don’t know why I’ve been holding on. I suppose in rebellion to him. I told him, if he left, he couldn’t come back. He has respected that, which I appreciate.”

“It might not have been as long for him as it’s been for you,” Leona reminded her. “I didn’t get the sense that it had been a full 300 years since he last saw me.”

Aeterna shrugged. “Whatever.”

“What if...” Romana began. “What if you did see him again? Would you be mad?”

Aeterna considered the question. “A year ago, I might have been, but as I said, this is all ending anyway, so it would be fine. I’m not gonna break down crying, and hug my daddy, but we wouldn’t fight. Well. I wouldn’t pick a fight. Let’s just say that.”

Romana accepted this answer, and decided that this somehow translated to her taking a matchstick out of her breast pocket, and setting it down on the table ceremoniously.

“What’s that?” Mateo asked.

“It’s a muster match. Light it, and Tertius Valerius will appear.”

“He gave this to you?” Mateo pushed harder. “Why would he do that? Did he know that we would end up here? Did you?”

“Of course she did,” Ramses deduced. “She brought us here.”

Romana’s demeanor didn’t change. She remained cool. “I spend more time in the timeline. I get to know people. He asked me to come here. He said that anytime would be all right, but he clearly really wanted it to happen by 2525, so I’m glad we got a move on with it.”

“I don’t like that you did that,” Ramses admitted. “I don’t like that you messed with my slingdrive.”

“I don’t like that you lied to me,” Mateo added.

“This is between a father and his daughter, but a different father and daughter,” Romana defended. She redirected her attention to Aeterna. “He asked me not to light it. He said that you have to do it, so it’s up to you if it gets lit at all. He did want to be here with you when the tower becomes detectable, but he understands if you’re not ready, and will accept it if you never are.”

Aeterna stared at the match for a moment before picking it up. She held it between her thumb and forefinger for another moment, until slipping the other end between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand. She was about to break it, or was at least contemplating it. No one knew what was going through her head, but it looked like an internal debate as her nostrils flared, and her lips moved, suggestive of the words that she was thinking of. At last, she let go of the match with one hand, and scraped the head against the wooden table. A flame burst out of it. It looked like any normal lit match.

For a second, nothing happened, then a smoke portal appeared a couple of meters away. When the smoke cleared, Tertius was standing there. He smiled kindly at his daughter, barely registering that there were other people in the room. They just regarded each other, her not being able to move, and him not wanting to make the first move. Suddenly, Aeterna burst into tears, and ran over to hug her dad.

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Microstory 2533: Patient Relative

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My father has been battling cancer for years now. It’s been so hard to watch him struggle. I’ve sometimes thought that the treatment was worse than the disease. I’m still not entirely convinced that that’s not true. It always seemed crazy to me that the only way to fight it off is to make it sick. It’s like shooting the hostage. One of the bullets might hit the hostage-taker too, but is the price worth it? Well, now we don’t have to worry about it anymore. No more tests, no more chemo. No more sleeping half the day away, no more spending the rest of the day worshiping the porcelain god. He’s going to be cured. Our application was just accepted. Now we’re just biding our time until the appointment. Per sound advice, he has continued his conventional treatments, not because we think the appointment will fall through, but because we don’t want to take any chances. He’ll stop a week before, because that will be the end of another round, and so he can feel better for the trip down to Kansas City, but no sooner than that. This is going to be such a relief. I’m excited to have my dad back, but all he’s been talking about is my education. I dropped out of college when he was diagnosed so I could go back home to take care of him. He’s always thought I resented him for that, but I didn’t care for school anyway. It’s not like I was training to be an engineer, or a lawyer. I was getting an undergraduate degree in underwater basket-weaving. It might have helped me get a job, but it wouldn’t help me make better money. That’s one thing you have to remember when you’re trying to decide whether you’ll go or not. It helps you get in the door, but it doesn’t keep you in the room. Your boss and your hiring manager may like to see it on your résumé, but if you suck at the job, they’re not going to say, “oh, but she’s a graduate. Better give her a second chance. We would fire her right away if she only had a high school diploma.” No, that’s not a thing. I’m happy where I am now, and I love living at home. I love my dad, and I like spending time with him, regardless of what brought me back here in the first place. He wants me to go back to school, but I think it’s mostly about the symmetry of it. For him, he doesn’t like to start something without finishing it. Things like that are just always hanging over his head, and he can feel them. It makes his condition worse, worrying about something undone, even if it doesn’t need to be done. He once finished a bowl of soup that was making him nauseated just because when you have a meal, you eat until it’s gone. He immediately threw it up, but guess what? He threw it all up. I hope getting the cure will help alleviate the stress from all that. I can’t wait. I’m probably more excited than he is.

Microstory 2531: Accountant

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There’s not much I can say about my job. We all know what accounting is, and we all know it’s boring. Even accountants find it boring. We do it, because we’re good with money and numbers, and the job usually helps you make a lot of money. The starting wage is higher than a lot of people only start making near the end of their careers. That’s not me bragging, it’s me following in my mother’s footsteps, because I was a child of divorce, and lived in two homes growing up. My parents separated when I was five years old, which is when kids really start to pick up on how the people they see live their lives. That is, it’s when you start noticing the difference between your rich friends and your poor friends. It’s when you catch the news out of the corner of your eye, and realize that there’s a lot of pain in the world. It’s basically when you wake up to the harsh realities of life. My mom was an accountant, and my dad was a temp. She lived in a house. He lived in an apartment. He was a good guy, and they maintained a decent relationship. He found a place as close to her as possible, so I was eventually able to walk between them at the end of every week. But like I said, I saw the difference, and it moulded me into the person I am today. They say that becoming an accountant is safe, and for the most part, that’s true, but there’s a caveat. If you’re no good at math, walk away. Walk away now. No career accountant failed a math class in high school, or college. It just doesn’t happen. And that’s okay, there are plenty of great paths for you. I walked down this one, because I knew what was on the other side. That’s always been very important to me, because I was lacking that during the divorce, when I didn’t understand what was going to happen to me. Things have ended up okay, but I hated that uncertainty. Numbers are not uncertain. There is an answer to every equation, even if you don’t know what it is. I take comfort in knowing that if there’s an error in the bookkeeping, it’s possible to find it. It’s not abstract or hidden. You just have to know where to look, and that’s what I do. I make sure there are no errors. I make sure that the right amount of money is coming in, and the right amount is going out. It’s not easy, but it’s not ambiguous.

Microstory 2511: Landis Tipton Himself

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My name is Landis Tipton, and I don’t like to brag about myself. I really think that anyone in my position would do the same thing that I did. They might not do it in the exact same way, but they would have done everything they could to help. For one, while being awake for several hours every day, and meeting thousands of people, is exhausting, it doesn’t compare to what lots of other people do for work. I breathe on people. That’s it. It’s so simple. I get situated in my big apparatus, and breathe. Each time I cure someone, that’s all it feels like. It doesn’t drain me of energy, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Anyone could do what I do and feel fine. I mean, I’m breathing anyway. I might as well cure someone while I’m at it. They take really good care of me here at the hotel. They treat me like a god, even when I don’t want them too. Yes, I have a personal assistant, a personal chef, a bodyguard, a nurse, a doctor, and a masseuse. I’m not gonna sit here and claim that I’m not living a privileged life. You expect me to say a but here, but there is none. It’s a good life. The least I can do is make it count. If I weren’t doing something to earn it—if I were just randomly born a king, or some stupid thing like that—I would have no appreciation for any of this. My dad used to try to teach me that I had to contribute positively to society, in one way or another. I never understood that until five years ago when I started this Foundation. To clarify, I knew what he meant when he would tell me that, but I failed to recognize its importance. I’m contributing now, and I feel lucky to be capable of doing it in this way. They’re getting close to a panacea, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life after that. Would my father still be proud if I just hid away, and stopped working? My friend insisted that I take in a salary for this. I insisted that it be a modest amount, but after all this time of everything I need being paid for by the Foundation, it’s added up to being more than enough to live happily, and without having to find another job. My problem is that I’m not all that bright, and I never actually had a salaried position before this. So I was thinking in terms of an hourly rate. I work twelve hours a day, which may sound like a lot, but again, I just sit there and breathe on people. Not exactly grueling...kind of monotonous, really. I do work seven days a week with no vacation time, but my evenings are pretty relaxed, and I don’t have anywhere that I want to travel to, so that’s not a problem. The hotel has been paid for, including the suite that I live in, and I’ll probably stay here after the panacea goes on the market. So that means no rent. Even when I have to start paying for things again, like food and utilities, I doubt I’ll ever break $2000 a month. A pay of $15 an hour for five years has added up to over $300,000. If I do that math, it should last me about...thirteen years. Hm. I’m not making as much as I thought. Well. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m not greedy. I’m just Landis.

Microstory 2502: Father of the Cure

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I’m going to be totally honest here, Landis and I have not always agreed. His mother always believed that he was gonna move on to do great things, but the kid was approaching his thirties, and he had nothing to show for it. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to death, and nothing he could have done would have been able to change my mind. I just remember wishing that he would have some kind of ambition. I wasn’t one of those fathers who had a plan for their kid, and they were going to follow it no matter what. I only had a few requirements. Number one, he had to learn a second language. Most of the world understands English, and I feel like the least we can do is meet them halfway. You can’t learn them all, but you can at least learn one. Well, he didn’t do it. He didn’t even try. He did the bare minimum in school, in his language classes, and everything else. He wasn’t an idiot, but he was a poor student, because he lacked motivation. I only got him into sports to teach him discipline, and perseverance. I didn’t care if he became obsessed with it, or even if he liked it. He could have switched to theatre or A/V Club, if that’s what struck his fancy. I chose baseball, because that’s what I was familiar with, but I made it clear that he had a choice. What he didn’t have a choice in was doing nothing. He couldn’t just coast through school, and work minimum wage for the rest of his life. I know, that might seem unrealistic. Someone is working minimum wage, that’s why it exists. I just wanted him to want more out of his life. Again, he didn’t have to do anything that I specifically chose for him, but he had to have at least some passion about it, even if that passion was for the money itself. He had to contribute positively to society, and if that meant sticking with that minimum wage job, well, I figured I could get over that. At least he was doing something. But he kept losing them, and having to find something new. Secretly, I think that he preferred it this way. He gets tired of things, you see. He doesn’t quit because he’s no good at it, but because he just doesn’t wanna do it anymore. It becomes tedious. I’m actually kind of surprised he came up with his foundation, because it’s the same thing; day-in, day-out. I can’t believe that he can take it, but I’m proud of him, and I’m happy for him. I never expected him to cure the entire world. I would have just been happy with him holding down a job for longer than six months. But he went for it. He really went for it. He exceeded all of my expectations, and I regret every doubt I ever had for him. That’s my kid, and I’m grateful for him.

Extremus: Year 105

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Today is the day. It might be the most publicized wedding in ship history. Why is it so popular? It seems that Waldemar and Audrey are somehow famous for being famous. A few people heard their story, and they told others, and the story spread. Even though the braintrust is aware that he is destined to become captain one day, to everyone else, there should be nothing interesting about this story. Yet here they are, waiting to get married to much fanfare. Audrey’s mother has been helping her get ready, as has Tinaya, since Audrey doesn’t have any friends besides little Silveon and her fiancé. She has a maid of honor, and bridesmaids, to be sure, but all at the insistence of Waldemar. He has chosen to perform a more traditional wedding. Audrey’s father will be giving her away like she’s a possession. The groom had a wild night with his buddies at a bachelor party. Again besides Silveon, all of these friends were fake, but they agreed to participate, because it sounded like fun, and he just has this magnetism. It’s part of why he ends up being the leader of the whole ship. He doesn’t take control using magical powers. He gets people on his side. He gets them to believe in him and his cause. This could be where all that begins.

“Thanks, mom. Could you go get me something blue?”

Her mother looks over at Tinaya, realizing that she’s being shooed out for a private conversation, but not wanting the day to devolve into a fight. “Yes, dear.”

Audrey picks up her long, flowing dress with her forearms so she can sit down on the ottoman.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m gonna throw up. Everyone’s gonna be watching.”

“That was the point, wasn’t it?”

“Should it be? We’re the ones who are putting the spotlight on him, and I find that sickening. We came here to stop him from being a ruthless tyrant, and we think that involves still helping him gain power, but we don’t know that. Should we be pushing him down into obscurity instead?”

Tinaya sits down next to Audrey, partially on her dress. She breathes in deeply, and makes it seem like she’s about to say something profound. “It’s too late. I don’t know if this is the right path, but you’re here now, and you’re in a better position than ever to control the narrative. If you had discouraged from pursuing notoriety, he would have caught on eventually, and resented you for it. He would have severed his connections to you and Silveon, and that could have been...permanent, if you know what I mean.”

Audrey nods. “He wants me to be a tradwife. He doesn’t want my input.”

“Then don’t give it to him. Make him feel like every idea you have is his.”

“He had a kitchen built in our new unit. No dayfruit, no synthesizers; not even as backup. I am to cook for him every day, the way they used to, where you buy the ingredients, and put them all together in a recipe.”

“How are you going to buy anything? Where are these ingredients coming from?” Tinaya asks.

“He also built a store. He doesn’t want me to be the only tradwife, and he’s not the only one who wants that.”

“He’s starting a movement,” Tinaya says, nodding her head. “Do you remember this, from the other timeline?”

Audrey takes a beat, then slowly shakes her head. “No. I mean, I think he treated his first wife like this, but I don’t think he convinced others to do the same. We did this. We made things worse.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Tinaya contends. She stands to pace. “If he keeps his definition of a wife a secret, he’s free to act on his principles in secret. But by trying to get others to walk backwards with him, he invites scrutiny.” She shines her flashlight on the wedding poster on the wall. “Our spotlight will show the people the truth. We don’t have to build a resistance ourselves if people become disgusted with him on their own.”

“It’s his growing group of sycophants that worries me,” Audrey clarifies.

Tinaya opens her mouth to respond when she thinks better of it. They could go on and on forever, gaming out strategies, and trying to rig the system, but that’s not what today’s about. What Audrey needs right now is to pretend that she’s happy, or even find a way to not have to pretend anymore. “Well. Don’t let it worry you today. You look very beautiful, and your confidence needs to reflect that you belong here, like this. You’re going to brighten your eyes, go out there, and put on the performance of two lifetimes.”

Audrey takes a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.” She stands back up, and approaches the mirror, letting Tinaya stand behind her. She stares into the glass, contorting her lips, trying to form them into a smile.

“No, it’s not your lips that’s the problem. It’s your eyes. That’s where your real smile is. If you can make your eyes sing loud and proud, the corners of your lips will reach up to meet. There. Close, you’re really close. Oh, not so wide. You’re not in a dark room, trying to gather as much light as possible. Oh no, you went way too far the other way. Now you look mad.”

“I’m just trying to reset. Maybe tell me a joke?”

“Did somebody say mad ma?” The two of them turn around to find Waldemar’s mother, Calla. She looks surprisingly...sober. She’s gently shutting the door behind her. She glides over to them.

“We don’t think you’re mad,” Tinaya replies. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Oh, honey, there’s no trouble,” Calla insists. “This is a great day.” She looks over at Audrey. “Finally, someone will be responsible for taking care of Waldy for me.”

“Mrs. Kristiansen—” Audrey starts to say.

Calla holds up a silencing hand. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I don’t know why you’re marrying my son, and frankly, I don’t wanna know. But you’re not as good of an actor as you think, and on this—on this one day—I’m afraid that won’t do.” She pulls a tiny silver tin from her purse, holds it in the palm of her hand, and carefully opens the lid. Inside of the tin is what looks like granulated sugar, but the granules are pretty large, and yellow tinted. “This...is madma.”

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

“The name is ironic. It will make you feel serene and loving. You won’t be faking a smile; you’ll be genuinely happy. Not about my son, of course, but no one has to know that.”

“It’s drugs? You’re trying to give my daughter drugs?” That was a huge slip. “I mean, my son’s friend.”

“I assure you, it’s legit. I take it all the time. I prefer it now to alcohol. Just stick it under your tongue, and let it be absorbed into your bloodstream.”

“Thistle?” Tinaya prompts.

“I cannot condone the use of recreational drugs,” Thistle begins, “but objectively, I can confirm that that is indeed methylenedioxymethamphetamine, also known as MDMA, molly, or since the 22nd century, madma.”

“What are the side effects?” Tinaya presses.

Thistle drops a hologram down, listing all the negative effects of the drug, mostly framing them as problems that arise after repeated use.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Audrey decides. “It’s just one day.”

“I’m sure a lot of drug addicts throughout history have shared your sentiment,” Tinaya warns.

“Drugs were phased out at the same time that money was,” Audrey reasons, reaching into Calla’s hand, and taking the tin. “My problems are so much worse than money.” She licked her finger, picked up the granules, then stuck her finger in her mouth, moving it around for a more even distribution.

“It’ll only be a few minutes.” Calla takes the tin back, and begins to leave. “Merry Christmas.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Calla,” Tinaya calls up to her.

Calla stops, and looks back. “I won’t live long enough to care.”

Just after Calla leaves, Audrey’s mother returns. “What did that woman have to say?” She doesn’t like her either. Calla isn’t as good at hiding her true feelings as Waldemar, so she pretty much rubs everyone the wrong way.

“Aud was nervous about her relationship with her mother-in-law, but Calla came by to build bridges, and assure her that she’s happy that your families are coming together.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” Mrs. Husk argues.

“I think she meant it.” Tinaya cannot disclose that she let her daughter take drugs, so this is a good enough lie. Had the mothers not seen each other in the hallway, Tinaya wouldn’t have said anything about Calla’s brief visit at all.

“Are you feeling better now?” Mrs. Husk asks Audrey.

Either Audrey is still faking it, or the drug’s effects are beginning to hit. “I’m so happy, mother.”

Mrs. Husk smiles tightly and nods. “Your father’s waiting in the corridor. It’s time.”

Tinaya excuses herself and leaves first. She joins her own husband and son in the front row of the groom’s side. “Who is that?” she whispers to Arqut. Why isn’t Jennings the officiant?”

“That man is a priest,” Arqut whispers back. “Or a reverend, or whatever. Waldemar asked him to take seminary classes from the archives. He’s been working on this for, like, three years.”

“And the captain’s okay with that?” Tinaya questions.

“Religion isn’t illegal, it just doesn’t exist anymore, except on days like this, which we know to be Christmas Eve. The charter technically allows for religious leaders to officiate weddings as well. The only requirement was that at least one person getting married be a member of the church,” Arqut explains with airquotes. It’s as real as they want it to be. It’s a special denomination of Christianity that only has two members.”

“Is he expecting Audrey to convert?”

Silveon leans in. “It’s just for show. Waldemar doesn’t believe in the hocus pocus either. He just wants this all to be very backwards. And he wants it to be special. No one else is getting married like this. Look at this place; it’s made of wood. I didn’t realize they had cut down enough trees on Verdemus to build an entire fake chapel out of wood.”

Arqut looks uncomfortable. “The wood isn’t from Verdemus.”

Tinaya’s rage bubbles up in her chest, threatening to spill out all over Waldemar’s asshole face. How dare he? She digs her fingernails into the seat of the pew, trying desperately to keep her cool. “This is not what the Attic Forest is for. Who the hell approved this?” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Arqut turn his head to the other side of the aisle. She turns the same direction, quickly making eye contact with Oceanus.

I’m sorry, Oceanus mouths to her.

Tinaya isn’t wearing her wristband or her wristwatch. Instead, she has a holographic projector hidden in a dress-appropriate bracelet that she’s wearing. She takes Arqut’s hand and flattens it out so she has something to project the image onto. She taps on the images of the keys on her husband’s palm to write up a text message to Oceanus that reads, you will be.

Arqut reaches down with his free hand, and wipes the text away. “You are not...sending that to the captain.”

Tinaya gives Arqut the stink eye while she’s reaching over to arrange her son’s hand the same way. She projects her screen over there instead, retypes the message, glances at it to check for spelling errors, then seethes at Arqut again while sending it off.

Arqut looks back at the altar, and shakes his head. “You’re going to regret that.”

“You’re going to sleep on the couch.”

The ceremony begins, interrupting any further fighting between the two of them. Waldemar waits up at the front as Audrey walks down the aisle with her father. She looks gorgeous and ecstatic, but Tinaya can’t tell if anyone else can tell that she’s high. She’ll have to remember to ask Arqut whether he picked up on it, and to make sure that Silveon isn’t in the room when she does, because he would not approve. The ceremony is long and boring. Tinaya doesn’t remember what she learned in school about old Earth traditions, but it seems about right. All the inequality, all the possessiveness; it’s here. Audrey couldn’t be more pleased. She’s very smiley; showing all of her teeth. The drugs are definitely working.

After the wedding is the reception, and after that, the crowd cheers as the happy couple go off to their VR honeymoon. Obviously, no one is there to see what it’s like, but Thistle reveals that it’s a simulation of a beach resort on an island. Pretty typical. While they’re doing that, Waldemar’s mother kills herself in her unit. Despite not being in any real position of power yet, Waldemar uses his burgeoning influence to cover it up.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 26, 2508

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Romana was sitting on the floor, hovering over her father, when he woke up. He turned over to the side, and started to cough. The others were waking up at the same time, recovering in their own ways. Fortunately, no one was dead, not even Octavia. A robot was lifting her up, though, and carrying her away. “She’ll be all right,” Romana assured him. “There’s a medpod in that room.”

“You’ve been alone all year again?” Mateo asked her.

“I did it on purpose,” Romana explained. “Why would we waste time looking for this man one year at a time, when I could spend days and days on the search?”

“Did it work?” Mateo asked.

“It did,” she answered with a sigh. “He doesn’t wanna leave, so I’m hoping you’ll talk some sense into him. But...I don’t wanna lie to you. Something happened. I’m not especially proud of it, but even though I was pretending to be a sixteen-year-old in Underberg, I’m actually much older than that. I don’t know why Pacey aged me down, but you need to understand that I’m an adult, and I make my own choices.”

“You slept with him...” Mateo guessed. “With Buddy.”

“He’s very kind to me.”

“I bet he is.”

“That’s not fair. I just told you, I’m an adult. He didn’t trick me. Don’t take away my agency.”

“I’m not, but Romana, he’s not a good guy. Being nice to you doesn’t absolve him of his past sins.”

“And what sins are these?” Romana questioned. “How many people has he killed?”

“That’s not the point.”

How many have you killed?”

Mateo didn’t respond to this.

Romana went on, “you two don’t see eye to eye, and I know he hasn’t been particularly pleasant to be around, but if you add up all the bad things he’s done, they’re really not all that bad. In the end, you two are enemies because you don’t get along. I’m sure before you became a time traveler, you interacted with plenty of people like that, and it didn’t make you believe that they didn’t deserve love.”

“Is that true?” Mateo sat up. “Are you in love?”

“No, of course not. I’m just saying...”

“That you’re acting like a rebellious teen,” Mateo interrupted as if that was what she was gonna say. “Are you sure you’re older than sixteen?”

“You are not my father. You didn’t raise me. Silenus did.”

“That’s comforting.”

She ignored that rude comment. “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life. You never have. I know it’s not your fault that you weren’t around, but you can’t honestly expect me to listen to everything you say as if you have some kind of control over my choices. I’m being honest with you, because I don’t want to lie to someone I respect and care about. But don’t you sit there and belittle me as if I’m nothing more than an extension of your own personality. I will take you to Boyd, but you are not to harm him. You are not even allowed to yell at him. I am insisting on that, and I will keep us on this rock forever if you defy me in this regard.”

“That’s enough!” Leona interjected. “You don’t talk to your father like that. I don’t care how old you are, or who raised you. Boyd probably has ten years on you, and that’s assuming he hasn’t used time magicks to reyoungify himself, or he could be much older.”

“You were fifteen when you met your now-husband!” Romana shouted back.

“And he didn’t have any feelings for me until much later. Don’t turn this around on us. Boyd—if that’s what we’re calling him—is not good for you, full stop. When we first encountered him, he insisted that we call him Buddha. That’s incredibly offensive, and tells you everything you need to know about him. Just because he may not be as bad as some of the other antagonists we’ve met, like Zeferino, Arcadia, or even Pacey, doesn’t mean you made the right choice.”

“You’re friends with Arcadia now. You made friends with nearly everyone you’ve gone up against. What are we even talking about here? All I’m asking is that you give him a chance to improve himself, and prove himself; not just give up on him outright. Forgiveness doesn’t have a quota!”

“All right!” Olimpia interjects this time. “Mateo, Leona, you’re not going to attack Boyd when we find him. Romana, you may be older than you look, but you have a long ways to go. This situation is incredibly weird, what with our experiences in Underberg, and other domes. We can’t trust our own memories. Some of them are entirely fake, and their associated feelings may be a little less genuine than they seem. So I think we all need to take a beat, and focus on what matters. We are not living in a soap opera. We’re dealing with real problems here, trying to escape some weird, alternate universe. We can’t do that until we get what we came here for. The interpersonal relationship drama can wait.”

Mateo, Leona, and Romana quietly conceded. Ramses, Angela, and Marie silently agreed, having successfully stayed out of the fight.

“Okay,” Olimpia continued, proud of herself, and relieved that her argument worked. “It won’t take long for Octavia to recover. In the meantime, where is Boyd? Did he get hurt in the explosion?”

“He’s fine, he wasn’t even here,” Romana answered. “He’s in the Fostean sector at this point, living on a simulated jarl world.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Mateo said.

“Single-occupancy planet,” Leona explained. “A one-percenter in that culture will have so much money that they can afford to own an entire celestial body. They will live there alone, or with their family, supported by a small army of slaves called Arkeizen. These supposed subhumans will be known as thralls so long as they are in service to the elite. It’s not a heartwarming story.”

“Why would he be there?”

“To be clear, the thralls aren’t real slaves,” Romana said. “As I said, which you obviously already know, it’s a simulation, so they’re just robots.”

“It’s still gross,” Olimpia said to her. “I gotta admit, that’s a point against him.”

Romana smirked. “Just wait until you see it, okay?”

“Fine,” Leona decided. “Let’s take a vactrain this time. I don’t want this happening again, so we’ll stay out of canon as much as possible.”

“It’s not gonna happen again,” Romana contended. “Like the flooding of Atlantis, the destruction of this planet was canonical. It happened during the Sixth Shell.”

“Either way, let’s keep it real.” Leona led the way down the corridor.

Octavia was stepping out of the medical bay. She had missed a lot, and didn’t know where they were going, but she followed them anyway.

They got on the train, and had it deliver them to Jarldome. There were 200 levels here, most of which were 200 meters high, but with the holographic skies above each one, they felt endless. Boyd was on the topmost level, with a bunch of slaves. The team expected to find him lounging on a mountain of pillows, being fawned over and doted upon by these Arkeizen. It didn’t seem to be that way. The robots made to look like a hominid cousin were milling about an impressive little town. When they walked through, the Arkeizen smiled and waved. They didn’t look oppressed or abused. They were working, however, so no valid conclusion. On the far end of the main street, they finally found Boyd. A group of people were evidently in the middle of building a house, and he was helping. He was physically helping carry a wooden beam, and set it in place.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there. How long have you been watching us?”

“We just arrived,” Romana answered him.

“Well, welcome to Citrus City!” Boyd said. “Would you like the tour?”

“We’d like to get out of here,” Mateo responded.

Boyd frowned. “There’s so much work to do.”

“None of this is real,” Ramses told him. “It’s a simulation. You know that, right?”

“Of course I am,” Boyd said dismissively. “You think it’s that easy to erase my memories?”

“Either you’re delusional,” Mateo began. Romana gave him the stink eye, so he switched tactics. “I mean, if that’s true, then were you aware of our true histories while you were living in Underberg?”

“I guess not. But I broke out of it. I’m fine. I’m happy, living here, teaching these people how to fend for themselves.”

“They’re robots,” Ramses added.

“Shh!” Boyd whispered loudly. “They don’t know that.”

Mateo sighed angrily, and looked over at his daughter. “You did this. You told him to put on this show to make it look like he was freeing a whole peoples. You think that’s gonna work? You think I’m gonna start liking him now?”

“Sir,” Boyd jumped in. “Romana came to me two weeks ago. I’ve been working on this town for months. This isn’t just for show. I know that I have made mistakes in the past, but I don’t agree with slavery. Jesus. That’s the point of this dome, you know? It’s a test; will a visitor let their thralls do what they’ve been indoctrinated to do, or make changes that go against the history of the Fostean culture from the fictional stories? That’s the question, will you play into it, or do the right thing, even when it doesn’t matter? Because like you said, they’re robots.”

Mateo crossed his arms disapprovingly, but didn’t have anything more to say.

Leona pulled the magical technicolored crystal from her bag, and presented it to Boyd. She jerked it away when he reached for it. “This will place you on our pattern. Truthfully, Pacey did not reveal whether it was permanent or not. I believe that you will have less of a chance to get into trouble if you only exist for one day out of the year, though, so I’m hoping that you take the risk. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for us to get back to where we belong, but I don’t want you running around on your own anymore.” She glanced over at Romana. “I certainly don’t want you to be doing that with my daughter. Frolicking on the jarl worlds, freeing slaves together.” She grimaced, and looked over at the Walton twins. She wasn’t trying to say that freeing slaves was bad. “You know what I mean.” She went on, “touching this crystal will go a long way to earning our trust, but it’s not a cure-all. And either way, it has to be your choice.”

Without hesitation, Boyd took hold of the crystal. The colors swirled around inside, presumably transferring Leona’s pattern into his qualium realm. “Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

Suddenly, they heard a noise in the sky. A flying craft of some kind was headed right for them, so far up in the air that it couldn’t be real. The holographic image grew larger and larger though until it was as large as it would be if it were right above the invisible ceiling. Something changed as the hologram gave way to a tangible object, presumably having been dropped down through a recess. This real, physical shuttle continued to fly towards them until it landed right in the street. A bunch of humans with guns filed out of it.

The leader of the newcomers looked around at the Arkeizen. It was unclear whether he could tell that they were free, and no longer enslaved thralls. He zeroed in on Boyd. “Sir, are you okay? Our sensors picked up unauthorized entry to your planet.”

“They’re friends,” Boyd said. “We need no help here.”

The leader stepped closer so he could lower his voice. “Listen, if you need help, you don’t have to be afraid of them anymore.”

“I’m not being coerced,” Boyd tried to say. “Everything’s fine. You can go.”

The leader nodded. He walked past Boyd, and as he was adjusting his pants, got a better look at the community. He turned back around to address Boyd again. “How are your thralls doin’? You’ve been here a while. Do you need a top-up?” A top-up of slaves?

“No. My numbers are steady.”

The guy was surprised. “Not one death?”

Boyd shook his head.

“Interesting. “Very interesting. Say, you wouldn’t be...treating them like people, would you?”

“And if I were, is that against the law?”

The man shrugged. “No, of course not. They’re your thralls, you can do whatever you want to them. It’s just a little unusual. I’d hate to think that they were influencing your behavior in some way. You know, we get a bad batch sometimes. One of them is sick in the head—starts thinkin’ that he’s special, or valuable—and that can infect the whole group. And sometimes...their owner gets infected too.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Marie said. “Suits on!”

Mateo took Octavia in a hug again, and commanded his nanites to wrap themselves around her. Angela and Marie, meanwhile, started taking out their anger for their father out on these robo-slavers. They stole their guns from them, and shot each in the head. The slavers shot back, careful not to hit Boyd, but not caring about anyone else’s life. The Arkeizen ran and hid behind various structures while Leona, Ramses, Olimpia, and Romana protected the stragglers. It was over quickly. All of the bad robots were dead and on the ground.

“What happens when we leave?” Leona asked after the dust had settled, and the suits were no longer necessary. “Is another shuttle gonna be triggered later to come down and try to put a stop to all this antislavery wokeness?”

Boyd chuckled. “This isn’t my first single-occupancy planet. They always show up as a sort of final test, to see how you’ll react. I’ve always just talked my way out of it, but I guess this works too.”

“Great,” Leona decided. “Then pack up your shit. It’s time to go.”

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Microstory 2423: Oz

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My assumption is that the guy who made this planet was a huge fan of L. Frank Baum, and his works. If you haven’t read the books, you really should. You can see the movies, particularly the first one, but everything here is drawn from the source material. Oz is only one dome, complete with the Emerald City in the center, and the four countries around it. There’s a so-called Impassable Desert along the perimeter, but there’s not much to it before you just hit the wall. Which is fine. I mean, that qualifies as impassable, doesn’t it? Unless you go through a door. I’m overthinking it. The point is that Oz is only one dome, but the world of the Baum books includes many other regions on the planet, and each of them has their own dome too. They’re all on my list, because my father used to read me the books when I was a kid, multiple times. And when I grew up, I read them myself. On my way here, I read them yet again to refresh my memory. Yeah, I could have installed the data into my cybernetic mind, but there’s nothing like reading the words in realtime, is there? The bottom line is that this place is perfect for me. It’s as accurate as it can be given the lack of specifications from the books (which no one could expect from any writer). It exemplifies the spirit of the original story, I should say. They had to make their own decisions, and take some liberties, but they totally nailed it. This. Is. The Land of Oz. Are there some things that I would change if I could? Sure. Do I wish that they would ask me to help them make such changes? Yeah, I do. Could I offer my services? Yeah, I guess I could. I might just do that. They have people work here, right? It’s not all automated. I might wait just a little bit, though. I should take notes, and go through the entire thing. I should also wait until I’ve had time to do the same in the other Baum domes. I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do, but you really should check it out. It is great and good.

The Sixth Key: Rock Up (Part VI)

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Cedar Duvall, leader of the Sixth Key, stands on the bridge, watching as the seams to the time bubble that has been slowing their progress down start to rip apart, and finally release them. They expected to break free from its tyranny eventually, but the calculations the scientists made placed that estimation much later than now. “Steady, boys. I fear we have been freed intentionally by whatever intelligence is down there. We still don’t know if they’re friendly.”

“There’s no planet here anymore. It’s just a small patch of land. Should I prep an away team?” the Captain of the Starship of State offers. Any vessel that The Sixth Key is on is the Starship of State, but this is the ship that is typically used for this purpose, so the two of them have a nice rapport. She knows that Cedar isn’t going to say yes. He is the away team. He’s reckless like that.

“No, Cap’n. Teleport me down alone. Keep the whole crew on PrepCon Three.”

“Aye, sir. Teleporting you now.”

Cedar appears on the grassy hill. A bunch of people are sitting around. Two others appear to be dead, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering anyone. “My name is Cedar Duvall, Sixth Key of the Sixth Key! Report!”

“I’m confused,” a woman says.

“About what? The re part, or the port part?”

“Ha-ha-ha. The Sixth Key of the Sixth Key, I don’t know what that means.”

Cedar is taken aback. He hasn’t spoken to anyone who doesn’t know who he is in decades. “I am the Sixth Key, because I created the Sixth Key universe. Me and five other keys.”

“Oh,” the woman says. She’s holding back further laughter. “Right. My name is Hogarth Pudeyonavic.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of you. I know all the salmon and choosing ones. And the other...extra people.”

“Of course, sir. You’ve taken a leadership role since all these people left?”

These people? Cedar starts studying people’s faces, instead of just treating them as background actors. She’s right. Some of these are the former leaders of the original five realities. Not all of them, though. They disappeared, and he did indeed have to step up. They needed a singular voice, and they needed someone whose loyalties did not lie in one past civilization or another. “I have. Is that going to be a problem?”

“What year is it now?” Ingrid Alvarado of the Fifth Division asks.

“It’s 2500. At least, it should be. We were stuck in a time bubble on the way here, so who knows?”

“That was probably his doing,” Hogarth says, gesturing towards the dead man.

“Is that why you killed him?”

“He’s not dead, he’s asleep.”

Cedar cocks his head to the side, and eyes the supposedly sleeping man. “There’s something happening to his face.”

Hogarth looks down at him too. She takes a pair of goggles out of her pocket, and presses them against her eyes without bothering to strap them onto her head. “He’s de-aging. Interesting.”

“How do we stop it?” Cedar asks. “Cosette DuFour,” he says to another woman. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“Not to other people,” Cosette answers. “I can only adjust my own age.”

“Pity.”

“This is what he wanted,” Hogarth tries to explain. “He’s...resetting his brain back to factory settings. At least that’s how I’m interpreting his words. He didn’t allot any time to talk about it. He just collapsed, and fell asleep.”

“I think she’s de-aging too,” a guy calls up after examining the dead-not-dead woman. Who is he again? He ran the main sequence. Some kind of General.

“So, they’re gonna be all right?” Cedar asks.

Hogarth shrugs. “Dunno. We’re waiting to see.” She jerks her chin towards the sleeping woman. “She wasn’t a good person.” She jerks her chin towards the sleeping man. “He’s trying to fix her. Too early to tell whether it worked or not.”

Cedar takes his water disc out of his suit. He flicks it in the air, but it doesn’t open, so he flicks it several more times until it does. He presses the button, and summons the interdimensional water. “Well...” He takes a drink. “There’s something weird about this void.” He takes another sip. “Ahhh. I mean, besides the fact that there’s no black hole in it, which I’m told is unusual. It’s been drawing power lately.” Some of the water has gone down the wrong pipe, so he coughs it out. “It’s been stealing from us. We came here to plug the leak.”

Hogarth glances down at the sleeping man now, who looks a lot younger than he did when Cedar first showed up. “Well, that would probably kill them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking too.” Cedar vigorously shakes the back of his head. “Thing is, I still gotta plug the leak. The galaxy runs on temporal energy.”

“Every universe runs on temporal energy,” Hogarth says. “That’s what time is.”

“I have no doubt that that’s true, but I don’t care about the other universes. I care about mine.”

“You’re the confused one now,” Hogarth says, taking a step forward. “This universe is mine. You may have made your little pocket universe, but I made the full-sized one that it’s inside of. You’re here because I say you can be here, and technically speaking, all of the energy that you have is sourced from me.”

He studies her face. “You’ve been gone as well. We’ve been holding diplomatic discussions with one Ellie Underhill, and her cohort. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? She lives in Fort Underhill.”

Hogarth cracks a smile. “That I named it after her does not diminish my own power. You still need to respect me. The Third Rail spent billions of years without excess temporal energy. They lived off the time that was naturally available to them. You will be fine with a little bit of rationing while we figure out who these two are when they wake up...what they are.”

“The Third Rail was one planet in its original reality. We number in the trillions of habitats. We need the excess.”

“And you’ll have it,” Hogarth reiterated, “when these two are done doing whatever it is they’re doing.”

They look like children now. How long is this gonna go on? “Which will be when? When they each turn back into an unfertilized egg and a sperm?”

“It’s called a spermatozoon,” one of the people Cedar doesn’t recognize corrects. “What? I’m a biologist, I have to know these things.”

“I thought you were a princess,” the Nuadu-something guy from the Parallel says.

“We don’t know,” Hogarth jumps back in before the conversation can be moved too far off topic. “I expect that they’ll stop de-aging at some point. I’m sure that this was all part of his plan, and I’m choosing to accept that. Why? Because he may be the single-most powerful being in both of our universes. Let’s not piss him off, shall we?”

Cedar clears his throat, and coughs again. He smashes his cup back down to disc form, and slips it in its pocket. “Can’t argue with that logic. Wadya all eat around here?”

“We just got here,” Hogarth answers. “We don’t know what’s edible.”

No one ends up eating anything. They’re too nervous to find out what’s going to happen when the child-gods wake up. They’re both eight years old or so when the de-aging process ceases. They stay asleep after that, though, continuing to work through their apparent metamorphoses. While they’re waiting, they catch Cedar up on who and what the sleepers are, to the extent of their knowledge. In turn, he catches them up on the goingson of the Sixth Key, and all the history they missed while they were gone. They’ve maintained the imaginary wall that is holding back the Reality Wars, but it is a constant threat to the peace that their new civilization is enjoying. That’s why Echo and Clavia are such a concern. Energy is still the number one commodity in the galaxy, so they can’t afford to waste one ounce of it. These two god-beings could be the key to maintaining the peace forever, or they could be the instruments of its destruction following total domination. It all depends on what happens when they come to.

About an hour passes before they begin to stir. Clavia wakes up first, dazed and confused. “Mommy?” she asks. She thinks she has a mother. Who is she talking about, though? “Mom, where are you?” She’s looking around and blinking a lot.

“Umm...I’m right here.” Hogarth carefully approaches her.

“You’re not my mommy,” Clavia argues.

“No, but I care about you, and I’m here to care for you.” Nice save.

Clavia is very pouty. She continues to blink as she tries to wake up fully. She looks around again, and stops when she sees the second-in-command for the Sixth Key version of main sequence Earth. “Mom! There you are!”

Judy Schmidt widens her eyes. “Uh, me?”

“Yeah, silly!” Clavia laughs joyously.

“Right, okay. Um. Come here...honey.”

Clavia hops over, and tackles Judy with a big hug.

Judy mouths what the fuh to everyone else, but no one has any answers. This little magic girl has imprinted on her, for whatever reason, and there’s probably no going back on that. Kids don’t just switch parents on a whim. It’s her job to raise her now. So she better figure it out.

“Group hug!” Echo comes running up the hill. He hugs Judy and Clavia. “Come on, daddy!” He beckons Judy’s superior, General Bariq Medley.

“Oh, um.” Bariq leans over to hug them too, but not very tightly.

“Okay,” Judy says, gently separating them all. “Why don’t you go play with your aunt...Princess Honeypea, so your mommy and daddy can talk to their friends.

“Okay!” the kids say in unison. Good, they do see Honeypea as a member of the family. Out of everyone here, she’s probably the best with kids.

“What the hell is happening?” Bariq questions Hogarth.

“Everyone seems to think that I’m some sort of expert in all this, but I don’t know what’s going on. I came here because this is where the trail led after the magnolia tree was destroyed. But here’s all I know. Two extremely powerful individuals were just regressed to childhood, and now they think you two are their parents. I don’t know if they have false memories of you, or if it’s just an intuition they have, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it. You have to be there for them. No one can replace you. Think about how you were when you were their age. Would you have accepted just being moved to someone else’s care?”

“No one suggested that,” Judy defends.

“You were thinking it.” Cedar steps forward, injecting himself into the conversation. “I would be.”

Bariq looks over his shoulders. Princess Honeypea is teaching the kids pattycake. “I want a seat at the table.”

“What?” Cedar asks.

“You rule the galaxy now. I wanna be a part of that.”

“I don’t know that there’s any reason—”

“Hey, Clavia and Echo!” Bariq calls over. “Who’s this guy?”

They both just shrug their shoulders.

“They don’t know you. You wanna have any say what they do with their power? You wanna make sure the people of the Sixth Key have what they need? You better cozy up to their parents.”

“Bariq, we can’t just exploit them like that,” Judy warns. “They’re children.”

“No, they’re not,” Bariq argues. He turns back to Cedar. “What’ll it be? The woman’s name literally means key. That’s a strong symbol, but they don’t answer to you. They answer to the two of us.”

“They’ll answer to me better,” Judy reasons. “Children always love their mommies more. Especially when their daddies are dicks.”

Bariq chuckles. “I’ll dote on them. But I can’t do that from the sidelines.”

“Yes, you can,” Judy insists.

“Okay,” Cedar says. “You come with me, bringing the temporal energy gods, and I’ll find you a place in government. High up. People will know you, respect you. They remember you. I didn’t erase the past, though I literally could have.”

“They’ll be well taken care of,” Bariq tries to explain to Judy when she shakes her head at this devil’s deal. “No one’s exploiting anyone. It will be years before they’ll be mature enough to make their own serious decisions, and it’s better for them if they’re close with the leader of all of reality. If you don’t want this to go badly, then be their mother. You have that instinct. That’s why the tree chose you to be my second at the Rock Meetings. You weren’t my lieutenant before this. I would have chosen someone else to stand by my side.”

“I wouldn’t have chosen a military leader to be the main representative,” Judy reminds him. “I would have chosen Earth’s Mediator.”

“Yeah. We’ve been over that,” Bariq acknowledges.

“Okay, but I’m the head parent,” she says with airquotes. “I decide what’s best for them, even if that comes to mean leaving the Capital, or wherever you operate out of,” she says to Cedar.

“Sure,” Cedar agrees.

“Them too.” Bariq points at everyone else in this little bubble. “Give them what they want.”

“We want a garden,” a woman says.

“I got lots of gardens,” Cedar replies.

“A big one,” she clarifies.

Cedar nods his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

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