Microstory 2358: Vacuus, July 16, 2179

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Dear Condor,

There was a short delay in my response to you because I read your letter, and decided that I wanted to implement your suggestion regarding my new noisy neighbor, then wait to see if it worked. It seems to have, at least for now. I kind of maybe got the feeling that I will eventually have to reset my connection to him after he forgets. I’m not saying that he’s dumb, but I noticed he would regularly lose his train of thought, and forget key aspects of the stories that he was telling. I came to find out that researchers here are aware of his issues. They’re still not certain if he would have developed this way had he been born on Earth, or if there’s something specific to this environment that led to his neurological shortcomings. Right now, they’re leaning towards the latter. All children are different, but others have shown similar signs of developmental problems that need to be addressed. At the moment, there are still some variables that they have to account for, so they can’t arrive at any conclusion on the cause. This is a relatively small population. There must have been something about the progenitors’ own psychology that made them want to come here at all, and they all had to pass certain tests to qualify. These factors, along with others, limit the gene pool, making it more difficult to test hypotheses when it comes to determining the effects that this world might have on humans as a rule. I have to say, I’m surprised I didn’t know anything about any of this before. I guess they’re trying to keep it hush-hush. It is funny, though, they might be missing out on valuable data by keeping the rest of us in the dark. I belong to a subset of the population: children who had no choice but to travel to this world; born on Earth, grown up on the ship, and working on the base. The criteria for our selection was different than it was for the adults, of course. Studying us may tell them something that they’re not seeing now. I’m not gonna let them know about this, because I’m already a test subject, and I don’t need to add to that pressure. I still can’t find anyone who will tell me what exactly they’ve learned from the whole twins separated at birth study. I don’t know which team might be responsible for that, and I can’t get the top brass to even admit that it’s a thing. In a way, my situation is not dissimilar to Bray’s. We’re both being studied against our will. I think that’s what really endeared him to me, and honestly, this street seems to go both ways. He has had a much harder life than I realized, and I think that he also sometimes wishes that he were on Earth. I’m not saying it was okay that he was playing music while I was trying to sleep, but I kind of understand this behavior better now. They weren’t watching him in secret. They were really in his face about it, and they probably just made everything worse. I do not envy him, and it really puts our situation into perspective, don’t you think?

Sleeping in the quiet once more,

Corinthia

Microstory 2357: Earth, July 7, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

You should have received my custom read receipt that confirmed the plan for The Winfield Files, but in case you didn’t, we’re a go. They’re not the longest books in the world, but they’re not super short either. Still, I think we could each get the next one done within a couple weeks. I agree that our thoughts should be in the form of attachments. Yeah, we might have to wait for each other’s responses before moving on, so it may not be as neat as one installment per pair of letters, but I dunno. We’ll just have to wait and see how it goes. To answer your question, our relationship with the dome remains strong. Generally speaking, the immigrants aren’t having significant issues, though it’s a culture shock for many of them. In some ways, we’re different, but in others, we’re the same. It’s true that we’re mobile, but this thing is so large, and the engines are running so slowly, that you can’t really tell. The view is really the biggest difference. Still, they’ve designed it to simulate a normal dome as much as possible. We have dirt and sand and grass. Dad and I live in the platform section, instead of the dome proper, but all of the newcomers have been assigned housing outside, which I think they prefer, since it’s more like what they’re used to. Speaking of new friends, I have an idea about your neighbor. What your problem seems to be is that he doesn’t care how his actions affect others. You have to show him that you exist, and give him some reason to consider that in the future. Don’t complain about the noise, don’t yell at him. Endear yourself to him. First step is to ask him for help with something. How tall are you? If you have some artwork high up on the wall that needs to be adjusted, or a nut under your sink that needs to be tightened, ask him to do it. This especially works if he’s a man, because he wants to feel big and strong, but you can execute this trick with just about anyone. Just make sure it’s a simple task. People want to feel needed, not exploited. Once he’s done, thank him for taking the time, then invite him over for lunch, or a board game. Invite a couple other people if you feel uncomfortable being alone with him, but don’t make it a full-on party. You want him to see you as an individual, and to be reminded of his connection to you when he’s in the area, not the gathering over all. I don’t like the phrase kill them with kindness, but that’s what you’re doing here. This doesn’t work every time; some people are clueless, but my childhood bully stopped harassing me after I tried this. Give it a shot, and let me know how it goes.

Ready to start Book One,

Condor

Microstory 1978: Alleged Smuggler

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Leonard: Are you Moenia?

Moenia: Yo, who’s askin’?

Leonard: We’re friends of Becca’s.

Moenia: Yeah, she mentioned she had a new crew. She told you about our dead drop?

Leonard: She told us you could help us. She said you were her most trusted smuggler.

Moenia: Alleged smuggler.

Leonard: Right. Well, we need to get across the border.

Moenia: How far across, copper?

Leonard: Not a cop. And it depends on how safe it is on the other side of the first one.

Moenia: Not very, I always say. You wanna be safe, you get yourself all the way into Kentucky. Or Missouri, if you’re in a bigger hurry.

Ophelia: We are...in a hurry, that is.

Moenia: *nods* She tell you my usual fee?

Ophelia: Becca said nothing, but money is no object. It may just be...a bit delayed.

Moenia: I don’t deal in money, I deal in favors. I’ll take you with me. I’ll carry you all the way to Dexter or Poplar Bluff. Once there, we’ll part ways, but one day, I’ll call upon you, and you can’t refuse me. I don’t care if I’m askin’ you to kill the National Commander of the United States, you answer that call, no questions asked.

Leonard: We’re not going to—

Moenia: It won’t be that. It won’t be anything that ridiculous. I use that as an example, because you’ll be takin’ a huge risk, accepting my help. It may be somethin’ you don’t wanna do, or it may be as simple as tying my shoes for me. Now that is a favor that I actually did call in. It’s worse than it sounds. That was four years ago, and word is, the dude is still scared out of his mind that it meant more than how it looked on the surface. He ain’t slept right since. That’s the gamble. I know within five minutes of meeting someone what kind of favor to ask them. You need to be prepared for that.

Ophelia: We’ll take it. Get us to Missouri.

Moenia: That guy’s been quiet. What’s his deal?

Ophelia: Oh, him? He’s not allowed to talk.

Vogel: Not true.

Ophelia: *slaps him in the head* Shut up. *to Moenia* Three tickets, please.

Moenia: Three tickets, three favors.

Leonard: *looks down at Vogel* Well...

Moenia: Favors are transferable. He looks to be your prisoner, which means he could be dead by the time I need to collect, so I’ll let you do whatever it is in his stead. Deal?

Vogel: I have a better deal. I’ll give you four favors, you kill these two yahoos, and take me over the border instead.

Leonard: She told you to shut up.

Moenia: Now hold on a minute, let me think about it.

Ophelia: Moenia, don’t do this. Becca will not be pleased.

Moenia: I’m just playin’ witchya. Just make sure to keep him quiet. We’re headed into dangerous territory. The Mississippi border is even worse than the rest of it.

Microstory 1915: The Other Bond

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Fugitive Agent: So, how do you feel, man?

Fugitive Agent: What was in that stuff you had me drink?

Fugitive Agent: It was just bitterwater. Literally water with rhubarb and hops.

Fugitive Agent: Well, I feel...

Fugitive Agent: Free? That’s because of the decision you made to join us. It’s not magic, and there was nothing in the water, or on the knife that cut your palm. This is all you, buddy. Welcome to The Bond.

Fugitive Agent: I caught all the rules, but they never mentioned how to ask for a favor. Do I have to give one to get one, errr...?

Fugitive Agent: Nah, man. We all know your situation, and that it’s time sensitive. You’ll have to reaffirm your promise that no harm will come to the escapees you’re looking for, but our network will find them for ya. Someone in this town has to know something.

Fugitive Agent: I appreciate it. Can I put my clothes back on now?

Fugitive Agent: No one told you to take them off.

Fugitive Agent: What?

Fugitive Agent: *laughing* I’m kidding. Yeah, here you go. I’ll meet you outside, okay?

Fugitive Agent: Thanks.

Freewoman: We don’t have to do that.

Fugitive Agent: Whoa. Who are you?

Freewoman: I’m an ex-con too. We meet in the other basketball court.

Fugitive Agent: Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else would be in this supply room.

Freewoman: It’s okay. You ain’t got nothin’ I’ve never seen before.

Fugitive Agent: So, what were you saying?

Freewoman: The nudity thing. And the blood pact. We don’t do that to form our bond.

Fugitive Agent: Oh, they never said that there was another bond group.

Freewoman: Well, there is. We heard about you. I have to say, by only bonding with them, you’re missing out on about eleven percent of the people who could help you.

Fugitive Agent: Like I said, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t be able to join, though, would I?

Freewoman: *smirking* There’s a way for you to join without joining.

Fugitive Agent: I don’t understand.

Freewoman: You would have to go through another ceremony, but it’s not like the one you just had, or even the one I had for mine.

Fugitive Agent: What does it involve?

Freewoman: It’s like...a sort of...marriage.

Fugitive Agent: Come again?

Freewoman: If you were to get couple bonded with—say, me—I could conscript my girls to look out for your escapees, in addition to the guys you already have on it.

Fugitive Agent: That really does sound like marriage.

Freewoman: You would be free to marry someone in real life, if you wanted. We don’t go get a marriage certificate at the law station. It’s for cross-promotional purposes only.

Fugitive Agent: Can I think about it?

Freewoman: Of course, but I’m not the one working under a deadline, am I?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 30, 2398

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Winona opens the door, and lets them in. This is a much nicer place than her forging den. Either being the daughter of a U.S. senator has its perks, or she’s just rich. It would make sense. Poor people don’t outnumber the rich ones in politics, no matter which reality we’re talking about. “Welcome. Would you like something to drink?”

“We’re not here for that,” Marie answers.

Winona nods, and starts making herself something.

Mateo is waiting patiently, but Marie has known Winona for a lot longer, so she doesn’t have to be polite. “Do you have it?”

“Well, yeah, but we need to talk about returning the favor.”

“Are you looking for someone too?” Mateo asks.

“As a matter of fact, yes, but not all favors are returned in kind. It just so happens to be the case this time.”

“Is this another Amir Hussain?”

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about him. Only Senator Morton cared about finding him, so wherever you left him, he’ll be safe...at least from us. I promise you that.”

“Her promises are solid,” Marie tells Mateo when he asks her with his eyes.

“Who are you looking for then?” Mateo asks, getting back to business. When she hands him the envelope, he opens it to find a picture of himself. “There’s another one?”

Winona shuts her eyes, slightly aggravated. “No, that’s your packet. He was last spotted in Howell, New Jersey. I’m giving you that in good faith that you’ll help me with my problem, even without incentive.”

“Don’t fall for it,” Marie warns him. “If we don’t follow through, she’ll use it against us later. Our incentive to pay her back now is to not have to pay her back later.”

“I understand,” Mateo says. “Go ahead and give us the second packet.”

Winona hands it to him. There’s a picture in this one too, but neither Mateo nor Marie recognize the woman in it. “We were friends as kids,” she explains. “Morton and my father worked closely together at one point. Then the former turned radically conservative, and dad had to cut ties with him. But then they both got elected to the senate, and suddenly had to start working together again. To be honest, we always thought it was just a way to get his daughter back in his life, but it didn’t work. They’ve been estranged for about eleven years now, I think.”

“Wait,” Mateo says. “The Honeycutts and Mortons were family friends. Then everybody had a falling out with Senator Morton, including his own daughter?”

“He wasn’t a senator yet, but yes.”

“Now she’s missing?” Marie asks.

“No, she’s not missing,” Winona clarifies. “We know exactly where she is, but you’re the only one who can bring her back into the fold.”

“The only one, who?” Mateo asks. “Which of us is the only one?”

“Her.” She points at Marie.

“What are you talking about?” Marie questions. “I never met the girl.”

“We have strong reason to believe that Bridgette has been keeping an eye on her father’s covert operations. That’s what happened between me and my father. He didn’t deliberately read me into all of this. I had to find my own way to the truth. The point is, we think she knows who you are.”

Marie sighs deeply. “You want us to approach her, and get her to come in to brief you on whatever it is she knows that you may not already know about your rival’s secret endeavors.”

“Bingpot,” Winona says.

“So, you want us to lie, or something?” Mateo guesses.

“No lying. Be honest. Tell her what you think of me, that’s okay. Just tell her that I wanna talk. We don’t want to trick her, but if I send my own people, she’ll run and go underground. You’ll be just enough of a curiosity to get her to pause, and listen for a second. There’s no huge rush, though. You can go find your doppelgänger first.”

Marie sighs again. “We can’t go try to bring him in, and then have to leave to do something else. When we do go, we’ll need to be able to give him our undivided attention. We’ll go talk to this Bridgette Morton for you. That’s all the favor is, though. We can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

“No one ever can,” Winona says. “Pleasure doing business.”

They leave Winona’s apartment, and head for Bridgette’s, which looks strikingly similar, as if they used the same architect and designer. Or perhaps it’s some common political aesthetic called senatorial modern. She’s surprised and excited to see them. “It’s you. You’re one of the people from my father’s menagerie. Please, do come in.”

“Is that what he called it?” Marie asks.

“No, that’s what I’ve called it. He had this thing about transparent prisons. He thought that part of a convict’s punishment should be losing all sense of privacy. The darkness surrounding your glass box was his form of a panopticon. Are you thirsty?”

“We’re fine. You knew what he was doing this whole time?” Mateo asks her.

“Yes, but I have limited data, and almost no resources,” Bridgette explains. “I’m the one who leaked your location to Winona, because I couldn’t get you out myself.”

“I believe she’s aware of that,” Marie says, “and she would like to meet with you.”

“To what end? Does she want to join forces? Look, I helped you out of the box, because it didn’t look like you deserved to be there, and as far as I can tell, the Honeycutts aren’t as bad as my father was, but they’re not exactly saints either.”

“I think she just wants to talk,” Mateo says sincerely. “For now,” he adds.

Bridgette scoffs. “That’s not all she wants from me.”

“What do you mean?” Marie asks.

Bridgette hesitates to go on, but seems to decide to when she notices Mateo and Marie not applying any pressure to her. “My father took notes about you. I don’t know exactly what he meant, but he said he couldn’t trust people like you. Generally speaking, any enemy of his is a friend to nearly everyone else. But still, I’m risking more than you could know by showing you this.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable,” Marie assures her.

This only deepens Bridgette’s belief that the two of them can be trusted. She goes back into a room, where they hear the distinct sound of her turning a permutation lock. She returns with an object that’s covered by a golden cloth. She hesitates once more, or maybe she’s just pausing for effect, and then she reveals what’s underneath. It’s a green glass telegraph insulator. “I’m not ready to tell you what this does, and I don’t know how it works anyway, but I can tell you that it’s immensely valuable.”

Mateo nods. “Ah yes, that is called the Insulator of Life. So tell me, who is it keeping alive?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 3, 2398

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In the early 22nd century in the Middle East, what is colloquially known as the Water Wars began. Water from the Jordan River was diverted from the Dead Sea so much that it all but dried up, leading to sinkholes, dying vegetation, and other ecological issues. As the problem escalated, a rebel force arose, intending to protect the lake from any further interference. They repaired and preserved it, eventually winning control of the entire area. Their cause was so successful that it spurred similar disputes around the world. Some were not so successful, and some were more violent, but the conflicts were all ended one way or another, and World War IV went down in history both as the shortest-lived, and the one with the fewest casualties.

Today, the Dead Sea, parts of the Jordan River, and surrounding lands belong to the Sovereign Nation of Birket. Very few people who live there are considered law-abiding citizens. It exports no commodities, and does not participate in the international stage. Its borders are protected by designated military branches from Israel and Jordan, who agreed to certain terms under a treaty signed by all three parties and the Global Council following the outcome of the first battles of WWIV. The majority of the people who live there do so in a penal colony, usually after being found guilty of attempting to adulturize the waters. Prisoners are treated well, but are almost always serving life sentences. The government exercises an excellent parole program, though, which has transformed the colony into less of a prison, and more of an intermediary for asylum seekers.

When Marie and Kivi, and later Leona and Heath, suddenly appeared at the lake’s edge, they were pretty much immediately found guilty of adulterization. It’s up to Mateo, Ramses, and Angela to rescue them. Obviously, this is easier said than done. Getting into Birket isn’t a problem if you plan on going straight to the colony, which some people do as refugees to escape their lives in other regions. Getting out, of course, is much harder. If not done by prison break, it entails a lot of paperwork. It requires a sponsor from a country willing to take that person in, but this sponsor can’t be just some rando who feels empathy for the refugee. It has to be someone important, such as...a U.S. senator?

“I must say, these visits are becoming tiresome for me,” Senator Honeycutt laments. “Your wife wanted us to stay away from you.”

“You can’t break that deal without suffering her wrath,” Mateo begins to explain, “but we can break it anytime we want.”

“I suppose that follows a level of logic I would enjoy in my own pursuits,” the Senator replies. “What are your friends doing in Birket, and why did they believe they wouldn’t get caught?”

“You don’t need to know that,” Ramses says. “You just need to get them out.”

Melville sighs. “It won’t be that easy. I already have two sponsees, which is twice as many as the congressional average. Doing this will raise eyebrows.”

“You don’t have to sponsor them yourself,” Mateo tells him. “You just have to make it happen. Surely there is some other bleeding-heart politician who hasn’t yet sponsored a refugee, who also happens to owe you a favor?”

“What makes you think anyone owes me any favor at all?” Melville questions.

“You run a secret paramilitary operation that illegally crosses borders,” Ramses guesses, based on his experiences with them. He doesn’t actually know that their tactics are illegal, but since his daughter uses a forged identity small business to recruit its members, it doesn’t exactly scream overt. “Your number one currency is favors.”

“I may know someone,” Melville decides after thinking it over. “She was just elected, and while she didn’t run specifically on a platform of Birket refugees, she might be interested in padding her résumé with something like this right away to secure reëlection.”

“Perfect,” Mateo determines. “Call her.”

“No one who owes me a favor right now would be caught dead doing anything like what you’re asking. It’s not their political slant. She is the only choice, but we have not yet crossed paths, so if I do this, she’ll probably treat it as a favor for me, despite the fact that it will ultimately help her. I’ll owe her a favor.”

“So you want some kind of compensation to make it worth your while,” Ramses figures. “That way, we’re all paying for something.”

“The problem is, I don’t know what she’ll ask for, or when. I didn’t follow her campaign, because she was never on our radar, so I don’t know a whole lot about her motives, or secret agenda. When she comes to collect, you may need to be ready to be involved, or be involved in something else, to—as you put it—compensate me for whatever it is I’ll have to pay.”

Mateo places two fists on the Senator’s desk, and leans in. “I have access to the hungerberries, in case you thought that was just something between the two of you, and that Leona’s current predicament prevents her from following through on her threat.”

Melville leans in as well, so that their faces are awkwardly close. “You can only play a card so many times before I start to recognize the wear and tear on the back of it. The favor chain we’re building here is my way of letting you maintain your hold over me and my family without playing the card a second time. I suggest you take it.”

Mateo lets go. “Get them out. Ramses and I will be waiting for them in...where did you say it was?” he asks his friend.

“Egypt,” Ramses reminds him. “Birket usually releases prisoners to Egypt.”

“Right. We’ll be in Egypt. Call us when your colleague gets back to you, and we’ll deliver. Make it happen, whatever it takes.”