Microstory 2506: Desire Hearer

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I can hear your desires, and sing your fears. I am not like the others. Their passive gifts are all negative, while their active gifts are positive. I can’t tell you why I’m the opposite, but truthfully, it has always made me feel a little left out of the group. To be clear, they never made me feel like that; it was just the nature of my condition. It’s kind of hard to explain what I could do. Landis might have better wording, though I think he actively ignores this side of him. It’s not that I could hear your thoughts. It’s not even that I could see the images in your mind. It’s more like I could hear the music of your soul, if that makes any sense. When I would listen to people’s aura—for lack of a better term—I could hear where it was pointing, be it another person, or an object, or even the future. The tone of their aura music was key to understanding and interpreting their desires. I would say that mine was the toughest job, because they had to be open with me to clarify exactly what they wanted out of their life. It was just so...abstract and intangible a lot of the time. Sure, if they were staring at the person they were secretly in love with, their desire song for them would be obvious. And to be fair, anyone who is just naturally good at reading others could probably see it all over their face without any special gift. The key was getting them to come out of their shells, and be honest about what they wanted. It felt like cheating, just straight up asking them to vocalize their feelings. No one else in the group had to do that. They were just able to sense what they were meant to sense. That’s kind of why I had to step up as the leader; not because I was particularly suited for it, but because I had to drive the progress for us to get anywhere with people. The client’s own goals were paramount in helping them. It didn’t matter how they felt, or whether they were lying. If they didn’t have an objective, what were we gonna do for them? How were their lives gonna turn out? I didn’t always have to use my active Vulnerability gift, but there were many times when it was necessary. They sometimes even asked for it. To get what they wanted, and get past what was holding them back, it was necessary for them to face their fears. It was easier for them to do that if they were confronted with them directly using the fear songs, rather than having to conjure them up in their own mindbrains. It usually went all right. The client and I were both always in control, and I could clear the sounds if they became too much to bear. Obviously, it went wrong one terrible time, and that’s why we’re here, but I can’t help but think that all of that happened for a reason, because now we have Landis. I do miss having the gifts, but I’m glad that someone else has them, even if he never uses them. At least they’re not gone forever. And the sweet song of life on Earth continues.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 17, 2499

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Mateo and Olimpia were in St. Louis on one of their business trips. There was an issue with the booking, which was forcing them into a single room with a single bed. It was no coincidence that all of the hotels were booked up this week. They weren’t the only game in this town right now. Every ridesourcing company was hoping to strike a deal with St. Louis Metro Transit. They were looking to expand their service to multiple outlying areas, but found the project to be cost-prohibitive on their own. One of the bus drivers moonlighted as a driver for Tractus Rides, and suggested they form some sort of partnership. It was a last mile program, which could help thousands get to their destinations at lower cost than if they had to drive themselves, or use a ridesharing service alone. The executives actually thought it was a good idea, but they didn’t just want to close themselves up to options. Everyone was going to get a shot to pitch their idea. This would be a huge opportunity for RideSauce. While St. Louis fell under Mateo’s purview, he wasn’t in charge of the negotiations, because that was well above his paygrade. If they managed to secure something here, there was a chance that RideSauce would make similar deals in other cities.

Only the higher ups for RideSource were here, but Tractus went a different direction. They decided to secure rooms for their local drivers as well, reportedly to show their enthusiasm for the project, but clearly just to make themselves look stronger. They took all the hotel rooms just so they could walk around with their big swingin’ wieners, and that was annoying. There was nothing that the front desk agent could do, so Mateo was gonna have to swallow his pride, and speak to his archrival. “Pacey,” he greeted with an insincere nod.

“Matthew, what a pleasant surprise.” Pacey Henricksen was essentially Mateo’s equivalent for Tractus in the central midwest, though not exactly. Their organization was structured differently, so he managed more cities, and other divisions in those cities. RideSauce focused on ridesourcing, but Tractus was also in delivery and limousine services. And he knew that Mateo would be here, obviously.

“You took all the rooms.”

Pacey breathed in deeply through his nose and nodded. “We need them.”

“This is a stunt.”

“This is all a stunt,” Pacey argued. “That’s what we’re doing here. How we appear to the client is what matters most.”

“What we can provide to the client is what matters in our eyes,” Mateo countered. “They’ll see that.” He wasn’t really here to get in a fight, but he couldn’t help it.

“We’re bigger, and they need to know how much better we’ll be at scaling operations.”

“Your other divisions are irrelevant. The bus riders aren’t going to be getting in any limos.”

“They might if they pay a premium,” Pacey reasoned.

Mateo laughed. “They’re bus riders,” Mateo emphasized. “They don’t pay premiums. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“We’ll see. Did you need something?”

“We need one of your rooms. They overbooked, so now we’re stuck with one between the two of us.”

Pacey looked over Mateo’s shoulder, at Olimpia. “I don’t see the problem.”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth, you’re not her type.”

“What’s her type?”

“Decent people,” Mateo answered.

Pacey shrugged. “I’m sure she would make an exception.”

“She and I are professionals. You might look into it. Until then, what do I need to do to get one of your rooms?”

Pacey grimaced. “You see, if I give you a room, I’ll be taking it away from someone else, which means they’ll be pairing up instead. That doesn’t really solve the problem, it just shifts it to someone else. You have more experience with that than I do.”

Ugh. Of course he would bring that up again. He always found a way whenever they ran into each other. “For the last time, that driver was not in my area. Just because he was supposed to drive the rider from Sioux Falls to Sioux City doesn’t mean he worked for me. He was registered in South Dakota. I had nothing to do with the failed background check.”

“Well, it speaks to how flippant your company is with safety and security,” Pacey decided.

“The driver worked for you too, he passed your background check just as easily, so don’t give me that bullshit. And unlike me, South Dakota is in your jurisdiction.”

“Well, he wasn’t working for us that night, which is why the judge withheld it as evidence.”

Mateo had no retort, and it was a distraction anyway. “There are only two of us, and as her superior, it would be inappropriate for us to share a room. Pacey. Please. You must know of two people who can bunk up.”

Pacey looked away in thought. “Well...there’s this one driver that I’ve been seeing. I suppose that she and I could share. Your little assistant could sleep in her room instead. We wouldn’t even have to involve the hotel. We’ll just give her a keycard. But if she takes anything from the mini-bar, you’re paying for it.”

“She never would,” Mateo explained. “I’ll ask her if she’s okay with it.”

“Lovely,” Pacey said. “Always glad to assist a colleague.”

Mateo stepped over to talk to Olimpia, who was receptive to the idea. She wasn’t entirely convinced that the original situation was a problem that needed to be fixed, but she didn’t argue. She wouldn’t, though. He needed to get better at reading her, and recognizing that he’s her boss, and that she wouldn’t want to antagonize him. As long as Pacey’s companion stayed in his room, instead of going back to her own, Olimpia should be fine. That wasn’t what happened, though, and they should have known.

“They got in a big fight apparently,” Olimpia said at Mateo’s doorway.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping away.

She rolled her suitcase inside. “She was telling me about it, but I’ve become pretty good at tuning people out. I know what they want to hear when I’m pretending to listen actively, based on tone and pauses in their speech, so I don’t have to absorb the information. I’m sure it was very banal and meaningless. The fact is, she wanted her room back, and I didn’t want to stick around. She said she was fine sharing it with me, because I seemed cool, but I really don’t wanna do that.” She looked around this room. “I was hoping there was a couch, errr...”

“No, the company’s very frugal. I typically don’t care. It doesn’t need to be big, just clean. But you can sleep in the bed, and I’ll be in the tub.”

“I know you, Mateo, you shower at night. I can tell that you already have. The tub is wet.”

He shrugged. “I always bring a swimsuit. I’ll sleep in that.”

“That’s silly. We can share, it’ll be fine.”

Mateo looked down at the bed. “It’s a full, not even a queen. Pacey must have done that on purpose as further punishment.”

“Pacey?” she questioned. “How would he have any control over what room you were assigned?”

Mateo blinked. “I don’t know, how would he?”

Olimpia blinked back. “Can you sleep next to a woman without having sex with her?”

“Yeah, can you? Vice versa, that is?”

She hesitated to answer.

“Olimpia, it’s a simple—” Wait...

She still couldn’t answer, and she didn’t try to backpedal.

No, he couldn’t sleep in the bed with her. He couldn’t even sleep in the tub. He had to get out of here entirely. “You take the bed, I’m gonna hail a RideSauce Hot. They’re almost always SUVs, so I should be able to sleep in the back.”

“That’ll cost you a fortune.”

“Not if we don’t go anywhere,” he contended. “I’ll pay under the table.”

“That is not a service that our company offers.”

“No, but...I’m the boss. I’m sure whoever it is will say yes. That’s the difference between us and Tractus. The drivers know who I am. Nobody who works for Pacey could pick him out of a line up.”

“Mateo, it’ll be fine. I’m not saying that I won’t be able to handle it. I just want to be honest about my feelings.”

“I appreciate that. It would have been real easy for you to say nothing, and let it happen. But I have to nip this in the bud. You’re my employee, and I’m married.”

“Right, which is why I’ll get over it.”

“It’s too complicated. Things are different out there.” He pivoted, and started to gaze out the window at the stars. What did they have to do with anything?

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Mateo’s phone rang. It was Leona. “Hey, I’m about to go to bed.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. What would be wrong?”

“I just had this feeling that you’re upset about something. I can’t explain it.”

“Things have gotten a little bit awkward with the hotel rooms, but we’re working it out. I think you just get worried about me when I’m gone.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Oh, hold on. I’m getting another call.” He switched over without even bothering to see who it was. “Hello?”

“Mateo. This is Angela. Is everything okay?”

“Angela? My neighbor? Why would you think there’s something wrong?”

“Marie and I just started getting this weird feeling.”

A text came in. It was Ramses. Yu ight?

What the hell was going on?

They heard a series of beeps at the door just before it opened. Pacey walked in. He looked disappointed. “I thought you three had an understanding, but it looks like the feelings are a little more complicated, so this whole hotel room gambit isn’t gonna get you where you need to be.”

“What are you talking about?” Mateo demanded to know. “How do you even have a key to get in this room?”

Pacey looked back at the door, and then back to Mateo. “What room?”

“I’m so confused.” Mateo sat down on the edge of the bed, and buried his face in his hands.”

“I know,” Pacey said. “I messed up. I was trying to respect your privacy by only extracting the memories and knowledge that I needed to set up a plausible scenario, but it wasn’t enough. I’m afraid, in order to keep you here, I’m gonna have to go deeper.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Mateo argued.

“I know, and you won’t remember any of this anyway. You and Olimpia will have had sex tonight. That’s how you’ll remember it, and you will have already told Leona about it by the time you wake up. In fact, it will have been weeks ago. She will be fine, and the three of you will move forward with your relationship. Unfortunately, in order to make this work, you’re gonna have to lose the transit contract. I’ll become a weaker antagonist if you don’t.”

Actually, this was starting to make sense. Mateo’s memories were resurfacing. None of this was real. This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t any of their lives. “I know you. You met Leona before. She ran into you in the ka—”

Mateo was nervous. He had never been on a date with two women before. Well, there was that one time, but that was more of a double date where his girlfriend’s friend’s boyfriend flaked out on her. He had never been interested in that other girl. He was interested in Olimpia, and as fate would have it, Leona was interested in her too. She seemed to like them both. This might even go okay. But a first date was a first date, and those were stressful no matter what.

“Are you ready?” Leona asked. “I just need to pick a pair of shoes.”

“Wow. You look beautiful in that.”

“It’ll look better on the floor,” she joked. “Ah, come on, I’m tryna lighten the mood.”

“Is this weird? This seems weird. Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“It’s almost the 26th century,” Leona began. “Polyamory is in.”

“I know, but...”

“Don’t shoot yourself in the foot. Two hot chicks are into you. Just let it happen. If things get messy in the future, we’ll clean it up. No one’s life is gonna get ruined.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“You and I have been through worse,” Leona claimed.

“We’ll see about that.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “But I trust in your judgment. And I love you.”

“Were I you,” she said as he was walking out of the room.

“Were you me what?”

She blinked. “Huh. I don’t know. It’s an idiom, though, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “No, it isn’t.” But was it?

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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 2386: Earth, December 4, 2179

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Dear Corinthia and Velia,

Thank you for your letter. I will be continuing to write to both of you individually until a bunch of Valkyrie assholes show up, and tell me that I can’t anymore. My dad, Pascal is standing over my shoulder, reading—and approving of—every word. He sends his love to you, Corinthia, and wishes that we all had more time together. We understand that the meteors are out of everyone’s control, but that it is not going to last forever. We will reconnect one day, even if it takes years, and while we’re waiting, we’ll be thinking of you. Velia, by the time you receive this message, Corinthia should have received mine from last month during the communications blackout. It was waiting to be sent in the buffer, but I received confirmation that it was finally released shortly thereafter, so I don’t think that there were any issues. Let me know if it never came through, though, and I will send again. I said some things which I want to make sure that she hears, and I would love it if you two talked about it openly. But basically what I said was that I care about you, and I want to get to know you better. While we’ll never meet in person—and we may soon be separated by time as well as space—I think our correspondences will be worth it. Please understand, however, that as Corinthia said, you deserve happiness. If you meet someone else, don’t hesitate. I agonized over even saying anything about this, because I don’t want to root for us to fail, but it’s probably best that you know that I’m going to be okay too. I’m not saying that I’ve found someone special, or anything, but I do get to know people around here. As a story from the Earth of old goes, our hearts will dance together to the far end of eternity. Anyway, we don’t have to get into our full romantic histories, especially not in a joint letter like this, but it’s important for us to be open and honest with each other. Can’t wait to hear from you two again!

Grateful for the opportunity in the first place,

Condor and Pascal

PS: Velia, you should be getting a new letter from me as early as tomorrow.

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

Microstory 2384: Earth, November 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia and Velia,

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from either of you. I spoke with some friends that I made at the Mauna Kea observatories after our birthday parties, who told me that the Valkyrie short-cycle disruption has come into play. So there’s this dumb rogue meteoroid out there, blocking your communications, and preventing us from staying connected to each other. It seems to be lasting longer than it did the first time. I don’t know if that’s normal—if there’s significant variation—or what. I just know that I hate being so far from both of you, and unable to even speak. A two-week delay between your messages is bad enough. Corinthia, I received yours about how Velia and I are talking to each other. I understand that the distance is an issue, but I’m not going to hold back because of it. In fact, I’m going to be more bold, because you’ve got me thinking, and so have the Valkyries. If there’s only one thing that I’ve learned in my four decades of life, it’s that time is the only thing that matters. We don’t have enough of it, and when you add space into the mix, we end up with even less. Velia, if you lived a few decks down, we could see one another regularly. We could meet for coffee, and we could stroll along the perimeter of the dome. We could spend time getting to know each other. Frustratingly, we don’t have that luxury. So I’m just gonna say it. I’ve developed feelings for you. You’re gorgeous and sexy, but I don’t even care about the photos. It’s about the words that we’ve exchanged. We have so much in common despite our vastly different upbringings and environments. I don’t know how we could possibly have a real relationship given our restrictions, but I don’t think that’s reason enough not to try. I think the opposite is true. I think we owe it to each other, and ourselves, to give it a shot. If we’re not willing to do something crazy in the name of love, then we don’t even deserve it, do we? If this was just you being funny and flirty, that’s okay, it doesn’t have to be awkward. I will be able to move on. But if this was real for you in any meaningful sense, then write back when you can. And Corinthia, you’re just going to have to be okay with that, even if it’s a little weird for you, or if you continue to believe that it’s a mistake.

Thinking of you both in greatly different ways,

Condor

Microstory 2367: Vacuus, August 28, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I’m not feeling all that well today. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I think I caught a stomach bug. The doctor has me self-quarantining, which is funny because that’s just how I typically live my daily life anyway. I wanted to respond to you, though, because I received your open letter. I attached the new document with my markups, but you can take them or leave them. If you just sent it to the base how you originally wrote it, it would be fine. I’m not surprised, your letters to me are always very well-written. Overall, I think it looks good. You didn’t say too little, or be too cryptic, but you didn’t overshare either. I would say go for it, if you’re comfortable, but you still have the option of declining the request. It’s not a big deal either way. Though, I do think you should change what you said about people asking questions. I’m willing to take on that role as intermediary. My suggestions are very minor, so it’s up to you whether to accept them. That also goes for whether to even send it or not. I won’t cloud your decision any further. It’s not like people will be mad at me if you decline. Both worlds will keep turning. I feel like I’m repeating myself, and should probably go back to bed. I’m going to be a little bit late with my thoughts on this latest Winfield Files book, but did you notice that we got a few spoilers from the last season of the show? It looks like they jumped a little ahead in the story, which I guess is what happens. The books are only told from the main character’s perspective, but the adaptation has the freedom to explore other people’s perspectives more directly, which has sometimes given us a bit of a sneak peek into what’s to come, before Winfield finds out about it in his own time. I don’t think it’s going to ruin anything, or that we should change our strategy. I just thought I would point it out.

Okay, goodnight,

PS: Are we gonna keep doing PS?

Microstory 2299: Panic Attack

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We’re putting the finishing touches on the arrangements for the memorial service tomorrow. It’s going to be a lovely, mostly somber event. But it won’t just be all wails and cursing at the gods. We’ll be playing both of their favorite music; moreso Dutch, since he had more time to develop a taste for what this planet has to offer. I’ll be giving the eulogy, of course, and I’m really nervous about it. I’ve never spoken in front of this many people before. The publicist keeps reminding me that I already have a huge audience, because Nick managed to build one for this blog, and I’ve been posting on it exclusively for days. That’s an interesting way to frame it, and I’m trying to hold onto that. You’ve been listening to me talk for a while now, even before Nick died; it’s just that it’s been through the written word, and now you’re going to hear my real voice, and see my real face. Oh God, I think I’m having a panic attack.

All right, I’m back. That white space between paragraphs is where that panic attack happened, but I’m okay. As a medical professional, I know all the tricks, but it’s one thing to give advice to someone else, and another to follow through when you need it yourself. I closed the lid of my laptop, shut the shades, and turned off all the lights. I sat upright in the hotel bed, and focused on my breathing. Despite the darkness, I could make out enough objects in the room. I could see the television on the opposite wall; the painting hanging over the refrigerator, depicting a frozen ice skating pond with scratches on the surface, but no skaters; the faint outline of the DO NOT DISTURB sign; the luggage I had sprawled out on the other bed; and the half empty glass of water on the nightstand. No, it wasn’t half empty, but half full. I could touch the soft sheets I was sitting upon; my overheated phone that I’ve been meaning to upgrade; the highlighter that I was using while researching eulogy commonalities; and the brass gooseneck reading lamp coming from the wall above the headboard. I could hear the sound of children running in the halls while their mother tried to shush them up; the hum of the furnace; and the ticking of the analog clock by the door to the bathroom. I could smell the half eaten box of cheese crackers on the table in the corner; and something dank that I couldn’t place wafting in through the vents. I could taste the toothpaste in my mouth that I should have more thoroughly rinsed out before I sat down to write this post.

I had to take another break, which is why I’m posting this later than usual. Everything is okay, and I think I’m gonna be okay, but as the memorial approaches, it’s like it’s all happening again. I never talked about it before, and I will probably never publicly go into too much detail, but obviously, I was there when they died. I remember the lurch of the vehicle as we slid on the ice, and finally came to a stop. I remember running out of the car, and one of the security guards holding me back so I couldn’t see the wreckage. I remember seeing the wreckage anyway, and feeling the heat from the flames on my face, which felt like they were going to burn me, yet somehow still could not protect my toes from freezing under the tyranny of the snow as it seeped into my socks. I remember thinking that no one could have survived that fall, even though I was still bleary eyed, and confused. There was no hope, and now these memories are coming back, which will only make the eulogy harder to write, and even harder to give. I need a third break.

Microstory 2260: Put it Off Forever

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Dutch’s interview with the talk show went great yesterday. He didn’t lie, but he kind of embellished a little, making it seem like there’s a lot more drama going on behind the scenes at the house. We’ve had our disagreements, but I don’t ever go into detail here, because I don’t think they’re that important. This is more about what’s happened, and how I feel about it. I feel like the rest of it is rather personal, and not my place to say. But you have to understand that we are three people from different walks of life, who have been forced together through unusual circumstances. We’re not gonna agree on everything. But it’s all okay. Anyway, it sounds more interesting than it’s ever been, so now the producers want me and Kelly to go on the show too. I couldn’t tell you how she feels about it, but I still don’t really want to. I’m very quiet and awkward, which you wouldn’t know from just reading these posts, because expressing myself is all I do here. But the written word is a lot different than in-person conversation, which is a far cry from a televised interview. Still, this is what people are asking me to do, and I’ve been getting requests from national outlets since I got sick from the prion disease. I guess I can’t put it off forever, and Hello, KC Metro is a good choice for a first attempt. Yeah, I suppose I would rather start at the local level if I have to do it at all. I won’t have to travel for it, and the pressure will be a little bit lower. So okay, I’ll do it, if they still want me. I’ll let you know more information as it comes in. Dutch’s interview was sort of last minute, but I should think that guests are usually scheduled weeks in advance, so don’t be expecting something tomorrow.

Microstory 2152: Stop Stopping Moving

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I’ve gone back to being bored and boring, and that makes me nervous. Every time that happens, I get sick, and then something too crazy happens as a result of that. I’ve sort of exhausted every kind of infection that you can get, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get another one of the same type as before. To shake things up, when I had some free time, I returned to the nursery where I used to work to see my old friends and boss. It was a little awkward, because I didn’t leave in the best way. It wasn’t combative, like what sometimes happens with former employees, but it was really weird. To make things less uncomfortable today, I bought a few pots, and some seeds. I mostly chose daisies, since that’s my dog’s name, so it’s fitting. It’s not like I can’t do with a little bit more color in my apartment. I have a history of having very sparse dwellings. I don’t put up photos or paintings. I was born in 1987, so everything I ever cared about was in the cloud by the time I moved out of my parents’ house. If I wanted to look at a picture of someone I cared about, I could just take out my phone. It never seemed better to be able to see such things along the hallways. Walls are just there to hold up the ceiling, and I don’t see blank walls as problematic. All of those pictures are lost to me now, and no matter what I do, I will never get them back. I’m thinking about giving a description of my dogs, Sophie (who is no longer with us) and Daisy, so I can have drawings of them, though they may not be very good, because I have a notoriously bad memory. I am barely confident that the artist could even get close, and I’m not at all confident that we could figure out what my human family looked like. Still, it’s not a bad idea. It would certainly give me something to do with my days besides working, writing, talking about my feelings with my therapist, updating my parole officer on nothing, and sitting in jail. I should make a list...a list of things I can do, which may not necessarily improve my life, but perhaps just make it different. I’m a shark, so I should stop stopping moving.

Microstory 2087: Into the Epicenter

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I went to the place where I knew someone was going to disappear mysteriously, and immediately started getting a weird feeling. The more I walked, the stranger I felt. I eventually passed out of the blast radius, and had to turn around. Through a little trial and error, I was able to determine the center of everything. There was nothing there but empty space in the middle of an alleyway, and I didn’t think that someone would necessarily disappear from that exact spot. They would have to be incredibly unlucky to happen to pass over it at the perfect moment. It was going to happen, though, and I was the only one who could stop it. I realized after standing there for a few minutes, keeping my head on a swivel to see if anyone else was in the area, that I had already felt this before. It’s what I felt when I first came to this universe. The incident was being replicated, one person at a time. This could either mean that they were going to Havenverse, which is where I last was before this world, or somewhere else entirely. This was Westfall. I mentioned that in an earlier post. It’s one of the things that takes people back and forth through the bulk. Most people don’t even realize that anything has happened, because they end up on a version of Earth sufficiently similar to their own. I have no clue how often this occurs, or in what universes, but this seems excessive. There always seems to be a purpose to it. The person who’s taken has something to accomplish in the next world over, even if they don’t understand it. It’s unlikely that this need perfectly matches up with the spiral I noticed on the map. No, I did this. I have caused Westfall to malfunction, and as I was saying, I have to stop it. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped into the epicenter, where I felt a rush of energy sweep upwards from my feet, and dissipate in the air above me. The strange feeling that’s indicative of Westfall went away with it. I think I destroyed the interversal conduit just by stepping into it. If there’s a way to escape, it could be through one of these, or it could be that I’m the only one in the world who can’t access these conduits. I don’t know, but there have been no new reports of any missing persons today. It may take some time for a loved one to realize it, but I have high hopes that I fixed it. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again tomorrow, though, so I’m going to do the same at the next spot. This is going to become tedious and tiresome, but it’s my responsibility.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 29, 2420

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“Hello,” Mateo replied. “Do you know someone named Venus Opsocor?”

“She’s a colleague of mine,” Senona answered. “Let me guess, she’s giving you trouble with the Nexus.”

“We’re trying to leave the galaxy that we’re stuck in, and return to the Milky Way. She wants us to go to a specific planet.”

“Do you want to hear my advice?”

“Do whatever she says?”

“Pretty much.”

Mateo nodded. “I was afraid you would say that.”

“I know who you are,” Senona went on. “I met your wife, who asked me for help with an issue you had, so I know that you know the drill. You get one wish. That wish can be to be sent somewhere other than wherever Venus wants you to be, but if I were you, I would not waste my one wish on that. I would pick something else.”

Here again is why Leona should not have picked him to do this. The only reason she did it was because she already received her wish, and would not get another. It was up to him to figure out how to resolve this whole situation, but their issue of only being able to go to Worlon from here was not the only one. They also needed to help Arcadia and her family get back to wherever they wanted to go, and the Flindekeldans might need help too. They prided themselves on being stuck here, but they never really were until about twenty years ago. They always had a way out, it was just somewhat difficult to accomplish. And they could have made it impossible for themselves, but they didn’t, so why not? Why the hypocrisy? And why wasn’t someone smarter here in his place, like Angela, Marie, or Ramses?

“Oh, I’ve seen this before,” Senona mused.

“You’ve seen what?”

“Some people come here alone, or if they’re not technically alone, they’re only responsible for themselves. They can choose whatever they want, and not worry about whether someone will get upset at them for not choosing something else. But a lot of people here will return home to expectations. One wish per traveler is a lot of pressure, so one thing I like to tell people like you is to try to think of something more general. Don’t ask me for a list of requests, and hope they’ll count as one thing when combined. Find a wish that helps everyone all at once. For instance, if all of your friends wished for a good meal, but they don’t like to eat the same thing, don’t list each one’s favorite foods; just ask me to give everyone whatever they want to eat. Simple. General. Doable. Obviously that’s a terribly pedestrian example, but I didn’t want to muddle your desire with something that is anywhere close to what you might be interested in.”

Simple, general, doable, Mateo thought to himself. That was good advice, but he still wished he were smart enough to translate it to his situation better. Ha, maybe he should just literally wish to be smarter. Nah, even if Senona were capable of that, it would be selfish, and meaningless. Think, think, think. What would be simple, general, and doable? He had a decent idea of what Senona could accomplish, and he also knew that they would ask for a final answer, rather than saddling him with whatever first came to mind, whether it was good or not.

“Okay,” Senona began, noticing how he was struggling with it. “Let’s switch gears. Let’s do the opposite of what I just told you. List the things that you need to accomplish, and I’ll see if I can figure out the wish from that.”

“Well, my team and I need to get to the Milky Way Galaxy so we can start helping people all over the Sixth Key with whatever they need. Arcadia and Vearden need to get their daughter back there too, but so they can keep her safe, and raise her right. The Flindekeldans, I believe, need access to a Nexus, but they don’t want it to be too easy to get to.”

“Hm.” Senona thought about it, or maybe they weren’t thinking at all. Maybe the came to the right answer right away. “Try this: I wish for everyone I care about to be wherever they truly wish to be.”

“Oh. Will that work? I mean, Baby Cheyenne only lives for one day every year. They can’t stop it. I’m sure her parents would wish her to not be on that pattern.”

“Yeah, but we’re talking about space, not time. That would be a different wish.”

“Right. And how does that move the Nexus? It’s too far away where it is right now, but it’s not a person, so it doesn’t wish for anything.”

“I can talk to Venus about that. Let’s just call it a bonus. The one wish rule is not an inherent limitation. I could give you as many wishes as I want; I just don’t.”

“Because it would set an untenable precedent, I get it.” Mateo thought more on it, and echoed, “I wish for everyone I care about to be wherever they truly wish to be. Hmm...is that enough?”

“What more could you ask for?”

“Well, just because I don’t specifically care about someone, doesn’t mean I don’t want them to be happy.”

“That’s fair.”

“So.”

Senona smirked. “So...”

“I wish for everyone in the entire universe to be wherever they truly wish to be.”

Their smirk widened into a full smile. “Final answer?”

Mateo thought on it just a little bit longer, then he nodded. “If you can do it, then yeah...final answer.”

“That’s a good one. It’s a big ask, but yes, I can do it. Might take me about a year.” They winked at him.

“Thanks for this, and for helping me get there.”

“You got there on your own. You should stop selling yourself short. You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, but a hammer isn’t meant to be sharp, yet it’s just as useful as a carving knife, isn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

Senona nodded. “That console over there can conjure just about anything from the bulkverse. It’s also a sequence terminal. Just press the symbol for zero again, and it will return you to your last location whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks again, Senona.”

“No problem.”

As they were walking back towards the rowboat, Mateo could hear something move on it. “Is someone else there?” he questioned.

Senona turned back but said nothing. “No,” came a familiar voice from the dark.

“Holly Blue?” Mateo asked.

Another pause. “No.”

Mateo laughed. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

One more delay in the response. “Thanks.”

He could hear them whispering to each other as they rowed into the shadows.

Mateo went over to the console that was sticking out from the platform. It looked just like the same old dialing pad from any Nexus control room, except that there was a speaker at the bottom. “Umm...one egg,” he requested in a funny voice.

A tray slid out from the front like a CD drive in a computer tower. One hard-boiled egg materialized on it. He cracked it and ate it slowly. “Okay. A dozen eggs.”

A carton of eggs materialized on the tray.

“Cool. Let’s try something else. A dozen secure subcutaneous transmitters that allow instant communication across vast distances, including alternate realities, and parallel universes, which can neither be detected, nor unwillfully surgically removed.”

A box appeared on the tray. Mateo opened it to find twelve discs and implanting instructions on a piece of electronic paper affixed to the inside of the lid. “Yes. These will do. No more secret emotion codes. He was never gonna be able to learn every letter anyway. This made much more sense. Not quite telepathy, but they should still be able to hear each other, even at a whisper. Ramses became so obsessed with coming up with a purely organic remedy to their weak original bodies that he didn’t think of something as simple as this.

Mateo thought about asking for other tech, but this was probably enough. He didn’t want to be greedy, especially since he already wished for all but world peace. So he pushed the two buttons, and returned to the Nexus building on Flindekeldan II. All of his friends were waiting there, sitting on the steps, the floor, and the wraparound ramp that led to the control room. “Hey, kids.”

“You’re back,” Leona exclaimed. She had been sitting in the control room. “You wished for Arcadia, Vearden, and Cheyenne to go to Dardius, and to place Flindekeldan II in orbit around the same host star as Flindekeldan I?”

“Did I?” Yeah, Dardius was a good place for them. They would be safe there.

“Did you?” Olimpia pressed.

“Was that wrong?” He couldn’t speak for these people, per se, but he had a decent idea of what they wanted, even if they refused to admit it. They didn’t want a way out, but they also did, or they would have sealed up the original emergency exit long, long ago. This seemed like a good compromise. It was hard to reach, but not impossible. You had to work for it, which meant you had to want it. For anyone who truly wanted to stay on this planet, all they had to do was ignore the other copy of the planet that was orbiting on the other side of the sun, which they should never be able to see anyway.

“Well, it’s just that they don’t have ships of their own. They’ll never make it here.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two days?” Ramses asked. “They’ll keep the Dante as an emergency shuttle. We don’t need it anymore. Let’s call it a gift.”

“This is a gift too, to you.” Mateo presented the box of communicators.

Ramses took it. “Oh. These were a good idea. Yeah, thanks.”

“I thought you were going to wish for Venus to let us go somewhere other than Worlon,” Leona said, almost scolding him.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Mateo explained. “We should go. There’s a reason that she wants us to. I’m willing to trust her. She’s done a lot for us.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 28, 2419

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The Team quickly discovered that they actually weren’t necessarily stuck on Flindekeldan. When they first escaped from here over 160 years ago, they did so by flying through a transition window, which took them to the main sequence version of the planet. After they were gone, luring their enemy at the time away, Ellie Underhill sealed up this window in order to protect the remaining residents of this world. When the five realities were destroyed, and taken into the Sixth Key—or in the case of the main sequence, copied and left whole—all of the inhabited habitats were brought along for the ride. Some of them were on planets, some inside of rotating cylinders, and some only on transport ships. There were five versions of Earth, five versions of Proxima Doma, even five versions of Durus. Flindekeldan was different in that it was only inhabited in the main sequence, and in the Parallel, so only those two ended up in the Sixth Key together.

But together would be a strong word to use in this case, because something went wrong here. The other version ended up flying off away from the star system, and into the interstellar void, traveling at an incredibly high speed. The Flindekeldans have since lost track of it, so if Team Matic wanted to get to its Nexus, they would have to find it first. It wasn’t just about them, though. Arcadia and Vearden also wanted to return to the rest of civilization, but there was a complication. Their daughter only existed for one day a year, and that day did not correspond with the other time jumpers. So while they were gone for their interim year, the Haywoods took the Dante into orbit, along with Cheyenne. Now that she was flying in a ship, Cheyenne would always return to the timestream relative to that, rather than the middle of orbital space, which would kill her. In the meantime, Arcadia and Vearden lived up there alone. Also during this time, Ramses’ probes went off in search of the other Flindekeldan.

Today was April 28, 2419, so the team was back, and Flindakeldan II was found, but Cheyenne was gone again. They could reach their exit in a matter of hours, but then what? “Uhh,” Olimpia started, “is this going to work? What happens to Cheyenne?”

“She’ll come back to that crib, where she was, even though we will have moved,” Mateo reasoned.

“Will she?” Olimpia pressed. “Even after we take the Dante through the Nexus?”

Oh no, that was a good point. Leona hadn’t thought this through. The moving spaceship rule was bestowed upon them many, many years ago. It was so long ago that they had never even heard of real Nexa. This was too much of a risk. No one’s fate was decided. Baby Cheyenne could very well die here. They couldn’t leave. Well, they could, but they couldn’t take the ship with them. The Haywoods and Team Matic were going to have to travel separately. They were on a different schedule. “That’s okay. Dante will transport us all to the Nexus. While we stay behind, I’ll make sure that you two understand how to collapse the shuttle into its pocket dimension. Once Cheyenne comes back, you’ll take her through. Months later, we’ll follow.”

“Are you sure?” Vearden asked. “Why don’t we just leave your shuttle here? After Cheyenne comes back to us, we shouldn’t need it anymore.”

“We don’t know what state the Gatewood Collective will be in,” Leona explains. “They could already be in the midst of war. You’ll need your own vessel. I would rather never see the Dante again then leave you stranded in the Gatewood Nexus building with no resources.”

“Either way, we better get going,” Angela urged. “We don’t know the state of things on the other Flindekeldan either. I would rather hurry up and wait than wait to hurry up.”

“She’s right,” Mateo said. “Is everyone ready to go?”

“Dante,” Leona began as everyone was nodding, “yalla.”

The shuttle flew out of the solar system. It wasn’t long before they caught up with the second Flindekeldan, hurtling through space, devoid of life and its atmosphere. Hopefully the Nexus building would be protected from the now-harsh environment, and if it wasn’t, they would make it that way. Unlike last time, they knew precisely where it was, but out of a concern for safety, Mateo and Ramses decided to teleport down to the surface alone. They were right to be worried. The building’s door was open, exposing the chamber to the freezing cold temperatures of outer space. It wasn’t empty, though. A man and a woman were in the Nexus cavity. A temporal field made it look like they were frozen in place. Ramses detected life signs, though, so that was good. He pointed his instrument up towards the control room, which was sealed shut.

The two of them teleported inside. Here the atmosphere survived. “Hey, Opsocor?” Mateo asked. “Yeah, I didn’t think it would be that easy,” he said when no one responded. “We should have brought Leona with us.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to Venus,” Ramses reminded him. “We can figure this out ourselves. Most people aren’t even aware that the God of the Nexus exists, yet they still find a way to use the machines, and the network that they’re on.” He sat down, and got to work on the computer while Mateo got on the radio, and updated the team.

A few minutes later, they realized that they were running out of air. If Ramses didn’t repressurize and recycle the oxygen, they wouldn’t have much time left. It never came to that, though. He reengaged life support, and dropped the temporal bubble. The two who had been kept alive in there stumbled around for a minute, dazed and confused. Once their brains stopped spinning, they noticed Mateo standing at the top of the stairs. “Mister Matic, is that you?” the man asked.

“It is.”

“We were locked out of the control room, and out of the entire network. I initiated the emergency stasis protocol, because that was our only option when we discovered that the door was stuck open too.”

“Are you aware of what happened? Have you heard of the Sixth Key?” Mateo filled them in on the basics while the rest of the group teleported down. Except for Arcadia, who didn’t want to leave Cheyenne’s crib unattended out here in the black, even though she wasn’t going to be there for months.

“The portal between the two Flindekeldans wasn’t sealed up,” the woman began to explain their side of the story. “It was locked. It was our shift to be stationed here, in case anyone wanted to leave, just as you did decades ago. No one ever did, but we maintained the connection in the event. We have to get this machine back to where it belongs. If both planets are now in the same reality, and the transition portal connecting them no longer exists, then we have to move it physically. People deserve the option.”

“Is that possible?” Marie asked Leona.

“The Nexus building can survive in the vacuum, and it has a moderate propulsion system, but it’s only good for stationkeeping. You couldn’t fly the tens of thousands of astronomical units you would need to in order to make the journey back to the other Flindekeldan.”

“Can the Dante do it?” Marie continued. “Can it tow it back?”

Leona sighed. “If the building were already in space, I suppose it could, but it’s been installed on the surface. I don’t know how to get it up there.”

“Can you...ask?”

Leona signed again. “Goddammit,” she muttered under her breath. “Hey, Venus?”

No response.

“Hey, Venus? Hey, Opsocor? Hey, Venus Opsocor?”

Nothing.

“She’s probably mad that you’ve found a loophole,” Mateo guesses. “She didn’t want you to leave.”

“Well, we can leave,” Ramses announced. “I’m seeing hundreds of destinations in the computer. We’re not locked out of any of them.” He regarded the screen in horror. “Wait. No, we’re—” His eyes widened. “Okay, now we are. We’re locked out of everywhere. Every single destination. This Nexus goes nowhere; does nothing.”

“Venus,” Leona complained under her breath again.

“Hold on,” Ramses said. “I spoke too soon. I think we can still go to Worlon.”

“That’s what she wanted.”

“This is what happens when you get mixed up with a god,” Mateo lamented. “I’ve been there.”

“A god,” Leona whispered. “Everyone jump back to the shuttle...except for Mateo. Do it now. Take a friend.”

Olimpia took one of the technicians by the hand, and Angela took the other. Ramses took Vearden’s. They all disappeared, leaving Mateo alone, not having any clue what he was meant to do now. Then he started to experience a deep overwhelming feeling. It was coming from all of his friends in orbit. For the last several days, when there was nothing else to do, they had tried to work on a way to communicate with each other using their psychic bonds. Since Ramses still couldn’t figure out how to make true telepathy happen, they were limited to conveying their emotions. That could only get them so far, thought, unless they used it as a code. It was a pretty simple system. Each emotion was assigned a letter; the first letter. For instance, annoyance could stand for A, boredom could stand for B. By slipping from one emotion to another in rapid succession, words could theoretically be constructed. It would take a long time to convey more than a single word, but it was a start. Actually, they hadn’t really started it yet. Only the concept had been devised. They had yet to determine a way to tell the difference between an attempt to convey a letter of the alphabet, and just picking up on someone feeling that feeling for real, because people feel feelings.

Overwhelming, okay. O. Mateo stood there and waited. O. That was all they were saying: O, O, O, O, O. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Why did Leona choose him for this job? He was the dumbest of them all. He just kept trying to figure it out. O, O, O, O, O. Oh! Zero! He jumped into the Nexus cavity, and kicked the symbol that represented the number zero. Then he kicked the enter button, and disappeared.

A rowboat approached in the water. The god tied it off, and walked towards Mateo. “Hello, and welcome to Origin.”

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