Extremus: Year 71

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The answer was obvious. It has been right under Tinaya’s nose the whole time. It wakes up next to her every day, and it does this thing where it puts her clothes on for her in the morning. Obviously she can do that herself, but Arqut did it to be romantic and chivalrous one morning during their honeymoon, and it just sort of stuck. Now she sits there like a doll, and lets him move her around as needed. Unless she’s in a hurry, then she turns into a real girl. But the point is that he’s the one who should be Ship Superintendent. He knows just as much about the new form of government as she does, and contributed to the initial concept a great deal. She wants to leave a life of service behind, or at least take a break from it. In a few years, she may decide that she wants to go back to Park Management, or just work in the Bridger section. But soon, it will just be time for her to relax. She believes that she’s earned it.

“We don’t want to appoint a superintendent,” Council Leader Addison explains to her. “We want it to be an elected position this time.”

“I see,” Tinaya says. “What’s the term limit?”

“No term limit. The winner should expect to remain available for a lifetime. Their duties will wane in such times that they are not needed, but should they be called upon later, they will return to the conversation.”

“I see,” Tinaya repeats herself. “Well, on a personal level, how do you feel about my idea?”

“I think Arqut would do a fine job,” Addison replies.

“But what?”

“But nothing,” Addison says. “Why does there have to be a but?”

“There’s usually a but.”

“But...” Addison begins.

“Here we go.”

Addison continues, “...I think we should stop saying the word but.” She smiles. “I really mean it, that’s a great idea. I have no issues with him, and I have no conditions to place upon it. If he can secure the vote, he can have the job.”

“I figured you would have someone else in mind, like perhaps someone who would turn out to be a traitor, and then I start to suspect that you’re a traitor too, and by the time I realize that you’re not, you’re killed in a semi-heroic act of self-sacrifice?”

“You’ve been watching too many Earthan movies.”

“More like reading the historical records of this very ship.”

Council Leader Addison nods, and then it looks like she’s had a new thought.

“Oh, no, what is that face all about?” Tinaya asks.

“But...that rule against an incumbent campaigning still applies here. The Superintendent is obviously not the same thing as the First Chair, but I still think you can’t advocate for your husband. I think you must distance yourself from the whole thing. If he wants to run, he’ll have to do so without you. Or me, for that matter, because it would be almost as much of a conflict of interest.”

Tinaya nods, and then looks over at Arqut. “What do you think?”

“I think I don’t love people talking about me as if I’m not in the room,” he says.

Tinaya puts a quizzical look on her face, and turns back to Addison. “Did you hear someone say something?”

“I don’t know that I did.”

Arqut rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, what do you think? You seemed amenable to the idea last night. Were you just saying that to appease me?”

“No, I think it’s a decent idea too,” Arqut answers. “I’ve always felt like I could do more. It wouldn’t be dissimilar to what I did before, when I represented the government during discussions between two or more departments.”

“You certainly have the necessary experience,” Addison agrees.

Arqut thinks about it some more. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Great,” Addison decides. “Then you need to leave. Or I do. We have to let you fly on your own, little bird.”

Arqut nods. “I know some people who might be able to help run my campaign. I don’t have to move out of the stateroom, though, do I?”

“It’s perfectly fine to live with your wife,” Council Leader Addison clarifies. She taps on her watch, and disappears.

“I have to get to a thing, but I’ll see you tonight for dinner, okay?”

“Okay.”

She kisses him on the lips, and then teleports away too.

When Tinaya crosses over to the Bridger section, her handler, Spirit is waiting for her. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

“Where, the entire Bridger section?”

“Yes,” Spirit says. “They’re mad at you.”

“For getting married?”

“No. Well, yes, but we’ve already talked about that. They’re mad about you dismantling the Chair system. They’re not finished with you.”

“Well, I never learned about the Three Bears War, so I guess the Bridgers and I are even.”

“It was not our responsibility to tell you that. It’s the crew’s. You know how it works. How many secrets did Captain Yenant keep from First Chair Ebner, or especially Ovan Teleres?”

“I don’t know how many. They’re a secret!”

Spirit nods. “Look. We can’t stop you from coming over to this side. Once we gave you access, you have it for life, unless you do something so bad that you’re locked up in hock for the rest of your life anyway.”

“Okay...”

“But you are no longer welcome here. I’m sorry, you’ve been kicked out of the program. You’ve been a great help to us. You’ve given us solid information, and helped protect both ships, ensuring the safest of its passengers, and the continuity of the mission. Unfortunately, your services are no longer required.”

“Good.”

“This is what you wanted,” Spirit states.

“Yes.”

“But if no one here trusts you, except for me, you won’t be able to investigate it for corruption anymore.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be. Some of our best spies have been suspicious of our intentions. We encourage them to question authority. Ever since the Bronach Oaksent incident, we’ve been a lot more suspicious of ourselves. We don’t want people who will just blindly follow every order to the letter. You’re supposed to make your own decisions. But there is a limit to that flexibility. According to the high officers of the Bridger section, you’ve crossed beyond the boundary. Congratulations, you’re free to relax now.”

“Thank you?”

Spirit smiles, and holds up a tablet. “I think you’ll be fine. You’ve reached 101% contribution. This means that your score is the highest it could possibly be, and can never go back down. It’s locked in place, even if the government later adjusts the parameters. You’re safe...unless, again, you do something so unforgivable it lands you a life sentence in hock.”

“Cool beans. So this is it? We’ll never meet again?”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Spirit steps into the corridor, and lets the hatch close behind her.

“I didn’t think you left the Bridger section. Avelino only did a few times.”

“This is true, but I’m no longer employed by them either. I quit.”

“You quit? Why?”

“I told them that I would if they let you go.”

“Why weren’t you bluffing?”

Now Spirit smirks. “A seer told me to leave. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m never going back in there.” She jerks her head towards the hatch. Don’t cry for me, Argentina. I’m as sick of my current life as you always seem to be. I’m ready to go try something else.”

Captain Lataran Keen suddenly steps up to them from down the corridor. “Good, because I got somethin’ for you both. We have a hostage situation.”

“A hostage situation?” Tinaya questions. “Where?”

“Verdemus,” Lataran answers. She tries to take Tinaya by the hand.

Tinaya keeps her hand away just in time. “What is a Verdemus?”

“It’s the gateway planet,” Lataran says before adding, “the one where we’ve been getting all of our paper?”

Tinaya looks over at Spirit, who grimaces slightly. “I told you, there are things that the crew doesn’t let you in on. It’s tradition to leave the civilian government in the dark about things that don’t happen in the residential sectors.”

“I’m different.” Tinaya faces Lataran again. “I’m different,” she repeats. “We’re friends. You could have told me that we left people there.”

“Sorry. There’s no excuse, but you’ll have to yell at me later. I really need you right now. The hostage-taker will only speak to the First Chair.”

“Where are we going?” Tinaya demands to know, still not taking the Captain’s hand. “How do we transport back and forth from this Verdemus place?”

“The Mirror Room,” she answers. “We installed the backup mirror on the other side, so the portal is open all the time, unless we need the main one for something else.”

Tinaya never knew that there was a backup mirror either. She thought she knew pretty much everything, because of her connections. If she didn’t find out about something by being a spy, then it should have been from her time as the First Chair, and if not then, then she could have uncovered any missing information from all of her unauthorized hacking. She’s slipping...or maybe she’s never been as good as she once believed. “Fine. I’ll meet you there.”

Just before Tinaya teleports away, she hears Lataran start to ask, “Where are y—”

She’s back in her stateroom. “Arqy.”

He turns around. “Hey, hon. That wasn’t long.”

“You were right, we still have access to the planet. They call it Verdemus.”

“Because it’s green?”

“I’m about to go find out. Someone’s been taken hostage, I guess. They’re asking for me. I never thought I would go off world, but in case it ever happened, I’ve been prepared.” She walks over to her dresser to open the bottom drawer. “I swiped these from the Bridger section. I don’t think anyone noticed.” She reaches deep into the back, and unlatches the hidden panel. When her hand comes back out, she’s holding two flat fern green cases. She holds one of them tightly between her middle and ring fingers. She holds the other one loosely between her thumb and index finger, and shakes down to let the glass slip out into her other hand. “Time signal mirrors,” she explains. She hands Arqut the other mirror, so he can take it out. She holds her own in front of herself so he can get a look at her pretty face. “You can’t turn them off. It always shows you what the other mirror is seeing.”

“What is this for?” Arqut peels a thin film off of the back that Tinaya has never noticed before. She didn’t spend that much time with them. They were always meant to be used in an emergency, like this. He swings the film over, and sticks it onto the other side. The image from its partner mirror is gone. Now it’s just a regular reflection.

“Oh. I guess they can be turned off. But there’s no sound either way.” She peels her own lid off, and flips it over to the other side. “I’ll just say it’s a makeup mirror.”

“You don’t wear makeup.”

“Please.” Tinaya frames her jawline with the back of her fingers. “No one believes that about me, even though it’s true.” She starts to take her clothes off so she can put on something more durable and outdoors-worthy. She’s been to the Attic Forest a million times, but she’s never truly been outside. Almost no one on this ship has. She’s only learned survival skills academically. School teaches it because, even though no one alive today will ever reach the Extremus planet, they’ll need to be able to effectively pass this knowledge onto the next generation, and not because they will see the planet either, but because eventually, someone will.

“I love you,” Arqut says to her once she’s ready to go.

“Love you too.” They kiss. He grabs her ass for luck. She disappears.

The guard in the Mirror Room does check her for contraband. He doesn’t find the time signaler, though. Tinaya remembered that her coat has a hidden inside breast pocket dimension. The zipper is invisible to anyone unless they hold a particular shade of green light up to it, which she can generate on her watch. It’s called a spectral lock, and as soon as she gets the chance, she’ll change it to color combo, instead of singletone. No weapons, she’s good to go. The mirror technician, which is a job that didn’t need to exist before, reaches behind the mirror to activate the portal. When she gives Tinaya the go-ahead, Tinaya follows the security team through. Spirit crosses over behind her.

Extremus has lighting, of course, but it’s never brighter than it needs to be to see. Energy isn’t as precious of a resource as it was on Earth in the 20th century, or the early 21st century, but there’s no point in wasting it. Studies have shown that a lightly used corridor only needs about 100 lumens to navigate, and rooms need less than 200. Until paper was developed here, no one ever raised the brightness above that, because devices all produce their own lighting. The host star is extremely bright compared to what she’s used to. A security officer notices how much Tinaya and Spirit are struggling. He takes out a spare pair of sunglasses to give to Tinaya, and elbows his teammate, who takes out a pair for Spirit. They help her immediately, and as the group is carefully heading towards basecamp, the gradient adjusts accordingly until they’re barely dim at all. It’s probably not that bright by a normally evolved human’s standards.

The officers tense up as they approach the camp. They’ve built up the infrastructure quiet a bit. An electric fence surrounds the whole area, which a gatekeeper has to open for them. There must be dangerous animals around here. They keep going until they’re in the middle of town. The grounds are completely empty, except for one woman standing patiently in the middle distance. When Tinaya gets closer, she sees that the woman is chained up with a line that goes all the way to the building behind her, and through the doorway. “Report!” the team leader orders.

“I speak for Ilias,” the woman replies. Where has Tinaya heard that name before? The woman taps on an earpiece in her left ear. “I mean that literally. I have to say what he says, as he says it. I’m wired up.” Tinaya does see a wire threaded through the chainlinks. “I’m even saying what he’s saying right now. This woman is a stupid bitch.”

Tinaya seethes through her nose. “State your demands...Ilias.”

“First Chair Leithe. Thank you for coming. I have immense respect for you, and I regret having to involve you in this. You were always really great to my father, and he needs you now more than ever. I want a posthumous pardon for him.”

“I can’t unilaterally make pardons,” Tinaya replies. She remembers who this guy is now. Or rather, kid, because he can’t be older than twenty at this point. It’s Ilias Tamm. Disgraced former captain, Soto Tamm was his father. “Even if I could, your dad was a member of the crew. That’s a whole separate thing.”

“I understand that, but I need you to advocate for him. Please, you’re my last resort here. I have exhausted all other options.”

“Violence was a bad choice,” Tinaya warns him.

“I’ve not hurt anyone yet,” Ilias explains. “I’ve only threatened. And that’s as far as it will go unless I don’t get what I want. Soto Tamm did nothing wrong, and it’s time that the ship knows that. It doesn’t matter that he’s already dead. His good memory deserves to be restored.” Soto Tamm died in hock a couple of years ago. No one but his family went to his memorial service.

“When I give the signal,” Spirit whispers, “I need all four of you to run towards that building to the right as fast as you can, brandishing your weapons.”

“He’s in the mess hall,” the team leader argues. “We’ve confirmed that.”

“Exactly,” Spirit replies. “Three..two...one, go.”

Not knowing exactly what the plan is, but trusting Spirit Bridger, the guards run off like they’re about to attack someone who doesn’t exist.

“Where the hell are they going?” Ilias questions through the hostage’s voice.

Spirit teleports a few meters forwards holding what kind of looks like a shovel. She jams it into the chain, which hopefully cuts the electric wire. “Go get him, soldier!”

Tinaya teleports into the cafeteria, and spots Ilias. She barely recognizes him from the one time she saw him years ago, but he’s holding a gun, so it’s not that hard to tease him out of the crowd. She teleports a second time, and wraps her arms around his shoulders, then she teleports one last time. It’s a blind jump, which means she has no idea where she’s going. She’s just trying to get as far away from the building as possible. It’s far enough. In fact it’s too far. But it’s still close enough to see. A mushroom cloud rises to the sky after a huge explosion. Shit. He was on a dead man’s switch.

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Microstory 1989: Senior Moment

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IC Commissioner: Investigator Blass. Welcome to my office. Have a seat.

Blass: Thank you for having me. I have always respected and admired your work.

IC Commissioner: Yes, yes, very good, thank you. I called you in today to fill you in on what’s been going on with our investigation into the...traitors and spies that you discovered in our midst regarding these um, O—Ocho, uhh...

Blass: You can just call them aliens, sir.

IC Commissioner: Aliens, right. Obviously I don’t know much about them, but I’ve been briefed; emphasis on the brief. It would seem that we’re in the middle of a secret cold civil war. Can you believe it? We have departments undermining other departments, elected officials making hush-hush deals. The corruption is rampant, and I’m about to get fired because I’m not doing my job.

Blass: I don’t agree with that, sir.

IC Commissioner: Well, I think I do. I let it go this far somehow without realizing it, and the only way the Internal Compliance Commission survives to fight another day may be for me to step down. But that’s neither here nor there. I think it’s somewhere in the middle. Anyway, ‘nough jokes. You have continued to work with DExA, correct?

Blass: Yes, I’m still stationed there, even though everyone knows that I’m an internal investigator. Don’t worry, they’ve been very nice and accepting.

IC Commissioner: Good. I hope you understand, we couldn’t have you involved in the interviews we did with this Sergeant Sachs asshole, because of your slight conflict of interest. Such is the price of being embedded. Now normally, you would not be entitled to further details—you still aren’t—but I, and the rest of the team involved, feel that someone on that side of things ought to know what’s going on.

Blass: Okay.

IC Commissioner: Sachs does not consider himself to be a traitor. In fact, he keeps calling the interviewers traitors instead. We have finally figured out who he has been taking his orders from, and it could spell doom for our country.

Blass: I don’t know that I should hear this; it sounds far above my paygrade.

IC Commissioner: Not anymore. *hands him a document* You’ve been promoted. Congratulations Senior Internal Investigator Blass.

Blass: Oh. Thank you, sir. This is so unexpected. *pauses* In that case, who is it?

IC Commissioner: It’s Congressman Colonel Piers Jamison.

Blass: Holy Crap. The man prides himself in rooting out corruption.

IC Commissioner: I know.

Blass: He came up through the ICC.

IC Commissioner: I know.

Blass: No matter what, the ICC loses. We look bad whether we go after him or not.

IC Commissioner: That’s right.

Blass:*face sinks* That’s why I’m being promoted.

IC Commissioner: You’re being promoted because you’re smart enough to know why you’re being promoted; because only a Senior Investigator can go overt. Congratulations again, you’re our new spokesman. Your first press conference is tomorrow morning.

Microstory 1982: Accusations

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Flynn: The Director has pulled up. What do you think she wants to talk to us about?

Celandine: She’s looking for the mole. She’ll be interrogating us for information.

Anaïs: Unless she’s a mole too, in which case the whole thing will be a charade. She may even be intending to frame one of us for it, so she stays in the shadows.

Flynn: You don’t really think she’s a traitor, do you?

Anaïs: Sachs is, and she chose him to join our tack team.

Celandine: That’s proof of nothing. Careful where you throw your accusations.

Anaïs: Why, because they’ll come flying back at me?

Celandine: Maybe.

Flynn: Easy, ladies. We’re all on the same side. Now, I don’t know if the Director is dirty, just like I don’t know if I can trust all these new agents around us. I felt so much more comfortable around the freepersons than I ever thought I would. But the one thing I do know is that I’ve been working with you two for months, and you’re definitely clean. Can we all at least just agree on that, and stick together?

Anaïs: I can.

Celandine: I can too. You’re right, Flynn. *sighs* She’s here. Get ready.

Director Washington: *walking up* Agent Robles, please gather the troops. I would like to address the group as a whole. I do not like repeating myself.

Celandine: Apologies, sir, I’m not in charge here.

*Washington looks over at Investigator Blass*

Blass: It’s true, sir. Herzog made a declaration after the others...after the exodus.

Washington: Investigator Blass, always with the politically safe verbiage. Very well. Go find him, and relay the order. In the meantime, Agent Robles, do you have tea?

*later, in the bullpen, with everyone in the department*

Washington: Last week, we unmasked a traitor in our ranks. Sergeant Sachs was a dedicated soldier, a patriot, and a good man. How he lost his way is something that I have assigned a team to figure out. This small group behind me is here to do the same with the rest of you. I’m going to be honest with you, we don’t know if he was working alone. He could have been a lone zealot, or there are others in your ranks. Or there are others, but they’ve been assigned to other departments. We truly do not know. If you are a mole, this may make you feel safe, comfortable. But I assure you that I will use every tool in my box to root out the cancer in the government, be it one of you, or even the National Commander himself. The aliens are here, and the last thing we need is to be fighting amongst ourselves when they make their next moves. We have to be ready, and this department was originally formed to do that. I’m saddened that it has disintegrated so epically quickly. In the next coming days, you will be questioned. Your backgrounds will be rechecked, and rechecked, and then re-rechecked. Your associates will be investigated, and your history will be traced. In the meantime, you will continue your training here, under the leadership of Agent Robles here. Who is Agent Herzog?

Herzog: Right here, sir. I took the initiative when the defectors...defected.

Washington: I heard. You’re fired, and you’ll be the first in the hot seat. No one does anything without my orders. Does everyone else at least understand that?

Microstory 1945: Cutting Teeth

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Leonard: Hold your fire! I know them!

Reese: I do too.

Shadow Team Leader: Yeah, I recognize them from the files.

Leonard: Look who’s in the back.

Reese: I see him. [...] Jail Guard, We’re surprised to see you, especially with those two.

Former Jail Guard: Well, after what happened, I was fired. They said it wasn’t about the escape, but we all know it was. It turned out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to me. But that’s a roundabout story. I’m sure you don’t have time for it.

Leonard: And you two? How did you end up here, and why?

Escapee 4: Part of that is part of Former Jail Guard’s story.

Shadow Team Leader: I need to know the truth; the whole truth. If there’s a leak or a weakness in our organization, we have to understand it so we can fix it. No one was meant to know about this operation. How did you find out about it?

Former Jail Guard: Well, if you insist, I’ll get into it. Like I said, I was fired, but not before I met you, Agent Parsons. I was inspired by your words at the law station, and I started looking into applying to Fugitive Services. Of course, I’m not really qualified for all that. Apparently everyone needs some kind of predating story?

Reese: It’s not an official requirement, but it’s an unwritten custom that FS doesn’t accept you unless you’ve already caught someone. Most people go after small fish; a simple bounty that any rookie could find. They’re usually hiding at their girlfriend’s.

Former Jail Guard: I didn’t wanna do that. I wanted to cut my teeth on something pretty big. I met with your former partner, and he—perhaps unwittingly—gave me the impression that no one was really looking for the five escapees. It’s not like the competition would have been my greatest obstacle, but I still figured I had a better shot. And obviously *points* I found them. Well, I found most of them.

Escapee 1: Four out of five ain’t bad.

Leonard: Where are the other two?

Escapee 1: Escapee 2 and Escapee 3 didn’t want to stick around. He let them go.

Former Jail Guard: They told me about how Agent Parsons found the fifth escapee. The story was really weird, so I was intrigued. I think we uncovered a lot, right? We learned about the bond groups, and the OSI. You were in a fancy hotel at one point. I just knew that there was something more to this, so I reached out to...someone who could help me hack into the OSI’s system.

Shadow Team Leader: So there is a weakness.

Former Jail Guard: There was a leak. Don’t worry, it’s been plugged since, but not before the three of us discovered that there was something freaky going on in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. We didn’t know for sure that we would find you here, but we knew there would be something. We saw the footprints leading here from the road, so—

Shadow Team Leader: Wait, what? Footprints? There should be no footprints.

Former Jail Guard: There was one set, leading in this direction.

Shadow Team Leader: We wiped everybody’s tracks on our way here, including our own. Weapons up again, folks. Someone else is here.

Microstory 1886: Gone Away

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I spent years looking for a decent job after high school. I mean, based on my skill set, I had a number of okay ones over the years, but none that would really support me the way I felt I deserved. When I did get that job, I was cheated out of some of what I was owed. It came with two weeks of vacation time, but in order to save money, my supervisor chose to not inform me of this fact. He went even further than that by claiming that I didn’t qualify for time off under this and that policy. When his boss found out, she was livid. By then, I had worked for the company for eleven years, which meant I actually should have started getting four weeks off per year. Normally, they didn’t carry over, but through some maneuvering, they gave them to me all at once. That was a total of nineteen weeks when all added up. The only thing was that I had to take them off by the end of the current year. Which essentially meant I had to leave right away. In fact, she tacked on an extra week to round out the number, and just not have me come back in until January of the next year. What was I going to do with all that time? It was over four and a half months. I wasn’t making a whole lot of money, so it’s not like that freed me up to go on a cross country tour, or a cruise. The best idea I had was to go visit my cousins who lived on the border. I didn’t get a chance to see them very much, so this was a great opportunity for a cheap, but still relaxing, sabbatical. I didn’t sublet my little house, because that wasn’t really a thing in the region. I just locked it up and left. I did ask my neighbor to bring my trash cans back up to the house one last time, which he agreed to do with a smile. I had my mail forwarded, and went on my way.

When I came back, the place was dusty as hell, but everything was otherwise fine. The trash cans were where they were meant to be, and some mail was already waiting for me in my normal box, as planned. I still had that last week of time off, so it was time to clean up. I used a lot of disinfecting wipes. Plus, there was some fruit in the fridge that I forgot to toss. And a loaf of bread in the pantry. And some other food in the fridge. Okay, it was a mess, but that’s not the point. The point is I had to gather all that up, and take it out to my cans. At first when I opened the lid, I didn’t know what I was looking at. I was in such shock, I couldn’t process it. I didn’t scream, or jump back in horror. I just stared at the body, trying to piece together what it was. Only after I realized the truth did the smell hit me. It should have been my first clue, I don’t know why it waited so long to waft up to my nose, but I did have to slam the lid shut, and step back. I still didn’t scream, though. I’m not that kind of girl. Assuming that I would be prime suspect, I contacted the authorities, and let them come out and investigate. To my surprise, they didn’t even consider me as the culprit. Even before they had all this evidence with my mail forwarding, and corroboration from my cousins, and other people, they believed me that I wasn’t the murderer. By the way, the victim was my neighbor, and they said he had been stuffed in there for about four and a half months, which suggested the killer did the deed around the time he was trying to help me out. I had to move, which was fine, because I was fired after three days of missing my return to work due to the trauma. I just couldn’t live in that house anymore, and I had encountered a few originally ignored job opportunities where my cousins lived, so I figured I could just go straight back. That was almost four decades ago. They never found the killer.

Microstory 1576: Time Off

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[Note: Inferkit appears to be down today, so I had to switch to a different text generator from DeepAI.org. I knew I should have worked ahead. That’s what I get for relying on others. As you’ll see, this one is so much worse, and makes so much less sense.]

Prompt

I hate taking time off of work, because it doesn’t lighten my load. All it means is that I have to work ahead before I leave, and catch up when I return.

Botner

The best part is that I don’t have to leave work if I find one in the near future. This is going to cost you money. I’ve had the luxury of getting a few hours of training this summer, especially since I found out how to write JavaScript. I’ll be working on a rewrite of my JavaScript, on time, at the same time I run errands and make plans for the season, and if I’m out at all I need to get off schedule, all at once. That means the most important thing now, is to be able to do everything I want and still come out tomorrow. What’s the best part about working here? You’ll be much better at your job. Your time and work. So much more productive stuff. Why don’t you work at your school? It sounds silly, but if you want to know how to do something or say something—as opposed to waiting for a deadline and learning a new vocabulary—at your school, I can talk you through how to get started. And because I know a lot of people, I can get started. Also, if you are reading this, your mind is going to be more focused if you spend longer, more time, and more time doing...

Conclusion

...whatever you can to get your point across in the most concise and understandable way. You can’t just jumble your ideas together, and spit them out, expecting everyone to make sense of the mess. The last paragraph was an example of what can go wrong when you try to convey a thought without truly thinking about it ahead of time. I left work last week, confident that everything was finished. But it turned out my boss unloaded a bunch of other stuff for me to do while I was gone. He claims he came in at 4:59, but I don’t leave a second sooner than 5:01 every day, so I know he’s lying. Even if he had showed up before I left the room, he knew I had to leave for my sleep study. I couldn’t stick around this time. Besides, none of this garbage is time sensitive. We’re scanning records that no one will see, and we’re winding down the project, so I have plenty of time. I imagine he wants me to finish as quickly as possible so he can let me go. I’m not a temp, there’s supposed to be more work waiting for me in a few weeks, but this company doesn’t like to do things that way. They got a lot of bad publicity for converting most of their workforce to temps, so they didn’t have to provide benefits. So their solution was to hire permanent workers, and just let them go before the benefits cost them too much money. I don’t think they’re doing that math right, but every time they fire someone, and onboard someone new, their proverbial accounting calculator resets, so they can’t tell how much their new method is costing them. They’ll be sorry in the long run.

Microstory 1384: Journalistic Objectivity

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Celebrity Interviewer: Truth be told, I do not care for being on this side of the interview.

Entertainment News Colleague: We’ve not even begun.

Celebrity Interviewer: There. That’s the attitude I had, and I was fired for it.

Entertainment News Colleague: Like I said, we haven’t begun.

Celebrity Interviewer: Ugh. I know.

Entertainment News Colleague: We don’t have to do this. I can go run with another story.

Celebrity Interviewer: No, I’m here. I wanna tell my side of the story.

Entertainment News Colleague: Your story is that you were fired recently. Tell me about what precipitated that.

Celebrity Interviewer: First of all, I want to make sure the public understands that I’ve learned my lesson. Journalistic objectivity isn’t something to be taken lightly, but it’s also something that’s very easy to lose sight of. I wouldn’t have gotten the job in the first place if I had developed a reputation of being completely unbiased during my earlier reporting. It starts off small. You make one quip here, inject a bit of your own personal opinion, and it snowballs. I didn’t realize how bad my work had gotten until I watched that supercut.

Entertainment News Colleague: You’re referring to the viral video going around the internet that shows you disrespecting your interviewees.

Celebrity Interviewer: Yes, that’s right. Obviously, I always watch my own interviews, but seeing the worst parts of them all stitched together really opened up my eyes. I was, as you said, disrespectful, and dishonorable. I don’t do that anymore.

Entertainment News Colleague: How did you react when you learned your former assistant is the one who edited and uploaded that supercut?

Celebrity Interviewer: I was relieved and proud of her. She saw an injustice, and she took it upon herself to report that.

Entertainment News Colleague: So, you weren’t mad?

Celebrity Interviewer: Absolutely not. We’re still really great friends. And I don’t mean that as a polite white lie for the public to believe. We really are, and I’m sure she’ll corroborate that.

Entertainment News Colleague: But she’s no longer your assistant.

Celebrity Interviewer: Of course she isn’t. She’s going places, and I wouldn’t have wanted her career to stall by wasting her time managing my calendar, and getting me coffee.

Entertainment News Colleague: Okay. So you mentioned that you don’t conduct interviews in the way you were criticized for doing. I assume that means you’ve gotten another job as a reporter?

Celebrity Interviewer: Yes. I had no shortage of offers from competing media organizations after I was fired. Unfortunately, I had to wait six months before I could accept any one of them, because I signed a standard six-month non-compete clause with my former employer.

Entertainment News Colleague: Was your new employer sympathetic to your situation, or did they agree with your critics?

Celebrity Interviewer: I don’t think those two are mutually exclusive. They agreed completely with my critics. They knew, however, that I would never do it again, because the whole situation humiliated me, and I don’t want to feel like that again. The six months I was unemployed were pretty difficult. I had trouble keeping up with my bills and rent payments. I was never living under and overpass, or anything, but it was rough. Honestly, I believe my former employer would have hired me back, knowing I’ve corrected my behavior, but that would have been bad publicity.

Entertainment News Colleague: So, you harbor no resentment from them?

Celebrity Interviewer: I harbor no resentment for anyone.

Entertainment News Colleague: What about Ex-Cop? Your interview with him was said to be the last straw.

Celebrity Interviewer: Legally speaking, I’m not allowed to discuss Ex-Cop, the scrapped film he was cast in to play himself, the interview itself, or anything related.

Entertainment News Colleague: Okay. So, you said you had some financial troubles after you were let go. But your public image doesn’t seemed to have taken a hit.

Celebrity Interviewer: That’s true, and part of the reason I was able to get hired again so quickly. The public was actually on my side. Most of them couldn’t see anything wrong with how I treated my interviewees, or the news itself. But that’s because they’re not journalists, who agreed to be impartial, objective, and unbiased. I’m grateful for them, for sticking by me, but that doesn’t make what I did okay. I still apologize to my audience for that.

Entertainment News Colleague: Well, I would say good luck with your career, but that wouldn’t be very unbiased of me, so instead, I’ll just say thank you for the interview.

Celebrity Interviewer: Thank you as well. I appreciate the opportunity to explain myself.

Microstory 1377: No Remorse (Part 1)

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Crime Reporter: Hm. An ex-cop who was the subject of a scandal involving an innocent black—

Ex-Cop: Allegedly innocent.

Crime Reporter: Sir, footage proves that the victim was not part of the protests, and was on his way home from work.

Ex-Cop: Well, I think it’s up for interpretation.

Crime Reporter: His boyfriend was filming the protests from the passenger seat, and the victim was talking about how the protests aren’t doing the community any good, and they’re better off waiting until the next vote. He was clearly doing nothing wrong.

Ex-Cop: I stand by my actions.

Crime Reporter: You do? You were charged with homicide.

Ex-Cop: Allegedly.

Crime Reporter: No, sir. It is a fact that you were charged in the homicide of Innocent Victim, police brutality, and related charges.

Ex-Cop: Those are bogus charges, and you know it. We all know it. This is just another ploy by the black man, trying to get sympathy for a so-called hard life.

Crime Reporter: Um. I’m not sure how to respond to that.

Ex-Cop: It’s the truth, so I imagine all you have to do is open your eyes and ears.

Crime Reporter: This isn’t an identity studies debate, so let’s get back to the interview.

Ex-Cop: Fine by me.

Crime Reporter: Your report on the incident claims that you felt threatened by the victim, and that you had no choice but to beat him to death.

Ex-Cop: I did not say I beat him to death.

Crime Reporter: No, sorry, I was mixing it up with this social media post you released later that day. I quote, “what the black man will newer [sic] understand is that cops arent profiling the color of his skin. We’re looking at a history of crime perpetrated by those with similar skin color. There is a huge difference there. I beat him because i had to. He died because he broke the law.”

Ex-Cop: I deleted that post. How did you get your hands on it?

Crime Reporter: Magic.

Ex-Cop: Earlier, I said I stand by my actions. I also stand by my words. It’s not racial profiling. Black people are incarcerated at a much higher rate than white people. They commit more crimes, so I was just doing my job.

Crime Reporter: First of all, you literally defined racial profiling in the same paragraph where you refute that that’s what it was. Secondly, incarceration rates are based on the actions of law enforcement, and not criminals. Those rates include those who are later found innocent, and technically those who are never found innocent, but are anyway.

Ex-Cop: Well, I don’t believe any of that.

Crime Reporter: You don’t believe innocent people go to jail?

Ex-Cop: They might go to jail, but they don’t go to prison. The system is flawless.

Crime Reporter: I can’t imagine that’s your real position.

Ex-Cop: It is. Look, everyone wants me to apologize for what I did, but I don’t apologize. I would, if I ever did anything wrong, but that ain’t me. I didn’t make a mistake, or take it too far, or abuse my power. I did everything by the book, and I’m proud of the work I did with the Hillside Police. I’m going to be fighting these charges, and I’m going to get my job back. Or I’ll get a better one somewhere else.

Crime Reporter: Okay. Well, let’s talk about the evening in question. 

Ex-Cop: Ask away, sweet thing.

Crime Reporter: Don’t call me that.

Microstory 889: Healing Glass

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I have no idea how I ended up at the site of this car wreck, but I know I have to get out of here. It must be raining, because the side of my face is wet, and I’m having trouble staying on balance. I slip and slide away from the cars, and start heading down the street. At first I think there are a whole bunch of obstructions in my way, but then I realize how silly I’m being. There’s nothing in front of me, but my own glasses, which are so scratched up and cracked that I just can’t see very well. I take them off to examine them, but quickly realize that the reason I have glasses in the first place is because I can’t see without them, so this isn’t doing me any good. Best I can tell, there’s also some weird red stuff on the frame. There must have been paint in one of the cars that crashed. I put my glasses on and keep walking, angry that my glasses are damaged when I didn’t even do anything wrong. A guy can’t even have a few drinks after a hard day of work without his glasses getting all jacked up. Thanks, Obama!

I reach for my elbow, and wince in pain. A couple weeks ago, I fell down the stairs of a hotel. It busted me open, which was bad enough, but now I’m dealing with this terrible infection, and I got fired. Apparently a guy can’t even take a couple weeks off of work without telling his boss to make sure he doesn’t use his arm too much. Thanks, Obama! Anyway, that just adds to my case. Before, the hotel would only have to pay my hospital bill, and my medicine, which were quite expensive. But now I can sue for damages, or whatever, since it caused me to lose my job. My elbow isn’t hurting that much right now, though. It’s my other arm that hurts when I try to check on my elbow. Let’s see, when did I last take my pain meds? I lift up my watch, which is cracked too, but I can see enough of it to tell that it’s only been an hour. Surely I can take another couple, though. I’m not operating any heavy machinery, am I right? I keep walking as I take the pills, just waiting for my glasses to heal themselves, but it almost seems like they never will. What a rip off. I mean, the lady at the eyewear store didn’t explicitly say that they can heal themselves, but I’ve heard of things that can do that, so I guess I just figured my glasses was one of those things now. Okay, now the rain is getting into my mouth. Oh wait, no, it’s coming out of my mouth. Does rain ever do that, and why is it red? Is that paint? Oh my God, now I have to sue someone for getting paint in my mouth. When did I last take my pain meds? I lift up my watch, which is cracked too, but I can see enough of it to tell that it’s only been an hour. Surely I can take another couple, though. I’m not operating any heavy machinery, am I right? I keep walking as I take the pills. That’s funny, I should have at least ten left, but now the bottle is empty.

Microstory 590: Operator Halts All Ploutonic Enterprises Operations

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Our new overlord, proclaimed by some to be the incarnation of God, has decided to cease all operations at Ploutonic Enterprises. Ploutonic began in the early-to-mid 20th century with one goal: to give the people what they wanted. Their slogan was the same yesterday as it was when it first began, “Always there, hands open.” What exactly does this mean? Well, as time marches on, society and its peoples develop different priorities. At times of war, Ploutonic manufactured uniforms, munitions, battle transport, etc. At times of great peace, such as following the Stockton Nuclear Disarmament, Ploutonic designed innovative toys. Their original toy factory remains standing today, and has occasionally been used as a Bellevue outpost. They have had their hands in a number of wildly different industries, sometimes overlapping each other, but often after shuttering one division in favor of the next. Their unorthodox strategy has led to great profits, but have recently seen a decline in success. A quote from business analyst Riva Holsten, originally posted on her newsblog, is below.

[Ploutonic] always positioned themselves to take advantage of relevant opportunities. No one could accuse them of not understanding the future, that’s for sure. They’re always one step ahead of the trends, leading some to believe its founder to possess anomaly abilities to actually see the future. This would certainly explain their deep connection to Bellevue. But all the future studying in the world can’t help you if people begin protesting your brand. The fact is that Ploutonic has had to lay off more of its workforce than most companies of its calibre, and it’s done so in order to make room for these new opportunities, not because it had to. And their aggressively passionate stance in support of disloyalty finally caught up to them near the end of the millennium. Few employees were sticking around past a year, and even fewer people were applying for the vacancies. The enthusiasm just wasn’t there anymore. What always baffled me was how baffled they were about this turn of fortune. Honestly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I surmise that the only thing that kept it afloat was the number of people who were able to stay on board based on their qualifications, regardless of what direction the company went in. Accountants and marketers, for instance, can account and market for any industry. Unfortunately, many jobs aren’t like that, and this made people angry. If the organization didn’t close artificially anyway, I would have estimated their longevity at three years.

Godlike anomaly Operator—who possesses the ability to manipulate the physical movements of anyone and everyone on the planet simultaneously—has finally decided that enough is enough. Ploutonic Enterprises, and all of its divisions, have been completely shut down, effective immediately. Most people still working there have been transitioned into Operator’s universal basic income program, which draws its fund from the no longer necessary defense budget. Most recent president and CEO of Ploutonic declined to comment in detail regarding the new development, saying simply, “I didn’t want it to end at all, but I definitely didn’t want it to end this way. Operator was able to make my fingers type the email blast that laid off my entire workforce at once, but she couldn’t stop me from crying while I was doing it.” Early reports suggest that Operator will convert Ploutonic Enterprise’s headquarters into a reformed education academy.

Microstory 472: Floor 14 (Part 2)

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Scientist 1: Hey, do you know where Lead Scientist is?

Scientist 2: I believe that he went upstairs to speak with the president.

Scientist 1: To what end?

Scientist 2: To request we move our offices and labs back to the original facility, because this one isn’t great for us.

Scientist 1: Yeah, it’s a beautiful building, but we really should go back.

Scientist 2: Yeah, we should def go back, but Lead Scientist should not have gone up there asking for that.

Scientist 1: Why not?

Scientist 2: This is a trying time for all of us, for no one more than Alpha. This was his company, his baby. It’s no wonder he faltered...literally, once it all started to come crashing down.

Scientist 1: Are you saying that Lead Scientist pushed him to it? I don’t mean pushed him, pushed him. I mean, do you think their conversation drove him to it?

Scientist 2: Oh, certainly not. In fact, I don’t even think he went up there early enough to say one word to Alpha before he fell. I just mean that it was foolish for him to do it. I don’t want to say he was lucky for having missed his chance, but I do think things could have been worse if he had been there—and I’m not just referring to the emotional trauma from witnessing someone’s death.

Scientist 1: Or he could have stopped it from happening at all, if only due to the butterfly effect.

Scientist 2: That’s true. But then his job would be at risk, even more than it already is. All of ours are.

Scientist 1: Yeah, I get it. I see what you’re saying. But he couldn’t have known how bad things had become for the company. I mean now we’re hearing all sorts of rumors flying around. Alpha dies, the elevator crashes and more people die? Things are getting worse. If none of that had come out, I bet going up there wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea.

Scientist 2: Yeah, maybe. I suppose there’s no way to know. What happened, happened.

Scientist 1: That might not be an entirely accurate assessment of our situation.

Scientist 2: What the hell are you talking about?

Scientist 1: I think maybe it’s time for you to see what my special team has been researching on the thirteenth floor.

Scientist 2: There is no thirteenth floor. This building was designed by superstitious people. Technically, this is Floor 13.

Scientist 1: That’s not exactly how this building was constructed. You’ll see.

Microstory 471: Floor 15 (Part 2)

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Contractor Coordinator: Hey, do you know where Construction Administrator is?

Electrical Contractor: He went upstairs to speak with the president, I guess.

Contractor Coordinator: Oh, he must have gotten stuck during the lockdown.

Electrical Contractor: Yeah, or...

Contractor Coordinator: Or what?

Electrical Contractor: Or he’s the one who caused the lockdown.

Contractor Coordinator: How would he have done that?

Electrical Contractor: He could have pushed Alpha down the atrium.

Contractor Coordinator: That’s ridiculous.

Electrical Contractor: Is it? He was convinced that nothing that happened in your company had anything to do with him. He’s wiped himself clean of all responsibility, and I hear he was pretty vocal about throwing everyone else under the bus.

Contractor Coordinator: That’s not what it’s like. He’s just afraid of losing his job. We all are.

Electrical Contractor: Exactly. The fear of unemployment can drive men to do crazy, sometimes violent, things. I could picture an argument escalating and escalating until it gets out of control. There’s a stronger chance it was an accident than there is that he did it on purpose. I’m not saying he’s a psychopath.

Contractor Coordinator: This building isn’t in the best shape. It’s not surprising at all that Alpha fell down a skylight that was designed by the same windows team that built the known defective products. It’s the same reason the elevator crashed. What’s really weird is that they happened at the same time.

Electrical Contractor: Again, exactly. To your first point. I can’t explain why the happened at the same time. But it does illustrate how poorly this building was constructed. That would only generate further stress on Construction Administrator. In my experience, those who deny that they’re at fault the most passionately are at the ones at fault, at least of something. Maybe he pushed him, maybe he didn’t, but if I see him come back down here before lockdown ends, I’m breaking lockdown myself and getting the hell away from him. Just to be safe.

Contractor Coordinator: I think you’re being paranoid.

Electrical Contractor: No, paranoid would be if I claimed he also caused the elevator to crash. Which, by the way, I would be able to do in about seven different ways. And they’re just the ones I can think of at the top of my head.

Contractor Coordinator: Nice to know what you’re thinking about when you’re bored.

Electrical Contractor: Hey, I’m a professional. I can’t know how to fix elevators if I don’t know how they can break.

Contractor Coordinator: Fair point, and Construction Administrator has as much education as you do. But no, we’re saying that that’s crazy, right? [...] Right?

Electrical Contractor: Shrug. I think it could go either way.

Contractor Coordinator: ...

Electrical Contractor: Chip?