Showing posts with label fountains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fountains. Show all posts

Saturday, March 8, 2025

The Fourth Quadrant: Flying Like a Rock (Part IV)

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Mount Hilde does not only grant access to the Sixth Key from Fort Underhill Proper. It also serves as the frontlines. In the parent universe, Salmonverse, direction and location are all about one’s frame of reference, but not here. There is a hard limit to the scope of Fort Underhill. Move far enough in any direction, and you’ll reach the physical boundaries that hold the cosmos together. You would not be able to break free through that wall, however. It’s reportedly fifty times thicker than the walls of a normal universe—whatever that means, and whatever these walls are made out of. Only something called the Aperture leads to the kasma, where you can potentially escape into the multiverse, but even that would not be guaranteed. Team Gatekeeper has come to find out why this is known as a fort at all. It’s meant to be a haven for any and all peacelovers, so the entrance is the only way in or out. The world they’re standing on right now is at that entrance. The peak of Mount Hilde is apparently pointed right at it. If someone wants to come here, looking for trouble, this is what’s gonna be in their way. It’s thusly unclear why the team is even here in the first place. This whole place was designed to keep out intruders. Security is what they supposedly do best, so why do they need a small team of individuals who only recently came together?
“You’re not here to secure Mount Hilde,” Hogarth explains. “You’re here to protect the diplomatic team that I’ve assembled. This is just the means by which we reach the plane of existence that we’re headed for.”
“You let me secure the perimeter,” Selma reminds her. “The perimeter to this facility, on this mountain.”
“You were on a roll, barking orders. I didn’t want to slow you down. Plus, it’s always good to get a second opinion on our security measures.”
Selma sighs.
“Miss Eriksen,” Hogarth continues, “you were not assigned the leadership role of your team, yet here you are, taking charge.”
“Atticus wasn’t saying anything.”
“Hey, I agree. Every military is defined by how orderly and organized it is, as is any well-run private organization. But the reality is that true leaders aren’t hired, or designated. They step up. Those are the ones that people are better off following, because they earn their place every day. If they fail, they lose it. Someone who serves as leader in any official capacity will often just be allowed to stay there, even if they don’t deserve it. I think Atticus is recognizing the same thing that I am, and is allowing you to do what you need to do. It’s what we all need right now. You are what we need. So do your thing. I’ll let you know when you’re messing something up.”
Selma is skeptical to stay the least. She taps her earwig. “Fall back to the lobby. It’s time to go.” She looks up at the foggy second story. “I’m guessing that’s our entrance?”
“You guess right.”
“It’s a portal, or something?”
“Or something.”
“That’s vague, and unsettling. Is it dangerous?”
“Everything is dangerous,” Hogarth says, likely having fun being cryptic and unhelpful.
“Please clarify.”
Hogarth sighs. “I didn’t make that. That is supposed to lead to the observation platform, where you can spot the Aperture with the naked eye. The fog was placed there by a...friend of mine. I can’t tell you how it works, because he didn’t tell me.”
“Please clarify,” an unsatisfied Selma repeats.
“He’s a god. He’s literally an energy god. He doesn’t intervene as much as I would like, but he agreed to facilitate diplomatic discussions with our apparent enemy by building us some kind of bridge. I don’t know where it goes, and I don’t know what we’ll find when we get there. That’s why I need you. I certainly can’t fit my whole robot army up those stairs. I wish that I could prepare you better, but I don’t have all the answers.”
The two of them are standing on a small mezzanine level, between the main floor, and the fog. Climbing up the rest of the stairwell would seemingly take them up to the real top of the building. Selma looks up in that direction. “No one ever does.” She watches as everyone down below begins filing back into the lobby from various doorways. Once everyone is back, she begins to walk back down the steps, but stops. “Wait. Is that the diplomatic team? Do they have any experience?”
“Those are my people,” Hogarth says. “I’m the only representative from Fort Underhill who will be going on the mission. The diplomats should be arriving shortly.”
She was right. Just as Selma is stepping down to join the group, five more people enter from the fog. Hogarth looks just as surprised as Selma and the Fort Underhillers. Four of the newcomers begin to descend the curved staircase while one of them stays at the top. “People of Fort Underhill, allow me to introduce you to...the Diplomats.” The way he pauses before the last two words makes it sound like they’re part of a club. “Flux Do-4 of Vaidy, Major Regolith Hagedus of Gavismet, Major Allomer Franks of Fanter, and Awilda Zewflux of Vaidy. Chief Truncative Kanani Kekoa could not be here today.”
“That’s him,” Hogarth whispers. “That’s the energy god. He’s not the one I talked to about the diplomats. He had nothing to do with that. At least, I didn’t think so.”
Major Franks looks back up at the god. “You’re not coming with us?”
“It’s not my place,” the god replies.
“We don’t even know what we’re doing,” Major Hagedus complains. “Where have you brought us?”
The god smiles. “To a pit stop. Come back up here whenever you’re ready.” He doesn’t move a muscle. The fog billows out a little more, and overwhelms him. When it recedes, he’s gone.
“I don’t think that was really Dyne Dyne,” Major Franks says to Flux Do-4. These are all very interesting names.
“I would have to agree,” his friend, Flux Do-4 says stoically.
Hogarth walks over to meet the Diplomats at the bottom of the stairs. “Thank you for coming. We face a great unseen enemy, and would like to resolve things amicably, if at all possible.”
Major Hagedus nods. “We’ve learned to accept any job that has been given to us, whether we asked for it, or not. Give us the details.”
Atticus is still technically the leader of Team Gatekeeper so it is he who joins Hogarth and the Diplomats in the briefing room while Selma and everyone else wait out here by the fountain. They’re in there for about forty-five minutes before they come back out. Hogarth says her personal goodbyes to her friends, then takes a few steps upstairs before turning around to address the crowd. She pulls in a deep breath, and exhales with zen-like vigor. After building sufficient anticipation, she finally speaks, “forward now, unto the breach!” She spins back around, and starts to run up the stairs.
For a second, no one knows what to do, but if Hogarth needs protecting, then Selma is going to be the one to do it. She slips through the crowd, and begin to follow her up. Neither of them make it into the portal fog, though. A blast of some kind shoots out from it, and throws them both over the railing, back towards the floor. Selma doesn’t make it there, though. The central fountain contains statues of people, standing in a circle, and reaching their hands outwards, interpretively in friendship to all. Above them, a young girl is crouching on a platform, pointing outwards as well. Slightly higher, a boy is hanging onto the central column, holding on with one hand and two feet like a monkey. His other hand shields his eyes from the sun. He’s searching for something in the opposite direction of who Selma imagines to be his sister. Just above him is another flat platform where the water splashes onto, so it can rain down below in random patterns, unlike the symmetrical nozzles near the top, which fling jets in neat, predictable arches. Selma crashes onto her back on this empty platform, head turned to the side so she can watch Hogarth’s neck slam into the edge of the pool. The rest of her body is now sprawled out on the floor, motionless.
Selma’s vision is blurring, but she can still make out what’s happening. Four silhouettes have emerged from the fog. They stand on the landing together in a line. The fog recedes up through the opening in the ceiling as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. As it does so, the silhouettes become clearer. One of them appears to be Tamerlane Pryce, though not the avatar of the magical Magnolia tree. It seems to be a real version of the original man. “Who did we get?” he asks, looking down at Selma and Hogarth. “Only two? Hm. That’s disappointing.”
Selma struggles to lift her shoulders up from the stone platform to lean against the column. It’s incredibly painful. She probably broke her back.
“Not even. Well, I guess we’ll have to get the rest some other way,” Tamerlane laments.
“Look,” the other man in the attacking group says. “What’s happening with the dead one?”
Selma struggles again to turn her head, and look back down at Hogarth who appears to be disintegrating? Her body is literally falling apart into a million tiny pieces, flaking off and fading into oblivion. It’s reminiscent of something Selma once saw in a superhero movie they made in the main sequence. During the Rock negotiations, representatives from the different realities would be asked to share art and culture from their native lands to promote unity and camaraderie. The ending to this one was particularly sad and depressing, even though it was the 21st film in the series, and they hadn’t watched the ones leading up to it. In a matter of moments, Hogarth’s body has completely disappeared into nothingness.
“Well,” Tamerlane says with one clap of his hands. “One down, however many to go. Iolanta? Make sure they stay here.”
“Done,” Iolanta replies.
“A.F., I suppose you’re the more...violent of us. Just try to make it efficient, and painless. Our only objective is to protect The First Explorer.”
The other guy cracks his own neck, and psychs himself up, bouncing around like a boxer preparing for a fight. He reaches behind his hip, and swings a rifle down and around into killing position, fancying himself some kind of action hero. Lowell Benton of Fort Underhill doesn’t hesitate before running up the stairs to meet his enemy. He anticipates being shot at, and dodges the first bullet. But the second one hits him square in the chest. He bursts into a million pieces, just as Hogarth had, though much faster. The dust he leaves behind eventually vanishes. A.F. is shocked at this. He rolls his gun a little to his left, and examines it for answers.
“Was that supposed to happen?” Tamerlane questions.
“I shouldn’t think so,” the killer responds.
“I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so keep going, A.F.”
Andrei and Ayata spring into action. They play a little gun fu with A.F. His weapon is long, heavy, and unwieldy. He can’t move it around as fast as they can sprint and hop, and it’s no good in close quarters. He gives up, and starts fighting them in hand to hand combat. He’s getting tired, though, and knows that he’s no match for them with this tactic. He manages to keep them away from him long enough to pull out his sidearm, and shoot them in the stomachs. They too instantly dust apart.
“Okay, now this is getting ridiculous!” Tamerlane cries. “That’s just a nine mil! What the hell is happening?”
“I don’t care,” A.F. growls back. “It’s working.” He gets his rifle back into position, and starts spraying bullets every which way. He’s not aiming at all, just trying to let the auto fire paint the walls with his enemies’ blood. Except there is no blood, only disappearing dust. He’s letting out a primal scream, probably believing himself to be a real life Rambo, or something. That’s another gem of a movie that the main sequence showed them on their breaks.
By some miracle, none of these stray bullets hits Selma. She’s partially covered by the stone column, but not entirely. At least one of them should have slipped through. She has to watch as all of her new friends are slaughtered senselessly. Once he’s done, he drops the end of his gun to turn it into a walking cane to hold himself up while he catches his breath. Selma looks around at the fountain, and sees that it has suffered no damage at all. It must be protected by a force field. She doesn’t know why they would bother designing it this way. She should count herself lucky, but that’s not how it feels. She’s alone now, and they’ll figure out how to kill her eventually.
A.F. seems to have come to the same conclusion when he notices that she’s still alive. He slowly and deliberately picks his gun back up, cowboy walks over there, and attempts to shoot her at point blank range.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tamerlane shouts. “Watch where you’re pointin’ that thing, asshole!”
“There’s a plasma barrier,” A.F. figures.
“Yeah, I see that. It could have ricocheted.”
A.F. steps a little closer, and lifts his hand, trying to find the barrier manually, but there’s nothing there. It passes right through, unimpeded. With a chuckle, he steps into the pool to no resistance. He chuckles again. “Loophole,” he delightedly declares. He trains his weapon for the last time, right at Selma’s head. “Any last words?”
She stares at him blankly, still in an immense amount of pain. “They keep calling you A.F. What does that stand for? Ammo fucker?” She pulls out her own sidearm, and shoots him right in the forehead. In a surprising twist, he dusts away like everyone else. That’s evidently just what happens to people when they die in this room. Her own life is hanging on by a thread, so she’s about to find out first hand if that’s true. The darkness enshrouds her eyes, and she slips away peacefully.

Tuesday, November 22, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 19, 2398

Meredarchos fell off the map. He never tried to sneak into The Lofts. He never showed up anywhere near the Fountain of Youth. If they were right about his motives in any sense, he probably connected with the past version of Erlendr, who they still haven’t found. They’re not even destined to find him. Erlendr left the universe, and so did Mateo, Leona, and Alyssa. When they came back, they may have come back to a different timeline. Nothing they think they know about the future can be trusted. They could be stuck with two Erlendrs forever. One of them must theoretically cross over to the main sequence to jump start the series of events that leads the team here in the first place, but they’re not even sure of that. This is all new territory, and they’re lost in it.
Leona and her SD6 team are preparing to leave the Orlando area tonight, but not before a permanent installation is established. A group of researchers and operatives will be monitoring the Fountain in case Meredarchos does ever show up, but will also be protecting and studying the Youth water bubbling up from the spring. That’s what they plan to do anyway. Anyone who steps foot into the water becomes immediately stricken with a strong sense of urgency to head for the center, where they will most likely be transported to Birket. So far, by a system of pulleys and ropes, it has not yet come to that, but it is always a risk. The team gave the government all the details about the phenomenon, and they’ve now wiped their hands of all responsibility.
Nothing is really happening today back at the team’s building. Leona is the only one capable of safely operating the Insulator of Life, plus the Livewire. Arcadia has agreed to help fix Ramses, but then she really does just want to get back to her normal life with Vearden and Heath. Angela’s work is presently on autopilot, so she’s bored, and upstairs in the lab, where she comes across the box of Rothko’s magical flashlights that were recovered from the grounds of the blacksite. There are eleven of them in total, of all different shapes and sizes. The largest is the size of her head, and the smallest can fit on a keychain. She lays them all out, arranging them according to color, because again, she’s bored. She wants to switch them on, but she knows that the others would not be happy. She finds herself focusing more on the penlight than the rest. Is it less powerful? Will it run out of energy sooner, if any of them run out at all? What can it do? What can she do with it? Ah, it doesn’t matter. She’s just curious about a unique thing.
“What are you doing?” Marie has secret agented her way into the room unheard.
Without even realizing that she’s doing it, Angela slips the penlight into the back pocket of her pants after she turns to face her alternate self. “I’m just making sure that everything is okay in this room. Why, what are you doing?”
“I was looking for you,” Marie explains.
“Well, I’m here.” Is this the first time she’s hidden something from someone in the centuries that she’s been alive? Well, not always alive, but whatever.
“My old boss called. He wants to speak with me about an incident that happened about four months ago? I did the math, that was when you were impersonating me, so I don’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t say who you had the problem with, because he assumed I would recall. Tell me what happened,” she asks gently.
“I don’t understand how you stood it for all those years. This world is more backwards than ours. I’ll tell you, but only if you promise not to get mad.”

Monday, November 21, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 18, 2398

It was Vearden who figured it out. Rather, he made a guess, and the team has taken a gamble on it. He realized that when Arcadia explained to them that they should assume Erlendr knows everything that Ramses knows, she missed one detail. They must also assume that he recognizes that Arcadia is smart enough to know that, and would tell the team. The theory is that Erlendr convinced Meredarchos to start a trail from Kansas City to Nashville, then double back. They should have been suspicious the whole time. He was nowhere to be found after the escape until he suddenly popped up on a convenience store security feed in St. Louis. The next day he made a second appearance, all the way in Tennessee. He wasn’t heading for Orlando. He was drawing them away from his real target, which is the man who helped break him out of the blacksite.
Arcadia wasn’t lying, she just failed to see the entire plan. Meredarchos is a psychic from another universe. Temporal energy has nothing to do with that. Telepathic powers have always been a separate thing from time manipulation. They just so happen to be present in the same world. Those who possess both do so via coincidence more than anything. He has no use for immortality water of any kind. Being transported to Birket would have been a great way to escape North America, but then he would be trapped in Birket, and even with the ability to push thoughts into people’s minds, it would have been too much work to escape. He would have been better off going in any random direction, and trying to blend in with the civilians there while he learned how to take back control of his powers. Erlendr knew that his cover was not going to last forever. As intelligent as he is, he’s not a particularly good actor. He can mimic the behavior of those he knows best, and that really only includes his so-called family. He may have access to Ramses’ memories, but he doesn’t understand his personality.
He needed a way out, and Meredarchos is that way. It’s the only thing that really makes sense when trying to explain why he made any attempt to break Meredarchos or Rothko free. No matter what he says, Erlendr doesn’t do anything unless it’s for Erlendr. He cares about no one, and he doesn’t help people out of the kindness of his heart. He’s a predator, and a user. The Fountain of Youth couldn’t be anything but a red herring. Even so, they can’t risk it being the answer, so the team is splitting off. Believing more firmly that Meredarchos would be coming to help Erlendr, Arcadia stays behind with Mateo, along with most of the restidents of The Lofts. Leona and Vearden, meanwhile, will take the SD6 operatives to Florida, and wait for him there. If he does show up, Mateo will teleport Arcadia to their location. Her own psychic prowess is still their best weapon they have against his psychic invasions. They’re holding Erlendr-slash-Ramses in the basement, inside of a cage that was designed to transport gorillas. Alyssa comes down to give Mateo and Arcadia some lemonade. “I had a thought.”
“Okay,” Mateo says in a welcoming tone.
Alyssa is watching Ramses’ face for any reaction to her words. “There are two Erlendrs in the world right now, right? There’s the one who ran off with Ramses’ body, and then the one we found in that other universe, evidently from our future.”
Mateo nods. “Right.”
“So...which one is this Meredarchos guy on his way to rescue?”
Mateo looks to Erlendr too, to see if he gives the truth away. Unclear. “Crap.”

Sunday, November 20, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 17, 2398

Leona Matic is no longer a scientist trying to coordinate the construction of dozens of fusion manufacturing plants all over the country. Nor is she a wife, or a time traveler. She’s gone full secret agent, leading a team of highly trained operatives in search for the universe’s most wanted man. This mysterious Meredarchos is an invader, and this is true in every sense of the word. They’re not sure of the full extent of his power, but he can reach inside people’s minds, and fabricate an artificial sense of grievous community. He doesn’t just instill loyalty to himself in his victims, but to each other. According to what little information that SD6 was able to get out of him, it’s his dream to unite the infinite peoples of the bulk under a singular objective. The objective itself is unclear, as are the logistics of such a feat, but one thing they do know is that his power only seems to work correctly on about half of the population. Well, it works on everyone, but only half of them will pledge fealty to him. The other half will fight to the death to stop those they consider infected. Basically what he does...is start wars.
Dressed in black tactical gear, Agent Matic opens the door with the same key that Heath copied for her when they first arrived. He, Arcadia, and Vearden probably should have changed the locks when they decided to move in here together. They’re all three at the table, eating dinner. Without specific orders, the operatives fall into formation around the diners.
“What is the meaning of this?” an outraged Heath questions.
Leona ignores him, and addresses Arcadia. “On a scale from one to your father, how good are you with psychic powers?”
“Um, six? In this reality, maybe one?”
“That’s better than anyone else we got, except for Erlendr himself, who we know we can’t trust.”
“Better for what?” Arcadia asks.
“Can we trust you? We’re looking for the fourth prisoner. Will you help us, or will you skip out on us again?”
“I apologized to Angela,” Arcadia explains, referring to the reception job she quit without giving two weeks notice.
“That’s not my point.”
Arcadia takes a breath. “I know. I’m sorry to you too.”
“Hold on,” Heath interjects. “We talked about this, remember? You don’t owe them anything.”
“I’ve not told you everything,” Arcadia says with a hand upon his. “I do owe them. I own them a lot. Thank you for being there for me. Outcasts united.”
“Outcasts united,” Vearden and Heath respond simultaneously. Is this a cult?
“I need to change first.” When Arcadia wipes her mouth with her napkin and stands, Vearden does the same. “You’re not coming,” she tells him.
Vearden laughs. “Funny.” He steps between the operatives, and heads for the medium-sized bedroom to change his clothes.
“What is that?” Leona asks Arcadia.
“It’s...new. I would ask you kindly not to dwell on it.”
“Okay,” Leona agrees.
Arcadia goes into the same bedroom. It’s new, and it’s moving quickly. They come back out of their room together, having seemingly worked out their dispute. They’re wearing tactical gear too, which is weird on so many levels. Vearden isn’t a fighter, and Arcadia has always had special powers. Why do they own this stuff? “Are we goin’, or what?” she asks.
They say goodbye to a bitter and resentful Heath, then head down the stairs, and get into the armored truck. They don’t think their target has had enough time to build an army for himself, but he’s had a little. He could have a few bodyguards by now, who would be willing to die for him, and if he selected them right, they could have some firepower, so it’s not unreasonable to travel this way.
“Do you have any idea of where he may have gone?” Vearden asks as they head down the road.
“Local law enforcement has been instructed to observe and report,” Leona explains. “They are not to engage, even if they see him commit a crime. They appear to understand that we’re trying to formulate a pattern. He was moving eastward, but he was last spotted in Nashville, which is more to the south.”
“What have you told him about this world?” Arcadia asks her. “I mean any and every reality on this planet, in this universe?”
“Nothing. Literally nothing.”
“But he’s been talking to my father.”
“Telepathically, reportedly.”
“And my father is now in Ramses Abdulrashid’s body?”
“Yes.”
“Sharing it, which means that he has access to all of his memories?”
“That’s right. At least that’s what he claims. You know how much he likes to lie.”
“He’s not lying about this, but he’s not telling you everything about his relationship with Meredarchos. Sharing a mind is hard. It’s not like he would have suddenly absorbed every single one of Ramses’ thoughts. He has to decide on what he wants to know, and then ping Ramses’ consciousness for the answer. Still, you have to operate under the assumption that Erlendr knows everything that Ramses does, and by extension, Meredarchos does too.”
“Okay...”
“We’re in Kansas City. He’s in Nashville. So think. If he wants to go southeast, where will he end up? Is anything special that way?”
Leona thinks about it. Nothing really. Alabama...maybe Georgia, Flor— “Florida.”
“Exactly. Have you tried to look for it? Does it exist here?”
“Yes. We found it. We’ve been staying away, though, because it’s not safe. It lures you in, and transports you to the Dead Sea.”
“Where are we talking about?” Vearden asks. “Where is he going?
Leona pops a holographic map up from her watch, and traces the highways from here to Orlando. He’s been going in the right direction so far. “The Fountain of Youth. If he gets there, he’ll have more than enough temporal energy to get his powers back, assuming that that’s what he needs, and he can resist the temptation. We don’t know how he works, or if it will affect him the same way as others.”
“It might, or it might not,” Arcadia reasons. “Erlendr may have convinced him that it does. Either way, we have to beat him to the punch.”

Sunday, September 4, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 2, 2398

Heath is pacing around again, this time in the main seating area of The Olimpia. He hasn’t spoken to his wife in four days, and hasn’t seen her in five. Neither she nor Kivi has been responding to their messages, but their devices are still on and active, in Middle of Nowhere, Florida. In fact, they haven’t moved a centimeter since June 30, which suggests all kinds of possible explanations. They could be dead, or stuck in a timeloop or time bubble. They could have lost their belongings, and moved on, or someone might have stolen them, and left them somewhere. Heath is presently considering all of these possibilities, plus some more outlandish ones. He keeps asking Leona and Ramses questions about how time and time travel work so he can add more to the growing list, and enhance his own sense of dread. It’s not healthy, but nothing they say appears to be helping him out of the grim hole that he’s digging for himself.
Leona is operating the controls, hunting for a landing site as close to the unmoving phones as possible. Ramses gets on the intercom to begin an announcement as they approach their destination. “Welcome to the location of Youth Water. It comes from a natural spring in the middle of inland Florida, which dried up centuries before it was permanently settled by Europeans. In the main sequence, this area was well-developed by the time the culture advanced to this point in its history. It boasts one of the first regions to undergo the massive rewilding effort that sought to revitalize the world’s wildlife, and consolidate human populations into ever smaller artificial habitations. But still, the spring was dry, only to be accessed long ago in the past. It is one of the most popular of the immortality waters, because it can help promote life extension in the deveiled humans of history without interfering in later endeavors to assemble the other waters, and possibly achieve complete and total immortality.
“According to the correspondence map, Marie and Kivi’s devices are currently located at the approximate location of this spring, implying that there is something quite interesting there. And I’ve just been informed by my co-pilot that the nearest open area for vertical landing is about four kilometers from this site. We apologize for the hike that will soon be demanded of you, but barring teleportation, or aerial vehicle fast rope, this is the best we can do. Mateo and I will be staying with the Olimpia in case it’s needed at a moment’s notice. The rest of you will make the trek to the target location. Thank you, and please be patient while we execute this latest, delicate maneuver to the ground.”
Mateo and Ramses wait in the clearing while the others go out and attempt to make sense of all of this. A couple of hours later, Angela returns alone. “They’re gone.”
“What do you mean, they’re gone? They’ve gone where?”
Angela catches her breath. “While Leona was looking through the phones they found by the edge of the water, Heath dove in, believing the spring to be the ultimate answer to his question. She went in after him, and they both disappeared. I was feeling a strong pull to follow them. It took everything I had to not get in the water too, because I knew I shouldn’t. They did have their devices on them. Ramses, can you track them?”
He loads up his own device. It takes him longer than they would think. It should be a quick friend location ping. “Umm...it’s complicated.”
“How so?” Mateo asks.
“They’re in the future.”

Saturday, September 3, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 1, 2398

Marie continues to watch the water try to escape gravity, but inevitably fall back down. All of the sudden, a hand touches her shoulder, and she breaks out of it to find Kivi next to her. They’re not in the water, though. They’re somewhere else in the middle of the woods. “What happened?”
“You were in there for two minutes. I worked up the nerve to go in after you.”
“Then you dragged me out of the water, through the woods? To what end?”
“I dragged nobody nowhere. You must have teleported us here.”
“I did no such thing!” Marie insists.
“Okay, then the time gods did it. I’m sorry, I don’t know,” she defends.
Marie composes herself. “No, I’m sorry. I think there’s something weird about that water. I was not in there for two minutes. Rather, that’s not what it felt like. And right now I feel agitated, and angry at you for taking me away from it. It’s not fair. I want to go back there. I know that I shouldn’t be so...invested, but there’s something drawing me to it, like an addictive drug.”
“Maybe it’s an actual drug,” Kivi reasons.
“Yeah, and maybe drinking it turns you into an asshole.”
“Are immortals assholes?”
“Ya know, I’m not sure if I’ve ever met anyone who drank all the waters. I know of some people who were, to various degrees, immortal, but for other reasons. Mateo once told me of one guy, though. He was an asshole, but I don’t know if this was why.”
Kivi nods. “We need to figure out where we are.”
“I don’t suppose you brought the tablet with us, or anything from our bag?”
“You got naked, I got naked. I didn’t think anything else should get wet.”
“Take my hand.” Marie tries to jump them back to the spring, and then back to Kansas City. Finally she tries to return to the Springfield airport, where they left the car, but nothing. If she was the one responsible for teleporting them before, she can’t do it again. “Ugh, I wish I had just kept my watch on. That would have been good enough.”
“We have to find help. We can’t just sit here. No one knows where we are.”
“Agreed.”
They get up, and start walking through the trees. They don’t have to go far at all before they see a huge body of water before them. They’re definitely nowhere near the Fountain of Youth anymore. They keep walking, until they get to the beach.
“Do you know where this is?”
Marie squints, and looks around. “It couldn’t be...” She steps into the water, reaches in to get some on her hand, and sticks it in her mouth. She tries to spit it out.
“Ocean water?”
“No. The salinity is much too high for that. It’s the Dead Sea, otherwise known as the source of Energy water.”

Friday, September 2, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 30, 2398

Marie just got back from a hiking trip with her husband, so she’s not having too many problems. Kivi, on the other hand, was literally born less than a week ago, so she doesn’t have a whole lot of experience in the wilderness. “Ow!” She stops walking and instinctively, reaches up to slap herself in the cheek. “That’s blood. I’m bleeding.”
“It’s not only your blood,” Marie tries to tell her, “and it’s just a little.”
“A bug bit me, and you think that it’s totally fine.”
“It’s a hematophage. It only needed a little bit of your blood. We put on that smelly stuff to keep them away.”
“It’s obviously not working.”
“Well, it’s not magic.”
“Why did you say that in a different accent?”
Marie gets going on the trail. “It’s a pop culture reference.”
“You know I won’t get those.”
“I know,” Marie says as she’s getting farther ahead.
“What if it was carrying a disease?”
“It probably wasn’t.”
“Probably?”
“Hurry up! I wanna get there before it gets dark!”
“How do you know where we’re going again?”
“Ramses had a little bit of data from the main sequence in his bag when he came to this reality. Using the AI, he was able to overlay corresponding coordinates to the geography of this world, which we can follow using SatNav.”
“In English?”
“I have a map.”
They continue for another kilometer or so until they hear rushing water. This area is surprisingly remote, while it’s pretty heavily developed in the main sequence. The trek was rough, but they have come to a clearing, where they find a source of water. “Ah, there it is, you were right,” Kivi says with a smile.
Marie zooms in and out of the map. “No, this isn’t right at all.”
“You said we were looking for the Fountain of Youth, and that to me looks like a fountain. I mean, the water isn’t coming out of sculpted horses, but it’s nice enough, I guess.”
“Hold on.” She goes into the overlay code, and checks for errors, to the best of her ability with only a cursory glance. There’s too much data to go over comprehensively right now. “This isn’t gonna do me any good.” She starts to remove her clothes, ultimately keeping her bra and underwear on.
“What if someone else comes?”
Marie looks around. “I see no signs that a single human has ever been in this area ever. It’s pretty well hidden. I’m not worried. Besides, I don’t care.” She wades into the water, which she finds to be lukewarm. It’s not a hot spring, but it’s not freezing either. Perhaps it’s warmed by geothermal energy just a little bit. She walks along the smooth floor, encountering no obstacles or sharp rocks, and approaches the bubbling fountain in the center.” A warmness comes over her, but not physically, just emotionally.
“Can you teleport?” Kivi asks.
“What?” Marie didn’t really hear that. She’s mesmerized by the sight, and can’t think about anything else. It just looks like the work of jets in a hot tub, but there’s something so beautiful and entrancing about it, she can’t look away.
Kivi yells something else from the shore.

Tuesday, March 15, 2022

Microstory 1842: A Human Being Dies

I used to wish I were a hero. When I was a very young girl, my grandfather took me to the town square. When I say he took me, I mean he stopped by the butcher shop, and let me run off on my own to throw a coin in the fountain. That was pretty normal back then, letting a child go somewhere alone. They knew about bad guys with bad ideas, but it just hadn’t happened often enough to warrant constant monitoring. Have you seen the kids with actual leashes? I mean, there’s being protective, and then there’s whatever that is. I guess I don’t really know their situation. Those kids could have developmental issues that make it impossible to teach them to stay close. Anyway, there I was at the fountain. I remember feeling like there were a lot of people going about their business, or enjoying the park, but when I think back to that day, I think I was completely alone. I must have been, right? Otherwise, someone would have helped me. I threw the coin in the water, closed my eyes, and wished to be a superhero. Thinking that not only would it work, but that it would work immediately, I turned around and began to run. I didn’t even get the chance to jump up and try to fly. I tripped on something pretty quickly, and slammed my face against the cement. I could feel the blood all over me, and the most excruciating pain I ever experienced—before then, and until today. I lay there like that for a moment before flipping over, and getting to my back, which provided just a little bit of relief. I looked up and watched the birds flying overhead, completely oblivious to the fact that a human was in mortal danger down here, and not even trying to teach me how to do what they do. I don’t know how long I was there before my grandfather ran over and scooped me up. “Don’t tell your mother,” he said to me. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and you’ll be okay.” I was indeed okay. But I was changed. I no longer hoped to be any kind of hero. Fact: heroes don’t fall on their faces. Even if they do, they always get up on their own.

That was decades ago, and now I kind of look at it as my origin story. That’s just another delusion, though, and I know that. I’m no hero, I’m just a regular person who saw people in trouble, and felt compelled to help. People do that, and that’s a lesson I learned over the years, though I wasn’t exactly conscious of it; I’m just realizing it in my final moments. Heroes don’t really exist, and they don’t need to. If you see a man get hit by a car while you’re walking to work, you stop and call for emergency services. Our species is ruthless, but we’re also compassionate and cooperative. We would not have survived this long without the instinct to help others. I didn’t think very hard when I saw the bricks fly out of the building they once formed like water from the tap. I didn’t know what it was, and still don’t; perhaps a missile of some kind. The war is supposed to be over, but some just can’t let go. It doesn’t matter why it started falling apart, just that there were innocent lives at stake, and I happened to be walking by. I ran in, and ran up the stairs. I started going through every room, clearing everyone out, and searching for anyone incapable of escaping on their own. I wasn’t the only one, I can tell you that. I saw a few others from the street who had the same idea, and I bet there were more. Fathers escorted sons through windows. Neighbors lifted debris off of neighbors. Everyone who could help was helping. Because that is what we do. When one of us hurts, we’re all worse off for it. No, I don’t die here under this rubble as a hero. I die as a human being capable of empathy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wednesday, November 24, 2021

Microstory 1763: On the Wings of Perseus

I thought I was alone on this alien planet, but there is another. I don’t know if he belongs here, or came here from somewhere else, like me, but he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to find me. I should not be surprised that he is not surprised seeing as we’re standing before a fountain containing statues resembling the two of us, along with many other creatures, who I presume to all be evolved alien species. My guess is that this is a monument to the intelligent races who live in this galaxy, though I couldn’t say whether all of them visited here at some point, they’re only the ones that the Pegasus being specifically knows about, or it’s comprehensive. All I can say is that I’m so pleased to finally have someone else to talk to. And he does indeed talk, even though he looks like a horse with wings. The first thing he tells me is his name, and though I imagine his peoples don’t use Latin script for their written language, what I hear sounds a little bit like the name Perseus, albeit with some kind of non-North American accent and pronunciation. It’s interesting that he should be named that, since both Pegasus and Perseus appear in ancient Greek mythology together, and it’s never been suggested that they are one and the same, or that the latter is the proper name for just one particular member of a whole race of the former. Perhaps all religion was inspired by reality in some way, but the truth has been corrupted overtime, kind of like how the Norse gods are often depicted as real aliens with advanced technology, who humans mistook for deities. I try to ask Perseus what this fountain is, and why a statue of me is in it, but he sort of brushes it off and says that it’s “just this thing.” I find it strange that I should be placed closest to him in the artistic rendering, when we have only now met, and the other aliens probably have much more experience with their interstellar neighbors. He brushes this off as well, and offers to give me a ride on his back. I feel awkward, accepting such a thing from a clearly sentient entity, but if he doesn’t, I shouldn’t.

We fly up, and up, and up, through the clouds, into the bitter cold, and right past what I might consider to be the boundary between atmosphere and outer space. I don’t bother freaking out, or trying to hold my breath. If this is his way of murdering me, then so be it. What am I gonna do, hop off, and go back down? I don’t die, of course. I assume some kind of invisible protective barrier forms to hold in the air, and the heat. The farther we go, the faster we move, until we’re traveling at faster-than-light speeds. Our ships can do that, but not nearly this fast, and before I know it, we’re on a new planet, which I initially figure to be Perseus’ homeworld. I don’t see any other Pegisides around, or whatever it is his people call themselves. I only see humans, standing in and around what I remember to be human architecture. They don’t gasp at the sight of the alien, so he has likely been here before. After I admire the city for a moment, Perseus explains what happened. The reason our scout ship crashed in the first place is due to tidal forces from a relatively nearby collapsis, which my ancestors used to refer to as a black hole. The planet’s proximity to this region of high gravity is also what caused me to experience only fifteen years of time while the human settlement here has been around for nearly two centuries. It’s nice to know that humanity survived the disasters on Earth, and also that I’m still around to enjoy the fruits of that labor myself. The people here welcome me warmly, and I realize just how much I missed being around other people.

Tuesday, November 23, 2021

Microstory 1762: Pegasus Fountain

I’ve lived alone on this world for the last fifteen years. Actually, if we’re talking about the time it takes for the planet to orbit its host star, then it’s been 38, but I can’t get used to using any other calendar than the one I grew up with on Earth. Our world was dying, and our civilization crumbling, so we were sent to look for a new one. We weren’t trying to save everyone, but our species. Only the peaceful would be allowed to migrate, while the rioters and warmongers stayed behind to fight amongst themselves. Our ship crashed here, and I was the only survivor, so I don’t know whether any of the other scouts were successful. I can only hope, but it’s entirely possible that I am the last human in the entire universe by now. I’ve spent my time here doing what I do best, which is building things. I started with a Columbarium, so I could lay my comrades to rest, but I didn’t stop there. I constructed cages to trap the albibirds, which is the only source of meat available. It would be crazy if only one animal species lives on this whole planet. They don’t act omnivorous, but perhaps they hunted everything else to extinction long before I showed up. I’ve traveled great distances by now, but not everywhere. My helicopter has a short range, and I don’t like to venture too far from home, so it’s not like I’ve been able to cover the entire planet. That changes today. I finally fixed the ship. Well, I didn’t so much as fix it as I took it apart, and built a brand new ship from the wreckage. It’s much smaller than the one we took to get here, but since it only needs to accommodate me, that shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not fast enough to reach Earth—or any of the other candidate settlements—in any reasonable amount of time, but it’s much better at handling atmosphere, and that’s all I really need.

The protium harvesters worked, and the fusion reactor is operational. It would be great if I discovered how little of the surface I’ve truly explored, and the rest of it is lush with vegetation and game. It will be sad, of course, leaving the cremains of my friends behind, but I have to focus on myself now. Either I’m on a desert planet, or I just happened to end up in a desert on a normal planet, but no matter what, I have to know the truth. I spend months surveying the land, searching for anything better than what I started with, but there’s nothing. There’s no ocean, no mountain ranges...certainly no signs of animal life, let alone intelligence. The computer generates a map for me, and I start to see a bigger picture. It is all desert, with oases scattered throughout, and not randomly either. They’re equidistant from each other, which is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. It makes no sense; nature would not distribute them so evenly. Then the computer spots something even weirder, so I drop down to check it out. It’s another oasis, but it’s unlike any other. In place of a more natural-looking well, there’s a gigantic fountain; probably larger than anything made on Earth. It’s the only sign of evolved life I’ve found on this rock. It’s filled with statues of creatures I’ve never seen before, spewing water out of their orifices, but I’m drawn to their eyes, which seem intelligent. I think each represents an evolved alien species. The largest one in the center looks eerily like a pegasus from Earthan mythology. It’s uncanny, really, the horse and its wings. That’s when I notice that I actually do recognize one of the statue creatures, standing proud below the pegasus. It was carved in the form of a human, but not just any human. It’s me. It looks exactly like me. Then a real pegasus flies down from the sky to greet me.

Saturday, May 15, 2021

Big Papa: White Hole Radical (Part XII)

I keep watching after we think it’s all over. Pryce has finally been neutralized, and it looks like everything’s gonna be okay. But of course there’s still one loose end. With everyone still distracted for a moment, staring at the spot where Tamerlane Pryce once was, Pinocchio takes his shot. He pulls out his own zero blade, and pierces Genifer right in the heart. “I want that button.”
Lowell lunges forward to help, but Genifer holds out her staff, and stops him. “No.” She smiles at Pinocchio, confusing him. Then she turns her staff, and pounds it on the floor three times, very deliberately. The paint melts off of it like ice on a summer snowman. It’s turned white.
Pinocchio looks over at it, unimpressed. “The White Staff can’t save you now. It’s too late.”
“It’s too late for you too, whoever you are,” Genifer replies as the blackness quickly overwhelms her clothes. She lifts the staff, and gently—almost affectionately—taps him on the nose with it. “Boop!”
They both disappear at the same time, him in a flash of white, her in a puff of smoke. Behind me in the real world, a floor model gasps, and begins to breathe heavily. Pinocchio rolls out of the pod, and squirms on the floor. He’s never been alive before, so he’s quite harmless for the time being. Back in the simulation, the white staff has remained standing, even though its bearer is now dead and gone. As if finally remembering simulated gravity, it begins to tip over, but Dalton catches it gracefully.
“We need to figure out what to do with that,” Gilbert notes. “It’s up to Ellie to decide who gets resurrected, and when.”
“Yeah,” Dalton says, nodding his head. But he doesn’t hand the staff over, and there’s something weird about his answer. He’s just looking at it like there’s writing on it, and he’s in the middle of a good story. Then he bolts. He runs as fast as he can, down the hallways, and back up the steps. Lowell and Gilbert aren’t sure whether they should chase after him, or what. As far as leveling weapons go, it’s dangerous to be in the wrong hands, but at least no one will get hurt by it. I understand why someone would want to maintain control over it, and though I don’t know why Dalton is one of these people, it’s not the worst of our problems. As he’s climbing out of the fountain entrance, still moving as fast as he can, I can see another version of Pryce gliding down in the opposite direction. It’s probably Avatar!Pryce, having recovered from his indentured servitude. The zeroblade should destroy any copies of the same code, unless the copy is sufficiently divergent.
“Is that the guy who took over my body at the wedding?” Lowell wonders out loud.
I point at the resurrected Pinocchio, but before I say anything, I realize my mistake. He’s not been resurrected at all, but this is his first day as a real boy. It’s more like he was just born, and I guess in this case, there is such a thing as original sin. “Call security, and have him taken to MedHock,” I order the lab tech. “But first, put me back in. Same coordinates as Lowell.”
“You should know,” the tech says, “Madam Preston was keeping Mr. Benton apprised of her situation with the Glisnian authority. She has not been doing well. She fears a complete shutdown.”
“If she calls again...” I say, “tell her to stall.” One crisis at a time, please.
I return to the simulation just as Avatar!Pryce is arriving. He approaches cautiously, and with no sense of aggression. “I felt her death. I felt the loss.”
“Is there any way back?” I ask. “Is the zeroblade a lie? Are they just dormant, and recoverable?”
“It’s not a lie,” Pryce answers, possibly truthfully. “Her death is final. The blade destroys the code, like overwriting a file.”
“I’m not gonna let you push the button,” I warn him.
“I do not aim to,” he claims. “You’ll push it, though, I guarantee it.”
“Why would I do that?” I question.
Pryce looks at his wristwatch. “It’s 2400. This year marks beginning, and ending. It’s a transitional period. The patrioshka body will return to its place in the stellar neighborhood, the truth about temporal manipulation will come out to the public, and the simulation...will shut down.”
“Not if I can help it,” I maintain. “I won’t let these people die.”
Pryce chuckles with his lips sealed. “Of course you won’t. Why do you think I stepped down? It has to be you. You’re the only one capable.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He’s not making any sense to me.
“When you took over for me, did you happen to notice our official position? What was my title, and what’s yours, now that you wear the rainbow clothes?”
“Yeah, it said Kernel. I thought it was a misspelling of Colonel. I don’t use it, because it’s stupid. I’m just Ellie.”
“No, my dear,” Pryce begins, “it’s not stupid. It’s everything. You are Kernel Underhill, and you deserve it. Now go in that room, and push the button...so we can all get out of here. Time’s running out, I’m sure.” Without another word, he turns confidently, and tries to walk away.
“No,” I say with my own confidence. “You want me to push the button, you’re gonna go in there with me, and explain in excruciating detail, exactly what it does.”
“As you wish.”
“Lowell, keep that ice pick at the ready. If he tries anything...”
“Got it, boss,” Lowell agrees.
I place my hand against the stone door, just to try to figure out where the handle is, or how it works. It gives to my pressure immediately, swiveling on an axis in the center, and allowing us to pass through. Up until this point, the stone walls and ceilings were smooth and even. Pryce designed this chamber to look more like it existed naturally, and everything else was built around it. We’re inside of a mountain cave, with jagged edges, and random stalagmites. A highly detailed pavilion is in the center, and in the center of that is a well-carved stone structure. Sitting on it is a wok, filled with fire pit marbles. Water bubbles from underneath, and spills out on all sides. The fire burns high, partially obscuring a small obelisk that does not rise high enough to be touched without feeling the flames. A button rests on top, ready to be pressed.
“For the very last time...what. Does. It. Do?” I demand to know.
“You are the kernel, and it is a syscall. Part of your code will be copied a hundred and twenty-billion times, and placed inside the IDCodes of everyone inside the simulation, including the Level Ones. Yes, it can put everyone on ice, but only if the one who pushes it has just been downgraded to that level themselves. As long as you stand within the borders of that pavilion, you can decide what level you are, and what code will be copied. That is, as long as you don’t choose a level beyond your own real one. Mr. Hawk, for instance, was only a Limited, so if he pushed the button, that would be as far as he could take it. For you, it’s different. Once that code is disseminated, you and everyone else will change into whatever it is the code you’ve allocated does. You could put them all in Hock, or make them all Elites; whatever you wish. But be careful, because you will suffer the same fate.”
“Why are you asking me to do it?” I question. “Why have you not done it yourself?”
“I do not have an IDCode,” Pryce admits. “My other self does not either. Neither of us ever died, and came here. He was always a visitor, and I...I’m just an NPC. You have been resurrected, so you can resurrect them all.”
“So can Lowell,” I point out. “So can Leona, and Mateo, and a couple dozen others in Hogarth’s new universe.”
“Yes, but Mateo and Leona aren’t here, Lowell has always been bad code, and Hogarth’s World-Builders are ambitious, entitled, narcissists who believe they have become the gods they always thought they were.” He’s one to talk.
“Aldona does not fit that description,” I counter.
“True. Like Harry and Neville, I suppose there is indeed one other option. But you’re the only one who’s truly earned it. You’re the one who demanded control over the simulation, and you are the one standing here today.” Pryce has a response to everything. “We could call Madam Calligaris, if you want, but she may not arrive in time, seeing as that the Glisnians are this close to shutting the whole simulation down with all of us still inside.”
“Wait, Gilbert’s here too.” I just resurrected him recently.
“Oh, no,” Gilbert protests. “Don’t nominate me for this role. If anyone’s bad code, it’s me. You know the things I did while I was alive?”
“Ellie,” Lowell says. “Stop coming up with alternatives. It’s all you.”
“Where, do you reckon’ you want I should put all these people?” Now I’m sure I have them stumped. “There are some floor models waiting for hosts up there, sure, but not a hundred and twenty billion, I’ll tell ya that much right now.
“I had that problem solved a long time ago,” Pryce claims. “There are about ten million up there, and it takes about an hour to replace them, as long as the protein goop keeps coming. There’s also enough temporary storage to keep them dormant while they wait their turn. It’ll be done in two years. I own those servers, the Glisnians wouldn’t be able to shut them down without sparking a war.”
“Which they would win,” Lowell argues.
I’m shaking my head. It’s a trick. There is no altruistic or benevolent version of Pryce. There are only some that aren’t as bad as others. I don’t know why he wants me to be the one to do this instead of him, but I can’t let him play any part in it. Something he said reminded me of something else. He used the term protein goop. The cloning machines aren’t only limited by the amount of time it takes to create a new floor model body. They need the raw materials to actually make the damn thing. Star Trek replicators aren’t a real thing, and they never will be. Well, unless you use time powers. Fortunately, I know someone who might be able to help, and now I’m starting to think that she saw this coming; that she knew what was going to happen all along. I can transfer the minds, but I need her to build the bodies. Can I contact her from here? Can I access a separate brane? I take some time to try, and find that I can. The conversation isn’t long. She agrees to help.
“What are you thinking?” Pryce asks, noticing that I’ve been silent and stuck in my own head for quite awhile now.
“That you are unworthy...and unnecessary.” I step right over to him, and place my hands on his head. He’s too confused to struggle. In a matter of seconds, the avatar has been de-rezed. I’m not sure where he went, or if I just murdered him, but there’s always a backup somewhere, so I’m not too butthurt about my choice.
“What are you doing?” Gilbert asks, purely out of curiosity, and not at all bothered by my actions.
“We don’t need him anymore. I’m ending this, once and for all. I can’t promise things will be good once we’re on the other side, but I don’t think we have much time. I asked Nerakali to stall—”
Oh, thank God,” Nerakali’s voice comes into my ear. I’m starting to realize that people can contact me across distance as long as I’m thinking about them at the same time. “You have ten minutes. The Glisnians work fast, and they’re done with this whole thing. They think Pryce has become too big of a nuisance.
“Thanks for the update,” I reply to her. “I don’t think I’ll need that long.”
What are you doing?” she asks, unknowingly echoing Gilbert.
“Now I am become life, the sower of men.” I step up onto the pavilion, and approach the pedestal. I don’t want to give these people any snippet of my core code. I don’t want them to be able to spy on each other through time, or spontaneously and nonconsenually transfer each other’s minds to other substrates. I don’t need a button to resurrect any of them. I just need access to all of them. This thing grants me that power, but I already have the power to save them. Almost angrily, I swing back, and swipe the wok off of the platform. I’m left with a fountain, bubbling up from the ground, connected to every consciousness inside the simulation. Hogarth is ready on her end, so I reach into the fountain water. It’s freezing cold, but still somehow pleasant and life-affirming.
I can feel them immediately. I can feel their hopes and their pain. I see images of what they’re doing right now, all combined to form a mosaic of the entirety of the afterlife simulation multiworlds. I know what they’re thinking, and what they’ve done, and what they’ve seen. I know who they are, and who they want to be. “Hear me now, people of the afterlife,” I say to them all. “The experiment is over, and it is time to see The Beyond. It is time to live once more.” They’re all here because they crave life, experience, triumph, risk. The few who wanted to die and find a true afterlife—if such a thing exists—have moved on by now. Everyone wants to be alive, and I can give them that. It won’t be through floor model substrates, though. They won’t wake up in a cold clone pod with straight edges, and a tube coming out of their navel. The first thing they see won’t be the harsh lighting on a white ceiling. The first thing they see will be a beautiful and relaxing violet sky. I’m sending them to Violkomin, where a protein-infused lake of primordial soup will construct new bodies for them in accelerated time. Here they will float, until they are ready to walk the lands, and begin a new journey. They will breathe again. They will live again. And they will do it in a new universe.