Expelled: Exploded (Part IV)

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There were two ways to gather temporal energy for time travel, or to accomplish other temporal manipulation goals. One was to find it in a parallel dimension, and the other...was to literally wait for it. In the end, that was really all temporal energy was: the passage of time. The ladies listened to Elder’s explanation silently until they thought he was done. “What if we took multiple trips?” Rita suggested. You go back, reconnect with Extremus, build a larger time machine, and then come back for us.”

“I don’t want to be stuck here without a temporal engineer,” Debra argued.

“You wouldn’t be,” Rita tried to clarify. “It’s time travel. He could return to this moment a second after he left.”

“Unless wherever he goes kills him,” Debra reasoned.

“I’m not even sure if I can gather enough temporal energy for even one trip as far back in time as we need to go,” Elder tried to continue. “I’m just pretty sure that I can’t take anyone with me. It’s the triple mass rule. The average choosing one can transport themselves plus two buddies. The machine itself would be more massive than three people alone, which means that it will require extra temporal energy. Maybe if one of us metabolized the energy naturally, it would be different, but this is all very uncertain.”

The conversation halted when they heard a noise outside. It sounded like something was falling. They were in the garage, which didn’t have any windows. “Was that one of the solar panels?” Rita guessed.

They stepped into the foyer to look out one window, but couldn’t see anything. They spun around to the opposite window when the sound recurred. They still couldn’t see anything, so they peeked over the sill as far as they could. Debra had the best angle. “There’s something sparkly down there.”

“Sparkly, like a diamond?” Rita asked.

“More like water. Or ice.” That was when they saw it. It was ice. It was fallen ice, also known as hail. Whether it was made out of water was a question they couldn’t answer, not yet.

Elder pulled out his handheld device, and commanded the nearest exterior drone to drive over to the ball of ice, and run a quick analysis. “It’s water ice. Ninety percent dihydrogen monoxide, plus five percent air bubbles, and three percent dust. The other two percent is carbon, and a few other trace elements.”

“Guys. Look,” Rita encouraged.

They raised their heads to find that the few pieces of hail were only the vanguard. It was hailing and raining in the distance. The precipitation appeared to be coming out of nowhere from about thirty meters above the ground. “I guess now we know where Oaksent has been living.” Elder gritted his teeth, irritated about what this meant.

“He looks like he has a lot of temporal energy,” Debra pointed out the obvious.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Elder admitted.

“It’s just that...if we wanna get out of here, you two are gonna have to swallow your pride, and let us go over to speak with him.”

“Yes, Debra, thanks, we get it,” Rita snapped back. “Is the rover ready?” she asked Elder.

He first manufactured a rover to test the stability and durability of the metals found on this planet. They could do with a way to travel away from the structure in person anyway, and it came with lower stakes than the time machine will. “It’s finished, but I’ve not tested it.”

“You should do that today,” Debra suggested.

One time, when Elder was looking for a book on the tablet that he hadn’t read yet, he came across a personal document that Debra had written. It was fanfiction that portrayed Bronach Oaksent as the hero, and Debra herself as the damsel in distress. She couldn’t even picture herself as the protagonist of her own novel, which was what saddened Elder the most. He didn’t read much of it, because it wasn’t any of his business, but his speedreading kicked in automatically, so he got the gist of it pretty quickly. She had contrived this whole fantasy about a man she had barely met. They didn’t even have an image of him in the database. Her entire idea of what kind of person he was came from a short biography in the manifest, while her imagination had to fill in the rest. She thought of him as her savior mostly because Elder was the poisoner. The fact that Oaksent was the one who had orchestrated this whole thing was a causal connection that she wasn’t capable of making. This wasn’t surprising considering she also struggled to string two sentences together into a coherent thought. That was probably why she sought out men like Oaksent in the first place, because she relied on others, and always had. Coming aboard Extremus alone was the biggest mistake she had ever made, and this would be true even if none of this had happened to her. “Boy, you’re quite anxious to get to your little boyfriend, aren’t you, Karen?” That was mean.

“Don’t call me that!”

Elder didn’t want to apologize, and Rita didn’t want to give him the chance to try, and screw it up, so she changed the subject. “Do what you need to with the rover, and then we’re leaving.”

“It holds two people,” Elder clarified. “One of us will have to stay here. Or should I say, one of you, because I obviously have to go.”

Rita looked over at Debra apprehensively, who looked back in fear. She had obviously been dreaming of finally meeting her hero for months, but she was not useful. Elder was the genius, and Rita was the leader. So her only option would be to beg. Rita sighed, apparently giving up already. “You go, but I’m trusting you with that. You know how we feel about him. If you make one choice that gets any of us hurt because you can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality, you’ll wish you had chosen to stay.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Debra complained.

Rita gave Elder a look. Perhaps she too had come across the fanfiction. It was just sitting there in one of the main menus. She didn’t even password protect it, like an amateur. “Just follow my instructions before you leave, and while I’m on the radio. And whenever I’m not telling you what to do, listen to Elder. That’s all you have to worry about. You don’t have to make any decisions at all.”

“Fine.” Debra wasn’t happy, and was probably already searching for loopholes in this mandate.

Elder went back to the garage to shift gears from the time machine to the rover. He gave it multiple inspections. Whenever he encountered an issue that needed to be corrected, he would then go all the way back to the beginning, and start the inspection over. His own safety codes demanded that he complete an inspection in full without discovering any problems whatsoever. Measure twice, cut once was a cliché for a reason. Once it was ready, he piloted it remotely from the safety of the structure, but only for twenty minutes. The safest way to do it would be to have it make several unmanned trips, but Rita was anxious for answers, and they didn’t know how much, or how little, temporal energy Oaksent had stored up, or how he was using it. There were different ways to trigger a hyperlocalized low altitude thunderstorm, and some were more efficient than others. There was no purpose to causing the weather event in this situation beyond demonstrating his might, so it was a total waste. Elder might need to get him to stop before they ran out of the energy they needed for the time machine.

He moved the rover back into the garage, and repressurized it. Debra was packed up and ready to go. She had showered, which wasn’t a bad idea, if for bad reasons. Elder decided to take a quick one himself, further delaying departure, and making her even more impatient. After he was out, and ready to go himself, Kivi pulled him aside. “Here.” She handed him a gun.

“Where the hell did you get this?” Elder questioned. They had never had a gun on this planet before.

“I don’t know,” Kivi replied.

“You don’t know?” he echoed. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“I found it in my personal back the day we arrived on this godforsaken planet,” Kivi explained. “I didn’t say anything, because tensions were so high back then, and I didn’t say anything later, because there was no reason for it. Well, there’s reason now. Oaksent is dangerous, and you need to protect yourself.”

“Kivi, he’s the mastermind. He probably gave you the gun. He slipped it in your bag, knowing that you had been marked for transport.”

“Maybe,” Kivi agreed. “It doesn’t matter. Take it. I don’t advocate for violence, but I would rather it be in your hands than his...or mine, for that matter.”

“Fine.” He carefully stuck it in his own pack, and headed out to the rover where Debra was waiting. He performed one more quick inspection, the kind you were supposed to do every time you went out for a drive, whether it was on an alien planet, or within the safety of a breathable atmosphere. Then he and Debra waved goodbye to Rita and Kivi, and headed out into the minor unknown.

The rain and hail fell upon the rover, causing annoying damage to the frame. It was a new vehicle, but it already required repairs. Great. Fortunately, they found that the storm served only as a border between the two camps. They passed through it quickly, and ended up in Bronach’s domain. Now they realized why Elder’s drones had never managed to find it, because it was located within its own parallel spatial dimension. This wasn’t a pocket dimension, but it was similar. It was sunny here, and grassy on the ground, and the air was thick and breathable. He had come a hell of a lot more prepared than Elder had ever suspected. Oaksent was going to win this battle of minds. Debra would never see him as the enemy now.

“What a dick,” Debra said.

“What?”

“He’s had this the whole time, and never said anything? I’ve been shitting in a hole, and showering with freezing cold water. What. A. Dick!” Wow, that was a dramatic swing in the other direction. It was a little offensive. The toilet that Elder ended up building for them was nothing fancy, and it was made out of metal, since they had no ceramics to work with, but it was pretty nice. “Ugh. Stop the car.”

“We can’t get out yet, Debra. I can’t be sure that this is real.”

“Stop the car!” she repeated.

He came to stop, and let her open the door. A gust of wind rushed in, and didn’t kill them, so the atmosphere appeared to be legit. And anyway, if Oakset had wanted them dead, there were easier ways than tricking them into thinking that this was a hospitable environment.

Oaksent stepped out of his brick house with a huge smile plastered on his face. “You’re finally here! Only two of your survived?”

“The other two are back home,” Elder replied.

“Two?” Oaksent asked. “Rita, and who?”

“Kivi,” Debra answered. “Kivi Bristol.”

Oaksent shook his head rather apathetically. “Never heard of him.” Hm. As much as he knew, maybe he didn’t know everything. He wasn’t God.

“It’s a her,” Debra corrected.

“Whatever.”

“How are you powering your dimension?” Elder asked, only wanting to be here long enough to make some kind of arrangement.

“Initially?” Oaksent began. “Temporal battery. Now, a temporal generator.” He chuckled when Elder looked around for it. “It’s disguised as that mountain.”

Yeah, that rock spire would be about the right size for something like that. A temporal generator would have to be a giant tower. It either collected energy from two dimensions that operated at different temporal speeds, or it processed the flow of normal time over the course of aeons. Neither one should have been possible. For the first method, you can’t get any more energy out than you put into creating and maintaining the parallel dimension, so it would have to be maintained through some other source. For the second method, it would obviously have taken a long time to build up the energy required to be useful. It had only been less than a year. “Hm.”

“You’re confused, I can see that.” Bronach was quite pleased with himself. “Tell me, have you ever seen the Bill and Ted films?”

Elder knew exactly what he was talking about. The Bill and Ted Gambit was a time travel trick where, instead of being prepared for present and near-future obstacles, you make plans to later go back in time to make those preparations. If you’re operating within a single timeline—which you aren’t always, so be careful—then it will appear as if you could see the future. It took the concept of cause and effect, and flipped it in reverse, so the effect essentially caused the cause. It was risky, relying on your future self to accomplish something in the exact same way that you had already experienced, but not impossible given enough time and power. “So. I will one day take you back in time, and in the past, you will have me build a temporal generator on this planet, so your past self can use it in our current present.”

Oaksent acted like he wasn’t smart enough to instantly track the sentence as he carefully considered it for a few seconds. “Yes,” he said, tapping an imaginary nail on the head with his finger. “Except I’m not sure whether you were the one who built the generator for me. All I know is it was waiting for me precisely where I wanted it to be.”

“What do you want in exchange for the temporal energy?”

“A ride, obviously. You want the time machine too. You want it to go back to Extremus, and I want it to go back to before the Extremus even existed.”

“We can’t go back to the Extremus if you prevent it from existing,” Debra reasoned.

“I never said that I was interested in that,” Oaksent insisted, shaking his head. “On the contrary. When I say before the Extremus, I mean way, way before, but that doesn’t mean I want to do anything to it. I don’t care about it anymore. I’m exactly where I would like to be, and the crew and passengers of that ship can go off wherever they want, as long as they stay out of my way.”

“What happens if they don’t?”

Oaksent sighed. “They will. Because you will warn them to leave me alone. This is my domain. Neither Extremus nor the stellar neighborhood wants or needs it, so let me do my thing, and we will all get what we want.”

“I don’t think so.” Debra suddenly pulled a gun out of the back of her pants, and trained it on Oaksent.

“Why the hell does everyone have a gun around here?” Elder exclaimed.

“It’s the same one, Old Man,” Debra explained. “I heard Kivi talking to you, and took it out of your bag while you were focused on the road.”

“Well...” Elder began. “Don’t use it.”

“I thought you would be my biggest fan,” Oaksent said to her, hands up defensively. He didn’t look too scared, but not because he knew what was going to happen in the future, only because she didn’t seem like the violent type.

“Don’t underestimate me!” Debra cried. “I’m sick of everyone thinking that they know who I am. But you people never actually ask me about myself. You just make these unfounded assumptions about me because I maybe complain a little too much, I have trouble taking responsibility for my own actions, I’m insecure about my mistakes, and I find it a lot easier to blame everyone else for my problems! But that doesn’t mean you know me!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Bronach said in a tone.

She waggled the gun towards him. “You could have made our lives a lot easier with your little time mountain thing, but you chose to keep to yourself! What kind of selfish son of a bitch are you?”

“It was a test,” Oaksent argued.

“Oh, it was a test?” she asked mockingly. “Test these bullets!” She fired the gun, but missed, because she wasn’t exactly an expert marksman.

Oaksent took this opportunity to take out his firearm, and shoot at her instead. He too missed, but not because he didn’t know how to aim. A masked man appeared literally out of thin air, and took it on the chest. He tripped backwards a little, but didn’t fall down.

Elder couldn’t see the time traveler’s face, but he recognized the mask. This was standard issue in the Darning Wars for ground battles that took place on unbreathable worlds. Thousands of people wore it, but there was only one man who would logically be standing before them right now. The stranger removed the mask, and smirked at all of them. It was a young Elder Caverness. Present!Elder didn’t recall ever being here in his own past, but that wasn’t surprising since he already knew he had deliberately erased the memory of several years of his life.

“What the hell?” Debra asked.

Oaksent was shocked too.

“Fire in the hole,” Young!Elder said coolly. He lifted a device in his right hand, and pressed the button on the top of it. The temporal generator disguised as a rock spire exploded, sending temporal energy every which way.

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Microstory 1955 Sensitivity and Responsibility

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Reese: What are you doing back here?

Myka: I’m checking it out. Looks like we would be able to fit thirty vehicles. Lines will need to be painted to make it clearer.

Reese: You don’t need to worry about that. You’ll only be responsible for the office.

Myka: You said I was in charge of maintenance, and someone has to maintain this. Parking garages wear down over time, being driven on so much.

Reese: Right, but the government can hire a contractor for that. There isn’t any sensitive information in here, and of course it goes straight to the outside, which means we don’t have to worry as much about clearance.

Myka: What about the information inside of people’s cars?

Reese: No one should have any data just lying around in their cars.

Myka: What about the VIN, and the license plate numbers?

Reese: True, but we won’t have permanent hires who can do what you’re talking about.

Myka: My dad painted highway lines. I can do it myself if I have to.

Reese: You’re taking on too much yourself, and doing it too quickly. Slow down, and prepare to delegate to others. The first round of employees are coming in tomorrow.

Myka: That’s exactly why I’m looking at all this now, so I can, not only delegate the tasks, but prioritize them.

Reese: I get that. Just don’t work too hard. You’re not here to do grunt work. I was clear on that when I was discussing this whole thing with the OSI Director and SI Eliot. We are the bosses. [...] What are you looking at now?

Myka: There are two ways into the building from the garage. The big one takes you directly to operations. The other is this rusty metal door.

Reese: Have you opened it?

Myka: No, but according to the plans, it’s a maintenance access tunnel that subverts the main floors, and gets you down to the basement relatively quickly.

Reese: Makes sense. I imagine the boiler room is down there.

Myka: As are the detainment cells for the Ochivari.

Reese: What are you driving at?

Myka: This could be the best way to escort them to where they need to be, but I need to figure out how to get this open so I can check it out. We can’t have the aliens being able to reach out and pull at exposed power cables, or whatever. Can you help me?

Reese: Yeah, we’ll try. *grunting*

Myka: *grunting*

Reese: It’s sealed shut. We’re gonna need tools...and a professional.

Myka: Well, I can do it.

Reese: Let me guess, your mother was a welder.

Myka: *laughing* No, but I can watch a tutorial on VidChapp.

Reese: Myka, we were literally just talking about this. I’ll make a call, and get this door open. Why don’t you go back to the mezzanine? Leonard is anxious about the agents coming in next week. You should talk to him before we’re all too busy to help.

Myka: Okay, I can do that. I need to put a measuring tape in my shopping cart anyway.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 3, 2398

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Guideliner Jacinto Lerse does not have telekinesis so much as he is telekinesis, or at least a form of it. It is so far unclear what he’s going to do for Mateo’s problem, but he and Intentioner Senona Riggur were confident that this would fix it. He wasn’t even the first person that Senona reached out to. There is evidently this whole subculture of empowered immortals who are busy doing their things across the bulk, similar to the network of choosing ones in salmonverse, but on a far grander scale. They are reportedly from the same universe, having the occasion to work together over the aeons. Based on what Leona told them, they have realized that she has actually been to their brane before, though at a much, much, much later point in its timeline than their respective origins.

Jacinto uses his abilities to carry Cheyenne back to the Olimpia, easily ignoring the protests from Zacarias’ soldiers, until the Coronel gives them new orders anyway. They spend one more night on the base, so she can recuperate without traveling. When they get back to the craft, Leona shakes hands with Zacarias, agreeing to keep the discovery of the Nexus a secret. They’re going to tell the rest of the team, but he doesn’t need to know that. Jacinto tells them that they don’t even have to bother turning the vehicle on. He lifts the entire thing into the air with his mind, opens the ceiling up, and flies them over the ocean, back to Kansas City, as if it were nothing more difficult than blowing a mote of dust away.

Once they arrive at the Lofts, their new friend parks the Olimpia in the basement garage. They take the elevator upstairs, expecting to find Mateo in their apartment, the third floor common area, or maybe Marie’s unit. Cheyenne and Bridgette stay up there while Leona takes Jacinto down to the first floor where Alyssa is operating reception. She is presently on a call, so they have to wait until she’s finished with the client. It sounds very important and promising. “You’re back.”

“We’re back,” Leona echoes.

“Was it a fruitful trip?” Alyssa asks, snickering for some reason.

“We’ll see,” Leona replies. “Do you know where he is?”

She rolls her eyes, but quickly tries to backpedal with an awkward blink when she starts to worry that the man’s wife won’t be super okay with that. “He’s on the roof.”

“Alone?”

“He’s never alone,” she assures her.

They get back on the elevator, and head all the way up. Marie is sitting in a folding chair that is holding the door to the outside open. She looks displeased and fatigued, but not angry. “What’s going on?” Leona asks.

“I’ll let him explain in his own words,” Marie answers. She slaps both of her thighs with finality, and stands up. “My shift is over.” She steps into the elevator before the doors close.

Leona leads Jacinto onto the roof where they can see Mateo several meters away. He’s sitting alone in his underwear and one of his vests, a variety bowl of citrus fruit on the table next to him, and he’s covered in juice. Before he notices that they’re even there, he picks up another lemon, and lets it explode all over the place. He glances over his shoulder as they’re giving him a berth. “Oh, hey, you’re back.”

“Looks like you went a little crazy, huh?” Leona asks in a patronizing tone.

“Well, when you can make lemon grenades, how could you not go a little mad?” He spots Jacinto. “Hey, stranger, think fast.” He grabs an orange, and tries to throw it.”

The orange stops in midair, and hangs there. Before the technicolor bulk energy can spread all around, Jacinto uses her power to recede it, and make it disappear. He then telekinetically peels the fruit, brings it up to his mouth, and bites into it. “Too sweet,” he muses.

Mateo is impressed, but not excited, because he hasn’t figured out yet that this is the reason why Jacinto is here. “Cool trick, bro.”

“Do you want to control your new gift, or do you just wanna...stew?”

Mateo grabs a lime, and throws it as high as he can before it too explodes. “I dunno, this is kind of fun.”

Jacinto gives Leona a moderately frustrated look. “I can do nothing without his consent. I’m a diplomat.”

“What exactly can you do?” Leona asks him. “Maybe that will help him agree.”

“I can give people abilities,” Jacinto begins. “And I can restrict them at will. He’ll have a special form of telekinesis called parakinesis. He’ll still have to use his hands, and he’ll only be able to exert as much force as his muscles will allow, but he won’t technically be touching anything. All I need to know is the imminent value, which is—”

“The point at which two objects are close enough to interact, I understand. How would you test that?”

Jacinto holds his palms upward. “With my hands. Stand up,” he requests.

Leona sighs when Mateo just looks at her without doing anything. “At the very least, you’re being rude by remaining seated in the presence of company. Stand up!”

Mateo stands, and looks down at Jacinto’s hands. “I don’t know what happens to the things that I touch, but I’m pretty sure it works on people.”

“Yes, I would also like to know where these objects go, so we’re going to feed two birds with one worm.” He looks between them. “You don’t have that metaphor here?”

“I thought I made it up,” Leona says.

Jacinto shrugs. “Maybe you did.” He faces Mateo. “Come on. You can’t kill me, and I can always come right back here, a second later from your perspective.”

“Okay.” Mateo decides to take a chance. He places his own hands upon Jacinto’s.

“Oh, that’s pretty close,” Jacinto notes as the technicolor energy is spreading over his body. As soon as he disappears, he opens the door from the elevator bay, and comes back to them. “All right. You are sending objects to another universe, and they all appear to be showing up intact. I thought you might want this back, though.” He hands Leona her fusion work, which was one of the first things Mateo transported. It’s good that it’s safe and sound again, out of potentially dangerous hands.

“What happens now?” Mateo asks.

“It’s done.” Jacinto shrugs again. “Pick up another fruit.”

Mateo carefully removes the last grapefruit from the bowl. Nothing happens, it just stays there in his hand. Or rather, it doesn’t. He’s technically not touching anything.

“Would he...theoretically...?”

“Be able to temporarily disable the TK, in case he needs to get rid of something? It could lead to some questionable ethical territory, but you did wish for that, didn’t you? ’Kay, high ten, bruh!” Technicolor energy spreads over him once again after Mateo slaps his hands. “Peter Parker’s uncle and all that! You have heard of Spiderman, ri—?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 7, 2398

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Mateo is startled awake. He’s nervous at first, because he assumes the person who’s shaking him by the shoulders in the pitch black is a friendly, but he doesn’t know that for sure. “Who is that?” he asks.

“Shh. It’s Heath,” he says in a whisper.

Leona turns over in her sleep.

Mateo drops down into a whisper too. “What is happening?”

“I wanna show you something.”

“Can it wait until morning?”

“It is morning. Come on.” He gets his hands further along Mateo’s shoulder blades, and pulls him out of the bed.

“Can I put on pants first?”

“Probably should.”

Mateo hastily pulls on some clothes, and follows Heath out of the room. He slips his shoes on too, and they leave the condo. They walk down the hallway, down the elevator, and down the hill. He rubs the sand out of his eyes as they continue walking for another couple of kilometers. He complains a little, but feels he needs to respect his host’s decisions, as bizarre as they seem right now. Finally they make it to a parking garage. There’s something different about it, but Mateo can’t place his finger on it, because he’s still so sleepy. As they walk through it, though, he realizes that the ceilings are very high. Some garages can’t even accommodate a heavy duty pickup truck, but this could handle semi-truck trailers. He yawns. “What are we doing here?”

“I got the notification that my present arrived, and just couldn’t wait.”

“Present for me?” Mateo asks.

Heath stops at a...plane? He extends his arms to present it. “Present for us.”

“Is that an airplane?”

“It’s a flying carboat.”

“What?”

Heath runs his hand along the curve of what looks like a turned up wing. “It can float in the sea, drive on the roads, and fly through the sky.”

“What, couldn’t spring for the one that’s also a spaceship?” Mateo jokes.

“No,” he answers genuinely. He continues to admire the vehicle.

“Where are the wings?” Mateo questions.

“It’s a lifting body, it doesn’t need wings.” He points to the vertical wing thing. “Or that’s what those things are. I don’t know. All I know is it works, and it cost me a fortune.”

“Do we need all of this? Could we not just take regular commercial jets where we need to go, and then rent cars?”

“Well, sure, if you wanna be basic.”

“Far be it.”

“Isn’t it beautiful? Come on, let’s check out the inside.”

It has to be really narrow, so it can fit in the standard road lane—and those weird wings do stick out a little—but it’s pretty long, and sufficiently tall. That’s why it needs this high ceiling parking garage, but it should be able to fit under any bridge just fine. The controls are in the cockpit, where you would expect, for a pilot and co-pilot. Behind it are four little cubbies; two on each side, separated by seats. By the door is a little kitchenette, then a lav, a toilet, and steps up to a loft. It feels like too much. It feels like too much. It all feels too extravagant.

“These cubby seats recline into flat beds, while these two are just for sitting .” He pulls down one of the three jumpseats along the wall by the door. “You could technically fit eleven people, though these three of them wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep.” He continues the tour, pointing around as necessary. Cargo is stored behind the shower, to leave space underneath for mechanical. Retractable floats allow water takeoff and landing. Of course, the wheels retract as well. Back there is a powerful boat motor, but you could opt out of that in favor of just using the jet engines. Distributed propulsion, obviously more fuel efficient. Solar panels mostly provide power for internal systems and land travel operation, but they can support flight in a pinch. Well, they can support an emergency landing.”

“This is...” Mateo doesn’t want to repeat himself. Heath knows it’s a lot. He knows what he bought. “When did you have time to buy this? Was it on your wishlist before we got here?”

He laughs, “no. I ordered it as soon as we first started talking about the mission five days ago.”

“Quick delivery time,” Mateo notes.

“Was it?” It must be pretty typical in this reality.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done, including this, but not excluding everything else. You’ve been a great help to us, and I thank you for helping Marie when she had no one.”

“You speak as if you’re about to leave alone.”

“I know this thing is yours, and I’m not saying you should give it to me—I would find another way—but I assume it runs itself, because no one has mentioned you having a pilot’s license. I’m just reminding you that I’m fine doing this by myself. You don’t have to spend time away from your wife. I know you two are going through something profound.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about that,” Heath says, nodding his head. “You need to add another destination to your list, which we’ll be going to first. Marie needs a real abortion.”

“Where is it?”

“Croatia.”

Microstory 1710: Everything But the Chisel

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My chisel is all that’s left. Ever since I moved into this house I’ve had a hard time remembering to close the garage. Everywhere I lived before, I would walk straight into the house, but this one is unattached. It’s right up against the house, mind you, and it’s even connected to the grid, but I have to walk outside to actually get into my home. It’s annoying, but I can deal. I just need to learn to make closing that door a habit by using the keypad, or maybe by buying an extra clicker to hang on the key hook. I guess it doesn’t matter much now. Everything is gone. Everything except my chisel. I don’t even have any use for a chisel. Just about everything I own I inherited from my family; in the case of the tools, my dad. He somewhat recently bought all new supplies, but the old ones were fine, and they were just sitting in his father’s father’s toolbox for years until it was time for me to move out. Now I’ve lost it all, except for the chisel. They took my car, naturally. I don’t know why I didn’t hear it start up, since the walls are so thin. They must have been professionals, who knew how to get in and out quickly and quietly. They didn’t want any chisels, though. Fortunately, the door to the inside of my house is always locked. I never forget to do that. In my old age, I can’t take off my shoes without holding onto something to steady myself, and the doorknob is pretty good for that. I suppose I could use a chair, but who has the time to remember that? Anyway, my hand’s already there, so before I grab all the way onto it, I turn the lock, and I’m safe. Or maybe they never wanted inside at all as there’s nothing of value in here, except for my life, and maybe not even that. My laptop is obsolete, my TV is a square. They would probably still want it anyway. After all, they took the trash can I keep in the garage for junk mail. They crave that 49 cents off a bag of carrots, but not a chisel, I guess.

I stand there staring at it, feeling like there must be some kind of message in this. If it were on the floor, I would assume they just dropped it on their way out. But it’s still up on this pegboard, right where I’m pretty sure I left. Well, I didn’t leave it there. My mom set this up for me secretly while I was at work one day. She likes to do things for me, because she knows how irresponsible I can be. Remember that I’m the one who never remembers to close his garage door. In all this time, I’ve probably only used a couple of these tools. The deck is old, so I have to smash down the screws and nails with a hammer so my dog doesn’t step on them. I would use the pocket knife to open packages. Those are really the only things here that I ever needed. I wonder if it’s possible to use the chisel for both of those tasks. I could hit the screws and nails with the handle, and stab into the boxes and bags. That would probably risk damaging the contents, but I believe I deserve it. Yeah, this must be a message, and it has nothing to do with online orders or hardware. The burglars are telling me that I’m not only a tool, but a useless one. Chisels are great when you’re the kind of person who uses chisels, but they’re not an everyday thing for most people. I’m not an everyday person. I’m only good under certain conditions, like when you want someone to steal all of your stuff without breaking a sweat, or if you need a mediocre file clerk who’s always making mistakes. This chisel represents me: alone, and not especially valuable. As I’m contemplating my sad life, one of the burglars returns and explains that he forgot something. He’s about to reach for the chisel, but I grab it first. And I stab him in the throat with it.

Microstory 1703: Apus

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I’m going to tell you my story once, and then never mention it again. Every time I look down at my legs, I relive the most traumatic experience I’ve ever had in my life, and I don’t need to keep rehashing that on purpose. Three years ago, I had just pulled into my garage after working late, and was trying to close the door behind me when I heard a grating screeching sound. At the time, the door was very old, because I had just moved in to a quiet town where the regulations were lax, and I hadn’t had time to modernize it. So it had a remote, but the door itself didn’t have any sensors that would automatically lift it back up if it encountered an obstacle. I took my hand off the keys, and looked in my passenger side view mirror to see a figure dressed in all black, holding onto the bottom of that door, preventing it from going down. The strain from this eventually damaged the system, and I guess the motor gave up. I look back on this day often, and wish I had just reversed the car into him. I could have escaped, and none of this would have happened. Of course, I’m not a violent woman. I didn’t know what the masked stranger was going to do to me, but I knew what I was going to do to him, which was nothing. I could only hope that he didn’t hurt me. As you can see, he did. He climbed into my car, smoothly, like he did this sort of thing every day. I slowly tried to reach over to my key again, hoping to push the alarm button, but he reached over just as slowly, and held my hand back. He shook his head, but didn’t speak. He tilted his head down a little, and pointed behind us with his left thumb, indicating that I should back out.

As I was complying with his demand, I scraped the side of my car against the frame of the garage, hoping to alert my neighbors. Choked up, I apologized, and claimed that I was nervous, which he believed, because it was not a lie. I overcompensated, and ran right into my metal trash cans on the other side of the driveway, making even more noise. Still, he believed I was doing my best, and he did not become angry. In the fastest I had ever seen him move, he quickly waved his index finger towards me, which I took to mean that he wanted me to start driving that direction down my street. As I was doing so, he casually reached over, and punched a set of GPS coordinates in my satnav. He didn’t have to search for a place, or even use an address; he knew the numbers by heart. We went far past the edge of town, and onto a gravel road in the woods. We didn’t speak a single word on the way. As far as I could tell, he was mute. We arrived exactly where you would expect someone like him to live; in a dilapidated and unpainted cabin. He pointed to my door, as he was stepping out of the car himself. He never touched me, though. He knew that I knew that I was in deeply unfamiliar territory, and there was nothing I could do to escape. He followed me into the cabin, and pointed to the chair where I was meant to sit, which I found to be bolted to the floor. He had me bind my stomach with rope, as well as a zip tie for my left wrist, before handling my other wrist for me. He dragged a bucket of burning hot coals out of the fire, and towards me. When it got to close, I lifted my legs, but he forced them back down, keeping them there while the coals seared my skin. When they were good and burned, he carried me to the trunk of my own car, and drove me back home. So that is why every wall in my apartment is filled with paintings of birds-of-paradise. Their Latin nickname is Apus, because people once believed that, like me, these magnificent creatures did not have feet.

Microstory 1702: Air Pump

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I cannot find my bicycle pump. My Aunt Leah is going to kill me if I’m late, but that’s not the worst part. She bought me all this nice equipment so I could go green, and sell my car for some extra cash. If I don’t show up to her office with the bike, it’s going to break her heart. It doesn’t matter that the flat tire isn’t my fault, or that her son has been staying with me for the last couple weeks, and he keeps moving my crap around. She can’t even be allowed to see a hint of the possibility that I ever go anywhere without it. Of course, I take public transportation all the time. The movie theatre is too far away, and I like to buy all of the groceries I’ll need for a month. She cannot know this. She is too unreasonable and frantic about everything that happens to her. The more time I spend looking for the air pump, the less time I have to resort to the alternative solution. And I do have another solution. It’s just not particularly ethical, and could come back to bite me in the ass later. It’s better than having Aunt Leah ice me out. She controls a lot about the family, and even though she won’t have much inheritance to give me when she croaks, she holds a lot of sway with the grandparents. That’s it, it’s already taken me too long. I’m going to have to do the other thing. My neighbor isn’t going to like it, but I can deal with her later, and she can’t threaten me with hundreds of thousands of dollars. Yes, my family is quite rich. I’m not, but they are, and if I wanna become like them when I grow up, I have to play ball. I may sound selfish or materialistic, but I hate working, and I don’t have very many marketable skills. I was made for the simple life.

Fortunately, my neighbor gave me her garage code in case of emergencies, or when she gets packages during her time away. Also fortunately, she has a very similar bike. It’s not exactly the same, but I’ve gotten quite good at amateur bike repair, so I should be able to make it work. I think I can do it. I enter the code, and slip under the door before it’s all the way open, as if my other neighbors somehow won’t notice if I’m quick enough. I turn her bike over, and start to remove the wheel carefully, but as quickly as possible. It’s off in minutes, and I’m halfway there. Well...I’m halfway there to being halfway there. I close her garage behind me, and walk back over to mine. I still have to take my bad wheel off so I can replace it, but that goes a lot faster, because I’m so much more familiar with it. I get the new wheel on, and I’m surprised at how nicely it fits. Hmm. It almost looks like it actually belongs. An enthusiast could tell the difference, but it should pass Leah’s inspection. After all, she has no reason to believe I had to cannibalize someone else’s property to get it in working order. She might not even see it in the bike rack from her third story office. This was always a precaution. I take a few laps around my driveway, just to make sure, but I can’t waste too much time on it, because now I’m really running late. I can still make it, but I’m going to have to haul ass. I close my own garage, and race out into the street. There’s a lot more traffic than I would like, and drivers are getting pissy with me, but they can suck it. I’m more important to them in this moment; not in general, but right now. They would understand if they knew what’s at stake. Finally the streets clear up. I’m also at the top of the hill, so if I just let it ride without being careful, I can make up time. I pedal as hard as I can to give myself even more of an edge. I smile as I check my watch. Yeah, I’m gonna make it. Except I don’t. A bus makes a right turn in front of me, and I’m moving too fast to brake. I die instantly.

Microstory 1560: Cheater

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Prompt

I’ve never been a cheater, but this test is going to be simultaneously the hardest I’ve taken, and the one that matters the least to my future productivity as a member of society...

Botner

...at least this weekend, anyway. I hope I pass it. Last year, on this day, I got dumped by an asshole. I had just finished my final exam in the morning, and the final exam grading period had just ended, and I was ready to go home. It was finals week, so the academic atmosphere was just setting in, and some of the older graduate students had already started complaining about “how can we be starting the school year already?” and it was such a jaded, stressful, and tragic time to exist in (besides only being nine months into the school year, before adding the first week of summer vacation in). I was sitting in the lounge, and I received a text from an ex-girlfriend. Like I mentioned, I didn’t see it coming, I didn’t suspect that she would take this “joke” to a new level, and I didn’t even tell her to never contact me again. I left it on the front seat of my car, in plain view. I just don’t do well when someone hurts my pride. I know that I don’t deal with rejection well, because my ego is the biggest part of my sense of identity, and when someone uses it against me, I don’t handle it well. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before. When I used to wake up at 4:30 AM, every day, to...

Conclusion

...work at a package sorting facility, there was this guy I was interested in, but I couldn’t tell if he liked men, and we worked on opposite sides of the room, so we never talked. But my girlfriend didn’t like me even looking at him, so we eventually broke up, even though I never actually cheated. After a few minutes, I decide to text my ex back. The message she sent was innocuous enough, just asking me about that Italian restaurant I like, but if she wants to get back together, I need to know that. I’m not saying I’ll go for it, but it’s always better to know, and dating her would be good for my career. As I’m waiting for her reply, the email I’ve really been waiting for comes in. It’s the weird PhD student, who calls himself Answerman. He still lives in the dorms, and has a filing cabinet full of test answers and homework examples. First one’s free, he told me. I guess he thinks he’ll keep me as a client, but I won’t do it. This is a one time thing, and then I’m goin’ legit. I just need to pass this one class, and everything will be fine. He asks to meet on the bottom level of a parking garage, which is a red flag, but I’m desperate. I walk over to the rendezvous, and climb down the stairs. Answerman, is there, along with the dean, who tells me I have two choices. I can either fail this class, and tell everyone I know that Answerman still has the answers, man...or I can be expelled. I realize it’s like a disease. Everyone else was given this same choice, and it’s always a trap. Just then, my ex-girlfriend finally texts back. She does want to get back together. That’s perfect. Her father works for a tech company that doesn’t require degrees, and I already have all the skills I’ll ever need. I tell the dean to go screw himself, then leave the parking garage, so I can announce to the whole world that Answerman is a frickin’ narc.

Microstory 1534: Found and Lost

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I can never find anything in this ________ house. I swear, I’m not a ________, I just cannot get organized. I can spend ________ on the hunt for one ________ thing, and there have been some things that I still haven’t ________, even after years. I’m not talking about common ________, like my chapstick or wallet. I use those every day, and I always ________ them in the same ________. I’m talking about that little metal key thing you use to access the ________ card or external ________ on your phone. I only need it every two ________, and that’s plenty of time to forget where I placed it. And when I finally do ________ what I’m looking for, I always recall that I put it there for some ________ reason. Yeah, I thought I was pretty clever, ________ all the thumbtacks with the nails. But ________ go out in the garage, and ________ are an indoor ________ . The fact that they’re both ________ isn’t all that relevant. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been through this ________, flipping through my stack of tax forms and middle school report cards, or opening every ________ in my desk twice. You would think I would have the layout memorized by now, but I’m only ever looking for one thing, and even if I saw it the last time, when I was looking for something else, it’s not like I’ll remember. But I should, because I have to do it so ________. And what’s happened today doesn’t make any ________. This is what you might call a junk ________, but it’s actually pretty clean and ________. It’s the most organized area I have. There’s a divider for rubber ________, and one for ________, and another for ________. If I’m ever looking for ________, that’s one of the few things I actually can always find. It’s the first ________ I open when I’m looking for something that’s not normally in it, though.

Today, I can’t remember where I ________ my social security ________. I need it to apply to this airport thing, and apparently memorizing the number itself isn’t ________ enough. Which is dumb. What’s the difference between ________ the number, and showing a piece of ________ with the number on it? That’s all that’s on there. I could probably forge one myself, even though I’m no ________, nor exceptionally good at computers. Anyway, that’s not the point. There’s something in my organized ________ drawer that doesn’t belong. I have never seen it ________. It’s a golden flash drive that claims to have five petabytes stored on it. Like I said, I’m no computer ________, but even I know how insane that is. I look it up online; that’s five thousand times larger than the ____est flash drive the public has access to. Obviously I have to figure out what’s on it. Someone ________ into my house, didn’t take anything I can see, but left something that shouldn’t even ________. I’m not certain it ever could exist, even in the ________, not in something so small. I’m worried it’s a ________ that will destroy the ________, though, so I spend the next ________ looking for my old ________. I mean, this ________ is ancient. It still boots up, but the ________ I’m not using my ________ computer is because I don’t want there to be any ________ of connecting to the ________. This thing was manufactured before wireless ________ was even a thing, I think, probably. I stick the mysterious ________ ________ into the USB ________, and wait for it to ________. It begins to glow, and quickly becomes too hot to touch, so I can’t take it out, and shutting the ________ doesn’t matter, because it’s so old that it can’t detect whether it’s open or ________. The screen will stay on unless you turn it off ________, which isn’t working either. After a ________, I’m getting really worried, but before I can make another ________, two beams of light shoot out of the flash ________, and hit me right in the eyes. Now I’m ________ in a trance, unable to move a muscle. I can feel myself being ________ into the device, little by little. Then the darkness. I don’t know how long it takes me to ________ up again, but it takes me awhile to get my bearings. I realize that I’m in the computer, and I’m able to access everything still ________ on it, like the letter I wrote to the boy I had a crush on in ________ grade that I was always too scared to print off and ________ to him. I can’t actually do anything here, though, because like I said, this ________ is too old. Now I’m regretting it, because if I had an internet connection, I could have at least called for ________.

Microstory 1218: Sam Bellamy

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Life was okay for Samson Bellamy. They weren’t great; not since his late father’s belovèd car was stolen, or his father’s death, for that matter—and he was definitely still in his rut—but they were getting better. Things would never be at a hundred percent, though, until something about his life changed. What he needed was to be forced into helping people in a way he never knew was possible. He would come to believe that the universe itself wanted this for him. One day, he was walking into his kitchen to make some breakfast when the lemon he was planning to use on his omelette suddenly exploded in his hand. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it startled him fiercely, and sent him falling backwards. He tried to catch himself on the counter, but fell to his ass anyway. Immediately after that, everything about the room changed. Pots and pans moved around to different places, the lighting was a little different, and it was perhaps a bit warmer. He looked into his lemon juice-soaked hand, and found his keys, which weren’t there before. His car was stolen back in 1991, but he kept the key, because what else was he going to do with it? His entire keychain later went missing in 1993, and he never understood why. If his keys were back, maybe so too was his car. He rushed out to the garage, and saw it sitting there, in perfect condition. Overwhelmed with excitement, he opened the door, climbed right inside the only thing his father ever truly loved besides his son, and drove away from the house. After only a couple minutes, everything around him changed, just like the kitchen had before. A car appeared out of nowhere, and nearly crashed into him. He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, before becoming determined to figure out what was happening. He flipped on the radio, and before long, he learned that it was 1987. He had traveled seven years into the past. But not right away. No, he had made a couple of jumps before this. He almost screamed when he realized that it was he who had stolen his own damn car, and also his own keys. This explained everything. But was it over? Probably not.

Desperate to see his father, who would still be alive at this point in history, and living in Kansas City, Samson drove right for the highway, and booked it halfway across the state. Only by the grace of God was he not pulled over for speeding. He was this close to getting to see him again when his three hour time limit was up, and he suddenly found himself in 1979. He might have tried yet again, but this was early September, and Samson recalled being on vacation on the Caribbean islands with his parents at the time, so it wouldn’t likely be possible. He wasn’t carrying his government identification, so he wouldn’t have been able to travel out of the country; not that it would matter, since it was grossly frontdated to years in the future anyway. It was really only then that he started to question what was happening to him. All throughout the drive from Springfield, he was only focused on getting his family back. He hadn’t wondered whether anyone was doing this to him on purpose, whether he could exercise any control over it, or when exactly it would happen again, if ever. This was when he ran into Lauren Gardner, who was experiencing the same thing he was, a fact he found quite obvious when he saw what shirt she was wearing. It turned out that she was from the same moment in the future that he was, and also had no clue what was going on. Together with a third friend—and a revolving door of other companions—they traveled time, at the behest of some mysterious and unknown force, doing their best to complete their missions. Samson never did get that opportunity to see his father again, but he met a lot of other great people, and while it wasn’t the life he would have thought to choose for himself, he could have certainly done worse.

Microstory 857: Drive Out

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My best friend and roommate, Deena Norup comes up with the craziest of theories, and as absurd as they sound when you first hear them, they start making a bit of sense the more she explains her reasoning. And she has been right every single time. She thought that our neighbors to the North were cheating on each other with our neighbors to the South. She insisted that the North house husband was sleeping with the South house wife, and vice versa. I didn’t believe until the truth finally came out a week later, and we watched the four of them get in a huge screaming match on our lawn. Deena also predicted that the mayor of our town was actually featured in a number of scifi B-movies in the early 90s, but always while wearing some alien or monster costume. This turned out to be one hundred percent true, and I still don’t know how she discovered it. He only ever did it to help his second cousin, who was a filmmaker, and he was never credited for his parts. She just sees connections that other people don’t. So when I tell you she believed the paralegal at the law firm where she works as a receptionist was secretly an inventor with hundreds of patents, you know I was on board with proving it. The paralegal dressed in modest inexpensive clothing, treated everyone as if they were his boss, and didn’t seem to have a personal life. No one but Deena would expect this guy to be a multimillionaire who carved out an extensive underground lair under his one house, but it turned out to be there, just as she said. We put on our comfortable black clothes, broke into his house, and snuck downstairs, where we found a massive garage full of rare classic cars. We went another level down to find a laboratory with tons of equipment and machines that neither of us could name. The third level was finished, but almost completely empty, like it was waiting to be designated for some interesting purpose. The only thing in it was another car, but it was of no model we recognized, by no apparent make. He must have built it himself from scratch.

The car gave Deena a bad feeling that only increased the nearer she got to it. She begged for us to leave, but we were this close, so how could I not at least check it out? I opened the door and crawled inside. Right away, I could see that this car must have come from the future. The windows turned opaque, and displayed full 4K screens. There was a coffee maker, and a stove; both of which were built into the interior. The passenger seat lifted up to reveal a toilet, and the back seat turned into a tub. Once my foot was clear, the front door closed on its own and locked itself. I couldn’t open it from the inside, and Deena couldn’t let me out either. The screens indicated that the vehicle was in vacuum mode, which freaked me out, but I could steal breathe, so maybe I was misinterpreting what that meant. Still, I needed to get out somehow. By now, alarms were going off in what must have been the whole lair, but Deena was just standing there, as calm as ever. “Drive,” she said simply. What the hell did that mean? I continued looking for an exit, but there was nothing. The only way I was going to solve this problem was with help somewhere else, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to trust what Deena says. I turned the engine, and started driving forward, hoping to find an exit somewhere. The wall in front of me opened on its own, and let out to the yard above. There waiting for me was a horde of angry men and women with guns. They were all wearing suits, so I assumed them to be federal agents. The paralegal was there too. He spoke to me through his wrist watch, “Miss Norup should not have shown you that. It is not for you.” I was desperate to get out of there, any way possible, and it was like the car read my mind. It started hovering over the ground, then rose higher and higher. Through cameras on the side of the car, I could see that the wheels had turned into rocket engines, and were flying me away. It just kept going and going, high above the atmosphere, and I finally realized what vacuum mode was. I looked at the back camera feed, and could see the agents had followed me with their own flying cars. This must be part of some secret government program. A friendly voice spoke to alert me that the drive-in theatre was now populated, and that the end had come. The screen showed me footage of a parking lot filled with a bunch of vans. Then the Earth disappeared...literally. All that survived were that parking lot, and these spacecars.

Microstory 785: Valet

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In 2007, Magnate began its line of appliances, which quickly became its most successful department. People would always need ways to store and prepare their food, as well as easily perform everyday household duties. Then in 2012, Magnate expanded to entertainment electronics, including cameras, phones, and music players. As time went on, it was becoming clear that smartphone apps were going to remain the most important tools people use to maintain their lifestyles. There were apps for scheduling, apps for communication, apps for games, and apps for tracking fitness activities. Wanting to bridge their other departments into a more cohesive system, in 2017, Magnate started getting into materianet, which is sometimes known as the tangiblenet, but Magnate coined the former. They wanted to connect every machine or device an individual owned, so they could all communicate with each other, and share data. Theoretically, with this technology, your home will wake up when your car drives close enough to it by adjusting the environmental temperature, opening the garage, turning on the hall lights, switching the television to your favorite news program, and disabling internal security precautions. Before you even leave work, it can remind you to pick up a carton of milk, because it’s been communicated this need by your refrigerator. Similarly, connected cities should be able to measure the traffic on a given road, keeping street lights dimmed when not in use, and brightening them only when a car or pedestrian draws near. This was going to be a huge endeavor, and not everything Magnate has tried has worked out perfectly. But one thing they realized was that they really needed a single system that all devices would use. There needed to be a set of standards, and the company set out to create these, feeling themselves to be in the best position to do so. On the front end of all this is a meta-application called Valet. Valet was programmed to do everything physically possible for you. Valet knows your schedule, because it has access to your online calendar. Armed with this information, it can automatically instruct your thermostat to a setting ideal to saving energy, say when you’re off on vacation. Is a friend dropping by to check on the place while you’re gone? You can temporarily grant her certain house rights, which alters the temperature to her personal ideal, and it knows this, because everyone has their own account. You can lock her out of certain rooms, if she’s not allowed access, and can lock your car and/or garage down, so she can’t take your new Starburst out for a spin. All of this is controlled by a single application on your phone. Sounds nice, right? Though a great number of people came together to make this a reality, one special individual, with the ability to see the future, spearheaded the project. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage Manus Burke’s personal assistant, Lynne Wallace.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 30, 2115

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Things were awkwardly silent when Mateo was sent back to his own body in 2114. He found himself lying on the ground, the movement of the sun making it clear that time had passed while they were in the past. Their bodies had just been left there in the present, empty. They were all now waking up, and struggling to get to their feet. Atrophy, Mateo guessed, was responsible for their muscle weakness. Fortunately, none of them had left their bodies by the beach at low tide. Or no, maybe someone had, because someone was missing. Oh no, that’s right. His mysterious daughter, Kivi never existed. Mateo looked over to Lincoln, wondering whether he could remember Kivi from the other timeline, but Lincoln gave nothing away. Arcadia was right about the other thing, that there was someone with them he didn’t recognize.

“Is everybody okay?” Leona asked, having recovered physically faster than most.

“That was, uh...” Horace said, “not pleasant.”

“I—” Mateo started to say, but a few others had intended to speak at that moment, and were talking over each other.

“Well,” Samsonite said, “I think that Mateo should be the one to speak, if he so chooses.”

“Thank you, dad,” Mateo said. He realized he had never called him that, nor was it entirely true. He was like a stepfather he barely knew, standing right next to a birth father he barely knew, while the adoptive father he did know was dead. “Unless anyone has any objections, it might be best if we put a general moratorium on the Ashton Kutcher Experience that we all just went through.”

“The what?” Xearea asked.

“The butterfly effect,” Leona explained.

“Oh,” Xearea replied.

“I believe we should institute a—and forgive me for this—don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Please, do not be afraid to disagree with this.”

It didn’t look like anyone wanted to talk about it either. Vearden was nodding, “yeah, I think that’s probably for the best.”

“I...” Mateo didn’t know how to bring it up, especially after his declaration. “I do feel I need to say...” He pointed towards the woman only he apparently saw as a newcomer. “I do not know this woman.”

She looked to her left, and then to her right, and then she pointed to herself. “Me?”

“Mateo, that’s Angelita Prieto. Mario’s wife?”

“Mario has a wife now.”

“For a while now, from our perspective, and yours,” Mario explained.

“Okay. Um...could everyone just...go about their day, so I can get to know my new step-mother. Sorry I don’t remember. Time travel, right?”

Mateo spent the rest of his day getting to know Angelita, who generally went by the name of Lita. They had apparently met when Mario was on a sort of vacation-slash-sabbatical in 2017 Spain. Yes, as it turned out, Mario was sometimes awarded breaks. Lita remained in her time period while Mario was working, traveling back and forth in time. He would sometimes be gone for days at a time, but no longer than that. Their timelines started running parallel so that, when Mario was gone for x amount of time, Lita would not see him for that same amount of time, as if he were doing nothing more than traveling out of town for business. Ten years later, they were both plopped onto Tribulation Island, but a few decades in the future. They both had memories of living here ever since.

Upon landing in 2115, Mateo found Samsonite to be missing. During breakfast, he spoke of Samsonite, and tried to give everybody a good idea of how they knew him. Aura was the most hesitant, but she trusted that Mateo wasn’t just straight up lying to everybody. Leona and Paige both had distorted memories of him, thanks to the remnants of his that they had never taken off. Leona was wearing his hat, while Paige was wearing his wedding ring, and those were enough to keep him tethered to their personal reality.

After breakfast, they spread out to get water, or tend to the fire. Mateo found Xearea hastily scribbling on a piece of paper with both hands. When he touched her shoulder, she flipped out and tried to stab him with the pen. Once he stepped back and gave her some space, she went back to her project. This was another trance. The instructions were probably too complicated to be spoken. When it looked like she was nearing completion, he raised his arms, and his voice. “Huddle up!”

Everybody stopped what they were doing and came over. Xearea, still in the trance, handed Mateo a list of their names, paired up together. She then looked to the crowd and spoke in that same creepy monotone the others had. “The Keirsey Temperament Sorter is a personality test designed to separate people into sixteen distinct categories. Though Samsonite was not technically a teacher, he did have a latent passion for helping people find their potential, enrich their lives, and achieve their goals. I have put you into groups of two. Each of you will teach your partner something you know, while learning something they know. My vessel has written further details, but it will be up to you to devise a legitimate test of accomplishment. You will have today to devise your lesson plan. School starts tomorrow, and your respective tests must be passed by the end of July 2, 2117.”

After the speech, Xearea started passing out slips of paper to everybody that explained what they were supposed to teach their partner. Mateo was the one with the partner list, and so he read it off while the real Xearea was coming back and recovering. “Okay, I guess we should all find quiet places to talk. Give your partner an overview of what you’ll be teaching them before starting the plan. Arcadia said nothing about keeping the lesson plan from your partner until you start, so I would say you can work on it together. Afterall, you have to know how versed in the subject they already are.”

Mateo’s birth father, Mario raised his hand. “Um, I don’t have a partner.”

“There’s an odd number of us,” Leona noted.

Mateo turned over the list to the other side. “Oh yeah, it says here you have to jump through time and find someone to teach and learn from. I don’t know if you will be able to find them yourself, or if you’ll be assig—” He chose not to finish his sentence after Mario suddenly disappeared. “Good luck,” he said after a preparatory sigh.

Xearea took Mateo by the hand and walked him into the forest. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I thought you did,” Mateo said as he was watching Leona move off with Vearden. He carried with him the least education, so that made sense. But what would he be teaching her?

“I do know, I just don’t know what kind of memories you have of this place. Do you know what’s here?”

“Well, there were tons of buildings that have since been torn out of time, and you people don’t remember them. I think the Colosseum replica still exists, and I know we had a few huts on the other side of the island.”

“That’s not all,” Xearea said with a smile.

“Then what?” The smile was contagious.

“I think I’ll let you be pleasantly surprised. It’s the only true sign of civilization that we have here.” She kept smiling as she led him through the forest for well over a mile, never letting go of his hand.

When finally they had arrived, Mateo knew that she had been right. He was surprised, and it was actually kind of exciting. It was a gigantic driving course, even larger than the ones in the real world. There was even a raised highway, and building façades along the ‘city streets’. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right,” Xearea agreed.

“When did who build this?”

“We don’t know. Vearden found it when he was out hunting many years ago.” Ah, hunting. That was probably what he was teaching Leona. “Nanotechnology obviously created it in a short amount of time, but we didn’t hear anything. You haven’t even seen the best part. She took him over to the only real building, and lifted the overhead door. In it, he could see dozens of cars of all makes and models, from all time periods. This was just the first floor of three, and it looked like there might be underground levels too.

“When this place was the hub; in the timeline that I remember, Baudin once spoke of adding a driver’s ed course, along with a garage like this. Theoretically, salmon could drop by and check out a car like a book from a library. If they were from a time before or after human-operated vehicles, or if they were going to be assigned a vehicle class they weren’t certified in, we would teach them.” He started rubbing his fingers on the hood of a 1967 Chevy Impala. “He never built it, though. I wouldn’t have been available for more than one day a year; if that, and the powers that be sent the emissary to inform him they wouldn’t allow it anyway.”

“It’s obviously more interesting to watch salmon struggle to learn something strange on their own.”

“Exactly. So why is it here now, in this timeline?”

“Maybe Arcadia commissioned it to be built,” she suggested. “She probably knew what most, if not all, of the expiations were going to be.”

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it’s proof that you can’t ever tear someone out of time completely.”

“Like a giant remnant?”

“A remnant that you can drive.” He was still eyeing that Impala. “Don’t know about you, but I could use a break.”

“Well,” she started smiling again. “This is nonstop for you. I get yearlong breaks.”

“I don’t need to design a new curriculum. I already know how to teach someone to drive.”

“In that case, let’s just...have some fun.”

“So you don’t know how to drive!” Mateo called over to Xearea as they were cruising down the highway with the windows down.

“Never needed to! I was turned into the Savior before I was of age, and it didn’t matter, because we don’t have human-operated cars in my time!” She called back. “And can we close the windows?”

“Yeah, okay!”

She just stared at the door.

“It’s that knob thing by your knee!—You turn it!—No, the other way!—There ya go. First lesson...in the bag.”

“How did you survive the early 21st century?”

“We used buttons by then. This car is even older.”

“Then why are we in it?”

“You feel that vibration?”

“Yeah...?”

“That’s why. They got rid of it in new cars.”

“Gee, I can’t understand why.”

He smiled. “That’s okay. It’s not for everyone. I’ve forgotten how good it feels to have this...”

“Average sized-penis?”

“Power,” Mateo finished, ignoring her remark. He then changed the subject, “so what you’re you gonna teach me?”

“I’m not allowed to say.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“I’m not allowed to say,” she repeated.

He knew he had to let it go, so he just kept driving. They drove a few more cars before the novelty wore off. Then he left her alone for the rest of the day so she could work on her own curriculum.

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