The Seventh Stage: Rock and a Hard Place (Part III)

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Ezqava ‘Effigy’ Eodurus has had a storied past. Much of it, she prefers to forget. She was young and stupid at the time, and very vulnerable. She placed her trust in someone who turned out to be so much better than her, she never wants to feel that judged again. She truly doesn’t understand her own mind. She’s mischievous and unpredictable, and even sometimes violent. That’s why they locked her up on Earth, and now on this random remote penal colony. Colony isn’t the right word for it, though, since she lives here alone. It’s not too bad. She has a nice home with a pool. The weather is always tame, but she can see storms range in the distance, which is interesting. They’ve provided her with countless hours of entertainment, but no means of communication. She can see what’s going on all over the universe, but can have no effect on it. Unless someone comes to talk to her. Which they do, all the time, though less so in recent days. When she was trapped in her cage on Earth, no one visited her. Most people didn’t even know that she existed. Here, she’s so popular. Here, they value her knowledge. Sadly, they don’t value her as a person. It’s her fault, and she knows it, but it’s still been difficult.

It won’t always be like this. Effigy doesn’t have the power to see the future, but with all the data that she’s collected, she’s pretty confident in her predictions. Hers is not the only transcendent power in these lands. There are two others, and based on the trajectory of their dealings, it won’t be long before they meet. The only question then is whether she can convince them to join forces with her. In the past, she would attempt to gain allies through trickery and subterfuge. Her ability to shapeshift into any human form has always been too tempting to ignore, and too easy to abuse. Her usual methods won’t fly with Clavia and Echo. Not only will they see right through it, but they actually have the power to turn on her. The reason she was in a cage for centuries was because none of her combatants knew how to kill her. The Cloudbearer twins do not suffer the same shortcomings. They have more power than her, and it’s hard to tell how they’ll use it. They’re good...for now—if there even is such a thing as a good person. That doesn’t mean they won’t fight her. If she wants them to trust her, she has to be honest, good, and honestly good. That’s why she has spent the last several years helping leaders of this pocket universe. She’s been asking for favors in return, but only because that’s what they expect. If she did it for nothing, they would be suspicious of her.

Effigy has been trying to get better, but without an unbiased third party to assess her progress, she can’t know if it’s worked. Her self-improvement was driven by her desire to regain the power and freedom that she once had. Is this a paradox? Is it impossible to be worthy of the power that one seeks if they seek it? Is ambition inherently evil? More importantly, how will the god twins see it? Earlier, she planted the seed of her answer when an old friend came for a visit. Either she’s about to get a third visitor in one day, or her friend is back.

She watches as the personal pod streaks across the sky, and lands somewhere on the other side of the wall that keeps Effigy from seeing the ocean. She’s tried asking for a tower to have a better view of this world, but she’s never given anyone enough intel to warrant such a gift. She’s going to play it differently this time, not like she did before with Bariq. She’s going to be cool and composed, but genuine and professional. The door opens. Two women walk through. One is the friend, but the other is a stranger. “You have returned,” Effigy begins, “sooner than I expected.”

“The term sequence that you provided was right,” Tekla replies. “It took me to an evidently unused Nexus, which allowed me to travel to Origin, where I met an apparent god, who connected me with this one here.” She gestured towards the other woman.

“Hi, Francis Deering,” she says, offering her hand.

Effigy reaches out for it, then pulls back in horror. She forgot to shapeshift into the form of a human. She looks like her true self still...a white monster. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see me like this. I didn’t realize.” She takes a breath, and transforms herself into a woman she once knew by the name of Slipstream.

“It’s okay,” Francis assures her. “You don’t scare me.” Her skin begins to vibrate and ripple. Within seconds, she looks like a masculine version of herself, perhaps a twin brother, or something. She—or he—seems as surprised as Effigy and Tekla do. “Wow, that was much faster than it is where I’m from. Your world is interesting.”

Effigy smiles. “May I ask, what are your pronouns?”

“She/her when I’m in my female form, and he/him when I’m like this.  If you’re talking about me in a more general sense, and you’ve encountered me in both forms about evenly, you can use they/them.”

“Can you turn into anyone, or just this one guy?” Tekla asks him.

“I’m not turning into a different person,” Francis explains. “I’m both people. Nothing about who I am as a person changes when I’m in one form or the other. They call me a dimorph; both male and female. I can only have one reproductive system at a time, but my mind and personality maintain continuity.”

They nod.

“I can shift back, if you’re more comfortable...” Francis offers.

“No, it’s whatever you want,” Effigy assures him. “Is that why you chose him?” she asks Tekla. “Because he’s a shifter.”

“I explained the situation to the god, Senona Riggur, who suggested a therapist would be of some use to you. This is who they chose.”

“So, you’re from another universe?” Effigy asks Francis.

“Am I?” Francis volleys. “No clue. I just go where they tell me.”

“Well, I really appreciate you coming here, and I would appreciate more of your time. You see, I’ve traditionally not been so great of a person. As you saw, I’m not a person at all. I think that I’ve learned the error of my ways, but self-assessment can only get you so far.”

“You say you’re not a person. What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you saw. I’m not human.”

“Just because you’re not human doesn’t mean you’re not a person.”

“Do you know a lot of non-humans where you’re from? I mean, more intelligent beings than just dogs and cats.”

Francis smirks. “I know a few.” She takes a beat. “Let’s get into this. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Yeah. Tekla, do you need to get back to Judy before she gets suspicious?” Effigy asks, worried. Maybe she is better, worrying about others.

Tekla laughs. “You think I took the Nexus to a hostile unknown location without getting my boss’ permission first? She went with me. She was granted her own wish alongside mine. Don’t ask what it was, though.”

“I see. Tell her thank you. She’s always been more supportive and understanding with me than other people.”

“I will pass along the message. Until then...” Tekla starts to say, “I’ve never skinny-dipped before, but I hear that’s how it’s done in this pool.”

Now Effigy is the one to laugh. “You can if you want. I also have suits in the cabana. We’ll be in the solarium, if you don’t mind a little sun, Mr. Deering. The windows are rated high for UV shielding.”

“That sounds lovely,” Francis replies.

The two of them head to the other side of the house to discuss Effigy’s issues, and her self-doubts. In the spirit of my agreement with Dr. Hammer to stay out of the therapy sessions that she has with her own patients, I cannot relay what Francis and Effigy discussed in private. While Dr. Hammer did not technically ask me to maintain the privacy of all of my characters, I believe that she would prefer me to respect therapist-patient confidentiality across the board except for conversations which are integral to the plot. Suffice it to say, Francis’ wisdom was very helpful in Effigy’s quest to not only become a better person, but to understand what that truly means, and how to measure her own progress, as well as recognize her successes for what they are.

Effigy looks up to the sky again. “You’re in my head.”

Is she talking to me?

“Yes, Superintendent, I am talking to you. You are writing this story from an omniscient third-person perspective. You know everything that I’m thinking. The fact that you chose not to watch my therapy session is meaningless. You still know exactly what happened. You could always just pull it straight out of my thoughts.”

“Who are you talking to?” Francis asks. They’re currently strolling around—

“No, no, no,” Effigy interrupts me. “You’re not going to ignore my question by droning on and on about the minutiae of our current behavior, just to reach some arbitrary word count goal on this installment. There’s vivid imagery, and then there’s pointless and trivial details. We’re walking back to the other side of the house. There. Done. That’s all you need to say.”

I wasn’t ignoring your question. You didn’t ask one.

Effigy stops to think for a moment. As she does so, a beetle-like insectoid crawls along the leaf of a plant hanging from a pole on the side of the building. A spider-like creature is on the underside of this leaf, and the question is whether one will notice the other, both each other, or neither. No one is looking at these organisms, but it’s still happening. Things like this are happening all the time, all around you. If Effigy weren’t blinded by her frustration with me, she might have the capacity to take a moment to admire the beauty. She’s standing next to it right now, stewing. She’s choosing not to look over at the insectoids, knowing all too well that if I wanted her to look at them, she would goddamn look at them. For as powerful as she thinks she may be, she is nothing compared to the might of the author. I could erase her from the story with a few taps on my keyboard. She would never connect with Clavia and Echo. She would never realize her full potential. She would never really know if she became a better person, or if the leopard simply can’t change its spots. I already spent years not mentioning Effigy and her exploits at all, and I can do it again. I could do it forever if I like. Her past as the final boss in the Springfield Nine franchise may never have happened. I could erase that too if I wanted. And maybe I will.

I just did. Effigy who?

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Microstory 2124: Suppose Makes Me Sexist

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Therapy time. Part of my sentence requires that I participate in regular psychological treatment with an approved provider. Interestingly enough, while it’s fine for them to dictate the pool of therapists that I am allowed to choose from, it’s not legal for the court to determine the length of treatment. They can’t tell me how long the sessions should be, or how often they should be, or even how long I have to keep doing it. It seems weird, since the only thing stopping me from only meeting someone once can be found in other sections of the sentence, like the part that discusses making significant and quantifiable improvement in behavior. I could theoretically only go the once, and then just work on myself on my own, but that’s harder to demonstrate, so continued participation is the easiest way to measure progress, for everyone. The therapist doesn’t even have to sign anything to prove that I’m going regularly, or submit reports to the court. It’s basically on the honor system, though my parole officer will be able to give anecdotal evidence one way or another. I’ve spent all day narrowing the list of providers online to see who I might want to speak with, reading their bios, and taking note of their specialties. I immediately ignored all the male therapists, which has made this go a lot faster. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. I just feel more comfortable around women, I always have, especially when it comes to medical professionals. It’s not even a sexual thing, as I’m also attracted to men. I’ve just always found women to generally be more patient, compassionate, and understanding. And also less violent, though that doesn’t mean any professional has ever attacked me, or anything. I just have a preference, which I suppose makes me sexist, but I think it’s okay. The problem with sexism is that it leads to discrimination, and in my case, my feelings are never really to the detriment of others. I’ve never been in charge of hiring anyone, or firing them. If I were, I would easily be able to set this all aside, because it’s really just about how comfortable I am around them. I rarely go out of my way to make myself comfortable, and I recognize that there’s a difference between that and competence, intelligence, or social or professional fitness. Anyway, as per usual, I won’t give you any names, but once I find the right person, I’ll tell you a little bit about her, and will probably be mentioning our work periodically as I continue telling my story.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 5, 2399

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Neither Arcadia nor Vearden has any family in this reality. The closest thing to it is Team Matic, and they’ve been so great and supportive this whole time. It only seems right that they announce the latest news on the baby to them, and that they make a whole thing about it. So they’ve invited everyone to their home, including Kivi, to a nice brunch. They’re having it catered, because they don’t know how to cook themselves. Normally, to the best of their knowledge, one person or couple will show up a little early, and then others will trickle in. One will inevitably arrive forty minutes late, and blame it on something that no one believes, and when he does join them, they’ll remember why they just about didn’t invite him in the first place. For this group, they all come at the same time, because they all live together in the retrofitted disease research lab. Kivi called, and she can’t make it, so everyone is here.

“Thank you for coming,” Vearden says, holding a glass of orange juice. “If you’ll give our caterers another few minutes, they’ll leave, and we’ll be able to talk freely.”

Most of the caterers keep their poker faces on, but a couple of them are confused and curious about what they’re not allowed to hear. They knew it would be like this from the start, though. They won’t be serving the food. They’ve been asked to leave it, and come back for their stuff later. They remove the last of the foil, and start to leave. While they’re still within earshot, Arcadia decides to make a joke. “Great, now the human sacrifice can begin!” The caterers get out quick.

“Joking!” Vearden tries to shout at them, but they may not have heard. “Thanks for that, now we’re going to be on a list.”

“That’s okay,” Arcadia declares, “we work for the government!”

“It’s more like they work for us, but we’ll talk about that later. Go on, and dig in,” Vearden encourages.

Near the end of the meal, they tell the crowd the good news, and the strange news. They reveal that they had to switch to the government hospital, that the baby is a girl, and that she’s going to be born early, but not premature. She’s developing faster than normal, and while that is certainly cause for concern, they’re both time travelers—plus Arcadia was originally made out of clay, and is only borrowing this body—so it’s not the weirdest thing they’ve seen. “We’re going to keep an eye on little Delaney,” she continues. “All we care about is that she’s born healthy.”

“Delaney?” Leona questions.

“Named after her womb and egg mother,” Arcadia says with a nod.

Leona smiles. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“You can’t name her that,” Alyssa says bluntly as she takes another bite.

“What? Why not?” Vearden questions.

Alyssa talks with her mouth full. “You’re Berarians, right?”

“Well, not really. We were just expected to put something on the form, and that seemed like the least annoying one to choose.”

Still casually, Alyssa takes another bite of her potatoes. “Doesn’t matter. It’s your religion of record, and if you try to choose your child’s name, they’re gonna get mad. It’s not illegal, per se, but I don’t think you want that heat on ya. Can you pass the butter, please?”

“Alyssa, what are you talking about?” Mateo asks.

“Oh, you don’t know? It’s customary for a Berarian to name their child after the doctor who delivered it,” Alyssa explains.

“Really?”

“Well, I mean, I guess it doesn’t have to be a doctor. You would also name it after your neighbor if you were stuck in an elevator with him when you went into labor, and couldn’t get out.”

“I’m not naming my baby Cenric,” Arcadia says. “It’s perfectly fine for a forty-year-old government doctor, but not for a little girl.”

“Well, what’s his last name?” Alyssa asks. “That’s okay too.”

“Best,” Vearden replies. “Cenric Best.”

They grimace. Best Haywood.

“You could try finding out his middle name,” Alyssa suggests

“Says here that the feminine form of Cenric is Kendra,” Ramses interjects, looking at his handheld device.

Arcadia waffles. “I don’t hate that. Part of it is that I don’t like the idea of leaving my fate up to someone else. I was a god in another life, I’m not used to this. I suppose I should have read the fine print before I chose Berar.”

“Every faith has both advantages and downsides,” Alyssa muses, “like character traits for a roleplaying game. The way I understand it, Berarians respect their caretakers, and since the person who delivers you isn’t usually involved in your upbringing, that’s the best way they could think of to honor that person’s contribution.”

Arcadia looks over at Leona. “Maybe you could deliver her? I mean, Dr. Best could still be there if something goes wrong, but we’ll call you our midwife.” She turns back to Alyssa. “That would work, right? Her unmarried name is Delaney”

“I don’t see why not, but you would want to speak to a real Berarian about it.”

“I can think of why not,” Leona counters. “I’m not a midwife, nor a doctor, nor anything of the sort. Besides, I’m not really myself right now.” She indicates the Leona Reaver body that she’s wearing. “My life is in too much danger for me to be making plans for April. I’m sorry.”

Arcadia nods, and starts clearing the table. Others try to stand up to help, but Vearden shakes his head at them. She’s on autopilot right now, and any sudden move will throw her off. At the moment, she’s the only person in the room, and everyone else is just a statue that she has to work around. She takes Alyssa’s plate too, even though she’s obviously not yet done.

Leona frowns as she watches poor Arcadia try to work through this issue in her head. She doesn’t want her to backslide into the person she was before. “I don’t have time to become a nurse or midwife...but what about a doula? Do you have those here?”

“I don’t recognize the word,” Alyssa says, “but if you’re talking about a minimally educated birthing specialist, perhaps you’re thinking of a facilitatrix.”

“There, that sounds perfect,” Leona determines. “Would she be able to name her child Delaney if I do that?”

“I think so, yeah,” Alyssa responds.

“Really?” Arcadia asks, hope in her eyes. “You would do that for me?”

“Yeah, what the hell. You’re me, ain’t ya?”

Arcadia smiles, thankful for the offer, and grateful for their improved relationship. She’s closer with these people than she ever was with her birth family.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 4, 2399

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They’re at it again. Arcadia and Vearden are at the doctor’s office. Every four weeks, like clockwork, they schedule an appointment, with a few extra appointments sprinkled in between. Today, they’re here for a special reason, as they have decided to preemptively find out the sex of the baby. They have been thinking of her as a girl pretty much the whole time, but they obviously don’t know that for sure. A doctor that they don’t recognize comes in looking at the chart as Arcadia is dangling her legs off the edge of the table. “All right, Mrs. Haywood.”

“Uh, Preston,” Arcadia corrects. “Haywood is his name.”

“I see. And why are you not yet married?”

Arcadia winces. “I thought we had an understanding at this establishment. Where is Dr. Garver?”

He sighs. “Dr. Garver had to be let go, I’m afraid. She was being too lenient with her patients. You know how women are,” he says to Vearden as if Arcadia weren’t even there. “You have to be firm, or people will lead unhealthy lives.”

“Being unmarried is unhealthy?” Arcadia questions.

“No, it’s a perfectly legitimate life choice...if your religion says that you can—”

“It does,” Arcadia interrupts.

“Right.” He’s really having trouble communicating with his patient, instead wanting to focus on the man, since Vearden is automatically treated as a well-adjusted, non-hormonal, reasonable human being who is allowed to make decisions. “Now, we’re here for an echouterogram, correct?” Yeah, he’s looking at Vearden again.

Arcadia snaps in his face. “Hey, yeah, it’s me. I’m the patient. Look at me, please.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just used to dealing with male patients.”

“Aren’t you an OB/GYN?”

“A what?”

Different words for things here. “A gyniatrician.”

“I am, yes.” No elaboration.

Arcadia has half a mind to leave, but she doesn’t want to make a scene. “Yes, I would like an echouterogram. We would like to know the sex at birth.”

“What do you mean, at birth?”

Yeah, she keeps forgetting about stuff like that. She doesn’t really want to raise her child in a world that has flying cars, but no openly transgender people. Assuming it’s even in the cards, though, when will it be safe to travel to any other reality? This place is awful, and this guy is awful. That’s it. They can’t escape to the main sequence, but they don’t have to stay here. Vearden doesn’t even need her to say it. As the hack doctor is turned around to wash his hands—which they’re surprised he even bothers to do since Arcadia isn’t a real person, and can’t get sick—Vearden stands up to grab their coats.

“What were we thinking, normal convex or endovaginal? Now, most ladies prefer me to just stay on the outside, but I like to really get in there, and take a good look around. Wadya say?”

“I say, go screw yourself,” Arcadia spits. She’s wearing her coat over her gown, which she doesn’t intend to return to the facility.

“That’s just the hormones talking.”

“Can I?” Vearden requests of his girlfriend?

“Doesn’t make you any less of a feminist in my eyes.” Arcadia decides.

Vearden holds the door open for her, and then punches the doctor in the stomach as he’s stepping out himself. “That’s..not gonna leave a mark,” he snipes.

They both climb into the car, but don’t leave yet. “We’re going to the government,” she declares.

“I thought you didn’t want to involve them in this.”

“I don’t,” Arcadia confirms. “But to be fair, I said that months ago, back before Team Matic and Kivi had strengthened their relationship with them. I think maybe they can be trusted...or trusted enough anyhow.”

They drive straight to the government hospital to check in. They don’t even have to say anything; Arcadia looks exactly like Agent Matic, and at least some people are already aware of Arcadia’s current medical condition. A hopefully real doctor comes into the room after she only has enough time to undress.

“Miss Preston, how are we feeling today?” That is the right way to start a visit.

“I’m feeling all right. I feel bigger than I feel like I should,” Arcadia replies.

“Well, everyone develops differently. It’s not the size that matters, it’s the strength of the labor pain medication, I always say. We’ll have a look, though. Firstly, my name is Dr. Cenric Best, and I can be with you every step of the way until delivery. It is government policy for gyniatricians to take vacation either one day at a time, or after forty-two weeks. I should ask, are you comfortable with a male physician?”

“Yes, as long as you don’t criticize me for being married.”

He winces. “I’m not married.”

“We had a bad experience with our last so-called doctor,” Vearden explains.

“Well, we don’t like those here; bad experiences. I’m going to do everything I can to make this a safe environment, and a painless procedure. When you look back on these days, I hope you remember them fondly. It will make it easier on your relationship with your child.”

“That makes sense,” Arcadia says.

After a few more questions so that Dr. Best could get to know Arcadia and Vearden better, he begins the ultrasound procedure. He uses the external wand, as opposed to the endocavity one, since it should be good enough for their needs. As it turns out, they were right, they’re going to have a little girl. And when she’s old enough, she’ll decide if she wants to keep being a girl, or be something else, and they’re not going to let anyone in this reality tell her otherwise. Once it’s over, Dr. Best starts looking over the results, as well as Arcadia’s past visits, which the other facility sent over.

Arcadia is concerned “Is something wrong, Doctor?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. It’s just...what’s the earliest you could have gotten pregnant?”

“Very early September; it’s impossible for it to have been any earlier.”

“I was briefed...briefly regarding your origins. Forgive me, but how long is a member of your species usually pregnant for?”

“Forty weeks. It should be the same as you. We’re all human.”

“Of course, yes. It’s just...”

“It’s just what?”

“Well...” Dr. Best wavers. “She’s gestating rather quickly, and...it’s accelerating. If she keeps this up, and I did the math right, you may give birth in April—not June.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 27, 2398

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When Ramses returned to the lab, he inspected it, but by then, Angela had reviewed the cameras. When Erlendr teleported there in his body, he was seemingly disoriented. He didn’t have some elaborate plan, and likely still doesn’t; it was an act of desperation. He wants to be free, and he probably felt like this was his only option. He stole the LIR Map for the same reasons, because it happened to be the nearest object when he first appeared. He might have even been only hoping for a stack of cash, or maybe a change of clothes. He got lucky, really, but now they suspect he’s using it to avoid detection. The map seems to show you what you need to achieve your objectives, not necessarily what you consciously wish. All he wants now is to stay out of sight, so it’s showing him CCTV blindspots, speed traps, and the like. That’s just the guess, though. At least that was Leona’s guess, once she returned home from rescuing her husband.

She and Ramses are sitting across from each other in his apartment. “I’m sorry.”

“You bent over to plug something in, it’s fine.”

“I’m not sorry for that. I mean, I am—I feel like an idiot—but I’m sorry that I’m trapped in this body.”

“Wait, are you apologizing to me because you look like me now?”

“I haven’t showered, I close my eyes when I go to the bathroom.”

“Do—do you want me to absolve you of some kind of sin? Do you want me to give you my blessing to use that body however you need to?”

Ramses sighs. “I’m just apologizing. I would apologize to her, but she’s not here. You’re the closest thing I got.”

“Rambo, you built me the body I’m using right now. You took a sample of my DNA, and cloned me. You have seen me naked, and we’re all friends here. You don’t have to be uncomfortable. This is just a substrate. It might have been weird in the past, but with consciousness transference, it’s just not a big deal anymore.”

“It still feels like a big deal. She wasn’t an empty clone, she was a real person.”

Leona nods. “Did you ever meet Téa Stendahl?”

“She was before my time. You told me about her, though. She was your brother.”

“That’s right. In one reality, she was my brother, and in the next, she wasn’t. She was born Ed Bolton in the eighteenth century, and traveled through time starting in the early nineteenth. He died, and was reincarnated as Theo Delaney. Fastforward to when my husband went back in time to kill Hitler, and created an entirely new reality, and suddenly I didn’t have a brother anymore. I didn’t even know what he was to me until my brain was blended later. When Arcadia was tormenting us on the island, we sometimes had downtime, and we got to talking about it. I asked her why she identified as a woman, even though she had more memories of a man. Was she transgender? She said, no. I’m just me. I’m not a man, or a woman; I’m not even salmon. I’m a person. When I was a man, I felt like a man, and now I feel like a woman, but if the powers that be see fit to reincarnate me as a praying mantis...I suppose I’ll feel like a praying mantis. There was a praying mantis sort of creature in the grass next to us while she was explaining it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Not really,” Ramses admits.

“I guess I’m saying...relax. You’re fine, Reaver’s fine, I’m fine. It’s gonna be fine.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Erlendr is still out there, somewhere.”

“We’ll catch him,” Leona says confidently. “He doesn’t have an identity here, so he can’t even leave the country.”

“He has the teleporter, and he knows how to use it.”

She shakes her head. The teleporter will run out of juice, if it hasn’t already, and he won’t know how to get more. Even if he did, he doesn’t strike her as the type of person who knows enough about technology to modify it to take him anywhere but right back to their lab. “He was only scary because of all the power he wielded in the main sequence. It was power that he was born with, and which is now gone. I bet he doesn’t even know how to drive a car, because he’s never had to before. We will catch him, and we’ll switch you back. Do you believe me?”

“I guess,” Ramses replies bashfully.

“I promise you, this is all going to work out. I just flew a helicopter in and out of a portal that took me to another reality. We’re closer than ever to figuring this all out. Now come on, let’s get back to studying that timonite. Trina is still our first priority.”

Microstory 1811: Overwhelming Emotion

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I never wanted to have children until I became pregnant, and my entire outlook suddenly changed. I heard stories of people like that, and things seem to always change once they lay eyes on their child. It was seeing those two pink lines that really got me. The pregnancy test didn’t look anything like a baby, of course—and of course, I always knew that pregnancy was, like...a thing—I just didn’t think it would happen to me. It became real in that moment, and I fell in love with this little person growing inside of me who I wouldn’t be able to meet for the next nine months. What I didn’t know back then was that she and I would actually never meet. I was scared to tell my husband the news. We weren’t stupid; we got married knowing each other’s feelings on the matter. We discussed a lot of things about the future before we agreed to set a date. Both of our families and friends were so upset when we told them about the wedding, but didn’t have a cutesy story to go along with it. He didn’t ask me at a sports competition, or hide a ring in my dessert. He didn’t even get down on one knee. We were responsible and thoughtful about this decision, and I honestly can’t think of anything more romantic. There is no doubt in my mind that, had I survived, we would have grown old together. I didn’t wait a really long time to tell him about the baby, like they do on TV. That’s like asking for people to find out some other way while hilarity ensues. I sat him down next to me on the couch, took a deep breath, and just said the words. I remember him staring into my eyes, darting his own back and forth, looking for the truth written across my face. He was shocked, and worried, and then his face changed the same way I felt mine change when I found out myself. He felt overwhelmed by his emotions, but one thing was for certain, it all added up to joy. He was excited. We had both changed our minds.

Our family and friends were so excited for us as well when we started spreading the news a few months later. It was like they had forgotten what we had put them through with the whole marriage proposal thing. These reactions started to change when they learned how we were handling the process. No baby shower, no gifts, no opinions about how I should give birth, or who I should choose as my doula. We especially didn’t have a gender reveal party. We let the technician tell us what the sex would be at birth, but we weren’t going to assign a gender to an individual without their say-so. We would call her a she for the first several years of her life until such time that she figured out who she really was. My mother was not happy about this. She wanted to have a party, and she wanted to have another party where people gave us things that were either pink or blue. My husband and I painted the nursery with monster trucks, sports balls, and volcanoes just to piss her off. Don’t worry, we painted over it with a nice neutral green afterwards. As you might have guessed, we still got a lot of gifts, even though we didn’t have a registry. We didn’t need charity regardless, but I kind of always liked the idea of risking getting two of the same item. That’s how they did it in the olden days, and ya know what, people survived the emotional trauma of knowing that their particular gift was returned to the store. I will never know what gender my child would ultimately choose, or what toys she would end up liking the most. I’ll never know how great a father my husband is, or how good a mother I could be. I know one thing, I’m enormously grateful that I chose to give birth in a hospital. Because if I hadn’t, my child probably would have died too.

Microstory 1571: Secret Compartment

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Prompt

I just found this secret compartment in my grandfather’s old oak desk, and inside it was...

Botner

...his driver’s license! He’s never been married, he’s in his 60s, and he’s been married to the same woman for 25 years! How crazy is that? I had a hard time believing that, but there you have it. Here’s the proof. I’ve had many girlfriends over the years, but never an old girlfriend. After my daughter was born last May, a friend of mine called to ask if I could watch her infant daughter for a few days. Of course, I said yes. Then I asked, “do you happen to have an old girlfriend around who can’t have the baby?” We had a blast. The baby and I spent a few nights and weekends together, but we got to see each other the rest of the time. What did we do, you ask? We shopped, we talked, we ate dinner, and we watched movies. We didn’t actually get to do any of those things the whole time, but what we did do was talk for hours and hours on end. It was nice to reconnect after all these years. When I got my first full-time job in 1998, I saved money and...

Conclusion

...was able to hire someone to help me get clean. I had never done drugs before, but the cleaner says the desk must have been lined with some kind of hallucinogenic, perhaps to stop anyone from accessing it. Now that I’m better, and the things I’m saying make any bit of goddamn sense, and don’t contradict each other, I can get back to the driver’s license. At first, I don’t think there’s anything interesting about it, because I saw his current one in his effects after he died. Little by little, I start to notice discrepancies. Firstly, it claims that his birthdate was last year, and that his license won’t be issued until decades from now. That cannot be right, of course. Is there a smudge on the card? I try to wipe it off, then find myself a magnifying glass. No, it says 2020, which is absolutely bizarre. His home address is weird as well. It says he lives—or will live, as it were—at my friend’s house, the one with the infant daughter I just babysat. Only then do I notice the name. The baby’s name is Indra, and my grandfather’s was Darin. Those are anagrams of each other, which is not something I would have realized until seeing it here on the license, paired with the wrong surname. My grandfather was a time traveler. That’s the only explanation. He’ll grow up in the wrong body, undergo gender reassignment surgery, and then at some point, go back to the past, and become my mother’s father. I don’t know why, and I definitely don’t know how, but I know I have to do whatever I can to protect that baby...or I’ll never even exist.

Microstory 1569: Killer Katz

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Prompt

Ever since all of the cats started deliberately killing the humans, I’ve been saving up for a boat, since cats hate water.

Botner

And I finally got one, so I’m very happy and I want to sail. I have a rule that if any other person should read this, they will have a legitimate claim for sole ownership of my blog; as I cannot control other people. The guest, however, claims that they found this post, and they were so amused and amused they decided to check to make sure the ID was legit. If so, I’d like to give a heartfelt thanks. A big red heart to go with it. It’s very warming. I’m amused. This post reminded me a lot of something that happened to my sisters and me when we were very young. We got a kitten when we were maybe two or three. We were out with our family for my grandmother’s birthday. This was before we could actually read, but we were very good at mimicry and my aunt, my dad’s sister, was babysitting us and brought the kitten into the living room for us to see. My sisters and I climbed onto her lap, and when we saw the kitten, we all said “Oh, kitty, kitty, kitty.” She understood what we were saying, and she said “Kitty is a boy cat,” which was very funny to us, since we had thought kitties were a girl cat. We didn't quite grasp that we were actually saying that kitties were also...

Conclusion

...a genderless species. We didn’t understand back then, about gender, and sex, and sexuality, and identity. We had to learn these things as we grew older, which takes time, and time is something we no longer have. I’ve sailed my boat into the middle of the ocean. I don’t want to find an island that’s too close to the mainland, because the cats could continue to evolve. They could develop opposable thumbs, and then they could sail as well. My family wanted me to fight, but I won’t do it. The cats are going to win, because they now literally have nine lives, and they’ve been watching us for thousands of years. We’ve been completely ignorant about their intelligence, and they’ve used that to their advantage. They weren’t just learning our behaviors and weaknesses either. They were around when we were punching in our safe codes, and hiding our keys under the planter. They’re gonna win, and I’m gonna be far from all the destruction. If they ever do find me, it won’t be for a very long time, and hopefully they won’t worry about what I’m doing, because they will have totally taken over the world by then. I anchor my boat, and paddle to the shore of the island. There’s no sign that this has ever been inhabited. It’s small, but it will have plenty to sustain me alone. I smile as I’m breathing in the fresh air. I didn’t abandon my family. They refused to come with. If anything, they abandoned me. I have no guilt about doing what I must to survive. I walk up the beach, and head for the treeline, but I stop when I see something out of the corner of my eye. It’s a panther, or something. We stare at each other for over a minute, and then I swear to God, it grins. More panthers, and other large cats, come out of the jungle.

Microstory 1451: All The Queen’s Men

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Ladytown was a success, and that seemed great for the people living there, but that caused problems for the Aljabaran Republic, because that was not what they wanted to happen. It was meant to be a total failure. What these leaders did was fail to consider the consequences of their own actions. At the time, it seemed prudent to require that a population of men move out with the women, but that ultimately put their whole evil plan at risk. In 2119, the fifth administration passed a new law that forbade anyone from leaving Aljabara. According to publicly available documentation, Ladytown was fine out there, but if it was going to survive, it would have to do it on its own. They were not allowed to benefit from Aljabara’s hard work, and advancements. Behind closed doors, the truth was that they didn’t want to lose their entire constituency to this new settlement. If they weren’t careful, they would lose power altogether, and letting Ladytown exist would have been the biggest mistake they ever made. By halting immigration, they would have to persist through later generations. Well, some twisted men did some bad math, and discovered that the immigration laws were only going to help protect the Republic’s power in the short term. Later administrations ran the risk of being overtaken by what they called the unchecked propagation of the species by a whorish race with no regard for resource limitations. Basically, they said that, given enough time, Ladytown would grow far beyond their control, because women couldn’t be trusted to not just have babies left and right. Of course, people were having children at a reasonable pace for their current population size, and living conditions, but that didn’t matter to the government. The women had to be stopped, and the only way to do that was to kill. That wasn’t usually their style, but they were paranoid and desperate.

They didn’t wipe out all of Ladytown, though. They only decided to kill certain people. The problem was that the Republicans still couldn’t simply go to war with these people, because it would reflect poorly on them, and make them out to be the bad guys. So how does one go about targeting an entire sex, and only that sex? The answer the doctors came up with was haemophilia. This was going to be no easy task. Haemophilia was an inherited trait, and no one had been diagnosed with it since the year 2020. They still had a sample of the boy’s blood in the archives, but they couldn’t simply inject people with that, and wait for them to contract the disease themselves. They had to synthesize the disease itself, and attach it to a virus, so that it could spread. It had to spread quickly, and die out on its own before it could reach Aljabara, however, or the whole human race on Durus would be doomed. They spent years working on this problem, until they finally came up with a viable solution in 2128. It was devastating. Like a viral blanket, they dispatched a very loyal woman to claim to be a refugee, seeking asylum in Ladytown. She was not able to get sick from the virus herself, but she managed to infect half the town, and by the time anyone knew what was happening, the other half caught it as well. It was the first truly violent thing that the Republic ever did, but unfortunately, there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Everyone pretty much knew that the government was responsible, but they couldn’t prove it, and no one was brave enough to try. Nearly every single male died of this extremely aggressive viral form of haemophilia in a matter of days. They didn’t have the resources or expertise to stop them all from bleeding out. They were only able to save one. A mage remnant placed her teenage son into temporal stasis, until medical treatment could be developed to combat the disease. And that young man went on to save Ladytown.

Microstory 1450: Ladytown

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After the fourth fake election process, people were really starting to wise up that their voices weren’t counting for all that much. Law after law was being passed, limiting women’s rights more and more. Nobody wanted to try for another revolution, but things were definitely not going to get better without one. It seemed that the only option was to secede from the union, and break the algebra apart once more. One might think this movement would be struck down swiftly and definitively, but Republican loyalists still only ever wanted to solve their problems through deception, spin, and other forms of strategery. The day they instigated war was the day they lost the approval of all the civilians who were at least happy that their lives were safe and secure. Many women were starting to get used to the new system, and didn’t complain anymore, because the more they opposed the rules, the worse those rules became, and the harder things got for those who didn’t support them. The female spirit could not be crushed, though, and there were still plenty of people who did not want to live under the man’s thumb. They didn’t want to revolt either; they just wanted to live their lives in peace. Perhaps the only way to do that would be to strike out on their own. They worked slowly, just as the phallocratic movement started way back during the Interstitial Chaos. They quietly built support, and gained momentum. They followed all the rules, and pleaded their cases in the appropriate ways. The only women working towards this goal had support from their husbands, leaving the ones without it with their mouths shut, only able to hope this would somehow also help them. Still, the Republicans made no attempt to shut them all down, because they did not want public opinion to sway out of their favor. In fact, they agreed to the secessionists’ pleas, but of course, they had some conditions. 

The first and most important condition was that the settlers were not to interfere with the affairs of Aljabara, nor make any attempt to war with them, or steal resources. Fine, they didn’t want to have anything to do with the city anymore anyway. Secondly, not only did some men have to agree to go to the settlement with them, but there had to be a certain ratio of interested people, according to gender. Well, that made things a little more difficult, but not impossible. Not every man’s life was super great under this regime, and many of them saw the ratio as beneficial to them. Lots of daughters who did not yet have husbands wanted to go, which sons without wives saw as a numbers advantage. The one condition that made it clear that the administration had less than no respect for women was that the government would be allowed to name this new settlement for them. They decided to call it Ladytown, principally because of how stupid it sounded. That wasn’t their only reason, though. By now, misogyny was ingrained in society as the way things were. All children alive at this point had grown up under these rules, and if they were ever told how civilization once worked, they possessed no context, and couldn’t fathom it. It sucked to be born a girl, and boys were aware of this fact, unlike on Earth, where many guys were oblivious to their own privilege. The government’s requirement that some men sign up to go with, in the government’s eyes, was contradictory to the name. What man would want to live in a place called Ladytown? Well, maybe the older ones would if they had fewer prejudices. They added an age mandate, which required there be a certain number of younger men, in order to combat the idea further, but as explained, this wasn’t too much of a problem either, since these younger men hoped to find wives, and some were secretly okay being with a bunch of independent women, in a settlement called Ladytown, without the comforts and freedoms they could find in Aljabara. In 2117, Ladytown was founded on the other side of Watershed. They complied with all conditions, and didn’t make trouble. They didn’t last forever, though.

Microstory 1449: Gender Laws

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Under the Republic on Durus, women were considered untrustworthy. Later on, laws will be passed to allow a woman to earn merit points for her loyalty, and enjoy some extra freedoms, but these freedoms will never include full autonomy. They will never be able to vote, and they certainly could never be allowed to hold public office. They were allowed to work certain jobs, but only under heavy supervision, and with responsibilities that didn’t result in too much damage when they inevitably made mistakes. But what they had not considered until around 2109 was the definition of woman. As bad as the Durune Republicans were, they didn’t see themselves as sexist, homophobic, or transphobic. Their distrust of women was rooted in something completely different from the systemic sexism that pervaded Earthan history. They cited very specific examples of particular women who caused problems for society. It still wasn’t right, but it was at least based on psychology and culture, rather than physiology. At least that was how they justified their position. That led to some questions, however, that no one had had time to think about until the system was fully established. It was clear that two men were totally free to be in a relationship together, but what about two women? Well, lesbianism in itself wasn’t wrong, but now there was a lack of male influence. They definitely couldn’t raise children, because..same problem. New laws had to be passed under the third administration that covered these topics. Lesbian relationships still required male supervision, so a man had to be included to some capacity. This man was obviously not entitled to sex from either one of them, but as far as household duties and child rearing were concerned, he would be in charge. After this was settled, there were more questions on gender that needed to be answered.

Because of the prevalence of time powers—and the absence of help from Earth—technology developed on its own unique path. It was a little steampunk, and a little sword fantasy, and even a little bit space western. They still had doctors, but the medical facilities were severely underresourced. About the only thing they excelled in was the dissemination of theoretical knowledge. The library came through completely intact, which allowed anyone to learn just about anything they wanted. In fact, throughout all of history on this planet, no leader made any attempt to stifle the pursuit of an education. Not even Smith tried to stop people from getting smarter. Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough, because reading about performing a complex surgery was a lot different than having the experience to do it safely. The only surgeries that were being done were the essential ones, because if something went wrong, the patient was likely going to die anyway, so at least someone tried. Sex reassignment surgery did not fall into this category. No one had the expertise required to complete a transformation, and they certainly didn’t have the experience. The few doctors with official credentials who made it through the Deathfall didn’t even know how to do it, and either way, they died decades ago. Technology was indeed progressing, but it was happening at a snail’s pace compared to where they would be if they were still on Earth. Still, as far as the Republicans were concerned, an individual had the right to identify as any gender they wanted. This didn’t mean every woman’s problems were solved. According to the Republic’s main tenets, women were not trustworthy. It didn’t matter if they were born with female parts, or not. So someone born a girl could not just claim to be a man when he got older, and suddenly his life was as easy as it was for other men. People generally agreed to use whatever pronouns he needed, but he still did not enjoy the upper class life. On the other hand, if a man decided to start identifying as a woman, she would lose all masculine advantages and entitlements, so there was very little incentive to transform in that direction. Still, it happened, when a woman-on-the-inside just couldn’t take behaving like someone she wasn’t, even though it meant losing a lot of privileges. There were more tweaks to gender laws to be ironed out over time, but this was the start.

Microstory 1381: Vibes

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Office Manager: Welcome, Recent Graduate.

Recent Graduate: Thank you.

Office Manager: Based on our interview, I see no reason you won’t thrive in this work environment. Still, we would like you to get to know the team before you begin next week. We called this a suitability interview, because that’s what legal says we have to call it, but it will be really informal. Don’t stress about answering questions, or anything. Just act like you’re at a party. Don’t emulate Office Drunk, though.

Office Drunk: Hey, I heard that.

Office Manager: Great. So go on, mingle. I’ll leave you all to it. I already know I like this guy.

Office Motormouth: Hello, hi, how are ya? What’s goin’ on? You feelin’ good? You’ll be sitting here, right next to me. New hire always gets the old office chair. Have you lived in Hillside your whole life? Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend? Do you have any kids? What do you wanna be when you grow up? I don’t suppose you want to be an office assistant your whole life. You just graduated from college, right? What did you major in? Would you major in that again, if you could go back and start over?

Office Aspirant: Stop overwhelming the boy, Office Motormouth.

Recent Graduate: No, it’s okay. I can handle it. I was born in Hillside, but moved to Kansas City before I could walk. I came back here for college, and decided to just stick around. I do not have a boyfriend, nor any kids. I’m here to climb the corporate ladder, and go as high as I can go, so being an assistant is just the beginning of my career, but I have no current plans to leave the company to work somewhere else, if that’s what you’re asking. I did just graduate, of course, with a general education degree. I like to learn about a lot of things, and pinning myself down to just one field of study seemed too normal. No offense, I hope. If I could do it all again, I would do it the same way. It got me here.

Office Motormouth: Oh. Those are great answers. Now—

Office Aspirant: You’ve had your turn, Motormouth. Listen, kid, you remind me a lot of me when I was your age.

Office Busybody: That was, like, two years ago.

Office Aspirant: I had aspirations, just like you. And look at me now, I already have two direct reports. You could be just like me one day too, if you work hard.

Office Busybody: Those aren’t your direct reports, Office Aspirant. They put you in charge of the seasonal temps this year, because no one else wants to do it. They don’t actually answer to you, though.

Office Aspirant: Don’t mind her.

Office Busybody: No. Don’t mind him.

Recent Graduate: I’m looking forward to working with all of you. Equally.

Office Motormouth: Another great response.

Office Busybody: Anyway. Those temps I was telling you about? Well, they’re sleeping together. But word is that Seasonal Temp 2 also has a thing going with Accountant from accounting. But you didn’t hear it from me.

Recent Graduate: Hear what?

Office Busybody: Good boy.

Office Creep: So, speaking of sleeping with people, if you could sleep with any celebrity, who would it be?

Office Motormouth: Office Creep, stop being a creep. You’re gonna make him call HR on his zeroth day!

Recent Graduate: No, it’s okay. But. I’m not going to tell you that.

Office Drunk: Do you have any mints?

Recent Graduate: I do, actually. Right here.

Office Drunk: Hey, is that a purse?

Office Aspirant: It’s called a satchel.

Recent Graduate: No, it’s a purse. I carry a purse, because it’s 2018, and men can have purses. I don’t believe in gender roles.

Office Drunk: Right on, right on. Hey, we’re probably gonna grab drinks after work. Are you in? What’s your favorite bar? What’s your poison?

Recent Graduate: I don’t care to drink much. I’m sure I’ll just get something with a lot of sugar to cover the taste of alcohol.

Office Drunk: A man who knows what he wants. I agree with Office Manager; I like this guy. Come on, new guy, lemme show you what’s what on this floor.

Microstory 1349: Citizenship

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Father Garcia: He’s coming here now. He skipped the Martins, just like he did the Wilsons. He was at the Washington’s, though.

Mother Garcia: That doesn’t mean anything, dear. Perhaps they filled out the Census online. That’s how it’s done these days. He has a satchel, he could be legit.

Father Garcia: How do you know he’s from the Census? He’s not wearing a uniform, or anything.

Mother Garcia: It’s hot, he’s probably allowed to wear whatever he wants.

Census Taker: Good afternoon, folks. My name is Census Taker, and I’m conducting census surveys for the 2020 census.

Father Garcia: Uhuh.

Census Taker: Are you, by any chance, Father Garcia?

Father Garcia: Maybe.

Mother Garcia: Don’t be rude. Yes, he is, and I’m Mother Garcia.

Census Taker: What are your ages?

Mother Garcia: I’m fifty-four, and my husband is thirty-eight.

Census Taker: Oh, that’s...

Father Garcia: That’s what?

Census Taker: Never mind. How many children do you have?

Father Garcia: We took the 2010 census. You should already know that we have more than zero, if you really are who you say you are.

Census Taker: We’ve been trained not to ask any leading questions. If I could just get a number, that would be great.

Father Garcia: Three; all over ten.

Census Taker: Great. And how many people are living in your household total, including yourselves?

Mother Garcia: Five.

Census Taker: Do you rent, or own, this property?

Father Garcia: We own it.

Census Taker: What are the genders of your children?

Father Garcia: What does that matter?

Census Taker: I don’t decide which questions go on the survey, sir. I’m just doing my job.

Mother Garcia: It’s okay. One boy, one girl, and one nonbinary.

Census Taker: Umm, what was your third child’s sex at birth.

Mother Garcia: I’m not answering that.

Census Taker: All right, fine. Their ages, in the same order, please.

Mother Garcia: Fifteen, seventeen, and twelve.

Census Taker: Are you of Hispanic, Latino, or Spanish origin?

Father Garcia: Yes, all of those things.

Census Taker: Okay...

Father Garcia: Are we almost done here?

Census Taker: Almost, sir. How long have you lived in this country?

Father Garcia: We already gave you our ages.

Census Taker: That’s not what I asked.

Mother Garcia: Don’t get mad.

Father Garcia: Don’t get mad? Don’t get mad! I am mad. I need to see some official identification.

Census Taker: Sure, here ya go.

Father Garcia: No, don’t just flash it in my face. Hold still, so I can actually look at it.

Census Taker: Are you a legal citizen of the United States of America?

Mother Garcia: Get out, get off of our property right now!

Father Garcia: We read the news; you’re not allowed to ask us that question. Who are you? What the hell are you doing here?

Fake Census Taker: You come over to our country—I don’t give a crap if you’re second generation, or dreamers, of whatever—you come over here, and you take our jobs, and you live off of welfare and social security, which we pay into, and you don’t contribute anything!

Mother Garcia: Hey, idiot. Undocumented citizens with jobs do pay social security. The government takes it out of their paycheck every period. But since they don’t have real social security numbers, they don’t get any payments out when they come of age. So actually, undocumented people contribute more than you do!

Fake Census Taker: You need to get out of my country!

Father Garcia: I’m calling the police.

Fake Census Taker: Build the wall! Build the wall!

Father Garcia: [slams door]

Fake Census Taker: (Build the wall.)