Microstory 2708: The Fear of History Repeating

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It was about another month before they were ready to head out. They mostly abandoned the old house how it was, though of course, they pulled the door off of the hinges, and replaced it with a much cheaper one that Vith cut himself. They got on the road, and started walking. Isavet spent most of the trip in the cart, holding baby Leif, while the others walked. Vith would go off on his own to scout ahead or hunt, and then catch up with them later. Maybe he isn’t going to leave the simulation after all.

After several days, they felt as though they had traveled far enough. They weren’t looking for some kind of paradise; just a nice patch of land to call their own, where they could put down new roots. They found a clearing that had seemingly been untouched by man. It sat up against a ridgeline, so it was well-fortified on one side already. It was perfect. It was far enough from others that they could start over, but not so remote that they were entirely unprotected from invaders. What mattered was that it was closer to the border of the next dome, which was where Ronan would be headed eventually.

Ronan leans their special, expensive door up against the face of the ridge. He stares at it with a smile on his face while Vith is starting to unload the supplies. “Thank you for making me bring this. We’ll build a bigger and better house this time; one more fitting of this door.”

“I’ll help,” Gia says. “A woman can get her hands dirty, even in these times.”

“Of course, she can,” Ronan replies with a hearty laugh.

“I can help too!” Isavet exclaims. She’s playing a game where she taps Leif somewhere on his body, like an ear or a shoulder, and tries to teach him to match it on her body. He’s surprisingly good at it. He gets it right a few times, and gets really close for the rest. He already understands body parts. That’s some high-level stuff for his age.

Ronan starts to think about young Leif. Like Talus, he will grow up in this world, under this dome. Are they doing him a disservice, keeping him from seeing the outside world? Is that what happened to Talus? Would he have turned out differently had Mayumi been more honest about what she wanted out of life? Well, if she had been honest, Talus never would have been born in the first place, so that is an impossible question to answer. They also agreed to put all that behind them anyway, so he should really be focusing on the family that he has left.

Gia frowns at him. “I know that look. I know what you’re thinking about. He’s not going to grow up to be like him. He’s a completely different kid, born under entirely different circumstances. We will still need to litigate that when we get out of here.”

“I know,” Ronan agrees. He lowers his voice “I just want him to be happy. I want him to have a choice. This should be against the rules. Having a kid in a simulation should not be allowed, so people aren’t burdened with these questions.”

“Are you regretting having Leif?” Gia asks in a whisper.

“No, of course not. I just...what if Talus’ behavior had nothing to do with his genetics? What if this place made him that way? And what if the same thing happens again? He got sick. He almost died. That could mess anyone up.”

“He won’t remember that,” Gia assures him. “He was far too young. He still is. He will have a very happy and safe childhood.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ronan says. “I hope you’re right.”

She wasn’t, and he didn’t.

Microstory 2704: What Truly Matters

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Ronan is frustrated. After the initial run-in with Mayumi, he goes back to his temporary housing, and tries to get some sleep. He wakes up realizing that none of it matters. It doesn’t matter that Mayumi let her avatar die on purpose. It doesn’t matter that she cheated on him, or that she’s been living with the man Ronan thought he was raising as a child. The only concern is young Talus. While Mayumi is executing her testimony, he begins divorce proceedings. These days, it’s easier in some ways, but harder in others. When people live as long as they do, they have time to accumulate a lot of possessions. Someone could potentially own an entire colony planet. Redistributing that after a legal separation is complex, but they don’t have to worry about liquid wealth.

Ronan has his own energy credits, and Mayumi has hers. Credits can be given as a gift—governments don’t care how they’re distributed after they’re earned; it’s not like they can be stolen—but the two of them never had any reason to do this. By design, they don’t own much overall, and Ronan doesn’t care about what they do own. They have a small storage unit back on Bungula, where they lived before coming here, but as far as he’s concerned, she can have it all. So that’s what he puts on the forms. There is no point in commissioning a lawyer for either side. He hopes Mayumi feels the same way. But he won’t let her stay married to someone she doesn’t love. He’s quickly falling out of love with her too, after all this shit. He has Gia now.

It feels like these proceedings are taking forever, even though he knows it’s not true. As Earth became a post-scarcity society, there was a profound dropoff in crime. Why steal someone’s TV when you can get a free TV of your own, built by automators, which were built by other automators, all powered by the sun? A lot of the justice system is automated as well, though there is still a naturally-created component. You don’t have to be human to be an adjudicator, but you can’t have been programmed. You have to have either been born, or otherwise created as a blank slate. Then you have to develop in realtime. That is a key distinction which may never be changed. Even so, the process is a lot faster than it used to be. Still, he has mixed feelings about the current state of affairs. He just wants this to be over. He wants to return to his family in Danmörk, and put this all behind him. He is only stuck with Talus because Mayumi abandoned them both first. So now he can’t abandon Talus too, or he’ll look like a massive jerk.

Mayumi showed up because she is technically the boy Talus’ mother and had an obligation to attest, but she hasn’t been the one to raise him. Like the changes to the legal system overall, parentage is now determined more by nurture than nature. Leaving your offspring behind doesn’t automatically cause you to forfeit your rights, but the more deliberate it was, and the longer it lasts, the less likely it is that the court will see you as a rightful custodian. Obviously, this cuts both ways. If someone were to abduct a kid, and hold them for years, they wouldn’t likely maintain their parental status. It’s all about intent and action now; not blood. They don’t care about blood. Which is what makes this so difficult, because Ronan is genetically not young Talus’ father. But he is by circumstance, which is precisely how Mayumi wanted it. The older Talus is probably the real father, and this is just a regular kid who grew in Mayumi’s womb. It was perfectly timed to the Nordome trip. Had she long-conned him into that timetable? How long has she been trying to escape? No. Remember, none of that matters anymore. It’s time.

It’s time for the sentencing.

Microstory 2702: Alternate Arrangements and Agendas

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It’s time for Ronan to speak. In the old ways, a witness would be assigned either the defendant or the plaintiff or prosecutor. They were on one side or the other. Over time, this started to feel too combative. Society decided that the point of the justice system should be to uncover the truth, and balance fairness. There were different variations for the setup, but the changes were sweeping. A whole new vocabulary was created, which alone, made everything seem less partial. Lawyers became advocates or adherents to more clearly define their roles. Defendants became accused, and were considered pending so as not to bias the decision from minute one. Even juries changed. Half of the arbitration panels deliberated in one room while half did so in another. If they came to the same decision, maybe it was more likely right. Ronan still remembers the old ways and the old terms, and since this is the first time he’s ever been in any court in the centuries he’s been alive, he still frames everything he’s seeing through that lens. It’s jarring when they contradict it.

He must remember that he’s an attestant, not a witness. Attestant, not witness. Because he didn’t witness Talus do anything, he can’t attest to it. He can only tell the court what he knows, and what he knows is that Talus is not right in the head. As he’s sitting up here, not answering the most recent question that he was asked, he’s thinking about who else could be blamed for his son’s behavior. He keeps coming back to the implantation procedure. Something must have gone wrong. They must have made some mistake. They...spliced the wrong genes, or—he doesn’t know, he—

“Mister Truett. Mister Truett,” Jericho Hagen urges. “Have you seen any other behavior out of the accused which you might categorize as abhorrent?” he repeats.

Ronan was zoning out, but now he’s more sure of what he wants. He waits to answer again, but this time, he’s looking the attorney—no adherent—dead in the eye. “I wish to make an alternative accusation.” He looks up at the judge—adjudicator. “Did I do that right? Am I supposed to say it another way?”

“There is no formal syntax,” she replies. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I—” Ronan begins to say.

“This is not the place for that. We will have to schedule a new inquisition to formalize your accusation. Until then, you cannot be expected to attest further at the current proceedings. But I must warn you, people have used this as a delaying tactic in the past. I will not stand for it in my court, so you better have a plausible accusation.”

“I do, your honor.” What Talus did was wrong, but it may not be his fault. Ronan is not going to try to stop Talus from being dealt with accordingly, but those bot doctors need to answer too, and he doesn’t want to continue until they do. He stands from the chair, and begins walking back towards the attestant waiting area.

“Agent, please prepare the next attestant for a round of assertions,” the adjudicator orders. They changed it from bailiff to fit all the other A-terms. So stupid.

The agent escorts Ronan back into the joint chamber, where he is supposed to go into his own little private room. They keep attestants separate, again to maintain impartiality. Something has gone wrong here too, though. The next attestant is out of her own room already. She seems as surprised to see him as he is to see her.

“Mayumi.”

She doesn’t speak. She picks her jaw off of the floor, and slips back into her room.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 4, 2548

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Echo Cloudbearer explained his mysterious origins to the team, giving a brief overview of his life. When Olimpia screamed to create the Sixth Key parallel reality, she also created him as a conscious component. The theory was that the DNA in the saliva that came out during her scream somehow rearranged itself, and gave birth to a new living being. Exactly why this being wasn’t a perfect clone of Olimpia herself was the least insane unanswered question about this whole thing. As a lone entity in the center of reality, Echo had to raise himself, absorbing random psychic energy from everywhere in the galaxy to even grasp the concept of survival. His mind conjured memories that were not his own, or maybe not even real at all, to explain to himself where he had come from. Years later, members of the Rock peace talks spontaneously sprouted from a magical tree, headed by an antagonistic godlike woman named Clavia.

Clavia wanted to use Echo’s powers for nefarious purposes, so he regressed her to a childlike state, with no memory of her past. To protect the future, he had to do the same to himself. The two of them were raised as siblings by the Sixth Key leadership, and eventually ascended to power themselves. They used their reality-warping abilities to create another universe called The Eighth Choice. The Reality Wars had been subverted, hopefully forever. There was now more than enough room, and enough resources, for everyone.

After the rundown, Olimpia and Echo stepped away alone with each other to have a more private conversation, though they could still be seen. They were all kind of watching the two of them, but Ramses was paying especially close attention. Mateo walked over to him. “Are you worried for her? Do you think this Echo guy is lying?”

“If he’s gonna try to hurt her, we’ll be here to stop him,” Ramses said. “That’s not what is on my mind, though.”

“What are you thinking about then?” Mateo asked.

“He looks Sri Lankan, right?” Ramses asked.

Mateo nodded. “I would say he does. I don’t understand how he was...created, but he looks like he could be her son.”

Ramses nodded. “Do you think he perhaps...could also be something else?”

“Something else, like...a vampire?” Mateo had no idea what he was driving at.

“No. I mean...” He shook his head. “God, maybe I shouldn’t say it. It’s nuts. But then again...I was there. I wasn’t there when she created the Sixth Key with her scream, but I was there just before she did it.”

“Wait. Are you saying you think he looks Egyptian?”

“I....maybe.”

Mateo tilted his head as he was looking at the mother and son. His resemblance to his supposed mother was undeniable. Echo was definitely Sri Lankan, even if that meant he bioprinted a fake body just to sell a con. But he could be half Egyptian. That was harder to see, but absolutely not impossible. “Well, you have a DNA testing kit in your lab, don’t you?” he figured.

“Yeah, but he would have to consent to it.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Mateo encouraged. “We don’t have to do the thing where we give him a cup of water, and then steal the cup, or pull a hair out from his head. He might not be trying to hide the truth about you from us. He may not know. Like you said, if you left before she made the Sixth Key—and him—Echo might not have any reason to suspect a connection. If your hypothesis is true, we would have to figure out how your DNA ended up there.”

“Well, I did give her a hug while she was trapped in the proto-Sixth Key,” Ramses explained. “We couldn’t actually touch each other at the time, but I guess if you can make a baby without having sex, it turning out that the dimensional barrier separating the mother from the father was semi-permeable—allowing a second sample of DNA to pass through—isn’t any harder to believe.”

“Why don’t you go get that kit, and then let’s have an open conversation?”

Ramses knew that there was no point in wasting time. He jumped into his pocket dimension lab, found what he was looking for, and returned. Only Mateo went with him up to the mother and son. The rest didn’t know what was going on, though they might have spotted the scanner, and guessed. Or guessed part of it.

Echo’s eyes darted down to the scanner as Ramses approached. “You want proof.”

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask. It will barely hurt.”

Echo chuckled. “Pain isn’t a problem. But my origins are bizarre, as you heard. I’m not sure what that test will say. I’m not a Boltzmann brain, but I’m not a normal person either.”

Ramses shook the scanner gently. “I designed this myself. It accounts for temporal anomalies, and looks for signatures of cloning or bioprinting. It will tell us if this body is her genetic son. Even if you’re an evil psychopathic killer who stole her DNA to infiltrate our team, it will know if it’s even worth trusting you in the short-term.”

“I understand why you need this. I have no problem with it.” Echo made a fist, and presented his arm. He didn’t flinch when Ramses placed the top of the scanner against his skin, and pierced it with a tiny little needle.

Ramses then did the same for Olimpia, but against the side of the scanner. He made a fist and lifted his own arm up. “I have a hypothesis. I don’t know if you know the answer to this question, or if you had even considered it, but this machine is designed to capture both parents, and a child. That’s why there are three needles.” He placed it against his arm, but didn’t prick himself yet. “Do you see why I feel like I should be doing this?”

Echo narrowed his eyes and studied Ramses’ face. He looked over at the woman he was certain was his mother, then back to Ramses. “I see it. If it’s true, I want you to know that I didn’t consider it. I never thought much about whether or not I had a father, and it did not occur to me that it might be you. But you should also know that if that comes back positive, I’ll be twice as happy as I was when Olimpia finally showed up.”

“Okay.” Ramses pierced his own skin, and captured the final blood sample. The results came in within seconds. After interpreting the data alone, he showed them both the screen. “Mother, father, and offspring. It’s struggling with your sex, but leaning masculine. If you didn’t know before, you are intersex in a way that does not exist in the natural world. Your sex appears to be rather fluid, in fact.”

Echo nodded. “That is not surprising.” He took a deep breath, then let his body transform. In only moments, he had fully transitioned into a more feminine form. “My pronouns are whatever you feel like. I spent most of my childhood masculine, but I have taken this form from time to time.” She pulled her shirt collar away from her body, and looked down, widening her eyes at the sight. “It’s been a long time, though.”

“You get those from me,” Olimpia told her daughter.

Ramses looked at his scanner again. “Hm. Fascinating.”

“What is it?” Mateo asked him.

Ramses looked back up at his daughter. “The sample you gave me, it’s leaning more genetically female now. You didn’t simply transition yourself. You changed blood that wasn’t even in your body anymore.”

Echo shrugged. “It’s still a part of me.”

Ramses sighed, and dropped his arms.

“Wait, what just happened?” Mateo questioned. “That sounds cool, why are you upset now?”

“Oh, shit,” Echo began. “That means I could be lying entirely. I could be some untrustworthy shapeshifter.”

“I don’t believe that,” Olimpia promised, entangling her daughter’s arm in hers. She looked over at Ramses. “We still don’t understand how this is possible, but I’m choosing to believe that it’s real. Rambo, you can think what you want, but we have met more good people in this universe than bad ones. The odds are in our favor.”

Ramses exhaled before wrapping his arm around Echo’s shoulders to bring her into a hug. “I choose to believe as well.”

Echo went back to his masculine form as the four of them were returning to the rest of the team to explain the most recent news. Then all eight of them walked back up to the reality portal, and slipped back over to the main sequence version of this planet. Echo didn’t know what he was going to do at the end of the team’s day in the timestream, but he was going to stick around at least until then. Romana knew of a perfect spot for a picnic, having spotted it during her surveys. While they were eating, Echo gave them some more details about his life. They were less factual, and more personal. The team talked about the things they had been up to as well, but he had kept up with their dealings, so there was little that he didn’t already know about.

While they were in the middle of dessert, a woman walked up to them. None of them had seen her appear, but Echo’s face fell when he noticed her. He tried to cover up his emotions. “Sister,” he said, standing up. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Everyone, this is Clavia...what’s left of her, anyway. I told you, it was complicated.”

They all stood up respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you,” Olimpia said, trying to shake Clavia’s hand.

Clavia didn’t accept right away. “You didn’t tell them?” she asked Echo.

“I was trying to have a nice time with my family,” Echo argued.

“Nice to meet you too,” Clavia finally said, taking Olimpia’s hand.

Ramses pushed himself forward. “What is this?” He pulled Olimpia back a little in case he needed to protect her. “You really are evil, aren’t you? This was some kind of terrible plan?”

“It’s not a terrible plan,” Echo defended. “I’m not evil. But I was sent here. I really am your son. I have not changed my DNA in any way, but the person I work for needs something, and realized my connection, so we decided to use it to our advantage.”

Off with the sundresses and casual picnic clothes. The team armored up, and prepared to fight.

“That is not necessary,” Clavia contended. “You are friends with this person. One of you has already promised to help them. It has just taken this long from your perspective for them to collect. We are cognizant of present and future events in this universe. We are taking you out of this brane at this particular juncture because we know that doing so will not cause problems. The rest of the team will remain here to build a home. Once you’re done, you’ll reunite.”

“You’re being so vague,” Mateo argued. “Who are you talking about? Who made the promise, and who did they make it to?”

“Leona?” Echo said simply.

“Me?” Leona questioned. “I don’t remember making any sort of promise.”

“Senona Riggur,” Clavia clarified, “at Origin. You said you would help them fulfill other people’s wishes.”

“Oh, right,” Leona recalled. “I did say that, and it was a very long time ago for me.” She looked amongst her friends. “They’re right, I have to go.”

“I’m going with you,” Mateo insisted.

“So am I,” Olimpia added.

“Mother, you can, and I was hoping you would say that,” Echo began. “Uncle Mateo, you can’t.”

“That’s not true,” Clavia said to him.

“I really wanna spend more time with both,” Echo snapped back in a whisper.

“Share with the class,” Mateo urged.

Echo sighed. “Only two of you besides Aunt Leona can come. If it’s Mateo then it either can’t be Olimpia or Ramses. I have a personal stake in which two it is.”

“How long will they be gone?” Angela questioned.

“Interversal travel is complicated,” Clavia said. “Based on your patterns, it would be a matter of days. Whoever goes will experience years of service, but we will not be able to return them to a few minutes from now.”

“I have to stay here,” Ramses said sadly. “The two smart people can’t separate themselves from everyone else. We realized that a long time ago.”

“I’ll take care of the dummies,” Clavia revealed. “Your tech isn’t that hard. I’m smarter than all of you combined, including Echo.”

“Debatable,” Echo said.

They continued to discuss the plan, running through a few contradictory scenarios, but only one made sense. In the end, Ramses and Olimpia chose to aid Leona in her duties, along with Echo. The ladies said their goodbyes to their husband, and everyone else. Then they returned to the Sixth Key, where a Nexus would evidently be waiting for them.

“That’s a good idea,” Marie determined. “Are there schematics for a Nexus in Ramses’ forge core? That should be the first thing we build.”

“All in favor, say aye,” Mateo prompted.

“Aye.”

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Microstory 2563: Injured Visitor

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Let me start with my backstory, so you’ll understand why I was at the Foundation in the first place, because it wasn’t to be healed. It’s a complex situation that my family has been grappling with for years, and questioning whether we should attempt to correct the issue since Landis Tipton first showed up. My brother was born with a genetic condition known as T21. Its full name is hard to type out and pronounce, but it’s also often known as Trisomy 21. This is when the patient develops an extra copy of chromosome 21, and it results in a particular facial look, as well as neurological differences. My brother is a functioning young adult, who can put his own clothes on in the morning, and make his own meals. There are things he struggles with, though. He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him—he’s not going to forget to breathe—but he does need some help. It has been hard for him to learn skills that others take for granted, like managing his finances, and navigating the world around him. The biggest problem he faces is discrimination. He has needed assistance finding work, and keeping it, because people don’t understand him. They don’t understand that, while he’s not so good in an interview, he’s good at the work that he’s looking for, he can follow directions to a T, and he’ll never let you down. They keep firing him, because he doesn’t want to engage in certain adult-oriented conversations, and I think that some people just don’t like the way he looks or talks. You can tell that he has T21, because of its defining characteristics, and instead of being accepting, they just want everyone to be the same. One other area he needs help with is healthcare, which is where I come in. He lives with me, and I accompany him on his appointments, which he needs, because he’s at a higher risk of developing true medical conditions. This is what happened. He now has Leukemia, and we’ve been treating it accordingly. We wanted to get him cured, but we were worried what it would do to him. What exactly are Mr. Tipton’s limits? What exactly is a “disease”?

Trisomy 21 is a part of who my brother is, and he does not need to be “cured” of it, but we weren’t sure if the healing process did consider it a disease. The literature says that Landis doesn’t control it. He breathes, and the breath cures everything. After further research, however, we felt assured that he would be all right. They called T21 a condition of state, and not within Mr. Tipton’s purview. As always, I took him to his appointment, and we stayed in a tent, with plans to be there for two nights while we waited. When we woke up one morning, my brother wanted to go on a walk, which we do regularly. Unfortunately, we are not familiar with this area, and didn’t know what to expect. I slipped on some wet leaves on a hill, tried to grab a log on instinct to keep from falling, and ended up with that log on top of me. I was impaled by a sharp snag. I told my brother to run for help while I, dazed and confused, pulled the snag off, stood up, and started limping back. Here was the new question, would Landis agree to help me since I was injured on the property? The answer was no, but he was not without mercy. He used his other gifts on me instead. He sang me to contentment, and soothed my pain through touch. This allowed me to make it to the hospital, which was pretty far away, without being in agony the whole time, but also without breaking their rule against healing injuries. They even let my brother cut in line, so he could get his cure in time to go with me in the ambulance. I think they keep an ambulance on hand now because of this incident, so that’s kind of cool.

Microstory 2371: Earth, September 22, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I forgot to tell you that the word don’t isn’t in my vocabulary. So to me, all you said was “get mad”. So I got mad. I’m not mad at Bray, as long as you’re not mad at Bray. Are you not mad at Bray? Okay. I just support you. But I am mad at our parents. It seems that every few weeks, we find out this horrifying new secret about our pasts, or our lives. The answer is yes, I was sick. I was apparently very sick as a child. I confronted my father yet again for answers, and he confessed to everything. To his credit, he’s not a doctor, and it didn’t occur to him that you might be suffering from the same condition. We couldn’t afford to visit a doctor back then. Things were bad, the entire industry sector was suffering. There was a huge gap between supply and demand for medical help, and as a result, prices were exorbitant. We could only afford a nurse. He claims that he never lied by telling me that she was a babysitter, so I guess I just grew up assuming that. She wasn’t even a nurse yet either, though, but a nursing student, so she was willing to help for less just for the experience. According to him, she was incredibly kind and helpful, and while he didn’t have the education necessary to assess how she was helping, the results were rather clear. Whenever I was showing signs of my illness again, she slipped me medicine—often hidden in the chicken noodle soup—and then I got better. She had no clue that it was hereditary, however, I’m still mad, because he should have said something recently. He should have made the connection, especially when he was compiling his list of people who might have been responsible for studying the Earth twin. It could have been her, for all we know. We don’t know. Anyway, I’ve looked her up in a database of medical professionals, which I have access to for potential telehealth needs. She’s currently living under a dome in what was once South Africa, before the borders collapsed. I’ve reached out to her, and am awaiting a response. Someone needs to fix this. I have attached a copy of all of my medical records, so you can look for yourself, and give it to your doctor. I also attached our dad’s file, with a signed cover sheet that proves he authorized it. Please take care of yourself. Don’t overdo it.

Love you so much,

Condor

Microstory 2370: Vacuus, September 13, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I don’t want you to get mad. Let me just say that right at the top, before you read any further. Remember that, DON’T. GET. MAD. I’m glad that I’ve been so busy, so I couldn’t respond to your letter to the base before my private letter from you came through anyway. And I’m glad that you sent it. What I’m not glad about is my current medical condition. I know that you didn’t want details about my love life, but I think the backstory is important, and I feel compelled to be honest about what’s going on with me, because things aren’t great, and I don’t want you to be in the dark. It also might have an impact on you, since there’s an apparent genetic component. Bray and I are going through a tough time. I don’t blame him, but he blames himself. Here’s the part you’re not gonna like. I contracted an STD. On its own, the virus wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Treatment for it is relatively simple and easy to synthesize these days. We’re living here with a small population, so we kind of have these ways of coordinating partnerships. Genetic diversity and health are more important, and harder to come by, on this planet. Anyway, they treated the virus, and I’m free from it now, but it appears that the inflammation awakened something in my body. They’re calling it an epigenetic disease, which I was likely born with. You were telling me about how you used to get sick as a child. Could you give me more details about what your signs and symptoms were? Could you, maybe...ask your father about it too? I don’t want to be pushy, but I think we need to know the truth. If there’s something in our cells that we inherited from him or mom, I think we have a right to that information. I should have asked about this kind of stuff before. I have always lacked my father’s side’s medical history. Mom said she filled out all the forms accordingly, and I trusted that before I learned about you. Those family background records were made when I was a child, and since I’m still using the same doctors as I was before, they haven’t needed updating in that regard, because the past doesn’t change! So I’ve never actually seen the records myself. She could have lied, or she didn’t know enough about Pascal’s family, and just did her best. I have lived my whole life in a controlled environment, which the doctors believe insulated me from developing symptoms before. That would make sense since you were just on Earth, where you would have been exposed to all sorts of chemicals, even before the gases were released. Just tell me anything you can, and anything Pascal says about it, if you can ask him nicely without getting mad.

Don’t be mad,

Corinthia

PS: Don’t be mad.

Microstory 2329: Vacuus, December 16, 2178

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Dear Condor,

It sounds like it was a pretty rough conversation with your father. I know that you were really wanting some answers, and what he said may or may not have been what you were looking for. If you’re trying to find an enemy in this situation, I hope that you can let go of your anger, and take each day one step at a time. It’s not worth the stress it puts on your heart to hold onto grudges like that. Believe me, I’ve been there. Think of it this way, if you’ve had a good relationship with your dad up until this point, he must be an okay guy. There should be no reason why you can’t forgive him for whatever he did...however he was involved. Even if the whole separation thing had been his idea instead, that was over three decades ago. But I understand that your family situation was different from mine before, and is different now, in more ways than one. In some ways, it’s been easier for me. I no longer have the opportunity to ask my mom about it, but I also don’t have the anxiety from anticipating her answers. I just hope that you two can find a way past this, and maintain your strong relationship. If I could ask you one thing, though, maybe you could serve as a sort of intermediary between the two of us? I don’t know if I’ll ever want to call him dad, but I think that he and I should probably get to know each other either way. I mean, there’s this thing that I do where I moisten my eyeballs one at a time, so it always looks like I’m winking. Normal people just blink, I don’t really know why. Other people have noticed that I do this, and think that it’s funny. There’s often a genetic component to those kinds of tics. Mom never did anything like that, so I’ve always wondered where it came from. On the other hand, if you don’t feel comfortable connecting him with me, I understand. Just let me know, because I really am good either way. I feel like this situation is more up to you. Really, no pressure. Anyway, I have to get to a meeting, so I’ll talk to you in a couple weeks.

Wink wink,

Corinthia

Extremus: Year 61

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The Attic Forest is a beautiful place. It is, in fact, the most beautiful place on the ship, though that’s not saying much, except when remembering the first time you were in the engine room. It’s not just Tinaya, Lilian, and Cainan anymore. A whole team works shifts, gardening, maintaining the atmosphere, giving tours, and performing other necessary duties. That’s not even counting the events that are held here. It’s a hot venue that people use for concerts, poetry readings, and the like. The section is frequented by a great deal of people every day. It’s hard to tell how much the Extremusians love to visit, but anecdotal evidence suggests an undeniable success.

Last year, Tinaya was able to finish the coding for the giant sequoia in the basement. It’s currently around a half meter tall, and the growth rate will increase year over year. Still, very few people know about it; only the essential members of government and crew. Most of these positions won’t even maintain the secret to future administrations. When they leave their positions, they won’t pass the information on to their successors. There is presently no strategy for announcing it to the public. The specimen is still so fragile, and that’s what they’re most worried about. It’s better to let it grow big and strong before they start letting people see it. One day, though. One day.

Today, Tinaya is in another meeting. She attends these from time to time when someone comes up with a new idea of what to do to make Attic Forest better, or at least what they believe could accomplish this. Most of them are stupid or bad, but others are not so terrible. They would just be really difficult. Extremus did not simply wave goodbye to Gatewood, and fly off into the space. The ship contains data upon data upon data. Earthan history, Ansutahan history, philosophical papers, cooking recipes, all kinds of entertainment; basically the scope of Earthan and vonearthan knowledge. While they do not maintain constant communication with anyone back in the stellar neighborhood, Team Keshida sends periodical updates with new information. It’s just about possible to know everything that everyone in the galaxy knows. Part of this data includes genomic databases for every known species on every planet.

If you wanted to know what the DNA double helix for a penguin looked like, you would be able to look that up. For the most part, that’s all you would be able to do. The people who came up with the idea of this mission didn’t accumulate most of this information for any specific purpose. It just didn’t make any sense not to have it, and it’s not like virtual storage space is a precious commodity. Now the bioengineering scholars have other ideas. They’ve become inspired by the Attic Forest project. At the moment, plants are the only things that have been grown from their genomes, but they could take it further. They’re interested in trying to develop animals now, starting with fish. It took a long time to get this project off the ground, so to speak. This next stage—if it ever happens—will surely take even longer. The ethical questions are so much more plentiful for this proposal, and it’s not something that Tinaya or Lilian can help with. Even so, they have to be at all the meetings, because they’re in charge of the biome. Today is different. This meeting isn’t with the bioengineers.

The Resource Allocation Team: RATs, as they’re called by people who don’t like them. And most people don’t like them. They’re a weird little bunch. They’re responsible for handing out things like watches and tablets, and teleportation devices—which are against the law for now. If you want a new set of clothes, you go to them. If you want a new couch for your room, they have to approve it. Everyone has a horror story about going to Allocation for something they need. Capitalism was mostly vanquished centuries ago, and replaced with something better, but elements of it are kept alive on the ship, and it’s all thanks to the RATs. It’s not really their fault. There’s limited space here, and therefore limited resources. Even the time traveling excursion ships can only do so much for them. There is no trade with any other culture, and there are no takebacks. So they have to be careful with what they give, and who they give it to. They pay close attention to the contribution points market, which is the best approximation of a currency here, and that can lead them to making a lot of decisions that people don’t like, even if those decisions are reasonable, or at least unavoidable. People’s perceptions of them aren’t all rational, but human beings are not rational. The question is, what the hell do they want with the Forest Guides?

“We would like to make more paper.” Oh, yeah. They’re the ones who used some of the trees they found on the verdant planet they came across a ways back for paper.

Lilian stares at them dumbfounded. “Really?” More paper? Why has the novelty of this not worn off yet. A computer will let you write and overwrite the same space virtually countless times. What’s the point of not being able to do that? And anyway, it goes against the whole purpose of this project. “You wanna kill my trees?”

“Not all of them,” RAT Two tried to clarify for his partner. “One tree can make a lot of paper.”

“And what are we doing with all this paper?” Lilian presses.

“We’re...writing books...and sharing leaflets. I mean we’re not doing it. We’re just providing the materials that are needed.”

Lilian sighs. “We survived on this tin can for sixty years without a single sheet of paper. Before that, we were in the Gatewood Collective for forty years, also without paper. It wasn’t even that common on Ansutah. There is a reason that Earth was able to move away from it as it advanced technologically. Why are you so desperate for it now?”

RAT one and RAT Two exchange a look. RAT One clears his throat. “Honestly, Madam Diamond, we have no clue. Like he was saying, we’re not doing anything. It’s the people who want paper, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Let’s stop beating around the bush,” I jump in. “Pun intended. You have a public image issue. You’ve had it since departure day. Well, you probably lasted a few days before the first generation started realizing all the things they could never have, because they were stuck on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere. But ever since then, you’ve been fighting to look like the good guys. And the truth is, you’re okay. Your job is important.” I tap on my chest. “And individually, most people know that. “Our world would be chaos if everyone could just go take whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it. We’d run out of paper in half a second. You found something that works. As you said, it’s stupid, but it’s fun, so you want to capitalize on that success. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to. That is not what the forest is for.” I stammer a little. “That sentence doesn’t really even do it justice. It’s for...very much not that. That is to say, we didn’t just build it for something other than making paper. We did it to show the value of life in its (albeit relatively) natural state. Earth long ago had a huge problem with the amount of wood it was using. Everyone knew it, no one knew what to do about it. Eventually, however, they figured it out, and we have reaped the benefits of that struggle without actually going through it ourselves.

“On my grave will I let you send us backwards! I don’t care what people think of you, we’re not making any more goddamn paper! We’re not making any handcrafted chairs. We’re not not making any fucking bonfires. We’re not doing any of that. The Forest stays as it is, and we won’t tolerate its destruction, or even just talk of destruction. If you breathe one word of this to anyone else, and make anyone believe that there is a remote possibility of this happening, I will float you myself. I’ve been in hock, it’s not that bad. I will gladly die in a cell to stop you from peeling one piece of bark from one tree. Is there any confusion about what I’ve just said?”

The RATs exchange another, very uncomfortable look. I turn my head to share one with Lilian, worried about her being disappointed in me, but she’s not. She actually looks proud. The allocators are scared out of their minds. They are not going to call her bluff on the whole homicide thing that she threatened them with. “In that case, would you consider...”

I tilt my head, prepared to go to war, showing them that I still mean business. What could they possibly ask after my speech?

He takes a breath, so he can keep going. “...working for us.”

What? “What?”

“You hit the nail on the head.” RAT Two avoids looking Tinaya in the eye. “We have an image problem. The Parks Department had one too, didn’t it? It didn’t have any image to speak of. No one thought about it. No one cared about it.” Now he makes eye contact with her. “You changed that. You joined the team, and suddenly it’s a real thing. You built all of this.” He spread his arms to indicate the forest. They’re sitting in something they call The Fishbowl. It’s a glass structure somewhat close to the center of the Forest, where meetings like this can be held. Of course, there’s no weather in here, but it’s nice to have for privacy’s sake. It’s completely soundproof.

“You want me to fix the RA—” She stops herself; they don’t call themselves that. “...the Resource Allocation Team?”

“It would really help us out,” RAT One said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

I look over at Lilian again, who frowns at me, but very softly. She looks to the men. “Would you please give us the room? You too.” There is a fifth person in the room. He is a representative from the government. Someone like him always sits in on these meetings in order to advocate for the best interests of the Office of First Chair. He bows slightly to her, but deeper to Tinaya, and then leaves quietly with the other two.

“Uhh...I don’t know why they would ask that,” Tinaya says to Lilain. “It’s such a dumb question, right?” She laughs. “Right?”

“It’s really not,” Lilian counters. “They’re one hundred percent accurate about their assessment of you. You are...an inspiration. I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. You are like the Goddess of Inspiration. You make things happen, and you make them better, and I would be selfish to keep you.”

“What are you saying, Lilian? Are you firing me?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to realize your potential, then yeah.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“I don’t really mean that. If you want to stay, I’m not going to force you out, but I think you should go on your daily walk, and really think about whether you belong here still. You will always have a home with me, but the rest of the ship needs you, and I can’t believe it took those guys to make me realize it. Just...look into your heart, and think about your future. Even if you would rather stay, is that really what’s best?”

Tinaya isn’t sure. Is it?

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Extremus: Year 60

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Today is the grand opening. Hundreds of workers contributed to the construction of the Attic Forest, whether it was planting a single seed, or installing the walls on what was once the exterior of the ship. They actually made Extremus bigger, adding an entire new layer on the top. Well, it wasn’t entirely new. There was already and eleventh deck, but it hardly extended more than a few meters. Now the rest of the kilometer has been filled in for this project. Right now, it’s all dirt and paths, with a few little ponds here and there, many of which are connected to each other via a series of streams, waterfalls, and pumps. There are spots to picnic, and a smallish venue for entertainment. The paths will be predominantly lined with beautiful plants that were genetically engineered from the DNA data stored in the database. Most of the plants were taken from Earth, but a few came from Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida’s records.

Right now, the only stuff that’s full grown is the bamboo, which is exclusively used to signify entrances, exits, facilities, and emergency terminals. At the moment, the rest of the trees and plants are ready to go. Temporal engineer Greenley Atkinson and her team have created a time bubble that will speed up the growth of all of this life. They just have to find out who is going to push the button. It’s up to Tinaya to pick the name out of the proverbial hat, but the ceremony is being delayed, because there is an issue in the basement. “What is it? People are waiting.”

“It’s Operation Wellington, sir.” After Tinaya was promoted to Senior Forest Guide, it only seemed right to hire a Junior Forest Guide. Cainan Suárez switched his primary studies to botany soon after Project Attic Forest was announced. He is still studying in college, but he helps out in his free time. He missed a skills evaluation this morning to work on this, but his advisor is allowing him to make it up next week. Cainan is distantly related to Halan Yenant’s first Lieutenant, Rita Suárez.

“Obviously that’s why we’re down here. What’s the issue?”

“It’s this.” Cainan steps over to the wall screen, and brings up the genetic information for the Journey Tree. “Okay, here is the DNA for a giant sequoia. This is supposed to be the genetically modified DNA for the giant sequoia we’re planting, because it needs to be tailored for an indoor environment.”

This is how Tinaya knows that the mind sharing machine that messed up her friends’ brains gave her knowledge that came from at least one person besides the other three in the machine. None of them possessed this much of an understanding of genetics. “It’s too big.”

“Yeah. They modified it too much. The root system is going to dig too deep, and the canopy is going to spread too wide.”

In the center of the ship, there is an atrium. It’s this giant metal tube that goes all the way from the engineering section, up to the tenth level. Tinaya isn’t sure why the ship designers included it. It’s big, but it’s not beautiful. There’s nowhere to sit, and no elevators or stairs. There’s no plant life either. It just sits there. If you happen to be on the bottom deck, you can walk through it, but if you’re on any other level, it just forces you to go around. Because it’s thirty meters in diameter, and it serves no real purpose...until now. Now it’s going to become the growing tube for the ship’s largest tree. It will grow to be so big that they can’t even plant it in the Attic Forest, or it will crash into the ceiling. Actually, all of the trees would crash into the ceiling, if given a chance. Once that big red button is pressed, the tallest of the trees are going to grow up to thirty meters, which won’t work, because the ceiling only goes up six meters, which is two meters higher than most decks. That’s why Atkinson also designed a pocket dimension for them all to grow up into. But even that won’t be enough for the ultimate height of the Journey Tree. Hopefully, by the time it gets to be too big, though, they will be able to transplant it to the Extremus planet. That’s one reason why it’s not going to be part of the temporal bubble. It represents the journey that they’re all making together, so it will grow at the same rate as everyone else. That’s the idea, anyway.

“How did they make this mistake?” Tinaya questions. “They can see, it’s got a radius of fifteen minutes.” She points to the atrium, and then down to the floor “And they know that below this level is frickin’ outer space. It can’t be that big.”

“I know, I wish I had caught it, but I’m still learning this stuff.”

“No,” Tinaya says with a shake of her head. “That’s not your job. I should have caught it. I know how to decipher this stuff.”

“The way I see it,” Cainan goes on, “we have two options. Either we delay the planting of the Journey Tree so this problem can be fixed, or we plant it anyway, and hope that the walls of the atrium regulate the tree’s growth.”

She shakes her head again. “We can’t let it do that. First, I would say that the roots are the bigger problem. They’ll spring a leak, if allowed to go as deep as this code commands it to. But also, the sequoia is a symbol. It’s a symbol of unimaginable growth. It’s a metaphor for Extremus itself. We can’t let the walls dictate how big it gets, because the who reason we’re on this mission is to go against the rules, and find a new home in the outskirts of the galaxy.”

“Yeah, I was kind of thinking the same thing too.”

She sighs. “I can fix it. I can rewrite the code, faster than even the real geneticists can. I just...I don’t have time today. I don’t want to delay the planting. The reason we’re doing these two things at the same time is to lean into the symbolism I was just talking about. I mean, ideally, we would have planted it on day one, but barring that, any day but the day that the rest of the Attic Forest goes online will be arbitrary and meaningless. It has to be today, and I have to be in two places at once.” A child is going to be selected to engage the temporal bubble that will grow the forest before their very eyes. Every kid who wants the honor has put their name into the lottery, which Tinaya is scheduled to select right around...exactly right now.

“What if...no...” Cainan doubts himself.

“No idea is a bad idea. Go ahead and say it.”

“If we’re most worried about the roots, then let’s not plant it on the bottom level. Let’s toss in some more dirt, and plant it higher.”

“I dunno,” Tinaya says nervously. “Look at this here. They also programmed it to be bigger than a normal giant sequoia. In the next 156 years, this thing is going to grow, and at the moment, it will be a tight fit. The canopy could reach the top of the pocket dimension. In order to get this project passed, Tinaya and Lilian had to explain how they were going to fit the really tall trees in the forest. Most decks are four meters high. Some of them are double heighted which means the ceiling of one deck has been excluded, and is just using the ceiling for the deck above it. And some parts of some decks are only two and a half meters high, leaving the rest for crawl space. But all added up, including the thick hull, Extremus is only about fifty meters high. The government didn’t want to build a forty meter high deck on top of that just for the forest, so to make it work, the pocket dimension will make it bigger on the inside. There are risks to this. If there is ever a power failure on the ship, they’re going to prioritize things like life support and artificial gravity over superfluous pocket dimensions. Perhaps one day, the ceiling will be raised, but that’s a decision for a future administration. For now, if everything remains as is, and that giant sequoia gets too big, it’s unclear what will happen.

“What do we do? Do we lie? We could plant this tomorrow, and just tell everyone we did it today. That’s why it’s a secret. I mean, of course, this isn’t why, but we may as well take advantage of that.”

“No, that won’t work either,” Tinaya contends. “I’m going to repair the DNA, and the file will reflect the save date before we 3D print the seed. There will be a record of the delay in planting, or at least it could be called into question, and that would just be embarrassing.”

“I’m all out of ideas then.”

“You could do it.”

“Me?” he questions. “I can’t write code like that. Like I said, I’m just learning.”

“But you can pull a name out of a hat,” Tinaya reasons.

“You want me to do the ceremony. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I’m just a Junior Guide. I can’t do that either.”

“Cainan, that’s a made up job. These are all made up. We’re making up the rules as we go along. There’s no reason you can’t do it. Just go up there and pick a name. When the kid shows up, shake their hand, crack a few jokes—”

“Crack a few jokes? What jokes? I only know dirty jokes, and I don’t think you want me to say them on broadcast.”

“You’ll know what to do; I trust you. Lilian will be right there next to you. Meanwhile, I’ll be down here, recoding this seed.”

“You don’t have that much time. If the lottery draw starts right now, the kid will push the button pretty quickly.”

“No, I won’t be planting the seed at the same time, but it will be before midnight.”

He hesitates. This isn’t his thing. People aren’t his thing; he’s always said that. He’s much better with plants. He talks to them, and treats their reactions to his care as responses. But she really does have faith in him, and he trusts her just as much. “Okay. I’ll need to change first, though, and my cabin is on the other side of the ship.”

“You don’t have that kind of time.” She takes off her ring, and hands it to him. “We’re obviously not allowed to teleport, but I have my ways. Just rub the gem, and concentrate on your destination. Make sure to make jumps to unoccupied spaces, so no one sees you. And obviously don’t tell anyone about it. I’m not supposed to have that.”

“You are in two places at once sometimes. I’ve always thought that.”

“Go, Cainan. Good luck.”

“Good luck to you too.” He puts the magic ring on, and disappears. Hopefully he didn’t accidentally land on the bridge, or something.”

Tinaya takes a deep breath, and switches the broadcast on so she can keep one eye on the show. Her other eye will be focused on her work. She’s had this genetic engineering knowledge for years now, but she’s not used it, because the right situation has not yet come up. Well, it’s here now, so hopefully whoever’s mind she unwillingly copied them from is as smart as her initial impression makes them seem. Two centuries from now, children may be able to sit under this tree to read or have a chat, but that can’t happen unless she figures out how to translate it from code to seed.

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Microstory 1921: Bureaucratic Protocol

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Special Investigator: Thank you for agreeing to come in, Mr. Miazga.

Leonard: I wanna see it.

Special Investigator: There will be time to se the Ochivar—

Leonard: We don’t know that. We may be operating on a tight deadline here. This creature and I have something in common; something that it does not share with you, or with him. I don’t know how the Ochivari developed, or why they go around destroying entire populations, but I know that they’re a curious species.

Agent Parsons: How do you know that? Nothing about its behavior thus far implies any strong feelings regarding anything.

Leonard: I know that its curious, at least it’s genetically probable, because it has to be. Any species that evolves intelligence will lose that character trait if they do not also evolve the tendency to exercise that intelligence to gain knowledge. It obviously learned a great deal about the way the multiverse works, or it would not be here, and even if its arrival were an accident, its people’s history suggests its motivations to be driven by higher-level thinking, rather than simply base instinct.

Special Investigator: I see.

Leonard: Basically, it’s smart, social, and alone right now. It will feel an urge to connect with me, even if it’s only as an enemy. Which is fine, because at the moment, you’re really just trying to get it to communicate, aren’t you?

Special Investigator: That is an accurate assessment.

Leonard: I’ll get it to talk. I can’t guarantee what it will talk about, or whether its responses will ultimately prove fruitful, but it will be a start.

Agent Parsons: Do you have experience in interrogation, though? Our parole officers are mainly here to keep track of the...freemen, and report their movements.

Leonard: Well, I wasn’t always a parole officer. I came up after a brief stint in the military before I was injured. Then I joined the police as a regular officer before becoming disillusioned with its inefficacy. After befriending a social worker, we came to the conclusion that I would be better off avoiding crime scenes. But I was required to study all aspects of law enforcement before that, including interview techniques.

Agent Parsons: Special Investigator? What do you think?

Special Investigator: You make a compelling case, parole officer Miazga. I’m inclined to let you in that room, but it will not be as easy as the three of us taking the stairs down to that level, and opening a door. There is a protocol here, involving an interview with you on the other side of the table, a not insignificant amount of paperwork, and...

Leonard: And what?

Agent Parsons: Oh. And a background check, I would imagine.

Special Investigator: Yes. We are as bureaucratic as any other government entity. I’m not entirely sure how we’re going to handle your situation. Records must be filed.

Agent Parsons: Treat him as a spy. Spies don’t have real identities. Surely you have a form you can fill out that just gets us by without worrying about verifying any data.

Special Investigator: Yes, that’s a good idea, Agent Parsons. Wait here, I’ll go procure what we need to expedite the process.