Microstory 2393: Vacuus, December 28, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I’m up to speed on what’s going on. I was present when Corinthia confronted my father about being the one involved with your unauthorized twin study. I was horrified to learn what my father did to you. He separated two children from each other, and one of their parents each. I can’t imagine how you or she must feel about it, but I’m embarrassed and ashamed. It was very brave of her to speak up for herself. We were sitting in the cafeteria. It was just her, me, and my dad. I was sitting on his side, because she’s my best friend, but he’s my father. I had no idea what was coming. After I realized what she was saying, I felt like I was on the wrong side of things...literally. I stood up, pivoted, and sat down next to her instead. I wasn’t sure how she would take that, but she rested her head on my shoulder. I think she was scared that I would be mad at her, but she did nothing wrong, and neither did you. I wish there was something I could do to make up for his betrayal, or to help, but Corinthia assures me that there’s nothing. She wants to put this whole situation to bed, and stop thinking about it. The study was decades ago, so my dad claims that he hasn’t thought about it all this time. I don’t know if I believe that. He must have had some sort of reaction every time he passed her in the corridor, or whenever they came to have dinner with us. If I were him, it would have put a knot in my stomach. Then again, I wouldn’t have let it go on this long. I would have fessed up. He says that your mom wouldn’t let him, but he’s an adult, and what was she gonna do to stop him? You deserved to know the truth your whole lives. You deserved to know each other. And now the Valkyries are coming, and this could be the last message you see from either of us for two years! I wish we had more time. I wish I could read more of your words, and see more of your photos and videos. I wish that I could touch you, and smell you. I wish that we could spend real time together. My dad didn’t take all that from us, but he took a lot, and I don’t know if I can forgive him. I just hope that you forgive me for being associated with him. Try to write back as fast as you can, because they don’t think we’ll see very much of the year 2180 before we become utterly isolated again.

Officially and hopelessly in love with you,

Velia

Microstory 2392: Vacuus, December 26, 2179

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Dear Condor,

No, I don’t know which one of us is older than the other. We could have been born hours apart, for all I know. Well, that’s probably too long of a difference. You would think that Pascal would say something about it if that were the case. Unless, I guess, if he was out of town, or something. Was he even there? Has he never told you anything about what it was like when you were born? Probably not since his story would have been shaky from having no choice but to leave me out of it entirely. Let me get right into what happened. I’m glad that I talked to Elek sooner rather than later, because I might not have had another chance to tell you about it. Our scientists believe that the Valkyrie long-cycle is imminent. Unless something major happens to change their current projected trajectory, they’re coming for us, and they’ll be blocking transmissions for a really long time. Theoretically, the only thing that could affect them enough for them to change their path would be a gravitational body of significant mass-density. That would be even worse, because it would probably cross the Roche limit, and collide into Vacuus. I told you that I would be getting into what happened, then went off on a tangent. Sorry. Elek. When I approached him earlier today, he seemed very scared. I don’t think he read our messages, or anything, but I think he knew that this conversation would be coming at some point. We were bound to put the pieces together eventually. He actually seemed relieved when I demanded answers about the study. Attached is the full transcript of our conversation. Our laws say that I can record audio on the base with everyone’s permission,  but I can’t record video. It’s a little weird, but it would be a lot to compress anyway. Here are the highlights. The program had been going on for a hell of a lot longer than we realized. Madalena was only hired for its most recent iteration. They tried this with other missions prior to this, including lunar bases and Martian outposts. They have always wanted to know how one person would fare across contradictory realities, and twins are the closest thing they can come to gaining any insight on that. The thing about us being fraternal twins was the result of a series of concessions they had to make over the years. It started out as one would think, with the ideal conditions, and no legal qualms. They just kept changing it and changing it until it became all but pointless. Elek observed me as I grew up, and took some notes, which he showed me, and they’re all attached too. They weren’t very detailed, and his heart wasn’t in. It was just stupid from the beginning, but they sunk so much money into it, they didn’t want to let it go. They since have, disbanding entirely, and the various players no longer communicate with each other. He thought that Madalena was dead, but he’s pretty sure most of the others on Earth are indeed gone. After this I think it’s time we put this whole thing to rest. It sounds like it’s all over, and nothing really came of it. Now let’s just be. Let’s be twins who talk via weekly letters.

Until the Valkyries descend upon us,

Corinthia

Extremus: Year 92

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For nearly two years now, little but old Silveon Grieves has been going to see his older but younger friend, Waldemar Kristiansen almost every single day. It is this boy’s destiny to grow up to be a tyrant...or maybe it isn’t. That’s what Silveon came back to put a stop to, but he won’t know for a long time if he’s successful. He seems to be doing okay for now—better than just a few years ago—but none of them knows what that means. Just because the timeline has changed doesn’t mean it’s better. If Waldemar eventually discovers the truth, he may swing all the way back to where he was headed, or even further into his evil ways, just to spite Silveon. Neither Tinaya nor Arqut are young enough to expect to be alive when Silveon’s efforts come to a result, whatever that may be. Niobe is, though, so when the parents die, it will be up to her to maintain vigilance, even if he’s legally old enough to care for himself. She is typically responsible for sitting with the boys when they’re playing. Calla has grown used to this situation, and self-medicates enough to be passed out most of the time, thankful for the extra parenting help, be it unexplained and unconventional.

Tinaya once asked Silveon why they don’t ever have Waldemar come to the captain’s stateroom to play. Apparently, his distrust in authority is innate, or is otherwise so ingrained in his worldview, that exposing him to leadership this early would only do more harm than good. Right now, he needs positive influences, and since they can’t control all the variables, the best way to do that is to simply limit the number of influences, full stop. The older they get, the less relevant their age gap will become, though, which will supposedly make these secret morality lessons easier to accomplish. At the moment, Waldemar likes their playdates, and hasn’t made any attempt to stop them, but he does see Silveon as a little kid. One day, though, he should see him as a peer, and that’s when the true education begins. This is a very long-term plan, and will probably never end until the day Waldemar dies. Silvy has sacrificed his own personal life to save the happiness and freedom of everyone who will be alive on this ship over the course of the next several decades, and probably no one will ever know. If it backfires, however, things will end up so much worse, because he’ll have associated himself with an authoritarian oppressor. The Leithe family name would never recover from that.

While her son is dealing with all that, Tinaya is busy with her usual Captain’s duties. Even in times of peace, there’s work to be done. They are nearing the end of Year 92, which of course means that it’s time to start thinking about the next captain in line! Yay! Who will it be? Who will Tinaya choose? No one.

Head Councillor Paddon Paddon is here to discuss the matter. “Have you had time to take a look at the class of 2365?” The reason the successor is generally considered around this time is because the only people who will be qualified to take over the position have to at least graduate from school by the selection date. In this case, the greenest of candidates are currently four years from graduation, and by now, pretty much anyone who was going to wash out of the captain’s track would probably have done so by now. The best of the best have already proven themselves in every meaningful—yet still not official—sense. Basically, the idea is that everyone who can be put on the shortlist is already a known option. They don’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on them closer to the deadline, because even if they would be great for the job, they won’t be ready yet.

Tinaya doesn’t care about that, because it’s not her problem. It’s supposed to be, but...it can’t be. Not this time. Not her. “I’m afraid that I will not be participating in the process. You will have to make the decision on your own.”

Paddon scrunches up her face. “I don’t understand.”

“We have exhausted the conversations surrounding my appointment to the seat. My aunt, my friendship with the previous captain, my relationship with the superintendent. It all sounds great to you, but history will not look kindly upon us unless we leave it where it is. I am done. Well, not today. I mean, in four years, I’ll be done. I’ll become an admiral, and then I’ll die. Or I’ll die first, who knows? That is the order of events, and we shouldn’t add any more to that.”

“I really don’t follow what you’re talking about,” Paddon complained.

“There are other variables which I am not at liberty to divulge,” Tinaya says vaguely. Silveon and Waldemar are the big ones, but her knowledge of The Question, the Bridger Section, the Nexa, and Verdemus also contribute to the complexities of this fragile situation. “What you would like me to do is help appoint someone who I believe will captain the ship in the same way that I would. That’s the idea, whether it’s in the bylaws, or not. Belo wasn’t too dissimilar to Yenant. Leithe the First wasn’t too dissimilar to Belo. Tamm was a weird one, which actually proves my point. The council appointed him, and while it didn’t work out in that case, we went right back to the pattern. Keen wasn’t too dissimilar to my aunt, and I’m very similar to them both! Some people feel—even though they don’t actually believe it in the literal way—that the same captain has pretty much run the ship the whole time.”

“So, what?” Paddon asked. “That’s called continuity, and it’s a good thing.”

“Yes, in wartime, it’s a very good thing. In peacetime, it’s not. People crave change.” Tinaya laughs. “Even if the candidate they love is running on a campaign of going back to the good old days. They want to see someone come in who is not a carbon copy of the person before. Trust me, I have been paying attention, and I have been listening to my advisors, both official and unofficial. The populace is restless. They need someone new. They need to feel that they were involved in the decision. And most importantly, they need to know that I was not a part of it.”

“This is so subjective, and our studies are not reflective of what you’re claiming. You are the most popular captain in our history, including Olindse Belo, who has become a sort of folk hero because she burned bright and early. They wanted you in that chair for years before you finally sat down, and they don’t want you to get up. But since you are, the easiest way for them to accept that is if you are totally involved in the succession search process. It’s the opposite of what you think, and I don’t know how you could be so wrong about it.”

“Like I said, there are other variables.”

Paddon Paddon is a reasonable woman, who doesn’t ask questions that she doesn’t want the answers to. She is aware that Tinaya has had a much more eventful life than the general population was told, but she’s never tried to investigate. She assumes that it was all necessary, and that Tinaya deserves to be where she is today. Nonetheless, she has her limits. “I respect that, but if you can’t tell me what they are, then I can’t take them into account.”

“How about a compromise?” Arqut is coming in from the closet.

“How long have you been there?” Tinaya questions.

“I teleported in there to change my shoes about a minute ago, but I didn’t want to interrupt or eavesdrop, so I eventually decided to do both!” he answers.

“What is your suggestion?” Paddon asks.

“Make your pick,” Arqut begins. “Select the new captain yourself, but choose someone good. Find the best candidate available, and I don’t just mean by your standards, but by the passengers’. They need to be socially accessible, well-liked, noncontroversial, and clean. Once you do, make the announcement. At least a day later, Tinaya will make her own, independent announcement, with her endorsement of this person. This new captain will benefit from her stamp of approval...without having gotten the job because of her.”

“Hm.” Paddon thinks about it for a moment. “That’s not a bad way to frame it.”

He laughs. “Of course, she can only give that endorsement if the candidate has truly earned it, so you really do need to find someone worthy. To maintain ethics and transparency, we can’t have any secret meetings to make sure that they’re gonna secure that endorsement. You have to get it right the first time. You have to not screw it up.”

“I think we can make that work, Superintendent Grieves.”

“I’m only Mister Grieves these days,” he corrects. “Except to you; you can just call me Arqut. We’ve been friends for years.”

“Okay,” Paddon says with a deep, rejuvenating breath. “I’ll take this to the council.” She pauses for a bit. “Though, I don’t think I’ll tell them everything.”

“That might be for the best,” Tinaya agrees.

They shake hands and part ways. Tinaya and Arqut won’t have to concern themselves with any of this for the next few years as the entire point is to leave them out of it. After Paddon leaves, the two of them start to have lunch together, but it’s cut short when they receive an emergency call from the infirmary. Silveon has been hurt. They teleport straight there to find their four-year-old son lying back on the examination table. They can only see his body, though. A mounted scanner of some kind is blocking the view of his face at the moment.

“No, don’t,” Silveon’s pediatrician, Dr. De Witt warns. He steps in between when Tinaya tries to look underneath the scanner.

“What do you not want me to see? What is that white stuff on his shirt?”

“It’s cake frosting,” Niobe explains.

“Cake?” Tinaya questions. “What the hell happened to my son!” Tinaya screams as she tries to get to him again, but this time, the doctor holds her back physically.

“You don’t want to see him like that! Besides, the machine is currently assessing the damage, so we need to wait until extraction is complete.”

“Extraction. Of. WHAT!” Arqut cries.

“A candle.”

“Why the hell is there a candle in his face? Why the hell is there a candle? We’re on a ship! We don’t need candles, we use lights!” Tinaya is not letting up.

“It’s an Earthan tradition,” Niobe starts. “You make a cake with sugary frosting, and you stick little candles on the top. Since he’s turning four next week, there were four candles. One of them got into his eye. It was an accident.”

“How would they get into his eye? How is that an accident?” Arqut asks.

“Go on, Ni!” Tinaya urges when Niobe, for some reason, looks over at a door.

“It was only a prank,” Niobe goes on with sadness. “He thought it would be funny if Silveon got some frosting on his face. He didn’t factor in the candles, but he didn’t hurt him on purpose. I promise you, this was not on purpose. It was just a stupid joke that went too far.”

“Are you telling me that a twelve-year-old boy shoved my baby’s face into a candle—four candles?”

“The other three fell down from the force of his forehead and cheeks,” Niobe recounts. “One of them got caught between his eyelids, and remained straight.”

“The nanites will repair the damage,” Dr. De Witt says. “I assure you that he will be good as new once he wakes up.”

“Where is he, in that room?” Tinaya points at the door.

“I don’t think you should talk to him right now,” Niobe suggests.

“Why, because he’s upset...or because he isn’t?”

Niobe doesn’t answer.

Without permission, Tinaya opens the door to the private consultation room to find Waldemar sitting on the bench against the wall in the dark. He looks mad, but it’s not entirely clear why. It could be that he blames Silveon for ruining the perfectly good cake, or it’s because a certain sports team lost some game way back in 2024. Honestly, it’s impossible to tell with an unwell kid like this. “Are you sorry?” she asks him.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, so no,” he spits.

She looks over her shoulder, then shuts the door behind her. She turns the lights on, but keeps them at a low brightness. “Even if you didn’t do something intentionally, you should feel remorse for it. You should at least wish that it hadn’t happened.”

“My therapist says that I don’t have remorse. I don’t know where to get it. I don’t know where everyone else keeps theirs.”

Tinaya nods. “I’m not qualified to help you with that. But you need to understand that what you did was hurtful. It may have been a mistake, but there were consequences. There are consequences to every action you take. Maybe...” she trails off. “Maybe your brain can’t feel guilt. Maybe you’ll always have to fake it. But truthfully, I don’t really care what’s happening in your brain; right now, or ever. It’s what you do that matters. Regardless of what you’re feeling—or not feeling—don’t do bad things. I am ordering you to not. Do. Bad. Things. You know right from wrong, whether they impact you or not. If you’re ever confused, or unsure, you can read up on the laws and rules. And if you still don’t get it, ask for help. Ask my son. He will always be a great resource for you.”

“No, he won’t...not anymore.”

“I guarantee you that he will not let this stand in the way of your friendship,” she contends. “When he’s feeling up to it, he’ll wanna see you. I’m first trying to teach you that you will not be able to function in society if you don’t follow society’s rules. Even if they annoy you, even if they make you mad; they are there for a reason, and you are beholden to them, just like everyone else. Humans are not stupid. We are not doing things that don’t make sense. So again, if you don’t understand why things are the way they are, ask someone you can trust, like me, Silvy, Niobe, or Mr. Grieves.”

“Not my mother?”

She takes a long time to respond. “Not your mother.”

He nods.

“Okay. You wait here. I’ll come get you after he wakes up.”

“Missus Grieves?” He stops her when she tries to leave. “Thank you.” He waits for a second. “Sorry.”

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Microstory 2166: There is Violence Everywhere

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This is Nick’s parole officer, Leonard Miazga. Nick has asked me to write up a short post on his behalf. He was badly beaten by other inmates. They were displeased with his claims that the governor might commute his sentence, and allow the warden to hire him for a paid position at the jail instead. If it were to go through, it would be a massive change in dynamic, and that did not sit well with some of them. Nick has refused to name names, partially to protect the guilty, partially because he struggles with memory and recognizing faces, but also because he’s suffered brain damage as a result of his injuries. The attackers also broke three of his ribs, and two of his toes. His left shoulder was dislocated, and he has lacerations all over his body. They also discovered internal bleeding, which is why he’s currently being transported to the hospital for surgery. I’m sure that we will receive further diagnoses when the surgeon and other doctors perform their own examinations. While they’re doing that, I’m going to be in a meeting with the warden and the governor to discuss options. Nothing like this has ever happened before. There is violence everywhere, but this is the worst that this particular facility has ever reported. I will be strongly advocating for his release from his sentence, but either way, he should never be sent back in to this jail as he is no longer safe there. In addition to his prior work with the FBI, Nick is a model jail guest, and a positively contributing member of society. He has been gainfully employed for nearly two months, and has been working hard on this website, which readers have expressed gratitude for, for his ability to show what it’s really like to experience intermittent jail in this universe. I’ll update you tomorrow since I do not see him being well enough to write a post on his own so soon.

Microstory 2155: Tiny Home Community

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You’ll recall that I was planning to put off my community service hours until I was finished with my jail time. This was the best decision at the time, because it meant that I wasn’t trying to pile everything on all at once. If I had tried to rush through it, I would have gotten burnt out, and probably had a nervous breakdown. Other than that, though, there’s no other reason that I can’t start working through my hours earlier if I want. Before I get into it, I have one last update about that business deal that I’ve been working on. They pulled out of it. Completely. They made it quite clear that there was no legal issue, and that the whole reason they’ve changed their minds is because of my post last night. They asked me to eat steak with them, because that’s traditionally what they do after a handshake. I felt pressured to go along with it, even though I’m vegetarian, but they don’t see it that way. I’m an adult, and I made a decision, and I could have declined. Except I did try to decline, and they kept pushing and pushing. Still, they don’t want to work with me anymore, because I made them look bad. I pointed out that I never mentioned them by name, but they volleyed that I eventually would have, when I started to promote them, and that’s a good point. I must say, I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it’s probably for the best that we don’t associate with each other, whoever they were—I’ll never tell. On the other hand, I ate meat for no reason now, destroying my five year streak, and making me feel even worse about myself. If I could go back in time, I would have politely rejected their initial proposal, and then just moved on with my life. I’m gaining not only new readers, but also new subscribers. I have a good job in addition to this side hustle. I really don’t think anything else on top of that.

I still feel pretty crappy about the situation, so I decided I needed to do something about it. A long, long time ago, in a universe far, far away, I used to volunteer all the time. It came so naturally to me that I barely thought about it. That was one good thing about the scouts, because if not for them, or for church, I might not have done any, because, well...I wasn’t thinking about it. I didn’t have to go to the opportunities. They always came to me. Despite the fact that I’m now required by law to participate in community service, it’s not that easy. The court isn’t going to send me a list of places where I can volunteer, and they’re certainly not going to coordinate it for me. I have to reach out to the organizations myself, and have them approved by my parole officer, Leonard. That’s mostly a formality, because the only reason he would reject a particular proposal is if I’m being asked to do dumb, pointless, or unhelpful work. Good, non-scammy organizations who legitimately need help should be fair game. I forgot to say anything to Leonard beforehand, because I wasn’t initially planning on starting my service so soon, but I called him after, and the eight hours I earned will still count just fine. Homes for Humankind is presently building a tiny home community not too far from me on the Missouri side. It’s for people of low or no income, who need a place to live, but don’t need their homes to be lavish and expensive. I spent a half day cutting wood, and drilling screws. Most of the other dozen or so volunteers were highly experienced with this standardized model, so they went fast, and had a shorthand with each other. They were wary of me, but I have my own experience with this sort of thing, so I kept up. We still got the whole unfurnished product done in a day. I’ll help build another next week.

Microstory 2154: It Can’t Be Undone

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I’m not having a good day. The meeting with the people went fine. We struck a deal, and I’ll start to promote their products and services in future installments. These won’t be non sequiturs, though. They’ll provide me with samples, so I can mention them more casually and naturally during my regular updates. You won’t ever hear me just randomly doing ads only for them. I’ll still have normal things to say about how my life is going, but also what I’m using. I’ll also be incorporating their own banner advertising system, as opposed to the one that’s built into the blogging service. Everything still has to go through their legal department, and I’ve been advised to find a lawyer of my own, but once I finish signing the paperwork, we’ll start. It was after the meeting was over that things started to become not so great. As you know, I’m vegetarian, and I’ve been this way for years. It’s something that I wanted to do for a long time before I found the opportunity to make the leap. I never liked the idea of killing to survive, but fresh fruits and vegetables are expensive, and I am not a good cook. Once I started living in Havenverse with Cricket and Claire, though, that all stopped being a problem, so I was able to adopt my desired diet. That all changed this evening. My new business partners wanted to celebrate the deal with a meal, like you do. Unfortunately, they have a more specific idea of what that entails. To avoid being rude, I let them order a steak for me, and I ate it. It was the first meat I had eaten in years, and I did not feel good about it. I’m an all or nothing kind of guy. It can be my worst character flaw, but it has kept me completely away from drugs and alcohol, so I’ve never tried to change. I don’t want to.

I once believed that I wasn’t very susceptible to peer pressure, but now I think that that had more to do with the fact that I didn’t have peers. No one outside of my family ever cared much what I did or didn’t do with my life. So I reluctantly agreed to the steak, and I had to hold back tears as I was chewing. When it was over, and we officially said our goodbyes, I went back to my apartment, and threw up again. A part of it was because it was too much, and a part of it was stress and guilt, but another part of me believed that I could undo it by not letting my body process the meat all the way. Of course, it doesn’t work like that, and anyway, one point is to lower my carbon impact, and the damage has already been done. I’m just going to have to figure out a way through this. I’ve said this before, and it’s always been about my health and weight, but this time, it’s for the animals: my diet starts now. From tomorrow onwards, I will never eat meat again, whether anyone asks me to or not. They’ll have to force me if they want it to happen. I’m just gonna go to bed for now, and try to put it in the past. As I said, it can’t be undone.

Microstory 2088: Ill Keep Fighting

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I didn’t go into work today, and I didn’t ask for anyone to fill in for me. I just have so many lives to save, I couldn’t think about anything else. Here’s a summary: I saved someone’s life yesterday. I don’t know who it would have been, but I finally broke the pattern. A missing person a day, but I stopped it. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again, though, or my work would be over. The pattern can easily start over again, which is why I had to do the same thing today at the next location in the pattern. Fortunately, now I know what must be done. I have the prior missing persons plotted on a map, which is how I noticed that they always disappear in a spiral formation, which means it’s relatively easy to predict where the next disappearance will happen. It’s a not insignificantly sized radius, but I don’t have to worry about staking out the whole thing. All I have to do is find the epicenter. As soon as I step into it, the portal to the interversal conduit is ripped apart. My current theory is that I’m contaminated. The bulk doesn’t like me anymore. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve traveled to so many worlds already, or because I used to have superpowers, or maybe because Westfall decided that I should be here, and I’m not allowed to leave. It doesn’t really matter, but I put a bad taste in the mouth of the cosmos, which now gives me the power to destroy portals. I’m a pathogen, and it’s immune to me now. This is good for this situation, because that way no one else can accidentally fall into it.

After I did the same thing today that I did yesterday, I went back to the neighborhood from yesterday. I started knocking on doors, showed them the pictures of a few people who have already gone missing because of all of this, and asked them if they knew where their loved ones were. Like I said, there’s no way to know who it might have been taken if it turns out I failed. A lot of people slammed the door in my face, but that’s okay. They don’t have to tell me. Even the possibility that someone they care about has gone missing will force them to check. If any of them had come up short on their respective headcounts, I would have heard about it by now. Nothing has been reported, which means that I’m succeeding. All I have to do is keep doing what I’m doing with the portals. Even if I have to do it forever, I won’t have to keep canvassing, because I’ll eventually be confident that I’m successfully putting a stop to the disappearances. My boss called, but I didn’t pick up. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to my real job. I’ll scavenge for food in dumpsters if that’s the only way I have to survive. This is all my fault, and I can’t take any breaks. I’m the only hope that these innocent people have. I’m not much of a cartographer, nor any sort of artist, but I’m working on a way to upload the future disappearance locations, so you can share it with everyone you know in the area. Ill keep fighting, but it would be even safer if people just stayed away from the danger zones entirely anyway. It’s just like when the bomb squad is called in to disarm the bomb, it’s not like they stop evacuating the building, right? Well, this is a bomb, just like any other, except it only ever claims one victim. I’m trying to bring that number down to zero in the future, but I could use some help.

Microstory 2087: Into the Epicenter

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I went to the place where I knew someone was going to disappear mysteriously, and immediately started getting a weird feeling. The more I walked, the stranger I felt. I eventually passed out of the blast radius, and had to turn around. Through a little trial and error, I was able to determine the center of everything. There was nothing there but empty space in the middle of an alleyway, and I didn’t think that someone would necessarily disappear from that exact spot. They would have to be incredibly unlucky to happen to pass over it at the perfect moment. It was going to happen, though, and I was the only one who could stop it. I realized after standing there for a few minutes, keeping my head on a swivel to see if anyone else was in the area, that I had already felt this before. It’s what I felt when I first came to this universe. The incident was being replicated, one person at a time. This could either mean that they were going to Havenverse, which is where I last was before this world, or somewhere else entirely. This was Westfall. I mentioned that in an earlier post. It’s one of the things that takes people back and forth through the bulk. Most people don’t even realize that anything has happened, because they end up on a version of Earth sufficiently similar to their own. I have no clue how often this occurs, or in what universes, but this seems excessive. There always seems to be a purpose to it. The person who’s taken has something to accomplish in the next world over, even if they don’t understand it. It’s unlikely that this need perfectly matches up with the spiral I noticed on the map. No, I did this. I have caused Westfall to malfunction, and as I was saying, I have to stop it. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped into the epicenter, where I felt a rush of energy sweep upwards from my feet, and dissipate in the air above me. The strange feeling that’s indicative of Westfall went away with it. I think I destroyed the interversal conduit just by stepping into it. If there’s a way to escape, it could be through one of these, or it could be that I’m the only one in the world who can’t access these conduits. I don’t know, but there have been no new reports of any missing persons today. It may take some time for a loved one to realize it, but I have high hopes that I fixed it. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again tomorrow, though, so I’m going to do the same at the next spot. This is going to become tedious and tiresome, but it’s my responsibility.

Microstory 2086: And Even Chaotic

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I have been trying to figure out, not only where my co-worker went, but also where everyone else has gone. One person has mysteriously disappeared from Kansas City every day for the last month and a half. None of them showed signs of wanting to go somewhere before their disappearance, they leave no trace behind, and the authorities have not categorized any of them as suspicious. One thing they seem to have in common is that their respective friends and family aren’t extremely surprised by the development. The cops eventually stop investigating entirely, because none of them is a child, or someone else at high risk, like a dementia patient. They’re all self-sufficient adults who have been known to be a little bit flaky and unpredictable. They also come from different jurisdictions, so no one but me has any hope of seeing any of this as a pattern. In some of the stories I was writing before I disappeared from my own world, I came up with this organization called the Kansas City Metro Corps. It’s a police agency that operates in all of Kansas City, even across state lines, which to my knowledge, is not something that exists in the real world. There are federal agents, of course, but no one that can carry out investigations regularly between only two states. They might do it occasionally, but in that case, two different departments will have to liaise with each other, which can be complicated, disorganized, and even chaotic. They don’t have anything like the KC Metro Corps on this Earth, so no one is talking to each other, or seeing the connections.

I have been doing my own investigating, and I’ve come to a startling discovery that made me throw up in the middle of my shift. Don’t worry, I made it to the bathroom in time, because I was already in the break room, but I don’t know if I can live with myself anymore. It’s me. I’m the cause. I don’t know how I’m doing it, but it’s definitely me. Tracing the disappearances have been difficult, because no one witnessed anything strange happening, so their true locations aren’t so cut and dried, which is why I didn’t see it before. But if I add myself to the map along with all the others, and adjust for people’s hypothetical movement after the last person to see them loses sight of them, then I am at the epicenter. Every disappearance happens from that point, and has continued outwards in a spiral formation. The pattern would be beautiful if it weren’t so sickening. They all happen early in the morning, which makes sense, because that’s when I first arrived on this world. So I’ve already missed today. I’ve not heard anything yet, but I’m sure whatever mysterious force is causing this has struck again, and I have an idea of where. I can’t save that person, or anyone else we lost before, at least I might not be able to, I don’t know. But I know that there’s a chance for me to save whoever is meant to go missing tomorrow. I’m taking the day off, which is something that I didn’t want to do this early on at my job, but I don’t think I have any other choice. I’ve asked the high school girl to fill in for me, since it’s Teacher Planning Day. I’m going to the store today to gear up. I don’t know what I’ll be going up against.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: February 18, 2399

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Since Leona is no longer in trouble, Ramses wanted to stay gone, but Kivi knew that Leona wouldn’t want that. They had some things to work out with each other, and he did not have the right to keep running from that. She escorted him out of the Great Pyramid of Giza, and they went on their way to Balikpapan to rendezvous with everyone else. Fortunately, the guards at the entrance to the pyramid had switched shifts in the intervening time, so while the new one was told that only two people would be going in, he figured he had heard wrong, and there were actually three. The original guard would have remembered there actually only having been two, and wondered how the third man got in there in the first place. That, coupled with the fact that Ramses is Egyptian himself, was enough to prevent any further questions.

Everyone left is back in the executive conference room on Mangrove One, including Kivi and her whole SD6 team. They’re regrouping, and laying all of their cards on the table. Leona no longer has anyone that she truly trusts, now that Ramses has betrayed her, so she needs friends and allies. She’ll do what she must to make and keep them, no matter the cost. She would cut a deal with Erlendr Preston if she thought it was the only way to get Mateo and Alyssa back. She’s desperate enough to try any strategy.

The meeting started with introductions, and now they’re over, so the real business can begin. “It’s nice to meet you, Nakia,” Aldona says. “Welcome to the fold.” She takes a preparatory breath. “Thank you all for being here. I would like to update you on our progress to defend this planet, and the next one over from a future and inevitable war. We’ll get the newcomers up to speed, but first, it’s important that you understand what has happened to the program in the last few days. I have initiated a...declaration of independence. We are no longer working under the world’s governments. We maintain a healthy relationship with Indonesia, but we are not officially affiliated with the Global Council. Don’t worry, we’re not at war. This was always part of the plan. We are the defensive military branch for two worlds, and not even the GC is expansive enough to contain us, so it had to be done.

“The Council as a whole does not recognize us as an independent state, but the majority of its member nations do. They have taken up that position because they understand that we are the only ones who can save them. Even those who don’t believe that are under the impression that we can hurt them. We would never do that, but we’re not going to go out of our way to alleviate their concerns. From my perspective, being afraid of us will translate extremely well to being afraid of the Reality Wars, and a healthy fear of that is a good thing. Again, for those of you just joining us, there’s a war in the future, I can’t stop it from happening, but I can protect the worlds who suffered the most losses. We’ll go over more in the next few days. Winona and Alserda have graciously donated this team to Radifor. That is the name of this nation. Please note that you have not defected from the United States, and may return to your posts whenever you would like, including...” She checks her watch before adding, “right now.”

No one leaves, which only sounds improbable when not accounting for how much loyalty Winona instills in her people. She doesn’t recruit the best fighters and investigators. She fosters true believers. They’re less with the government, and more with her. This is something that Leona has had to pick up on over the time she’s been involved with the organization. Her superiors didn’t realize that she was doing this, because she’s never been overt about it, and her off-the-books operations are so rare. No one has shown any signs of treasonous tendencies, because that’s the whole point. She takes true patriots, and cares for them so they start to consider her the embodiment of the U.S. She doesn’t want radicals; they’re too volatile. It’s easy for Kivi’s team to switch allegiances, because they don’t look at it that way.

“Great,” Aldona decides. “That’s it for the sweeping proclamations. I still see some confused faces. I believe some private conversations need to happen now, so before we start the full debrief, anyone who already knows this stuff can leave.”

Leona looks over at Ramses, who is keeping his head hung low. With a sigh, she stands up, and pulls him to his feet by his arm. “Come on. We need to talk.”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t resist either. He’s a doll now, incapable of making his own decisions, and doing whatever anyone asks of him.

She drags him several doors down so no one can hear them. “All right, let’s talk.”

“About what?”

“You know what about. You feel guilty about what happened to my husband.”

“Yes.”

“Why? What exactly did happen? Your message didn’t give any details.”

He stays silent.

“Ramses,” she says, firmly but not angrily. “Speak up now.”

He waits to answer a little, but does finally go into it. “Mateo and I decided unilaterally that we were going to destroy Constance!Five. We thought it was too dangerous to just leave her there. It’s a remote island for now, but that could change in the future for all we know. We got there just in time to find out that she figured out how to escape. I guess a plane flew close enough that she was able to send out a signal, or maybe an EMP. The plane went down, and then she reprogrammed some of the parts to assemble themselves into a quantum skeleton key. It plugged itself into the stasis pod keypad, and eventually cracked the code. Mateo lured it into the Bridgette. He then teleported it to a magma chamber in a volcano, and set off the self-destruct.”

“I didn’t know it had a self-destruct.”

“It’s not technically a bomb. What it did was overload the teleporter by firing temporal energy into the distributor coil while it was closed, so it couldn’t actually distribute the energy throughout the vehicle.”

“I see. And where were you during all of this?”

“At first I was almost dying at the hands of Constance!Five. Then I was being helped into the crawlspace by Mateo, who had me teleport to safety while he blew it up.”

“Why did he set it off instead of you?”

“Constance!Five was upon us. He was closer to the teleporter. He demanded that I leave, and I...I shouldn’t have listened to him.”

“Ramses Abdulrashid, I’m not happy that my husband is dead, but I’m glad that you’re not. What he did in that magma chamber was solve a math problem. As you know, that is not his strong suit, so I am proud of him. It was either the both of you, or just him. You shouldn’t have gone into hiding. I still need you. We all do.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies sincerely.

“I appreciate that. Now is the time to work. I brought your satellite online in the hopes of finding Alyssa, but it was attacked, so I darklurked it. You need to figure out how to reactivate it without anyone else being able to detect that it’s up there.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: February 6, 2399

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When Mateo insisted Ramses teleport out of the magma chamber of the volcano to save himself, he just jumped without thinking about where he wanted to go. Home would be the obvious answer, but he’s not had a home in a very long time. He’s lived on ships, labs, lofts, flying cars, and other random places. His subconscious must have taken over the responsibility of navigation, because he ended up in Egypt. It’s where he was born, and where he spent his younger days, but he feels no strong sentiment towards it. This isn’t even the right version of Egypt. It’s a bastardization, and that’s the nicer way to put it.

Danica’s Omega Gyroscope is what explains why anything in this reality is even remotely similar to the way things are in the main sequence, but something went wrong when it was programming Egypt. This area is where civilization began, but it did not thrive here. Great unrest forced mass migration centuries ago, to the West in Africa, the North in Europe, and to the Southeast in Asia. What was left was a sad approximation of what a culture should look like. While his Egypt stood tall, especially in the latter century, this one was short and pathetic, literally speaking. Their tallest regular building is four stories high, and there’s only one like that. It’s the Port at Said, and it was partially built by Greece, which exports to the rest of the world through the Suez Canal. That’s the only reason this version of Egypt is still alive at all, because they’re in the way.

The Great Pyramid is here, which is surprising, but it’s the only ancient structure that the people still maintain, because they do get a few tourists. Plus, some ships are required to wait in the canal for customs approval, or because there’s a line, so sailors stay in Giza, which boasts the only moderately decent hotel. It’s also anonymous, which is perfect, because that is what Ramses needs right now. He’s not going back to Mangrove One, and there’s nothing left for him in Kansas City.

Angela and Marie are in space, Mateo is dead, and Alyssa is missing. Yes, he made a commitment to find her, but he would probably just mess it up. He’s not the only one who could. Leona can do it just as easily, and she will, because she cares about her just as much. They now have the world’s most powerful governments at their backs, with all of the resources they could need. They don’t need him. He can’t face Leona with what he’s done. He lived. He escaped when Mateo couldn’t, and he’ll have to live with that for the rest of his life, which could be a pretty long time if something eventually changes, and he gets his transhumanistic upgrades back.

Ramses is a genius, which is why it only took him a few minutes to write a little script that will allow him to leave Leona a voicemail without worrying about her answering any ringing. “Hey, it’s Ram. I’m sure you’ve been wondering where we are. I’m bouncing this signal all over the world, so you’ll never find me. You’ll never see me again. I’m sorry to rob you of your chance to confront me, but I... Mateo is dead. Constance!Five broke free, and he had to sacrifice himself. Now, I know I thought that last time, but I really don’t see any way out of this. He was in a volcano, and I programmed the Bridgette’s self-destruct to go off in seconds after activation. I got the alert on my device—he went through with it—it did blow up. I’m sorry I left him behind, I’m sorry I’m the one who lived instead, and I’m sorry for not coming back, but I have to protect you. I have to protect you all from me. I love you. Goodbye.”

Microstory 1870: Nullified

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I can’t tell you how many regrets rest on my shoulders that will burden me until the moment I die, which is coming up soon. The biggest thing I did with my life, however, is not one of them. The day I pulled that trigger was the proudest of my life, second only to the day when that choice was validated. I never officially admitted to any wrongdoing. I pleaded not guilty because of a loophole. You see, they charged me with murder, and I still don’t count my actions as murder. It was self-defense; I did it in protection of others. That’s not murder, so we went forward with the trial. I didn’t do that in the hopes that I would be set free—the evidence against me was insurmountable—but I wanted the facts to get out there, so the world would understand why. I didn’t care how the judge and jury saw me. I wanted everyone else to judge me for themselves. The verdict was a bonus that made the whole ordeal taste sweeter, but it wasn’t necessary. Several years ago, a pharmaceutical company made a breakthrough in their research, which made lifesaving medicine ten times cheaper to produce, and ten times more effective. It was revolutionary, and should have been the best news for millions of people. Instead, the company buried the true cost, and only promoted the benefits, which allowed them to charge more than they were before, and it was already really inexpensive, sometimes prohibitively so. The General in this army of scoundrels was the most evil of them all, and he shall remain nameless, because he’s dead now, and justice prevailed, even though it did not bring back the estimated 56,000 people who died as a result of his wicked practices. He could have saved them, but he chose not to, and it was for that reason that I chose to send him to hell. But it was no choice at all.

I didn’t know anyone who suffered from the disease, let alone died from it. It was because of the children. I was outraged when I found out, as were most others. But I trusted in the judicial system, because that was what we were taught to believe. I have mixed feelings about it now. He was going to get away with it. The jury found him not guilty, and he was just going to walk. His purse might have gotten lighter in a civil case, but he was a billionaire, he didn’t care. Someone had to do something. Others tried, but they couldn’t get close. I was fortunate enough to have been working at the hotel where he was staying while the government worked on reopening his assets. No one pays attention to the invisible maid, so I found it easy to slip in with a revolver my late father left me, and which I wasn’t even sure would function. I didn’t make him beg or suffer like he did so many others. I told him why I was there, and then ended his life painlessly. I won’t get into how the trial went. It would have been brutal for someone who hadn’t resigned themselves to their fate, but I was comfortable, and like I said, I regret nothing. After a few hours, the jury returned with a not guilty verdict, despite all the facts, including my admission that I did it. The judge called it jury nullification, but there was evidently nothing she could do. I was already becoming a folk hero, and if they thought it was hard to find an unbiased jury before, it would have been impossible after all this publicity, so declaring a mistrial probably would have probably just been a waste of everyone’s time. The prosecutor chose to let it go, probably out of a secret sympathy for my decision. Now, according to my attorney, all I needed to worry about was a civil trial. But this never came to fruition, because no one cared about him.

Microstory 1824: Red Meat Cute

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Over a decade ago, I moved to a new city with big dreams. No, this wasn’t Hollywood, or New York. I didn’t think I was going to become rich and famous. What I thought was that I was going to get a fresh start. I wanted to—no, needed to—get away from my hometown where my grandfather closed the plant, and ruined the local economy. To be fair, it wasn’t entirely his fault. The business was failing, and this was the only option. It happens. Still, it didn’t feel safe to stick around with my last name, so I escaped. I didn’t know anyone in the area, so I went out at night, hoping to meet some cool people. That’s when I met the girl who would become who I thought was my best friend. She took me under her wing, and showed me how things worked around here. One thing in particular she introduced me to was this app that lets you order food from various restaurants, and have it delivered right to your door. I would later learn that she was kind of playing on my naïvete by making it look like us dumb farm folk hadn’t learned about this newfangled technology yet, when in reality, the city belonged to the test population for an entirely new industry sector. Nobody had this yet, I wasn’t behind the times. The app didn’t even have very many restaurant partners at the time. Anyway, I knew what my new home address was, and I knew how to use a smartphone, but I’ve always been just a little bit careless. I entered 56th Street when I really meant 56th Terrace. So I’m waiting for my food, and watching the estimated time approach, and then I see the app claims it’s been delivered. I look on the porch, in front of the garage, even on the roof, like an idiot. No, it’s not there. That’s when I realize my mistake. I call the app, and the restaurant, and they both tell me that it’s not their problem. So I take a walk.

I went to the bad address, and rang the doorbell. The guy who answered was drinking my strawberry milkshake, and I could smell the burger and fries. I explained to him what had happened, and he was apologetic, but also not? He acted like he was just an innocent bystander who had done nothing wrong. I asked him where he thought it came from. Apparently, when a stranger showed up at his door, and handed him unasked for food, he didn't stop to think that maybe someone else would be missing it. Well, I was none too happy, and I let him know as much. He apologized some more, and offered to pay for it, because he was really hungry, and had already touched everything. Instead, I showed him what app to download, so he could reorder for me, and then we would call it even. I turned to leave, satisfied with this result, when he stopped me. Actually, he didn’t instruct the app to deliver to my house, but to his own again. If I wanted it, I was going to have to stay and share the meal. Okay, I admit, that was kind of a cute way to ask me to lunch. As we were waiting, we got to talking, and long story short, we were together for eleven years; married for eight. Today, I discovered that he has been cheating on me, for what’s probably been just about the entire time. I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m talking about my best friend. I realize now that I should have seen it coming. The signs were all there. She always thought I owed her for helping me get my bearings in the city, and he always felt entitled to take whatever he wanted without considering other people’s feelings. It was a match made in hell. To make matters worse, on my way to confront her at her work, a freaking loose brick falls off of the façade of that first goddamn restaurant I had delivered, and strikes me in the head. I guess I really wasn’t cut out for this city.

Microstory 1823: Brother Confessor

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You don’t know us, but you’ve heard of us. You’ve heard what we do for each other. We rely on a lot of secrecy, but we are not evil. We’re just a group of like-minded individuals who help each other succeed in life. We don’t cover up murders, or child-trafficking, despite what many of the rumors say about us. At least, I don’t think that ever happened. I ended up in a pickle once, and it nearly ruined my life, so maybe I’ve always been naïve about the whole thing. This will be my final confession. I was walking home from a night class once when men in masks jumped me, and stuffed me into a van. I’ve never been much of a fighter. I don’t like violent sports, or watching two dudes go after each other in the parking lot. But this was a life or death situation, as far as I knew, so I kicked and I screamed, and I got myself out of there. I actually jumped out of a moving vehicle, and started to run away. Well, they caught up to me, and took off their masks, promising that they weren’t trying to hurt me. I was being recruited into a secret society. It wasn’t associated with the school, though I know a lot of things like this are. Their requirement is that every new member be in their first year at university, but I never really did understand how they chose us, or what criteria they looked for. The reason I mention it is because it takes a certain type of man to agree to join a group that just scared him half to death. I was skeptical, of course, but I was intrigued, and a little excited. I joined, and found myself surprised, and a little bored. We mostly just sat around, talking about fair women that we knew. There was a tutoring program, and a sort of insurance fund we paid into that could be used in extreme circumstances. Again, it wasn’t meant to be for a murder charge, but a request could be made to get out of jail.

Our brotherhood developed a network; a network like any other. Everyone does this; they know people, or they know people who know people. We just do it more officially and formally. This was before social media made it easy to crowdsource the solution to problems. But like social media, some members of the network were less connected than others. They weren’t completely unconnected, and they weren’t left out on purpose, but they weren’t as good at maintaining relationships. There was one guy who was particularly unconnected. He really only knew me by the time his problem rolled around, which meant that I was the guy he called. We worked together, but I didn’t know him that well compared to my relationships with some people outside of the brotherhood, but he probably would have considered me to be his best friend. So he calls me up and tells me he thinks he’s run someone over. He felt a bump as he was driving, and found blood on the grill of his car once he got home. I manage to calm him down, and tell him that it was probably just an animal. Well, it wasn’t. I saw on the news that night that a young woman died from a hit-and-run, and it was about where my brother described it. I regretted my earlier advice, and told him to turn himself in, but he claimed he wasn’t obligated to do a thing. He threatened to have me fired, and he had such power at the time. I didn’t know what to do. It may seem obvious to you—especially now—but things were really complicated from that side of the dilemma. He was putting me in such an awkward position. I had to choose between doing the right thing, and protecting my career. So I stayed quiet, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last fifteen years. I guess the silver lining to dying is finally being free from this burden.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Tuesday, August 7, 2153

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Mateo went on a memory-wiping spree after saving Lucius from having to kill Ambrosios with his time power. He went after everyone who was even remotely involved in the occasion, including Leona, The Warden, and Lucius himself. He even did it to Nerakali, who fought back, but lost in the end. Sure, it was a violation, but things would be much worse if they knew what Mateo really did with Ambrosios. No one could know. No one could remember. It was better this way; safer.

There were an infinite number of realities, but that didn’t mean anything that could happen would happen somewhere. This was the fallacy of the many-worlds interpretation of multiverse theory. There was no reality, for instance, where Angela took one of Beaver Haven’s remaining lethal weapons, and started shooting people with it randomly. Sure, it was possible, but nothing would logically have led her to do that, because they would not to this moment have allowed her to stick around if she was the type of person to do something so horrendous. They would have noticed earlier if she was. Nerakali would say that this sort of possibility had near zero realistic potential, which was a term that always embodied its most literal interpretation. Her brain blending ability worked by allowing her to transfer memories from a potential reality to the real one—or theoretically from some other point in space time to the present—which meant that the memories had to have reasonable realistic potential. The higher the potential, the closer to actual reality, the easier the transfer.

Finding the right lie to tell his people was no easy feat for Mateo. Sure, he could have simply removed their memory of what really happened with Ambrosios, but then they would be left with a void in their memories, and wonder what they had done for all of August 4, 2150. The only way to prevent these questions was to replace the memories with alternatives. He was getting really good at finding these alternatives. As far as they knew, Ambrosios really did die on Lorania years ago, and was never in Beaver Haven. Instead of dealing with him, the transition team reportedly helped an alternate version of Darko Matic start a new life in The Parallel, since he was not capable of quantum assimilating with his past self. This sort of thing happened all the time with him, so if it were true in this case, they wouldn’t be liable to ever see him again anyway, so they would never see a discrepancy.

Now that the four of them had made their jump three years into the future, Mateo knew he needed to leave the past where it belonged. If he acted all sullen or guilty, it would raise suspicion, and defeat the whole purpose. It was time to get back to his old new self. He just didn’t know how he was going to accomplish that.

I can help, came Amber Fossward’s voice from his head.

How long have you been there? he asked back telepathically. He was in mixed company, so he couldn’t say it all out loud, even though it would be easier.

I come and go, Amber replied. Don’t be embarrassed, though. I’ve seen a lot of terrible things over the years, both in person, and through other people’s thoughts and experiences. What you’re going through isn’t that bad, and I can help.

You can fix me? he questioned.

Well, no, you can’t fix what ain’t broken. People can’t be broken. They can just be imbalanced, and then treated.

In that case, how would you treat me?

I would start by walking you through breathing exercises, like you did with Angela the other day. Once you’re more open and accepting, I would put you through a soul cleanse.

Is that like a juice cleanse in that it’s not real, but a hoax?

No, it’s very real. I can’t make you forget your bad memories, or erase your dark thoughts, but I can fill your heart with enough joy to sort of dilute such things.

Oh, I’ve done that before, Mateo said, by myself. I recalled good memories to the surface.

Well, that will make it that much easier, Amber said happily. But I don’t want you to just remember good things that you experienced. You’re soul already knows about them, and while it can be a temporary solution, it won’t last long. I’m sure those memories have since faded again, haven’t they?

I suppose they have, yes. I can’t just keep doing that?

You could, of course, and it would probably keep working, but that’s a lot of effort to expend when you got me. I can just add you to the mailing list.

That’s obviously a metaphor, what does it mean?

You’re not the only person I’ve created a psychic bond with. We share some of our experiences. We’re not a hive mind, though; you only share what you choose, and you even get to choose what you receive from others. There are two lists. One is for good memories, and the other for bad. The latter are for the support group, which I don’t think you really need right now, because it’s filled with negativity. It can be really helpful when you have an external obstacle to overcome, to hear what others have had to deal with. But you’re dealing with an internal conflict, and you’re struggling with accepting your past, which—even though you’re a time traveler—doesn’t seem to be something you can change. If you can’t change it, then you need to change your mind, and for that, we want all positivity.

How does it work? Mateo asked. Is it a one time thing, or a periodic appointment...?

It’s an extended session, Amber clarified. You’ll want a quiet place to be alone, where no one will disturb you. If we do this again, you’ll need less of this solitude, but first timers should dedicate all of their attention to it, and it’s not instantaneous; not if you want to do it the healthy way.

I think I can take the day off.

Good.

Thank you ahead of time.

Leona, Angela, and Jeremy were going to have to take the next transition on their own. Mateo needed some time to be alone. They didn’t specifically know what it was he was going through, and the last challenge with Darko wasn’t all that difficult, but they didn’t question it. They happily left him in the Imzadi, and went off to find the window, which was on top of a fairly low mountain on Earth. They used Nerakali’s teleporting ability to jump right there and wait. Even though most transitioners didn’t literally fall out of the windows, they did kind of get startled, because they didn’t know it was going to happen. As the transition flickered, they could see a woman casually hiking along the crest, hands on the straps of her backpack, enjoying the day. Once it was over she kept walking, and approached the three of them like she knew exactly what was going on. “Okay, I’m ready—I’m ready.”

“Did you just repeat yourself?” Jeremy questioned.

“Not technically, I’m The Echo—I’m the Echo.” They stared at her, not understanding, so she went on, “I developed a time affliction, where every sound I make is sent a second or two into the future, so I always sound like an echo—always sound like an echo.” Now that they were hearing her speak a more extended sentence, they could tell what she was talking about. She sounded like she was making her voice vibrate, like The Flash sometimes did just to mask his identity. It was actually pretty soothing, and not irritating, but maybe because her voice was beautiful on its own.

“We’ve never heard of you,” Leona pointed out.

“I’m not a time traveler—time traveler. I’ve just been wandering around in the wilderness, because I have no control over it, and there’s no decent way to explain it to normal people—to normal people.”

“Do you want us to make it stop?” Angela offered.

“I was to understand that that’s why I was here—why I was here. The first reason, anyway—first reason, anyway.”

Angela retrieved a Cassidy cuff, and handed it to the Echo. “Put this on. It won’t fix you right away, but Leona knows how to suppress it, don’t you?”

Leona started tapping on her cuff. “Yes, Nerakali gave me control over people’s powers and patterns. Only me, though.”

The Echo smiled and placed it around her wrist, but she waited to test it until Leona gave her the go ahead. “My name is Olimpia Sangster, and I have a normal voice!” she spoke a little loud for emphasis. Then she waited to hear back from herself, but there was nothing but silence. “I don’t have an echo,” she said, testing it another time to make sure it really was working. “Oh my God.” She started tearing up, and then couldn’t help herself. She reached over, and took Leona in a bear hug. “I’ve been so alone, like you don’t even know.”

Leona waited patiently, then pulled back a little. “I’m glad we could help, but there’s a catch. It’s not a permanent solution; you’ll have to leave the cuff on at all times. You can take it off for a few minutes probably, but if you leave it off too long, it will reset, which means I’ll have to reengage the suppression for you again. Which is fine, it’s not like that bothers me, but it means you can’t just go off wherever you want. We are time travelers, so you’ll have to stick by us. And if all of us remove our own cuffs, you’ll lose your suppression, because it’s tied to our ability to not echo. I don’t see us doing that, but it’s something you should know.”

“I wasn’t just told to come here for the cure,” Olimpia explained. “I was told I was meant to join your team. I’m supposed to, umm...transition people?”

“Yeah, that’s what we do,” Angela confirmed.

Olimpia looked around. “I was also told I would be the fifth player. He made some sort of basketball analogy, which I don’t know why he did, I don’t care for sports.”

“He?” Leona echoed. “He who? Jupiter?”

“No, I know Jupiter. He’s a historical figure where I’m from. No, this guy never said his name.”

Leona would have expected her to have been recruited by Nerakali, or maybe Jupiter Fury before he moved on, so who was this mysterious man, and was that a good thing or a bad thing? Olimpia seemed like a perfectly lovely person, but the chances her pleasant demeanor was just a façade were nowhere near zero. This was something they were going to have to worry about soon, if not right away. If there was another player in the game, they needed to know who he was, and what he wanted. Perhaps she would be able to describe him for them, but that would have to wait until they returned to the Imzadi. Mateo still needed his alone time to meditate, so out of respect for that, they decided to go on a hike, and enjoy the great outdoors. It was a really nice day, so it felt like a vacation.

Hours later, they teleported back, and Leona went in to make sure Mateo was okay. He was apparently fully recovered, and enjoying a snack. He was glad for their return, and eager to meet this new member of their team. Olimpia climbed in, and tilted her head quizzically. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You know this man?” Jeremy pressed.

“Yeah, that’s him. That’s the guy who told me to come here.”

Hmm.

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