The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 20, 2399

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When the surgeon attempted to remove the foreign body from Alyssa’s brain, she went into autopilot and warned them not to do that. She spoke in monotone, and it was clear that she was only reciting a script rather than speaking from the heart. When the doctor let go of her brain, she was able to give him consent to remove it from her, but every time he tried, she would protest again. Under normal circumstances, no means no, whether or not it’s preceded by a yes, but in this case, it was obvious that the implant was speaking for her, and that the real her wanted the thing gone. The surgeon removed it, and then the anaesthesiologist put her back to sleep so they could seal up her head. If her substrate is anything like the ones that Ramses built for the others on the team, her skull should heal up completely. There shouldn’t even be a scar.

“Why not?” she asks. She’s woken up now, and asked to see herself in a mirror.

“I can actually answer this,” Mateo says. “I had a friend when I was younger who kept getting hurt. He ended up with this huge scar on his neck, and he explained that when the body is injured, it produces collagen to repair the damage, but it’s better to produce too much than too little, because too little would result in it not healing all the way. Too much ultimately creates extra skin. It’s evolution’s way of making sure that the healing finishes all the way.”

“Yeah,” Leona agrees, “but the medical nanites that you have now can gauge exactly how much collagen they need to order to get the job done, so there’s no extra.”

“Oh. And the hair?”

“Don’t know about the hair,” Leona replies. “Ramses may have included a subroutine that would command the nanites to activate the right protein growth factors, or it didn’t occur to him. If he did think to include it, it may still take a while. Hair treatment isn’t bad in this reality, though. We can sign you up for follicle stimulation. In the meantime, we’ll buy whatever wigs you want.”

“Don’t bother,” Alyssa says. She uses her illusion ability to generate a hologram of her original hair. “I may just leave it shaved. I’ve found it easier to produce an artificial image from scratch than to superimpose it on something else.”

“True,” Leona says as she’s waving her hand through the hair, and touching nothing. “However, the hair’s not really there, and people can tell.”

“Right.” She frowns slightly.

“I’m sorry we had to do this,” Leona said. “We just...”

“We just wanted you back,” Mateo finishes.

“Yes, and I appreciate that,” Alyssa tells them, “but there’s something you should know. “I am still bound to Dalton’s commands.”

“What? You are?”

“I’m sorry, the surgery didn’t do what you thought it would. That’s not what the dot was for.” What that thing did was block her from remembering certain things from her past. Removing it didn’t reprogram her. It’s just that now she knows what’s at stake, and understands why the Gyroscope must stay active. Fortunately, she can explain it now too. “It was just a...uh—what would you call it? A memory inhibitor. I still want to keep the Omega Gyroscope working, but now I know why.”

“Why?” Leona presses.

“Someone is trying to get into the Third Rail. They have been trying for ages. The original programming was enough to prevent that from happening, but things have changed in recent days.”

“What’s changed?” Mateo asks.

“You,” Alyssa says. “You, and the team. And Aldona, and everyone who came from the Insulator of Life. Everyone who disappeared into the Livewire. Every time you tap on the glass to the Fourth Quadrant, and every time you teleport, you’re pushing the boundaries. You weaken the system. Luckily, Dalton broke the rules, and looked into the future to see all this coming. He set in place a series of events that would put me in charge, and I have been this world’s protector ever since.”

“Well, he was late. All those versions of Constance managed to come through. I suppose, if it had to happen, he should have made it happen sooner.”

“Those Constances were about as threatening as a lone ladybug compared to the one who’s trying to get in now.”

“Wait, are you talking about Constance!Two, or someone else entirely?”

“Both,” Alyssa answers. “She’s the most dangerous, not because she’s inherently different than the others, but because she’s formed a relationship with the Superintendent’s alternate self.”

“The Superintendent has an alt?” Mateo questions.

“I don’t have the details, but yes. He has a...more local form of the real Superintendent’s power, but if you’re in the same universe as he is, he can do a lot of damage. Evidently, you were this close to meeting him a couple times. From what Dalton has discovered, he was on the Stage at the same time you were, before you came here. When we ran into your friend, Meliora by that river? He was there too.”

“Was Constance!Two there too?” Leona asks.

Alyssa waits a moment to respond. “She was Meliora. Or rather, she was impersonating her. Dalton thinks she started to try to break through just after you, but luckily the Superintendent’s alt stopped it.”

“So what do we need the Gyroscope for?” Mateo asks.

“I think he stopped it by distracting her. She ends up trying anyway. The good thing is that the portal she sent you through closed up, so she missed the only opportunity she had...unless you force me to take the barrier down.”

“It has to come down eventually,” Leona points out. “Certain things have to happen. This world is ending.”

“Dalton is aware, and has accounted for that. He will let Constance!Two in at the right time, on the right day, to destroy her before she can do any damage. That time is not now. That day is not today. You just have to trust us.”

“We can do that,” Leona begins, “but Dalton has to give us two things in return.”

“I’ll talk to him about Angela and the immortality waters.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Leona says. “We want to talk to him ourselves.”

“I’ll try, but he hasn’t been very inviting with me. Our relationship is one-way.”

“I see that. He took your fancy cane back.”

“He didn’t take it back. I lost it,” Alyssa admits.

“Lost it where? How?”

“What’s the second thing?” Alyssa asks, avoiding the question.

“We want you back,” Mateo says. “No more short emails. You stay with us.”

The Advancement of Leona Matic: August 30, 2176

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Leona wasn’t upset about losing Serif back in pocket three, because she had already resolved to go back at the end of the day. She calmly handed Étude off to Hokusai and Loa, who were best suited for taking care of a child, and debriefed the rest of the crew on the situation she had left. Then she sat down against the former entrance to the Ubiña pocket she had just come from, and waited for midnight.

About a quarter ‘til, Paige strolled up with her arms crossed, looking at her like she was a sad puppy. “Honestly, I was skeptical that your little plan to investigate Annora’s murder was at all viable.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Leona replied.

Paige squatted down, wincing as if she felt any strain from the move. Cybernetic programmers believed these microexpressions to be so ingrained in the human cerebral experience, that they happen even when they shouldn’t be needed. The appearance of pain is brought about by an evolutionary trait that promoted survival within a tribe in man’s early days. See someone else get hurt by something, and you know to avoid it. Researchers compare this to phantom limb syndrome, wherein an amputee continues to feel a missing body part, even once it’s removed. Paige felt nothing when she commanded her muscles to contract in such a way to misalign her center of gravity, and destabilize the support of her body weight, but she made it look like it did for Leona’s benefit. She was trying to endear herself to Leona, as an adult would to a child, so she could get something out of her. “That’s not I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

Again, in order to ingratiate herself, Paige lovingly pushed a lock of Leona’s hair behind her ear. It was a silly and predictable tactic; one that can be found in any given romantic comedy film, but only because it was effective. “I didn’t believe in this mission before, but I believe in you now. And I believe you have an obligation to continue on without her. Going back for her is not what she wanted. It’s up to you to move on to the next pocket, and gather more information.”

“And I’ll do just that,” Leona agreed. “Come tomorrow. After I get Serif back.”

“We don’t have that kind of time. It’s one day to you, but three hundred and sixty-five for us. The trail goes cold while you’re gone.”

“Trails go cold after a matter of days,” Leona argued. “By that logic, this whole endeavor is pointless. It’s a cold case now, so it might as well wait another year.”

“That’s horrible logic, and you know that. Someone may die before you get to ask them any questions. They may have a heart attack one year and one day from now, and they had critical information, but you failed to get to them in time.”

Leona scoffed, but had no retort.

Paige eyed her carefully. “My systems tell me that you are not being persuaded, and that any future words I try have little chance of success.”

“Your system’s right.”

Paige took Leona by the shoulder, but not affectionately. “Then we do this the easy way. Well...easy for me.” She used her considerable strength to peel Leona off the floor, and swing her over to pocket one.

Leona tried to fight against it, but quickly had to resign herself to the fact that resistance was futile. She knew Paige’s upgrades fairly well, and unlike in the movies, there was no cleverly placed thermal exhaust port to exploit. Transhumans were built for resilience, with multiple redundancies. She was on her way to pocket one, and that was that.

Before midnight hit, Hokusai came over. “It’s okay. We can tell her the real reason she can’t go back and get Serif.”

“What would that be?” Leona asked.

“I believe she has to save my life tomorrow.”

When Serif returned to the timestream in 2176, the pocket dimension that the substandard teleporter had stranded her in was noticeably larger. The boundaries had expanded beyond where they once were, leaving new land, full of vegetation.

Saga approached as Serif was admiring it with fear. “It wasn’t always like this. When the walls move, the land is born barren. Only later do things begin to grow, but they do, and they do it spontaneously.”

“Isn’t the dimension increaser still just a baby?”

“She is,” Saga confirmed, “but her power may never be controlled. It...emanates from her. I don’t think she’s a choosing one, or a paramount.” She paused. “I think she’s salmon. Her ability to make this place bigger is being done to her, rather than her using it willfully.”

“And the other one? The one who can make people out of practically nothing?”

“He’s done nothing so far, but that gives us little hope that it won’t ever start automatically.”

“Why?”

Saga turned away from the boundary, and prepared to go back to her housing unit. “Because girls generally develop faster. It’s science, I can’t explain it.”

As if on cue, someone turned the sun back off, which was apparently something that always happened whenever someone returned from outside the timestream, and not just when they originated from outside the pocket dimension. Saga started walking away.

“Do we have any ideas for what we’re gonna do about this?” Serif called up to her.

Saga did not stop walking, nor did she turn around. She simply replied, “no.”

The next morning, she found herself being shaken awake by Camden. “I think you’re gonna be needed!” he cried.

“Damn, son! Needed for what?”

“It’s time to close the loop.” He dragged her out of her room. The door that was supposed to be leading to the outside in the pocket dimension, was actually leading to somewhere else entirely. It looked like they were in some kind of small town, but it had been demolished by something terrible. Saga had used her salmon chooser power to open one of her special shifted timespace doorways. She was just running back through to the other side, to help carry what appeared to be a body. As the group drew nearer, Serif could see that Hokusai was injured by a freaking arrow, and being carried by Loa, a different version of Saga, and a woman Serif recognized from a photo as Saga’s late wife, Andromeda. This was some moment in the past, on Durus.

“I’m sorry, you can’t come through,” Future!Saga said to everybody. Then she closed the door. “You have to help her,” she then said to Serif.

Serif was frazzled, and still trying to wake up.

“Come on! Please! Her future is not set in stone just because you know she ends up on this ship in the future. She can still die in the past and create a new timeline.”

“No, I know,” Serif stammered. “But...I need that out of her body. I can heal her fine, but I don’t know what to do with that thing!”

“I do,” Camden said, presumably due to field medical training he received while working at the IAC. “Sit her up,” he instructed. Once she was held up in the sitting position, Camden place his ear on Hokusai’s chest, and delicately twirled the arrow.

Though still mostly out of it, Hokusai began to scream in pain.

“Why the hell did you do that!?” Serif yelled in a matching pitch.

“I had to see if the head was still on, which it is, so we’re lucky for that. But this is the bad part. Well...one of them.”

“Why?”

In response, Camden indelicately jammed the arrow further into Hokusai’s chest, so that it would come out the other end. Now she was fully awake, but only for a few seconds. The pain was so unbearable, she fell completely unconscious. Camden masterfully whipped out a pocket knife, from the pocket of his sleepwear shorts, because he apparently slept with it. He used the pliers to break the...uhh, feather part off. Just as quickly as before, he then pulled the rest of the arrow out, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Do not do this at home, kids,” he said to the two of them. “I only did it, because you have superpowers. Use them now.”

Serif and Saga laid Hokusai onto her side, so the former could breathe her magical healing nanites into both of her wounds. In minutes, she was almost fully healed, and totally awake. They vaguely explained what happened, but said nothing that could alter he decisions for the future. Then Saga reopened a doorway portal, and sent her back to her own time period.

Leona was not received well in pocket three. Some of the most unruly passengers were placed here. There was this whole mathematical algorithm to determine who they could put where. Sprinkling the most dangerous ones in with everybody else risked creating issues in all pockets, but putting them all in one place wasn’t a great idea either. They ended up employing a little bit of both, doing everything they could to avoid grouping those who could poorly influence each other, or incite unrest amongst the people. Still, pocket one was definitely the worst, and the worst one for her to be trying to continue this investigation without Serif’s enthusiasm. She tried to calm them down, but they were not happy. They were positively convinced that they lived in more unfortunate conditions. Of course, each pocket was one hundred percent identical to the others, for this very reason. But that didn’t stop these people from claiming theirs was smaller, or had more durry snails, or just smelled bad. Their stories were ever-changing, and constantly contradicted each other. It was just impossible to please them, and this news of murder wasn’t helping anything.

Many had assumed the portals back to the ship proper would eventually reopen. Upon learning from Leona that this might not be unachievable, their anger only increased. One man. One. He was not like the others, and fortunately he was strong too, because he was the only thing standing between Leona, and the mob who wanted to tear her apart. He helped her upstairs, and into a room that he could lock. He then lifted up the bed and barricaded the window with it. They could already hear people climbing up the side to get in.

Leona caught her breath, and inspected the severity of her wounds. Just a few scrapes and bruises. It could have been so much worse. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I knew people wouldn’t be happy, but I didn’t think it would be like this. Pockets three and four were no picnic, but they were at least civil.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he said, pushing his dresser in front of the door. “I’ve done what I can to keep them out, but they’ll probably get in eventually.”

“You’ll be able to hold them off, though, right. And they have to get tired, and see reason...at some point.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I won’t be able to help you.”

“I know it’s asking a lot,” Leona began, “but if you could just—”

He interrupted her, “it’s not that.” He was slowly walking towards her. “Believe me, I would love nothing more than to save the damsel in distress.” He tried to do the hair behind the ear thing, but she slapped his hand away.

“That is not happening!” she declared.

He laughed. “No, it’s not. This is.” He reached over and tore Leona’s emergency teleporter off of her shirt.

“No, don’t!”

“I hope you survive,” he said to her. “I really do. But I gotta get the hell out of here.”

“The ship is smaller than this dimension!” she insisted.

“Goodbye.” He activated the teleporter, and disappeared.

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Microstory 784: Mullet

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Mullets. What is a mullet? Well, it’s a species of fish; a few different species, actually. It’s a kind of haircut, known as business in the front, and party in the back. But that’s not what we’re talking about. In this case, mullet refers to a kind of time traveler very similar to a salmon. While other time traveler varieties are quantum biologically different than the others, a mullet is really just a special kind salmon that plays by their own rules. First of all, let’s codify the varieties, so you’ll understand how a mullet comes to be. The tippy top are the powers that be, and the choosing ones. Members of the latter have the ability to use their time powers as they please, while the latter have no power of their own, but can control salmon. Chosen ones, which are incredibly rare, are equivalent to salmon, but can be controlled by their respective chooser instead, though it’s unclear to what degree. Lastly, spawn are humans transformed into temporal manipulators by either a salmon, or a chosen one. They’re even rarer, and more mysterious. When Saga Einarsson and Vearden Haywood were first puppeted by the powers that be, they were deemed The Freelancers. This meant, actually that they displayed traits of salmon, but also chosen ones, which allowed them to sort of be passed around on an as-needed basis. But then an incident infused them with powers they were never meant to have. And though most of this power eventually drained from them, they maintained an unexpected level of independence, rendering them the first in a sixth type. Though they could still be called upon to act on the wishes of the powers that be, they could also refuse this request, which no salmon should be able to do. No one knows whether it’s possible to transform oneself from a salmon, to a mullet, and then to a full-fledged choosing one, to be completely free of the whims of the powers that be. But inspired by Saga and Vearden’s marginal success, salmon sure as hell started trying.

Microstory 583: New Home Hair Management Products

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One thing that everyone deals with is their hair, whether it be the lack there of it, or that it’s too long, or just its general unruliness. While other companies are working on trying to cure cancer, or develop faster supersonic passenger aircraft, one has decided to help with something a little simpler. Antubian Product Co. has created a so-called revolutionary new product line that claims to provide for everyone’s hair needs, whatever they may be. This line involves multiple kinds of products, to be used differently, and sometimes in tandem. A series of microinjections, for instance, can (oversimplistically speaking) jumpstart hair follicles, and engender growth. The irony in this is that the device only works once the subject has first been shaved in all desired areas. Another subsection of products gives its user command of the color of their hair. While traditional dyes have taken time and effort, the new Antibus shampoo goes in during a shower, and is complete by the time you get out to dry. Other products can shorten, and even restyle, your haircut at will through static charges and texturizing gels. Antubian, Inc. has had a colorful past. It began as a scrap metal broker before becoming an entertainment company. It then abruptly transitioned into a pulp fiction publisher, spent a brief amount of time as a ‘supernatural threat eradicator”—where it was tried in court for fraud, until finally landing in the car restoration industry. It has spent the last seven years restoring antique and classic vehicles up to working condition, with as much retention of the original operating functions as possible. It has only been in the hair business for the last seven months, but has already come up with an impressive array of products. Whether any one of these products actually works is something that still needs confirmation from our field reporters. As mercurial as founder and Chief Vision Officer, Lovro Antubi has been known to be, his ventures have proven to be largely legitimate. There is even evidence that his supernatural phase may have shown some level of merit. As time goes on, Antubi tends to move on from one project in favor of another. Instead of selling, or even spinning off each company to start another, he simply sells the patents and intellectual property themselves, and begins to focus on something new. Join us next week when our field testers release their analyses and reviews of the new Antubian haircare line.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 13, 2098

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Mateo’s predicted, but still surprising, reunion with Horace was going to have to wait. He had a responsibility to speak with his birth mother first. He woke up rather late in the afternoon of June 13, 2098, knowing that it had been two years since she saw him. This was going to be even more awkward than if he had been given the chance to explain himself entirely after first dropping that bomb on her.

“I don’t feel awkward about it,” Aura assured him.

“You don’t find it strange to be speaking to a son you can’t remember from an alternate timeline?” he asked.

“I’ve experienced stranger things.”

Mateo shivered at those words.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized. “I recognize that your trauma was quite recent for you. It must be difficult, seeing people around you get past events that only just happened. I would find that quite frustrating.”

Mateo nodded gently. “The trauma of the time jumps themselves have become easier to swallow. I met a choosing one who had the ability to keep me in a temporal bubble for five years from my perspective. While there, she taught me some coping techniques. I’ve just not had time to meditate today, but when I do, I’ll have absorbed the time that I missed.”

“You can absorb time?” Aura asked with interest.

“Not literally. Sorry, that was unclear. I just mean that I can redirect short-term memories so that they feel older. It’s a technique the chooser picked up in the future that therapists use to help patients recover from post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“That’s fascinating,” she said. “You’re fascinating. I wish I could remember the reality where I knew you.”

“I don’t know that you do. The price would be too high.”

“No, not by this Blender woman. From what I hear, we can’t trust her. I just mean...tell me about yourself. Tell me about our relationship. Why did you not live with me? Was I a bad parent?”

“You were young,” he began to explain. He then paused to gather his thoughts. “A lot of people thought you were selfish for giving me up, but that’s not what happened. Your own parents were...unhelpful. You knew Randall and Carol from the hair salon. By coincidence, your schedule matched up with Carol’s for a couple months, and evidently you would spend more time than you needed there, just talking. Eventually, they took you under their wing and you became friends outside of the salon. When you found out that you were pregnant with me, they were the first people you told. Over the course of the next nine months, they took care of you, and of me, by extension. When I was finally born, it was a no-brainer. They just kept taking care of me while you took your time to grow up and mature.

“You didn’t sign any documents, you didn’t see a courtroom. We were all just a family. Had you not disappeared, like you evidently did in this timeline as well, I probably would have moved in with you in a couple years. You were ready by then.”

Aura did not speak.

“No, your friends didn’t understand why you remained in my life even when I had Carol and Randall. They thought that was a perfect opportunity to get out of your responsibilities. But you were so wise, so careful. So thoughtful. Carol and Randall weren’t just my parents. They were yours. They were there for you when no one else was.” Now he began to tear up. “They had so much love, and they could no longer manage it between the two of them.”

Aura was tearing up as well.

“I was angry at you for a very long time. For leaving us. They gave you more than I think that version of you realized, and you just threw it away. But they were never angry. No, not them. Not Randall and Carol Gelen. They still had all that love in their hearts, and they raised me to learn to love you again. And they raised me with religion because they knew it was important to you.”

Aura waited, understanding that he was not quite finished.

“I wish they could have been alive to see you return, to see that their faith in you was not unfounded. To see that it was not your fault, that someone else did this to you...to us. To see that they were right.”

“They sound like wonderful people.”

He was now full-on crying. “They were. You would have liked them. They were the same in this reality too. They raised my girlfriend for me. No matter what timeline these people create, those two will always be helping someone.” He wiped some tears away with his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much about them. You asked about yourself.”

“I was asking about you,” Aura corrected.

Mateo nodded and sniffled. “I killed Hitler. That’s who I am. That’s what got me into this mess. That’s what erased me from this timeline, and here I was thinking that that was the worst part.”

She looked at him like a concerned psychologist. “So, what is the worst part?”

“That I didn’t hesitate. I pointed a weapon at a man’s head and set it off. Then I just stood there, like it was Tuesday. Removing you and Leona from my life was punishment for that. From God, or Satan.”

“We’re here now.”

“Exactly. That’s why The Cleanser is still doing this to me. I wasn’t able to suffer from my original punishment so he’s picking up the slack.”

“Mateo, I don’t think that’s what’s happening. You’re not being punished. God didn’t change the timeline, you did. That was a human choice, and as I understand it, you saved thousands of lives by doing it. What the Cleanser is doing to you is also a human choice. And he can be stopped. You just have to keep trying.”

“I’ve been trying. Nothing has worked. He’s too powerful.”

“Well now you have me. And Samsonite, and Téa. You have people who care about you, even if they don’t remember why. You do not have to do this alone.”

“You’re right.”

“It happens.”

“The Cleanser has been pulling me away from the people I love this whole time. He’s kept me isolated and angry. He knows that I can’t defeat him on my own, so he’s orchestrated these tribulations. But why? Why does he care so much about me?”

“He’s afraid of you.”

“I’m just a salmon, what can I do?”

“You own a planet. That’s a pretty big deal for someone like us, isn’t it?”

“You’re right, I do. But only because of The Rogue.”

“Yeah, I’m still not quite clear what his deal is. Is he good, is he bad?”

“He’s a Boyce is what he is.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he positively detests Horace Reaver.”

“I thought he was dead anyway?”

“We’re time travelers. No one ever really dies.”

“What are you saying, Mateo?”

“Everything that has happened to me is designed to keep me alone, we’ve established that. Even if I overcome that obstacle, he knows who I’ll choose to help me. He knows that I’ll lean on you and Leona for support.”

“He sounds smart.”

“He sounds limited. Horace Reaver’s return was a calculated move. He and Nerakali think that I can never trust him.”

“Can you?”

“More than anyone else right now. Except for Boyce.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to start fighting back. Stay here.” Mateo left his room, ignoring Aura’s protests. He walked down the hall and opened Horace’s door.

“Mateo, how can I help you?” Horace asked, book in hand, reminding him of the time he was reading in Panamanian basement just before murdering Leona.

“I need your door.”

“It’s yours.”

Mateo closed the door behind him and then performed a Constructor knock on it, but he didn’t actually give Baudin enough time to answer. He opened the door to his headquarters himself.

Horace followed obediently.

“Sir, sir!” a man exclaimed. “You cannot come in here without an appointment.”

“I have a standing appointment.”

“Mister Matic, I know that is not true. And that man is not allowed within a hundred lightyears of this place.”

“He’s with me.” Mateo opened the door to Baudin’s office who appeared to be with a client, but there was no time to worry about interrupting them. “I need you to take us to Palace Glubbdubdrib.”

“I’m sorry?”

“This one thing and I’ll never ask for anything again.”

“Mateo, this is not a contest. You can ask me for favors, but I don’t see why you need to—”

“Can you send me or not? I just need a door that goes there. You don’t even have to come with.”

Baudin sighed slightly but pointed to another door. “That closet.”

“Thank you. Come, Horace.”

Mateo opened the closet door and entered the palace. Years had passed since they were last there, and it was obvious that no one had been around to take care of it. Cobwebs and dust littered the floor and furniture. “Crap. I should have been more specific.”

“What is this place?” Horace asked while Mateo was zipping through the hallways in search of the right one. “What are we doing here?”

“We are looking for the magic mirror.”

“I believe you’re mixing metaphors.”

“This is it,” Mateo finally said. He removed a small pocket knife from his handy time traveler’s tote and slit his own finger which he placed on the mirror. “I stand at the gates of life and death. Come forwards. Come forwards, spirits! Here is life. Boyce, rogue agent and trusted friend, smell blood! Smell life! I summon you!”

The mirror adjusted the scenery so that it was showing Makarion in his final moment. He had just revealed to Mateo that he had been the Rogue the whole time. They were just starting to form an understanding, and develop an alliance when the Cleanser somehow leapt into Makarion’s body himself and destroyed it from the inside. Mateo and Horace watched from the other side as the scene played out in slow motion, but then something happened that Mateo never saw the first time around. A figure, like a ghost, lifted itself from Makarion’s body and began to walk away from it. It wasn’t just any Boyce. It was the Boyce. It was the only Boyce that Mateo had ever known.

“Gilbert?”

“Mateo? You’re using the extraction mirror.”

“I am. What is happening? How are you...?”

Gilbert looked back to the exploding Makarion. “It looks like I’m about to die. The mirror was designed only to remove people from the timestream at their final moments, to avoid altering the timeline. Most choosers don’t worry about that, of course.”

“Would you...would you have ever told me that you were Gilbert? I mean that Gilbert was the Rogue. I mean...I don’t understand.”

Gilbert smiled and reached through the magical mirror to place his hand on Mateo’s shoulder for comfort. “I can explain everything, as long as you can explain what the hell Horace Reaver is doing with you.”

“So you can come all the way out of the mirror?”

Gilbert stepped through as proof. “I will have to return one day, but for now, I’m all yours.”

“Like Clara?” Horace asked.

Gilbert laughed. “Ya know, I may just get along with this version of you.”

“Come,” Mateo said. “It’s time to face the raven.”

“Not yet I hope.”

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Microstory 347: Freedom from Persecution

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Weight Control

Wow, that is a really ominous title, isn’t it? Freedom from Persecution. Sounds like something a former NSA analyst would shout after committing treason by leaking dangerous state secrets to the public. Yesterday, from the time of writing this, I had a haircut. The woman started talking about this girl she saw with a buzzcut like mine, dyed hair, and tattoos. She seemed to be against this until she got the impression that I wasn’t quite so judgmental, and her perspective seemed to change. We’ve all been hearing lately about people coming out publically as “different”. Transgender, intersex, non-binary sexuality are but a few examples. Some people think they’re showing courage, while others find such things to be disgusting. I would like to live in a world where no one has to announce who they are, because they don’t owe anybody anything. You shouldn’t have to reveal that, though you were born with girl parts, you’re actually a boy. You shouldn’t have to explain that you don’t see yourself as having one of two genders, or any traditional gender, or any gender at all. You should only discuss who you are with others if they’re genuinely interested in getting to know you, and if you’re comfortable with talking about it. Either way, you should be able to live your truth without worrying about people making judgment calls about you that have no basis, and serve no purpose. You shouldn’t have to disprove stereotypes, or defend lifestyle choices that don’t harm others, or go over how simple physics and biology work (i.e. that a person’s sexuality cannot be transmitted to someone else). Freedom to be yourself does not allow you to do absolutely whatever you want. You are still subject to boundaries designed to protect everyone’s safety and right to be themselves. If you are doing something immoral; if you are raping people, or killing them, or abusing animals, then you definitely need to change. But if who you are isn’t hurting anyone, then honestly, people who don’t like it just need to shut the fuck up.

Physical Independence

Second Stage of Something Started: Reunions (Part VII)

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Vearden lost track of the number of points in time he and Makarion helplessly jumped through, and how much time had passed from their perspective. Though it had to number in the thousands across at least a week. As they had guessed, the jumps were all tied to Mateo’s jumps forward, but not for them in any particular order. Makarion seemed surprised that Mateo was still alive and kicking, but oddly content about knowing this. He seemed to have mixed feelings for Mateo and Leona. Vearden kept asking about it, hoping to find away to make things better, but Makarion kept his mouth shut. In fact, as much as Makarion liked the sound of his own voice, the two of them didn’t talk all that much. They just kept going, desperately hoping to get back to where they had begun, never quite knowing how long it was going to take, if it even ended at all. They did run into Saga a couple of times, but future versions of her, so that wasn’t all that helpful, except in letting Vearden know that she did somehow survive the gunshot. Either way, they needed to return to 2074. Neither of them ever knew what year it was at any one moment, and would have to look for context clues. They would occasionally stay four to six feet from each other to allow time for food and sleep. One time, they accidentally touched from going for the same chip, but that was all it took to throw them to a different day.

At present, it was April 28, 2416. The reason they knew this was because Leona jumped in at the same time. “How are you here?” Makarion asked.

“How the hell are you here?” Leona asked accusatively. “You should be three-hundred and eighty-two years old. It was my understanding that the powers that be don’t like us to also be transhumanists.”

Makarion stepped away from Vearden to protect them from an accidental jump somewhere else. “By our powers combined, we are CAPTAIN PLANET!”

“What?”

“Wow, tough crowd.” Makarion rolled his eyes. “When we touch each other, our patterns mix together to allow us to travel through time and space.”

“Force us through time and space,” Vearden corrected.

“That’s right, we have no control over it. We’re trying to get back, him to his partner, and me so I can find out how you survived that car crash back in 2073.”

“What do you mean? You already kn—” she stopped herself. “You haven’t learned how from your perspective.”

“No, that hasn’t happened yet.” Makarion looked over to Vearden with a smile. “I guess that means we get back at some point.”

“Eventually, yeah, I guess.”

Makarion continued, “we’ve been jumping into moments at the beginning, or the end of, Mateo’s day. How are you here? Your day was yesterday.”

“A lot has changed since you...” she trailed off, obviously not wanting to divulge too much information about the timeline. “We broke the rules, so we’re being punished. The powers switched me over so that I’m perpetually one day behind Mateo, which means that we don’t ever see each other. I only come back to the timestream the minute he leaves.”

“Hmm,” Makarion thought out loud. The both of them knew that this was not the situation in Leona’s future. At some point, somehow, their patterns are realigned, and they are reunited.

“It that ever changes, don’t tell me about it,” Leona insisted. “I don’t want to risk changing the future.”

“That is wise of you,” Makarion agreed.

“But I will tell you that I know who you are. I mean I know who you really are. I know why you’re doing this, and I forgive you.”

Makarion was actually touched by this, and almost speechless, but not quite. “If I didn’t—if I stepped back—things would be much worse for you.”

“We know. We find out, and we take care of that too. Don’t change your plans, but know that when the day comes when you can’t continue the tribulations, we survive. We’re still surviving. I don’t agree with your methods, but I understand why you did it.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Makarion said genuinely.

What the hell is going on?

“Well, I guess we better be off,” Makarion went on. “We’re obviously not going to find Saga here. Not the one we’re looking for anyway.” He tipped an imaginary hat and reached out towards Vearden.

“No,” Vearden said.

“What is it now?”

“I have to help her. I may be the only one who can.”

“I don’t understand,” Makarion said.

“I do.” Leona smiled and explained, “if you and Vearden develop a new pattern with physical contact, perhaps the same could be done with him and me. He could take me back to where I belong.”

“There’s no way for you to know that.”

“I’m willing to try if you are,” Vearden said, palm face up.

“I am,” Leona said. Before Makarion could stop her, she had taken Vearden’s hand in hers.

They returned to the timestream one year later. It was April 28, 2417. Mateo was staring at them, stunned by their sudden appearance. Leona removed herself from Vearden’s grasp and pushed herself into Mateo’s arms. “Oh my God, it’s so good to see you again!”

“How are you here?”

“Vearden helped me out.”

“I thank you, sir,” Mateo said. “It’s nice to see you again, brother.”

There was a tear or two in Leona’s eyes. “Where are Franka and Séarlas?”

“They’re gone,” Mateo answered sadly. “They’re gone, as you would expect, but they’re safe. I was with them for three years.”

“How?”

Before Mateo had a chance to answer, Makarion strode up in anger. “I had to wait for you for a year! Everyone has superpowers now, and I’m a cockroach ‘cause all I can do is teleport!” He took Vearden by the shoulder.

They found themselves standing in a dark room with cargo lining the walls. “Ugh. I wanted to talk to them some more.”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that in the future-past.” He walked over and picked up a tablet for information. “It’s 2075. Close enough.”

“This is not close enough! I’m trying to get back to Saga before she gets shot, to stop it from happening.”

“Well, I don’t really care. I’m headed for Mars. You can come if you’d like, but don’t touch me.”

“The hell I won’t.” Vearden reached over to turn the tables and take Makarion by the shoulder for once.

The first thing Saga and Baxter could hear after jumping back into the timestream was screaming. They rushed down the hallway and into the room to find Leona Delaney on nothing but a mattress and blankets. She was having trouble getting comfortable, and couldn’t decide whether she wanted to lie down or sit up.

“Oh thank God, you’re back,” Mateo said, one hand on Leona’s neck, and the other suffering a few fractures from her kung fu grip. “They’re coming.”

Saga smiled. Birthing babies was her favorite part of the job. Sure, they weren’t without their complications, but they weren’t about correcting a problem; they were about new life. It reminded her of when her son, Samwise was born. Labor with him only lasted about six hours, and he came out with absolutely no problems. The fact that he was the reincarnation of salmon who had already lived for decades probably meant that the powers that be were protecting him with their magicks, but still, it could have still been more painful. Baxter delivered him, just as he had with Vearden’s daughter, Laura, and just like he was right now with the twins. Was he the delivery doctor for all salmon? Jack of all trades, master of probably all of them too. She missed her partner, Vearden, but knew that they would be reunited one day, and until then, it was nice to be around someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and didn’t really answer to anyone but the emergency.

“It’s almost midnight,” Leona cried while Saga started wiping her forehead with a washcloth. “What happens at midnight? Are my babies gonna just be left here in the middle of the room...all alone?

“It’ll be fine, Mateo said. “It’s not that close to midnight.”

“Shut up, yes it is!”

“We’ll still be here,” Baxter assured her.

“You don’t know that,” Leona argued. “You’re just a salmon.”

“Saga, take out my scheduler.”

Saga removed the little device that contained Baxter’s schedule for the next few appointments, at the most. She held it up in front of Leona, hoping to comfort her.

“Your babies are my patients too, see? I will not leave them, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, okay,” she repeated several more times until another contraction came on and she switched back to yelling.

“Won’t be long now,” Baxter said. “You’ve been taking the prenatal vitamins I gave you, right?”

“Every day,” Mateo answered.

“And you’ve been lying on your left side during your time jumps?”

“Yes,” Mateo said. “Well, for the most part. That hasn’t always been possible.”

“That’s okay, it was just a precaution.”

“Precaution for what?” Leona asked in a panic.

“It’s okay, Miss Delaney. No need to worry.” Baxter was examining Leona’s belly with a diagnostic device. “Everything is perfectly all right. This pregnancy is going to go swimmingly.”

“Okay,” Leona said again, still in a great deal of pain.

“I’m going to place the epidural and spinal injection now, okay?” Baxter said. “It’s going to be a little uncomfortable, but it will help you manage this pain.”

“Is it not too late? I heard it can be too late sometimes.”

“It’s not too late,” Baxter said. “It’s actually the perfect time.” He removed a labor pain gun from his bag as Mateo and Saga were helping Leona stay sitting up. After disinfecting her back, he placed the gun against her spine. With one squeeze of the trigger, both injections were sent in. He let go of the trigger and flipped the release with his thumb. As he slowly removed the gun, the fixation glue formed to hold the epidural catheter in place. “All right, that’s done. You should be feeling better in minutes.”

“Can we lay her back down, doc?” Mateo asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Not twenty minutes later, the first baby was on its way out. Saga looked down and could see little red hairs peeking out during the crowning that clearly did not belong to Leona. She was no longer screaming because Baxter’s pain medicine was the best of all time...literally. After the first baby was all the way out, they noticed something strange. A little hand was wrapped around its heel. His twin sister had no interest in spending any time in the womb without her big brother. “Hold onto the boy!” Baxter ordered.

Saga took the boy in her arms and held him in place while her boss went about delivering the girl. It was too dangerous to try and separate them at this point. An arm-first birth was risky enough, they didn’t need to aggravate them. She tried to whisper, “are you going to have to break her arm?”

Leona heard that. “What? Why would you do that? What’s wrong!”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Baxter said definitively. “It’s an unusual birth, but not one I can’t handle. Just don’t move.” Baxter became laser focused as he gently worked the second little baby out. “She’s entering this world like Supergirl,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He was right. Only the one arm was on her brother’s leg. The second was down at her side, just as Kara Zor-El was known to fly. If she didn’t know any better, the babies were laughing. They didn’t seem to be upset, or in any discomfort. Even though it was one of the oddest births she had ever been a part of, it really was going well.

“More like Jacob,” Mateo said, making a reference to the bible.

Saga was not Christian, but she certainly had to pretend to be one for a long time because of how tricky life was centuries ago. Saga and Vearden had to remain vigilant, and not draw attention to themselves. She had to fake her faith, and avoid revealing the fact that she wanted nothing more than to just wear pants. She knew of the story of the birth of Jacob and Esau. The former was born immediately after the latter, holding onto his heel as presumed foreshadowing to their quarrelsome lives. Esau had even been born with red hair, which was another interesting coincidence. Due to all this time travel, Saga wondered whether the powers that be were making this happen because of the story in the bible, or whether this event came first, and will ultimately go back to inspire the story.

“Twenty fingers, twenty toes. Two happy and healthy babies,” Saga said.

“Let me hold them,” Leona said with beckoning arms.

They handed Leona’s twins to her one by one.

“She needs water,” Baxter noted.

“There’s some in the other room,” Mateo responded without breaking his gaze at his lovely new children.

“I’ll get it,” Saga said.

“See if you have find some more towels too,” Baxter said as she was walking away.

The door turned out to be a portal that returned her to the island through the little cottage they had built. “Oh, great.”

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