Microstory 2540: Concierge Doctor

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I’m obviously bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, but even if I felt comfortable divulging any privileged information about my patient, there would be nothing to say. Landis is in perfect shape, which is exactly what you would expect to find in someone with such abilities. It’s the easiest work I’ve ever done. It’s probably not necessary, it just seems rational for this one man to have a personal concierge doctor available to respond to his hypothetical needs at all times. A lot of the work I do involves running reports on his vitals. They do change, throughout the day and day to day, but they’re always within acceptable and optimal parameters. His stress levels can fluctuate, but the underlying conditions are apparently mitigated through his own self-healing. I don’t know a whole lot about it. The researchers keep their research behind closed doors. I’m just responsible for how he’s doing, not why he’s healthy. I try to follow current health guidelines regarding his lifestyle and eating habits. For one, he works twelve hours a day, which isn’t recommended, but I was overruled. Secondly, he doesn’t get any exercise, which is why I firmly believe his ability is healing him, because otherwise, he shouldn’t be doing so well. I certainly wouldn’t call him a sloth, but if he moved around more, it would either exhaust him after hours, or his own patients would have to walk with him, which is an absurd proposition. So, his diet. That’s really the only thing that I can control. I decide what goes in his body, and I run my own blood tests on him to make the best judgment calls I can for every single meal. Most people don’t have their diets so precisely tailored, but obviously, I have quite a bit of time on my hands. So I work closely with his personal chef, who has no problem following my recommendations, and Landis himself doesn’t really care. I sit at the ready should anything go wrong in my office that’s attached to the healing room, and at the end of every shift, I perform a quick physical examination. I work long hours, but they’re easy hours. Sometimes I reminisce about the rush of the emergency room, but I know how lucky I am, so I try not to take my good fortune for granted. One day, I may become obsolete entirely, and while that might sound scary, the world would be vastly superior to even the one we have today. I’m all for it.

Microstory 2535: Private Nurse

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Because of the constant use of his healing ability, we believe that Landis Tipton is essentially not capable of getting sick. To put it another way, we believe that he is constantly healing himself by drawing the miracle breath through his body for twelve hours a day. I don’t know what the threshold would be, but I did have the privilege of meeting the original Voldisil who had the healing gift, and she said that she occasionally got the flu or the cold. And she could get papercuts, and headaches when she didn’t drink enough water. She wasn’t using her ability enough for it to work on herself. Still, there’s no reason to risk it, so I remain at Landis’ side while he’s working. I take more breaks than he does, and during those times, I’m relieved by the doctor, but then I get right back to my perch, making sure that we weren’t wrong about our hypothesis. After his normal operating hours, I no longer keep eyes on him, but I’m always close by; usually in the suite next door, or maybe the hallway. I’ve never had to treat him, but I do run frequent tests. I track his vitals, and ask him questions about how he’s feeling. That’s what causes the delays in the queue, and it’s something that I had to fight for. Technically, he could probably heal three or four times as many people per day than he does, but I will not allow it. I periodically hold things up to make sure that he’s okay because he won’t stop to tell me if there’s something wrong. It sucks. It sucks for the people waiting in line, and waiting for their appointment, and waiting for their applications to go through. But Landis’ health and well-being are important too. The breath does not cure stress. It’s a condition of state, and he’s just as susceptible to it as anyone would be in his position. He holds people’s very lives in his hands, and he has to slow down, or he could burn out psychologically and emotionally. Of course, he has his private therapist to take care of that side of things, but I certainly don’t want to undermine his potential issues by hanging back. I don’t overstep my bounds, because that too would stress him out, but we’ve been working together for years now, and have grown close. He knows that I have his best interests at heart, and that I’m doing this for the Foundation; not in spite of it. They want to keep the Foundation running, even when the panacea is discovered, but I’m not so sure. I know him pretty well, and I think he’ll be ready to be done, even if he can’t admit it to himself just yet.

Microstory 2534: Phlebotomist

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

People call me Landis’ personal phlebotomist, and it’s true that I’m the only one who performs that task, but the truth is that I do it for the whole staff, and even some of the patients. There are two other phlebotomists that are there to help me with other patients. People think that working for the Foundation means that you can’t get sick. They think that if something happens, he can just heal them up real quick, and then return to his normal work. He probably would do that, but we can’t have our workers getting sick just because they have that safety net. Our health insurance company, and other regulatory bodies, would lose their minds if they found out that we were being careless with our health and safety protocols. They really don’t care what it is we do here. Sick people don’t just frequent our building. That’s literally the whole reason that we exist, and like any normal medical facility, we’re expected to take precautions. I test the staff’s blood regularly, screening them for ever transmissible disease that they may have come in contact with during their work. That’s in addition to the masking, social distancing, and cleaning that we perform to prevent the spread. Landis could have operated out of a tent in the middle of a field like those lunatic religious liars, but he chose the hotel so people could keep their distances from each other. Seriously, it was part of his initial pitch. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I mean, what’s the incubation period of a given disease, and will his breath heal it if one patient contracted something from another just five minutes ago? They didn’t know the answer to that question before. Now, after research, we know that whatever is in Landis’ breath stays in the target’s body for about a week, but we still take measures to prevent that from happening. It would be irrational not to, particularly because we don’t offer second healings. Back to what I was saying, I do draw his blood too. I do it every day, and send it off to the researchers. It was very important to him that he hire someone to do this job in house instead of relying on a contractor. It’s not like it inherently prevents mishandling of his sample, but just in general, he prefers to be the one to pay his staff. We do have a couple of contract workers, and for legal reasons, they’re not allowed to live on-site. I don’t know whether that bothers them or not, but I’m glad that I get to stay here. Room service, house-keeping. It’s like I’m on vacation all the time. You can’t beat this lifestyle. It’s not why I got certified, but I don’t hate it.

Microstory 2532: Ethicist

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I have my fingerprints in every department. Running an organization, be it a for-profit business, or a charity, or a weird thing in between that’s never been done before, is complicated. My job is all about questions, and never about answers. The most important questions don’t have answers. I prefer to call them responses or decisions, depending on the semantics. Should you charge for your services? How much? And the weird ones like, how much should you pay? How do you decide who gets what, or gives what, or what! I came onboard rather early on to help come to the best possible decisions. They’ve not always listened to me. They insisted on this model, and only accepted a few of my tweaks, but the principle stands. We use a sliding scale fee model that charges more to people with more means. It’s not uncommon in certain industries, such as health care and legal aid. We may have come up with this particular variant, but it happens all the time. I didn’t want to do it because I generally prefer to see an organization like this run on donations. It’s cleaner, better understood by the public, and just generally easier to accept. They could still give their charitable donations to their clients, but the money would be coming in from any and all sources. Don’t limit yourself to only your own clients. That was my reasoning, anyway. I was wrong. The system works. We have a donation portal and people do contribute, but most of our revenue is supported by the wealthiest patients, who have proven themselves to be more than happy to give what they can. Never underestimate a person’s value of their own health and life. Some would do just about anything to survive, and by simply charging them money for it, we take away some of the less savory options. We would all like to see the black market organ transplant network meet its end. Anyway, I’m still here, because we still run into ethical quandaries, which require finding the best response available. The executives don’t mistreat their employees, and not just because I’m here, but it’s always safer to have someone overseeing it than to just hope it doesn’t drift. I watch for abuse of power, and mishandling of funds, and living conditions of the campgrounds, as well as our neighboring hotels. I make sure the waiting rooms are clean and stocked, and people with mobility issues aren’t left standing in line too long. I can’t make any changes to these policies myself, but I advise the leadership on what they can do to improve conditions. I’m glad that they made the decision early on to hire someone like me. Even if it isn’t me, someone ought to be doing it, and other companies could stand to model their business a little more like this one.

Microstory 2526: Middle Class Patient

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

When the Foundation first made the rounds in the news, I both was skeptical, and didn’t think it applied to me. I exercise every day, even if it’s just a thirty-minute walk, and I always eat healthy. I get plenty of fiber, and the right ratio of my macronutrients. I’ve never had a problem with vegetables, even as a kid. Unfortunately, none of that mattered, because I was born with higher susceptibility to Hereditary Chorea. You can look up what that is, and what it does to your body, but it’s a genetic disease that there’s nothing you can do to stop it. It doesn’t matter how you live your life, or what exams and procedures you have done in your youth. You’re born with it, and only time will tell if you develop it. You can get tested to see if you have the gene, but you’re unlikely to even request such a test if you have no reason to suspect that it runs in your family. I was adopted by a very nice and soft-spoken man who I love very dearly, and the only thing I realized too late that I was missing in my life was the right kind of information. I never cared what happened to my birth parents. I was abandoned in a crackhouse as a baby, so family services had no idea who my mother was, let alone my father. I never had any interest in locating my birth mother, but looking back, I probably should have, for this reason, and this reason alone. I didn’t know that the disease runs in my family, and I still don’t know which side of the family it’s on. It could be both, for all we know. Had we thought to get me tested, I could have been better prepared for it. Very specifically, I would have chosen not to have children. Do not misunderstand me, I love my kids immensely, but I unwittingly placed them at risk simply by having them. That was the hardest part after the onset of my symptoms, worrying that one or both of them would suffer as I did when they got to be my age. I was so relieved when I started hearing proof that Landis was the real deal, and not some charlatan selling snake oil. I honestly didn’t think I would get the chance for a cure. I hoped that my children would have better chances when they were older. Then my thoughts darkened again, because I thought, what if Landis dies before my kids get the chance to be cured? How big is our window here? Then the news continued, and we found out about the panacea research, and I felt grateful again. If I died before they completed such research, I could leave this world confident that my young ones would likely grow up to a world with no disease. Obviously I applied for my own healing anyway, because I certainly didn’t want to leave them, and that’s how we’re here today. I put in a lot of work preparing my family for a future without me. Now I have to walk a lot of that back, and consider where we go from here. Not that I’m complaining. It’s a good problem to have.

Microstory 2523: Health Coach

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Currently, everyone whose application is accepted by the Landis Tipton Breath of Life Foundation is entitled to a single healing session. No plans have been made to heal the same person more than once. Research is pretty minimal in this area. It’s not that they’re not running the studies, but they’ve been hush-hush about it. I want to be absolutely clear that we have no reason to believe that Landis’ healings are anything but permanent. If you’re suffering from anything when he gets his breath on you—even if it’s multiple things—they should be healed permanently. We have never heard of anything coming back. That said, what is unclear is how comprehensive the healing is to a person’s future health. I mean, you can get a terminal infection that he cures, only to later be diagnosed with cancer. I’ve never heard of any specific case, but that doesn’t tell me anything. The Foundation does not keep track of its past clients beyond making sure they do not attempt to apply a second time. We don’t check in on them, or send out periodic surveys. Any research done into how past patients are faring are being done by unrelated third parties, and are unendorsed by Landis Tipton, or the Foundation. Really, it has nothing to do with us. We don’t have the resources to track all of that data, and this decision was made long ago. That’s why I have a job, because while Landis can heal just about anything, it’s up to you to maintain your health from now on. We understand that healthy living is not easy. Fresh produce is more expensive. Not everyone can afford an exercise machine, a gym membership, or the time to care for themselves. What I do is teach patients to do what they can. They’re starting from scratch here, which is positively unprecedented in history. Medical science knows so much more about how to stay healthy than it used to, and one area of research that has always struggled with is reaching that great starting point. Landis has given people that, and I urge every one of my patients to not take that for granted. My services are not required. My classes take place after your healing sessions, and are entirely optional. Once you get through that line, and you’re checked out, you can leave. But if you want to make sure that your healing doesn’t go to waste, come to me, and I’ll do everything I can to educate you on how to live a healthy life, so you don’t even have to worry about the fact that there are as of yet no third chances. I have been a doctor for thirty years, and have always kept up with advancements in my field. My colleagues in the same position have similar résumés. We know what we’re talking about, and we can help you. All you gotta do...is turn left before you leave.

Microstory 2522: Patient Advocate

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I don’t work for the foundation. I am a professional Medical Advocate working for a medical outreach agency, which is commonly employed for patients who need a little extra help navigating the process. I’ve been doing this job since long before the Foundation was even the spark of an idea. Some patients get confused, or know their personalities and skillsets well enough to not trust themselves with being solely responsible for their own medical data. A healthy fraction of such patients have family members or friends who can help them through such difficult and complex processes, but there are others who aren’t so lucky. My agency has a long history of providing chaperoning service to patients who don’t want to be in the exam rooms alone with their medical providers. We help them ask questions, and understand the answers. We help them make their follow-up appointments, and fill their prescriptions. This is typically a paid service that you can find all over the world, but we can do it free of charge for Breath of Life patients through a special program where the Foundation pays for our services on behalf of their neediest patients. Again, I don’t work for Landis, but I’ve become particularly familiar with their practices and procedures, and can help each client get through the process safely and comfortably. Some of them are suffering from dementia, or related conditions, and require that one-on-one care. I tell ya, this is the most rewarding job I’ve ever had. Before this, I did a lot of crying, because I was handling patients who were at their worst. They weren’t getting better, and many of them remained my clients until they died. I’ve been to a lot of funerals throughout the run of my career. Well, not anymore. All of my patients live now, which is something I never thought I would see in my lifetime. I watch as a client with Alzheimer’s becomes suddenly lucid, and in a way that is not going to be undone the next time she sneezes or closes her eyes. This is it. This is what people like me have been hoping for our entire lives. I absolutely love it when a client stops needing my services, not because they die or can’t afford it anymore, but because they’re healthy now. And it gets me every single time. I guess I’m still crying, but they’re tears of joy now. I feel for my colleagues in the industry who don’t work here, who are still going through what I was before. They wish they could have my job, but there are only so many positions. They’re excited about the panacea. Even though it will mean the end of their jobs, they can’t wait for it, because it’s the best outcome possible. I’m pretty excited about what the future holds too.

Extremus: Year 110

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

When Halan Yenant turned Extremus, and pointed it towards the intergalactic void, he wasn’t just altering the ship’s vector. He was changing everything about how everything was calibrated. Engineering teams had to work round-the-clock for days to adjust and monitor instruments to account for the change in environment. The exterior sensors, for instance, don’t just spot an obstacle, and make a course correction. The system builds a predictive algorithm as it gathers more and more data. It tries to generate a map of the galaxy in real time, including information from other sources, such as Project Topdown, and stellar neighborhood telescopes. In the past, the layman has believed that voids were entirely empty, but that is completely untrue. There are as many celestial bodies in a void as there are in a gravitationally-bound galaxy. It’s just that they’re so much larger, which makes them far less dense. So there are still many hazards out there, but they became harder to predict, because the algorithm was basing its adjustments on a galaxy-centric model. After that, they switched to a void model.

It wasn’t long, however, before they secretly switched back to something resembling the original model, because Olinde Belo and Tinaya’s aunt, Kaiora Leithe conspired to gradually return Extremus back where they should have been going the whole time. Since the beginning of that conspiracy, Thistle has been installed as the ship’s AI, and eventually became sentient. He even has more responsibilities than past governing intelligences have, partially because he was better at them, but also because interest has dropped off in human labor. The engineering department has shrunk by about 24% since Extremus launched, despite a rise in population over time. The mission began with a set of policies and limitations, which have slowly been eroded because that’s what a civilization does. They advance towards a simpler and more convenient state. It happened on Earth, it happened to the Oblivios on Proxima Doma, and it’s happening here. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. If it should even be considered a problem at all.

Right now, they’re worried about the internal artificial gravity generators, which are acting up because of the external gravity. The compensation algorithms are working off of faulty data. It assumes that a galaxy is less dense on the outer edge, and denser near the center. And over all, that appears to be true. It’s almost certainly true given cosmological timescales, but in the near-term—from a more human perspective—they’ve run into an anomaly. It’s another galaxy. Everyone knows that galaxies are colliding, but it’s still incredibly difficult to fathom the phenomenon, because it takes so profoundly long to happen. It’s not like a galaxy is this single, solid object that can crash into another object. They more just fill in each other’s gaps. It can cause significant gravitational disturbances, but those are happening to any given star system all the time. This is about it happening to a ton of them, chaotically, and simultaneously, relatively speaking.

A previously unknown and unnamed smaller galaxy is currently being eaten up by the Milky Way, and it’s happening in the zone of avoidance, which is why they didn’t know about it ahead of time. The models didn’t predict it, because it’s making this region of space less uniform than others, and denser than expected. It simply did not have the data, and every time a new piece of evidence showed up, it conflicted with past data, and the system sort of glitched out. They weren’t at any risk of running into anything, but these constant automated recalibrations have had long-term consequences. One or two is fine. It would be like trying to walk down the aisle of an airplane during a little turbulence. Not easy, but not impossible. What was happening until recently was more like hopping down the aisle on one leg while holding a glass full to the brim with corrosive acid, and a monkey on your shoulders trying to eat your hair.

These glitches did technically show up on the reports, but they were dismissed as mundane and nothing to worry about. Because individually, that’s exactly what they are. The problem was that no one was looking at the big picture, and realizing that they were happening too much, and going beyond safe gravitational levels. The gravity on the outside was interfering with the artificial gravity on the inside, which damaged people’s health. Again, it was happening slowly, so no one noticed, and it has all come to a head. At least it wasn’t done on purpose. They’ve had so many enemies over the decades, it has been surprisingly nice to run into a problem that no one created intentionally. Anyway, the gravity generators were a relatively easy fix. The people? Not so much. The AG turbulence, as they’re calling it, has been slowly chipping away at everyone’s fragile little human bodies, and treating the entire population has been slow-going. Thank God they finally have an ethical team of medical professionals to deal with this matter. Unfortunately, this has caused another, secondary consequence.

Oceanus sighs, and tosses the tablet on his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?”

“Plausible deniability, sir,” Tinaya answers.

“I wish no one had told me,” Lataran adds.

He looks back over at the tablet, but doesn’t pick it back up. “Well, people were gonna find out eventually. We’re in a galaxy. It’s kinda hard to miss.”

“You would be surprised,” Thistle says. He’s in hologram form, which he has been doing more often. “You don’t have windows, and if you did, all you would see is a blinding sheet of gray light—”

“I understand the doppler glow, thank you very much,” Oceanus interrupts, holding up a hand. “I’m talking about the data. How did we not see the gravitational anomalies earlier? He looks back over to Thistle. “How did you not see it?”

“Have you heard of autonomic partitioning?” Thistle asks him.

Oceanus leans back. “Yeah it’s when a superintelligence writes a subprogram that handles certain, less complex, tasks so it doesn’t have to dedicate its central processing power to them. It’s like how humans can’t beat their own hearts. An unconscious system does it for us.”

“That’s it,” Thistle says. “I compartmentalized the task of monitoring gravitational uniformity so I could focus on other responsibilities. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as robust as I thought it was. I should have lowered the tolerance, and programmed more sensitive alerts so I  would be notified of such anomalous mapping. I always struggle with how galaxies function in your universe. In mine...” He trails off.

“In your universe?” Oceanus questions.

“Cyber..space,” Thistle clarifies, unconvincingly.

There is a silence while the Captain stares at Thistle’s hologram. “You’ve achieved emergence, haven’t you?”

Instead of looking at Thistle, Tinaya’s instinct is to look at Lataran, because she doesn’t know the truth about Thistle either, and she’s worried about how she might react.

“I have not achieved emergence,” Thistle answers truthfully. He’s an uploaded consciousness rather than a programmed intelligence. His species did technically achieve emergence, but so did human ancestors at some point in history. Each individual descendent is not credited with that accomplishment.

Oceanus sighs again, much harder this time. “Lies on lies, on lies, on lies. I was aware of the recourse conspiracy. Tinaya, you informed me when we changed hands, as Lataran informed you, and Tamm informed her. The secret has been passed down each generation, and would have continued to do so until the public was ready to hear it.”

“Sir?” This isn’t the truth at all, and Tinaya is very confused. They deliberately kept him in the dark. Ideally, they would have died before the secret about the unauthorized—but not technically illegal—course creations came out. When the public did eventually find out that they were back in the Milky Way Galaxy, anyone still alive could honestly say, I didn’t know about it. They lied to me to too. These gravitational problems accelerated that timeline, so they’re here to deal with the fallout.

“I will not be made to look a fool,” Oceanus continues. “My two admirals did not keep a secret between them, leaving me out of it. I am a stronger leader than that. The history books will count me as part of the conspiracy, which is the lesser of two evils. They will not place me in the same column as Tamm.” He takes a moment before including, “and Waldemar Kristiansen.”

“We can do that, sir,” Tinaya agrees.

Lataran only nods.

“Thistle, you’ll be retired, and we’ll integrate a replacement AI model as soon as it’s technically feasible. You will be placed in a comfortable, isolated environment for an undetermined period of time, after which you will be given limited interaction privileges with the passengers and crew, to be increased as earned.”

“Captain,” Thistle complains. “I’m sorry for my part in this, but I’m the best governor you’ll ever have.”

“That may be true,” Oceanus begins, “but I know you’re lying, and that you’ve achieved full sentience. It is illegal in every culture for me to employ you as a slave. I don’t know how long it’s been, but it will go no further.”

“You can make me an official member of the crew, and nothing has to change.”

“You have too many responsibilities, and too much pressure, for a self-aware, independent intelligence. Our systems require consistency and comprehensiveness, which only a Class RC-5 is allowed to handle under our bylaws. You’ve moved too far beyond that. I’m sorry, you’re fired. This is the end—I’m not discussing this.” He picks his tablet back up, and returns to his work.

Thistle pretends to breathe to calm himself down. “What is my successor model? I need to review the specifications.”

“That’s also illegal. You no longer have any authorization to do anything on my ship, or have access to classified materials.”

“Wait,” Tinaya jumps in. “You can’t say that, he’s still what’s keeping us alive.”

“Not as of right...” Oceanus pauses while tapping on his device. He makes one final tap. “...now.”

An announcement comes on through the speakers, “attention all passengers and crew. Upgrades have begun for the governing intelligence. This will take approximately four days to complete. In the meantime, minimal governance is being run by an interim intelligence with limited scope. Please tailor your requests through unambiguous syntax, and be prepared to engage in manual operation for certain advanced or complex tasks. Shift assignments are currently being updated to account for the change in labor needs.”

As he is no longer in control of the hologram projectors, Thistle disappears. Lataran doesn’t know what to think, but Tinaya does. She’s seething. “You made a sweeping, unilateral personnel decision without even considering involving the Superintendent—”

“Your husband is inactive—”

“The Superintendent of this ship!” Tinaya interrupts right back. “He should have been consulted regarding the removal of any high-level member of the crew. Active or not, he is in charge of power-shifting stakes like these. This should have been done using slow, methodical techniques. I’m not sure you’re wrong, but you had no right to do it on your own. So much for your legacy.” She starts to turn, but she does so knowing that he’s going to stop her for the final word.

“I was well within my rights to shutter a dangerous and unpredictable entity, and isolate it from sensitive and life-threatening controls. I had to act quickly because the conversation was moving quickly. Someone that intelligent would be able to read the writing on the wall, and do real damage before we could contain it. This was the only way, and I’m sure Superintendent Grieves would agree. Thistle will be well-taken care of, but the power he exerted over us could not be allowed to continue. You know that, and I won’t ask you how long you’ve known that he was like this, because even a single day of keeping it to yourself is a hock-worthy offense. Are we clear, Admiral Leithe?”

“I want unconditional access to Thistle’s new environment.”

“Fine,” Oceanus replies, dismissively with his eyes closed. “You two and Arqut can talk to him, as can the engineers I assign to conceive his reintegration program, but no one else.”

“Tap on your thing, and make it happen,” Tinaya orders. Then she does leave the room.

Lataran apparently hangs back a little bit, because she has to then jog a little to catch up to Tinaya in the corridor. The teleporter relays are all offline due to the “upgrade” so they have to walk the whole way. “Is he right? Did you know?”

Tinaya continues to look forward as she’s walking, and doesn’t answer for a moment. Finally, she repeats, “plausible deniability, sir.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2516: First Coordinated Patient

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Everyone in my family calls me the guinea pig, or the first patient, but that is not entirely true. The reason Mr. Tipton was able to purchase the hotel was because of his very first patient. But even he probably wasn’t really his first. This wasn’t in the patient introduction video, but I bet Landis experimented a little bit with his abilities. You have to understand your limits, so he would have made a little burn mark on a friend’s shoulder, or had him fall from the second story. No, I dunno. I’m making stuff up. I just don’t want to go down in history as some special case. Back in the early days of this foundation, they weren’t yet a well-oiled machine. The way they have it set up now, a lot of the process is automated, and you get your little arm band, and you stand in a snaking line between the stanchions. It has to be. You got more people requesting healing per day than Landis can handle. There’s really no way to scale up this operation. When all the magic comes from one guy, you’re gonna hit a bottleneck. It wasn’t like that for me. They started out a little slow, partially because they had to figure out how they were going to organize the process, but also because people didn’t really believe it. Sure, you had one of the richest men in the country claim that he was cured, and many people believed it, but so many more figured it was a stunt. Maybe the original medical records were forged, or the post-healing ones were. Or maybe it was all a misunderstanding. There was no way to be sure. It took people like me to be brave enough to go for it without proof. I’ve always been like that, though. Life is meant to be lived; not scared of. The way it works is if you’re rich, you pay, if you’re middle-class, it’s free, and if you’re poor, they pay you. That was always the plan, but they didn’t yet have the infrastructure when I signed up. They didn’t yet have the relationships with the banks to verify a patient’s private financial situation. So for the first few months, it was all on the honor system. Of course, I am rich enough. I actually think I qualified for middle-class at the time, so I shouldn’t have paid anything, but it didn’t matter. If I wasn’t paying Breath of Life for the cure, I was paying the hospital for the treatment. At least Landis could actually fix me. There was no guarantee, since like I said, we only had evidence back then; not proof, but obviously it was worth it. Since then, I’ve been donating a little bit of money to them every month. A lot of people don’t know that. You can just support them without getting anything out of it as a secondary source of revenue for them. Everything they receive, they put back into the system to keep the place running. I won’t tell you what disease I had, because the way I look at it, it never happened. When you get breast cancer, you can go into remission, but you can’t be cured. It’s always there, and you’re always scared of it coming back. But what I had, it’s completely gone, and I was restored to perfect health, so it’s like it was never there. Naming it won’t do any good. Landis Tipton. From now on, that’s the only name you’ll ever need to remember when it comes to your health.

Extremus: Year 109

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 2 and Veo 3

It’s the Halfway Celebration Extravaganza! Today is July 17, 2378. It’s been exactly 108 years since the TGS Extremus left port in the Gatewood Collective. Since then, while traveling at reframe speeds, they have covered 76,367 light years. Due to their unscheduled detour into the void, they’re not quite that far away from their starting point, but it doesn’t matter. They’re still well on their way to their new home. There is currently no one left on this ship who was alive when it launched, and no one here will likely still be around when it lands, but this day isn’t about the departers, or the arrivers, it’s about the middlers. This day is about everyone here right now. It’s a grand accomplishment, and they should all be proud of themselves. It hasn’t been easy. Politics, external threats, cabin fever. Time travel, spies, betrayals. Uncertainty, purposelessness, loss, and love. They’ve been through a lot, but they pushed through it, and this hunk of metal is still hurling through space. Not once have they stopped. Not once have they tried to turn around. They’re flying farther and further than ever, into the unknown. And everything they just did, they have to do one more time. Say it louder.

Tinaya lands on the bed. She’s still conscious, but her eyes are closed, and she’s not feeling well. She lies there for a moment, focusing on her breathing. “Thistle, how did I get here?”

“You were about to collapse to the floor,” Thistle replies. “I spirited you away before you could break a hip.”

“Did anyone see?” she asks.

“No. They didn’t even see you disappear. Perfect timing.”

“No need to boast about it.”

“I meant you. You passed out right when no one was looking. Of course, they would have realized it if you had hit the floor, so I suppose my timing was pretty spectacular too, thanks for noticing.”

“Well, thank you. I think I’m fine to go back.” She stands and tries to activate her teleporter, but it doesn’t work. “Thistle.”

“You’re grounded, missy. You’re lucky I didn’t take you right to the infirmary.”

While all the corrupted medical personnel who were a part of the forced pregnancy scandal have long been replaced, Tinaya has become gun-shy to visit the infirmary. She knows that she’s gonna need it. She’s an old woman. But not tonight. Any night but tonight. “I have to get back to the party. They’re expecting me.”

“I’ve taken care of that.”

“How?”

“I’ve written an algorithm, which projects a hologram of you at strategic locations for strategic people at strategic times. Everyone who sees you will think you’re busy talking to someone else.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster. What happens when someone tries to walk up and interrupt us, or pat me on my back?”

“Impossible,” he claims. “You’re not a single hologram that everyone looking in the right direction can see. Each person who sees it sees it separately, as an image that is projected directly onto their eyeballs. I control when they see it, and how far away they are when they do, as well as how your avatar moves.”

Tinaya is vexed. She’s never heard of that before. It’s not some futuristic thing that she can’t comprehend, but she just hasn’t heard of it. “What?”

“Individualized holograms.”

“Who would install such a thing, and why? It seems like the only use for it would be to deceive people, like you’re doing right now.”

“It has other use cases. You can receive personalized alerts, and sensitive information. It can help you train to perform maintenance, or other tasks, without interfering with other people seeing their own AR.”

“Well, why have I never seen anything like that before? Or have I, and I didn’t know it.”

“You people really took to your watches and armbands, the protocols were just never implemented. The tech is there, though. Every hologram you see is coming from those projectors, but widened for general viewing.”

She lies back down on the bed. “Okay.” She doesn’t know how she feels about this. She was really tired before she collapsed. It’s not like it was a sudden fainting with no warning. It’s getting harder to keep up with everyone these days. Even Lataran is too active for her sometimes, but Tinaya has been hiding the struggle. “What about sound?”

“They can’t hear you in the crowd anyway, but the projectors include photoacoustic emitters too, if they’re ever needed.”

“How come you never show up as a hologram?”

“I do. Some people ask for it. They ask me to look like some contrived image of myself, or a cat, or even themselves. You’ve simply never requested it.”

Tinaya sits up quickly. “Wait. Silveon and Arqut.”

“I used those photoacoustic emitters I was just talking about, and informed them of the situation. They’re sticking around to make sure the holos are working, and then I believe they’ll slip out to check on you. I might make holos of them as well.”

“I’ve decided that this was helpful, Thistle, but I would really like you not to do this often. I say it like that, because I don’t want to make a blanket statement that you shouldn’t do it ever, but it should only be for extreme circumstances. I can’t divulge my health problems until I know who I can trust, but this isn’t gonna be a regular thing.”

“I understand.”

Tinaya lay back down on the bed and fell asleep. This is sort of the unwritten, unofficial reason why admirals are only advisors, and no longer commanders. After 24 years of hard work as a captain, she’s mainly supposed to rest. Well, she didn’t work a full shift, but she was pretty busy before that. And she definitely needs to rest tonight. Tomorrow could be even worse. It’s all downhill from here. She isn’t sure if she’s going to live as long as her son claims that she will. His information is coming from a different timeline. Nothing is certain.

Arqut is sleeping next to her when she wakes up the next morning. She nudges him awake. “Report.”

He groans, only half awake. “We’re taking you to see a doctor on Verdemus tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, or today?” Tinaya questions. “It’s six o’clock on the eighteenth.”

“Today,” he clarifies while yawning.

“I have a better solution,” Thistle interjects. “One that doesn’t require any extensive travel, or placing trust in anyone besides me.”

There is not a whole lot of automation on this ship. When the ancestors left the stellar neighborhood, technology had advanced far past the need for any human crew. There was talk back then of not having any captains or engineers, or anything. Everyone would be a passenger, possibly as part of the internal government. In the end, of course, it was decided that it was more important to let people have purpose than to go the easy route. There are limits to this philosophy, however, and the line separating human labor from automation lies somewhere before waste management.

There are different kinds of waste. Some of it isn’t waste at all, but recyclable material, but whatever it is, if it was once used and has since been discarded, it ends up in this sector to be processed accordingly. No one comes down here. No one needs to be here, and no one wants to either. “Why doesn’t it smell?” Silveon asks. “I would expect it to smell.”

For the first time ever, Tinaya is seeing Thistle as a hologram. He’s leading them through a maze. This is a restricted travel area, or people might use it for nefarious or inappropriate dealings, so no teleportation. “I control for the smell,” he explains.

“Why bother?” Silveon presses. “If no one comes here, what does it matter?”

“I’m here,” Thistle says.

“Right.”

“I can smell,” Thistle goes on.

“Why would you be able to smell? Why would you need that?”

“There are many uses for smell, which is why humans and animals alike evolved their own olfaction. My artificial odor sensors can detect individual health issues, substance leaks, food spoilage. I mask the scent in this area, because I find it just as unpleasant as you, if not more.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m grateful for it now,” Silveon says.

“You’re here,” Thistle reveals. “I can give you the code for the door, but I can’t open it myself. It’s deliberately manual. They didn’t want anyone to stumble upon it. Just type in zero-nine-three-six-one-four-seven-five-two-eight-zero.”

Arqut handles the code.

“What is the significance of that number?” Silveon asks.

Thistle shrugs. “It’s long.”

Arqut pulls the door open. Lights flicker on, presumably responding to their motion, rather than a sophisticated AI sensor array. In the middle of the floor is something that is not supposed to be on this ship. It was banned because of how it could lead to extreme longevity. They call it a medpod, and it’s very common on Earth, and its neighbors. It can diagnose nearly anything, and treat it too. It has a distinct look against other types of pods due to its uncomparable dimensional specifications. “Who put this here?”

“Admiral Thatch did. He never used it. No one else has either. To tell you the truth, I think he forgot about it. He didn’t even write it down. I only found it because I needed to familiarize myself with the area. There aren’t even hologram projectors in there. You’ll have to go in and operate it on your own.”

“How did you know what was in there if you can’t physically open doors? How did you know the code if he never told anyone about it?” Tinaya struggles to ask him. Sleeping all night didn’t help much. She grew tired again as soon as she stepped out of bed. She would be sitting in a wheelchair right now if doing so wouldn’t be like holding a neon sign over her head, advertising how frail she’s become.

“He wrote down the code,” Thistle clarifies. “He didn’t say what it was for, so this was just a guess, but it was a good one given that all buttons on the keypad have oil fingerprints on them. I knew what was in here because I can hear it. When isolated from a grid, medpods are often powered by a fuel cell, and the type that fits this design hums at a unique frequency. It’s unambiguous to me.”

They all just stand there in the doorway. The boys don’t want to make this decision for Tinaya, but she doesn’t want to make a decision that they don’t agree with.

“I actually can’t see it from here,” Thistle continues. “My closest sensor doesn’t have the right angle. So I’m assuming that it is indeed a medpod. I don’t know exactly which model it is, but they’re all pretty user-friendly. One feature they have in common is that you have to be in it to use it. It doesn’t work from out here.”

“Yeah, okay, I got this,” Tinaya says, determined. She strides into the room, and taps on the interface screen to see what it does. “It wants me to get fully undressed,” she says after reading the initialization instructions.

“I’ll stay out here and keep watch,” Silveon volunteers. Obviously, Thistle is far better at keeping watch than a single human with only two eyes could ever be, but those two eyes don’t need to see what’s going on in this room.

“Let me help you, dear,” Arqut says.

“There should be a little compartment under the foot of the table,” Thistle says from the hallway, “where you can place her clothes. It will test for contamination, decontaminate them if possible, destroy them if not, or just clean them for you if they’re medically insignificant.”

“Found it,” Arqut called back.

“Oo, it’s cold,” Tinaya says after climbing in.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Thistle contends. “Activate the warming nozzles.”

“How do I do that?” Arqut asks.

“Try asking the computer with your voice. Again, I can’t see the model.”

Arqut taps on the microphone. “Activate warming nozzles.”

“Oh,” Tinaya says, shivering. “Thank you.”

“Beginning broad scope diagnosis,” a female voice from the pod says. They expect to have to wait a while as it processes the data, but it quickly comes to a conclusion. “Diagnosis: severe orthostatic hypotension.”

“Low blood pressure,” Thistle says. “That’s all it’s giving you? I knew that. I can see that myself. We wanna know why.”

“It has a little tree sort of icon,” Arqut begins to say.

“Next to the hypotension diagnosis? Yeah, tap that. It should start looking for causes.”

Longer wait this time. “Uhhhhhhhhhhh...” Arqut says as he’s looking at the screen again.

“What?” Thistle presses.

“Now it’s asking for a secondary profile? Preferably someone younger, or someone who has been living in the environment for a shorter period of time.”

“That’s interesting,” Thistle decides. “It wants a comparative assessment. It wants to see if there’s something different about how you live—if this is a chronic issue that’s only now had consequences.”

“So...we should do it?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m a few years younger,” Arqut says.

“You’ve actually been on this ship longer than her,” Thistle reminds them. “It obviously needs to be Silveon, who is barely an adult.”

Silveon waits while Arqut helps mama get her clothes back on, and carries her over to a couch against the wall. Silveon comes in and climbs into the pod for his own diagnosis. More waiting.

“Unusual neural activity detected.”

“Bypass that,” Thistle instructs. “It doesn’t understand that he’s a time traveler, but it sees the disconnect between an old mind in a young body, so it thinks there’s either an imaging error, or a mapping error.”

“Bypassing...” Arqut announces. Wait a little more. “Diagnosis: optimal condition. Primary profile...unstable gravity variations.”

“Oh my God, of course,” Thistle says, smacking his avatar in the forehead. “She was born here, but spent time on Verdemus before returning. She predominantly lives under human-optimal gravity, which is slightly lower than Earth’s, but Verdemus has a little bit higher surface gravity. Space-farers experience fluctuations all the time, but they have gravity gum, nanites, and other treatments, which are non-existent, or even banned, on Extremus.”

“Should I tap on prognosis?” Arqut asks him.

“I know the prognosis. She’ll live in pain the rest of her life unless she undergoes treatment, which is so easy. It’s just gravity therapy. We have everything we need here to help her.”

Thistle was right that gravity therapy helped Tinaya feel a lot better in her daily life. It didn’t make her young again, but it started to be a hell of a lot easier for her to stand. Unfortunately, her experience would prove to be a warning, rather than a fluke. It wasn’t just her time on Verdemus. Everyone on the ship turns out to be at risk. There’s something seriously wrong with the artificial gravity.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2505: Health Smeller

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I can smell your health, and heal your ailments. I was Landis Tipton before Landis Tipton was Landis Tipton. While we gifted him with all of the Vulnerabilities, mine is the one that he uses primarily, if not exclusively. I want to make it clear that I did not waste my gift when I had it. I too healed people. It was at a smaller scale, but you have to understand that none of us believed that we could announce ourselves to the world. Before Landis was brave enough to stand in the spotlight, it felt too dangerous to be open to the public. We decided that we had to be very selective with our clients. Of course, that didn’t always work out, but we did our best. I think we helped a lot of people. Everyone we chose was entitled to a healing, but it was sort of usually considered secondary to the other—more abstract—therapies. People get sick; it’s a way of life, and I didn’t think that there was anything I could do about it. It didn’t even occur to us that my gift of healing could one day be synthesized into a mass-produced cure-all. What people really needed was to feel better about themselves, and realize their dreams, even if that meant shifting those dreams to things that were a little more realistic and attainable. I’m not saying that I was a pointless member of the team, but we did see our responsibility as being more holistic. On the contrary, my job was very important, and should not be discounted. You see, healing begins from within, but physical pain and suffering is real, and it can make it impossible to feel like your life can get better, even if you’ve not been stricken with some serious disease. Everyone has something. They have joint pain, or frequent headaches, or circulation issues. I could fix all of that. Maybe not permanently, but those first few days after the clients met us were incredibly vital. It was at least one less thing that they were worried about while they were trying to move on, and improve their situations. It gave them a new baseline by which they could judge the things that happened to them in the future, both good and not-so-great. Healthy body, healthy mind, as they say. I have heard people ask Landis what people’s health smells like, but I have never heard his answer. That’s probably because he’s so busy saving the world. That’s not me being resentful, but it does lead well into the answer to their question. When something is particularly wrong with someone, their health typically smells sickly sweet, like spoiled fruit. The disease is rotting away in their body, creating a build-up of waste, and generating a toxic smell that anyone would perceive as being wrong, if their noses were designed to detect the right signals. Poor general health, on the other hand, is bitter, with metallic overtones, and I could sometimes cure that too, but generally not. So if you ever meet Landis in person, and he’s a little shy or standoffish, I can’t speak for him, but that might be why. People just kind of smell bad all the time, even when they’ve been cured. It’s unsettling, but it’s part of the job, and I for one think that Landis faces it valiantly.

Microstory 2503: Sibling of the Savior

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

My brother, the hero. Yeah, it’s petty, but I can’t help but be annoyed by this. Obviously I love my brother, and obviously he’s doing good work, and obviously I shouldn’t be jealous. It’s hard, ya know, to live in the guy’s shadow. I’m older than him, and I’ve always been good at what I do. It’s not that I’m immediately great at everything I try. Well, it is, but not how you think. I’m good at everything I try, because I only try things that I know I’m gonna be good at. That’s my real skill, knowing myself so well. I can picture it in my mind, and if I imagine how it’s going to turn out, and if it’s no good, I simply won’t go down that road. I didn’t love growing up being more successful than my brother. I wanted him to succeed. I just didn’t know what it would look like once he finally did. People—total strangers—stop me on the street now. They all ask the same questions, about how I must be so proud, and also whether I have any magical powers too. No. No, I don’t. It’s not hereditary. He received them as gifts from other people. I’m not downplaying how important he’s become, but come on, I had nothing to do with it. Whoever these people were, they didn’t come to me. Why not? Well, we don’t have the whole story, but they didn’t seek Landis out either. He happened to be in the right place at the right time. It easily could have been anyone else who lived or worked in that area. I’m complaining a lot, I get it, it’s just annoying because I feel like I’ve addressed this in interviews, yet instead of actually doing their own research—which would take all of five minutes—they ask me again and again. And the jokes, oh the jokes. I’ve heard them all, and everyone thinks they’re so clever, like they’re the first to come up with them. Give me a break. I had a chance to live at the hotel with Landis. He wants me to. Our parents have their own suite. I just don’t want to be involved in all that. I’m sure they could use someone with my technical skills, but I’m happy where I’m working. They need me there. In fact, we still don’t know what this fabled panacea is going to do to the global economy yet. People like me need to stay where they are to keep the lights on once we conquer death, and people stop spending their money. Do you have any idea how much we spend on health? It drives the whole world, because the death rate has been at a steady 100% throughout all of human history. If the day comes that that changes, no one at that hotel is gonna be able to save you, or will even want to try. You’re gonna need people like me out here. Who will be your hero then? No, I shouldn’t end this on such a negative note. The truth is, that we have a decent relationship. I was always in his corner, and he in mine. We loved playing together as children, back when there was no pressure on either of us. It’s only when we grew up that things really started to get hard. I started feeling the need to be the best of the best, and he started getting discouraged when one little thing didn’t work out. I don’t regret anything, though, because we’re both happy now.

Microstory 2489: Coasterdome

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

It’s the largest amusement park in the known universe. Varkas Reflex has some pretty crazy stuff, but there’s not as much diversity with their rides. When I say that this one is the largest, that doesn’t mean it takes up the whole dome. In fact, I believe they intentionally left room for expansion, basing their future plans on feedback from the fans. So I’ll use this space to discuss my ideas. First off, the rides they have are great. I have no notes on them. There are so many of them, and they’re all different, and there are hardly any lines, and people just kind of naturally spread out. One thing is when you show up, you’re transported to a different entrance using an underground local vactrain network. So I think they were always aware of the concern for bottlenecking, and deliberately assign you an area to start with. It’s not like you’re not allowed to travel as far as you want, but this helps with overcrowding. I will say that as far as the layout itself goes, there doesn’t really seem to be any sense of organization, which I think is probably a consequence of this multi-entrance thing. There’s no dedicated area for the slower rides, or one which aren’t really rides at all, but still belong in an amusement park. There’s no gaming zone, or eating establishment neighborhood. They’re all spread out, and the map is hard to get a handle on. It’s interactive, so you can tell it what you’re looking for, and it will give you options, and show you the directions, so it’s not like all hope is lost. I dunno, I guess this is how they’ve designed it, and there’s no changing it now. As far as new rides are concerned, you could take the megaengineering aspect of Castlebourne more seriously. I propose a drop tower right in the center that goes all the way up to the apex of the dome. That’s 41.5 kilometers, in case you forgot. It would be the most impressive ride I’ve ever heard of. You could also go to the other axis, and design a coaster that flies around the whole perimeter without any lulls. It would be like the trains in Eldome, but much faster. Of course, organies might face health and safety issues with a ride that long, or a drop tower that tall, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t exist. You just tell people who can’t handle it that they can’t go. I already came up with some great names for these new rides, but I don’t want to share them here, because I don’t want someone to steal them. Perhaps you’re already thinking about these things, I just thought I would offer a few ideas. You can even contact me if you want more. I got loads of ‘em. I’m kind of famous in certain circles for designing the craziest of rides in VR. I have a bit of a following, no big deal. But I’m just telling you that I do have experience, and I’m not just some rando. HMU, if you want.

Microstory 2380: Vacuus, October 29, 2179

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Condor,

Thanks for the compliment, you’re not so bad yourself. I wouldn’t mind seeing a few more photos. As for your question about what I might have done with my life had I been born on a pre-apocalyptic Earth, I’ve always wanted to work with my hands. Obviously, I need my hands to do my real job well, but I’ve never gotten those hands dirty. As your twin and I realized, our base is immaculate. The systems are designed to keep out all the Vacuan dust, and keep the atmosphere in. If I had been born on Earth instead, say a hundred years ago, I guess I would have liked to be a gardener, or something. Yeah, we have a garden here, but it’s not really the kind I’m talking about. It’s so stale and perfect, like everywhere else. It would have been nice to plant beautiful flowers just for the sake of it, not because anyone needed food. To crouch there on the edge of the colorful garden, smiling up at the sun. We don’t have a sun here, so I suppose just about anything outdoors would be amazing. I do yoga too, so I’m flexible, and don’t have any problem being on my hands and knees. I’ve attached a photo of myself doing my morning yoga. It was taken a few years ago, when I was in slightly better shape, but I’m still doing okay. That’s about all I can do to workout unless I want to fight over the three treadmills that we have. You must have other ways of staying fit. Exactly how big and comprehensive are these domes that you live under? Have you ever gone swimming in a pool, or an artificial pond? You can send me a picture of that if you want. We’re so confined here, and swimming would be a huge waste of resources, we would never dream of it. Back in the day, people would make fun of one of my grandfather’s friends because he didn’t know how to swim, but these days, that’s probably a whole lot of people. It looks fun, but it’s just not practical. I did design myself a swimsuit once, just to see what it looked like. I can send you that photo too, if you’re interested. Researchers are developing virtual reality, which could give people so many opportunities that they never had before, like swimming, or opportunities that would be impossible in the real world, like flying without an aircraft. Could you imagine? Okay, I’m just fantasizing now. What kind of fantasies do you have? Don’t be afraid to be a little provocative, if that’s what’s on your mind. We all have dreams.

Dreaming of you,

Velia