Microstory 2467: Tagdome

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This is a funny one. It’s several giant games of tag, each one made up of a lot of other subdivisions of tag. You can come in here with just about any substrate you want, but you’ll be grouped according to strength and speed. We can’t have superstrong mechs barreling through normal organics, now can we? There aren’t too many of what they generally call weight classes, but you stay in your respective sectors, and don’t interact with the others. But you do interact with everyone else in your sector. That sector is further divided into regions, zones, districts, territories, and neighborhoods. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they decide where you’re assigned beyond the weight class for fairness. But whatever it is, the divisions are based upon the modern standardized Dunbar grouping system. Your neighborhood will have 21 people total, which is a fairly normal and manageable number of contestants to contend with. You will ultimately compete with other neighborhoods. Seven neighborhoods makes a territory of 147 people. There are three territories in a district of 441 people, then four districts in each zone of 1,764, and four zones in each region of 7,056 players. Finally, there are seven regions in the whole sector. Sorry if that was confusing, but this game is confusing, by its nature. The best players are the ones who can figure it out. How about gameplay? You play a simple game of tag in your neighborhood for some period of time, based on your sector’s weight class. Higher classes theoretically have more stamina, and can go for longer. Don’t worry about those. Only consider your own. We’ll use the example of a normal organic human sector, which is only expected to play for half an hour. As you play against each other, your points start racking up. The longer you avoid becoming a Pursuer, the more points you end up with, and the longer you are the Pursuer, the more points you lose. At the end of your neighborhood’s allotted time, your points will be tallied up. It’s entirely possible that the entire game only ever had one Pursuer who never managed to catch anybody. That’s okay. They’re always watching you. Some people got closer to being caught than others. There will be leaders on the leaderboard, who will move on to compete at the territory level. The top seven will represent their neighborhood in a game of 49 players and begin to run as a team. Things start getting more complicated here as you can work together to build enough points to open gates to other territories. If you invade them, you can get in on their game as an opposing force, and start taking away their points while making some more of your own. The games get progressively more complicated, with more intricate environments, obstacles, and even vehicles like bikes and cars. Everyone wears special clothing, which color-coordinates the teams and alliances in realtime, but it’s not uncommon to get lost and confused. That’s part of the game, and your intelligence is factored into those weight classes I was telling you about. I know this was less of a review, and more of an overview, but I don’t really want to give you my opinion. I want you to see it for yourself. If you’re not much of a runner, or you don’t feel ready for the competition, there is a spectator component, so you can just check it out to get a better sense of what I’ve been talking about.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 7, 2489

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The Vellani Ambassador did not return to Castlebourne until the evening of July 6, 2488. Before the new crew could use it outside of training purposes, Ramses had to get into the slingdrive, and find out why the navigation system was still off. There was something he was missing, and he now believed he understood what it was. “It’s us.”

“Us?” Leona questioned.

“We’re a variable that’s not being accounted for. We may never be able to account for it. I think that our temporal energy is mixing with the quintessence, and interfering with its normal operation. Think about it, you jumped forward a year and a day to get to the Goldilocks Corridor, then another year and a day when you came back. It’s based on our pattern. It’s...including that in its calculations, for some reason.”

“You don’t think you can fix it?”

“I don’t know that we need to,” Ramses replied. “Is this our ship anymore?”

“That’s a good point,” Leona said. She looked around at the ol’ girl. She had served them well, but they had been training a replacement team for years now, even though Team Matic only came up with the idea days ago.

The year that the slingdrive was off-limits was not wasted. After three plus years of hard work, Mateo’s daughters were nearing the completion of their studies, and Prince Darko had already decided that they were fully ready for the field. During this past year, even though they weren’t allowed to jump into FTL, Mirage took the time to train the cadets in ship operations. They were delegated responsibilities, and no longer needed the aid of Ramses or Leona. It was time to make good on their mandate, and rescue as many people as they could from the tyranny of the Exin Empire.

“Okay,” Leona said with a sigh. “I’ll tell Mirage that she can upload herself.” Mirage was waiting to do this while Ramses worked, but his job here appeared to be over. Team Matic was once again aimless. They would have to find something new to do.

“Whoa, we still need you here,” Hrockas insisted an hour later at their daily briefing.

“One day at a time?” Ramses questioned.

“You get a lot done in that one day,” Hrockas reminded him.

It was true, Ramses had become exceedingly great at maximizing his presence in the timestream by setting up multiple projects for automation that would continue on while he was gone. Then, when he came back a year later, he would inspect them before moving on to the projects for the next interim year. The sky was positively littered with orbital defense platforms. One of the moons over Castlebourne was being converted into a sort of Death Star-like thing while the other moon continued to serve as a shipyard for a growing fleet. Some of the battleships and battledrones would stay here to defend the homeworld while others would be transdimensionally shrunk, and sent off to the Goldilocks Corridor to aid in the conflict against the Exin Empire. Ramses had done more for this world than anyone besides Hrockas himself, and the former had a hard time acknowledging that. He was too humble.

Azad and Costa were here too, having been fully read into the situation, in regards to time travel and whatnot. They had their own jobs here now. Azad was on defense, and Costa on offense. Hopefully, this star system would never be attacked, and the two of them would have nothing to do, but it was best to be prepared. “I still need to learn from you,” Azad told him. “This technology is way beyond anything we used a century ago, even ignoring the superpowers you all have.”

“Same goes for me,” Costa agreed.

“I always write manuals,” Ramses explained. “Or rather, I have them written by my AI. I don’t type them up myself, like an animal. The point is, you’ll be fine, wherever I end up.”

Hrockas offered Prince Darko a job, overseeing all internal security of the planet, but he had yet to accept it. He wasn’t sure whether there would be any more teaching opportunities, and if there were, he couldn’t do both. He was invited to the meeting anyway. “Let him rest if he wants to. People like us see time differently. Keep in mind, it’s only been a day for him since last year. He probably never gets breaks. Not even, like, an hour. Do you sleep anymore?” he asked Ramses.

“Occasionally,” Ramses answered.

“We have a number of relaxation domes for you to choose from,” Hrockas pitched. “Some of them are opaque with permanent nighttime holography, and we’re equipped with hibernation sedatives for the ultra-sleepbound.”

“I can control my own neurotransmitters and hormones,” Rames explained. “I could fall asleep right here, right now, in seconds.”

“Really?” Azad asked, intrigued. “Do it,” he goaded.

Ramses smiled, considering it. Then he leaned back a few centimeters, shut his eyes, and drifted away.

“Computer, is he asleep?” Hrockas asked.

“Affirmative.”

“That’s wild,” Azad said excitedly.

Leona looked over at her engineer. “To clarify his point, I believe that he is done. He has some...personal projects that he’s been putting off, and you should be able to operate without him at this point. He’s not designing any new ships or satellites. He’s just having them built. There are multiple people in this room qualified to carry on his legacy. That’s what this meeting is really about, actually.” She looked over at Team Kadiar. “Have you settled on a...hierarchy, for lack of a better term?”

Mirage stood up. “I’m the ship. I will become the Vellani Ambassador. While aboard, I serve as captain. Dubravka is my lieutenant, and while on an away mission, she will lead the team. Kivi is the primary negotiator while Romana handles team security. Lastly, Tertius controls everyone’s memories.”

“I’m also security,” Tertius adds. “I’m not a mindreader, per se, but I might be able to detect an infiltrator or mole in the population that we’re visiting. So I will alert the team to that, if it comes up.”

Mirage nodded in agreement. They had been discussing this for months.

“Sounds good to me,” Leona said. “I believe that I’m ready for handoff.”

Jesimula Utkin opened the door from the hallway, and strode right in. “What about me? Could I join you?”

“On the VA?” Mirage asked. “Doing what?”

“It sounds like you need a coordinator on the ground,” Jesi answered. “I’m quite capable of managing large batches of information. I used to hunt for cures all throughout time and space. Did you think I was just guessing?”

“You’ll need to go through proper training,” Dubra said to her. “Even Tertius went through basic.”

Jesi laughed. “I can handle myself in a fight.”

Darko stood up, and tried to look imposing. “Can you? Hit me.”

Most people in the room couldn’t quite tell what happened, but before too long, Darko was on the floor, and Jesi was on top of him, holding him in place. She leaned down, and kissed him on the forehead. “Tap out.”

He tapped twice against his leg. “Who taught you that?” he asked after she graciously let him get back to his feet.

Jesi smirked, and looked over at Leona. “I was trained by the Crucia Heavy of The Highest Order. She taught me everything she knew.”

Leona stood up quickly. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Jesi answered.

“Ever since we met?”

“And then some,” Jesi said.

Leona stared into Jesi’s eyes, perhaps looking for any hint of deception, or maybe even using some kind of psychic connection. “Mirage,” she began, “I am bound by my oath to recommend Jesimula Utkin for this assignment most ardently.

That seemed to be good enough for Mirage. “Very well.”

The meeting continued on for a little while. Hrockas offered Darko the head of security job again, but Mateo had the bright idea to suggest Kallias Bran, who had less experience with hand-to-hand combat, but more experience with police work. He would be better suited to the position, which shouldn’t involve any physical confrontation. That freed Prince Darko to found a training program. Who his students would be, and what their goals would be, were questions that they weren’t going to worry about asking quite yet.

Only after the meeting was over, and everyone else had left, did Mateo wake his friend up. “Did that help?”

Ramses quivered into his stretches, and looked around at the mostly empty room. “Yes, actually. That was a brilliant suggestion. Who was that again?”

“It was Azad who told you to sleep.”

“Remind me to thank him.” He yawned and stood up. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing you care about,” Mateo replied. “Leona said you have personal projects that you’ve delayed in service to others. I’m bored. What can you tell me about them?”

“Two major projects, which are related, but not inherently interdependent. Only one of them is ready. The other may never be. At any rate, they will be limited to the team. I mean it, I don’t even want Romana to have them. I believe that only the six of us are built to withstand the technological upgrades that I’m working on. I have a working prototype of the first one that I’ve been hoping to test, if you’re willing to be my guinea pig once more.”

“I’m in,” Mateo said sincerely.

Ramses offered his hand, then teleported them both to his lab. He looked around to make sure that no one was watching before approaching a wall. He started to make weird gestures in front of it, sometimes reaching out to caress or tap the surface, and stepping back a couple times to give it a strange look. Finally, the sound of a pocket door sliding open came from the perpendicular wall, but nothing changed visually. Still, Ramses pivoted, and walked straight through what was apparently only a hologram.

Mateo followed. They were in a new section of the lab. There wasn’t much here that was different from the main section, but some of the items looked more advanced, while others looked less complete. “We couldn’t have just teleported right inside?”

Ramses shut the door behind them. “Permanent teleporter suppressant. We couldn’t escape here either. It’s completely self-sufficient. All it shares with the main lab is that hidden door, and the regolith between the walls.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it before? Does anyone else know?”

“Because you didn’t need to know before, and they still don’t.”

“I see.”

Ramses started to walk to the far end. “Take off your IMS; every layer of every module, and lie face down in your birthday suit.”

Mateo removed his suit, and walked over there buck naked. The table was mostly solid, but there were conspicuous and symmetrically placed openings throughout.

“Please read this,” Ramses asked.

A hologram appeared underneath the table’s face hole. It detailed what was going to be done to him in clear, unambiguous language. Even an idiot like him could understand it, and after finishing the brochure, he was now more interested than ever. “Can I see the needles?”

Ramses took a beat. “Probably shouldn’t.”

“Okay.”

“Do you consent?”

“I do.”

“And are you ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“You read the part where it says it’s gonna hurt?”

“Get on with it.”

“Brace yourself. Literally. Hold onto those handles.”

Mateo gripped the metal bars. The robot started swinging its various arms into position, which he could hear, but not see. One of them started lasering into his neck, and worked its way down his spine. Other incisions were made on his wrists, shoulders, ankles, the back of his knees, and even his mons pubis. The cuts hurt, but the implantation of the devices hurt even more. It was over surprisingly quickly, though the spinal implant took the longest. Another round of lasers sealed him back up, and it was all apparently over.

“How do you feel?”

“Ready to throw my IMS away,” Mateo said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Only the procedure has been tested. You need to learn how to activate the nanites.”

“I think I have it figured out.” Mateo could still feel the implants underneath his skin. They were too deep to protrude and be noticed by others, but he was acutely aware of them. The one against his brain gave him neural access to the whole network. He could sense them tucked away dormant in their little gel matrices. These were not his first nanites. In one go, he released them. They spread all over his body until he was fully encapsulated in only a few seconds. It was like something out of a scifi movie. Then again, that described their whole lives these days. He was now basically wearing an Integrated Multipurpose suit, except that it was extremely thin, with only one layer needed, reportedly vastly stronger than his last suit, and on him at all times. One thing seemed to be missing, though. “I still need a PRU to breathe, drink, and eat.”

Ramses held up an injector. “Collapse the facial segment so I can inject you with the life support pocket dimension array. It goes in your mouth.”

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Microstory 2185: Hierarchy is Required

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To add to what I was saying yesterday, I feel that it is my responsibility to respect people’s time. I wouldn’t want to block out an entire day for a doctor’s appointment, or an interview, because I have no choice but to wait for someone else to manage their own schedule. The Golden Rule tells me that if I wouldn’t want it to happen to me, I shouldn’t do it to someone else. You have that rule here too, which is nice. It’s kind of cheesy, but it works most of the time. There are some general exceptions, like the fact that most people don’t want to be told what to do, but that’s the dynamic of a boss-employee relationship, or a parent-child relationship, or the like. Some hierarchy is required, which is why I can’t be expected to travel to my candidates’ locations, for instance. They all need to come to me, or procure the software that I use for video chat. I’m not saying any of this because I had some problem with any of our candidates; I just want to express it, so you can gauge how I’m trying to do things differently than how I’ve experienced it from the other side. Without sharing any confidential details, the interviews went great today. Everyone was suited enough for the job enough to be hired, so I will have some hard decisions coming up. Some of you seem to be a little confused, because from what you hear, an employer will only interview a few people for a position, and that’s mostly true here, though I am trying to keep my horizons broadened to make sure that I find the absolute best applicant possible. You have to remember that I’m trying to fill thirteen positions for my team. So when I tell you that I interviewed seven people in the office today, they were for all different jobs. It’s going to take us several days just to get through any reasonable number, and only then can I make a decision on which to choose for each one. Okay, I can practically feel the legal department shaking its head at me, so I should stop talking about the process before I say something privileged. As always, no blog post until Monday. Have a great weekend, everybody.

Microstory 1208: Adolphe Sargent

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Adolphe Sargent was not a leader during the Franco-Prussian War. He was just a regular soldier who was trying to do his part for a cause he believed in. After a near death experience on the battlefield, with an enemy combatant who would come to be known as The Warrior, Adolphe was conscripted by the powers that be into a group of fighters from all over time and space called the salmon battalion. He was not meant to be a leader here, but was arbitrarily assigned the rank of Sergeant, theoretically just to be funny. There were a few hundred other members of the battalion, who were sent to various wars throughout time to alter their results. They usually didn’t impact the culminating outcomes, but they did change the course of history in less dramatic—but still very important—ways. Over time, Adolphe proved himself to be a great leader, so he was given more responsibility. Since the battalion didn’t answer to some sort of higher institution, like a national government, the hierarchy was a lot less established, and far more fluid. His title never changed, though his scope expanded. Eventually, he was running the entire group, getting missions directly via the battalion’s resident psychic, and handling the schedule. He made sure that this schedule was fair, and that no one was overworked, like he was. This was not the life he would have chosen, but it was the one he had, and he knew that he wasn’t picked for no reason at all. He joined the military of his own accord, and these were the consequences, as outrageous as they might be. The truth was—and maybe he would never admit this—he didn’t want to do any of this, but he just didn’t quite understand at the time what he was getting himself into. Perhaps he was just too young to see what it would do to him. He never thought he would turn into a psychopathic killer, but he figured his patriotism would carry him through. He was by no means a pacifist, but he also didn’t care much for war, and he certainly didn’t belong with the salmon battalion. The powers never let him go, though. They just kept feeding him mission after mission, and he continued to accept them without question. As he grew older, his body started failing him, which was something that time did to everyone, even a time traveler. The greatest, and only, gift the powers that be gave him was the persistence of his mortality. They could have quite easily turned him into an immortal, and though he could have never been killed, he could have become worn. He was never fully replaced, but as his physical well-being diminished, he delegated more responsibilities to others, and led his people more from the sidelines. He was granted retirement, but it was but a year from his death, from the perspective of his personal timeline. The battalion did not live on without him. Since they were time travelers all, and the powers could see all of time and space from beyond it, every mission that ever needed to be executed was already taken care of. Adolphe Sargent was the salmon battalion, and no one could have argued against this truth. His legacy as a leader, a fighter, and a good man, rings through eternity, and can never be silenced.

Microstory 765: Nickel

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In the realms beyond this one, there exists a hierarchy of demons. Of course Adversary is the highest of these, and it is he who rules over all others. His top twenty-three advisors are known as the Apostates, and are all but completely autonomous in their dealings against hopeless humans. Most other demons under them must follow the chain of command, and submit to their superiors. The lowest of the lows, however, are the nickels. They’re considered to be so insignificant that the Apostates don’t even bother giving them responsibilities. While mid-level demons are busy concocting new and interesting ways of torturing people in Hell, and beguiling those in heaven, nickels are just sort of always around. Hell is an open place. People aren’t most of the time locked in cages, or chained to great boulders. Instead, they travel freely, hoping to carve out some small shred of safety somewhere. Nickels find joy in being nuisances to the people they come across. They often cause physical harm, but spend most of their time just being incredibly annoying, preventing residents from finding any level of peace. If a nickel finds you, it might sing the same lyric over and over again in your ear, sometimes for days on end, until it gets bored and moves on. It might throw track ballast at you when you’re trying to sleep, or drench you in itching powder. If a group of nickels incidentally comes together, they’ll form something called a licking party, which humans will find difficult to escape. This all may not seem like that big of a deal, but nickels number in the hundreds of millions, and never sleep. When The Words predicted that hell would reign on Earth, they primarily meant that nickels would break free from their realm, and come into ours. And when the armies of evil are finally vanquished, it will be the scattering of nickels that remain, possibly for years to come.

Microstory 406: Floor 37 (Part 1)

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I refuse to accept the possibility that I had anything to do with our company’s problems. First of all, it’s not my job to predict the future. I was hired to facilitate the process of hiring new people. Even if I had the expertise to pick the right person for any given position, they wouldn’t give me the leeway to do such a thing. I am completely beholden to the whims of the department in question. You wouldn’t believe the amount of disgusting things I’ve heard come out of the mouths of team managers in regards to the candidates. I’ve heard racist, sexist, and downright cruel statements. If I had it my way, I would fire a hefty portion of the current workforce and replace them with my own vision. But that’s not my job, I don’t have that power. You would think it would be rewarding to only ever give good news. If you apply for a position here, and we “decide to go in another direction” you don’t even hear back from us. That’s a disheartening truth, but I can’t change policy. But it also means that I don’t contact the candidates except to offer them interviews or positions, or to get them from the waiting room once the conference room is open. But you can’t make change just by addition. Subtraction is a necessary component to the process, and I find it personally frustrating that that is not within my purview. I’ve been silently proposing for years that we completely restructure the corporate environment. We should create an entire department whose sole responsibility it is to monitor performance. Now I know what you’re thinking, that exists, and it’s called human resources, but not really. They too only have so much power. No, honestly, there are too many cooks in the kitchen. We can no longer allow this hierarchical model because it simply does not work. My labor management department would be more hands on with the recruitment process, keep track of performance reviews, and wield full authority to turnover employees on an as-needed basis. You see, managers, executives, and other leaders don’t have time to deal with the needs of the labor pool itself. They’re too busy running the company. My new department would have no say on what products we sell, or what markets we venture into. We would only be responsible for the people. Unfortunately, it’s too late for this organization. I didn’t go to school to become a corporate recruiter. It’s just something that I fell into—did you see that? I think someone just fell down the atrium.