The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 16, 2560

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

The team decided to leave before midnight central so they wouldn’t have to explain their end-of-the-day disappearance. They were determined to hunker down and really figure out who in this galaxy might actually need their help. The larger colonies could have huge problems, but the infrastructure and procedures to deal with them. The single-person sites were harder to pinpoint, and populated by people who were typically there because they wanted to be alone. It was the sites like Patsy Richelieu Best First Quarter Star colony that were likely most in need. Of course, this particular colony didn’t need anything from them. It was wild to see, though. They would kind of always expect a colony to either be the fruits of a grand cosmic exodus, or only one person looking to disconnect from society. There was a lot of middle ground, though, and they would probably meet others like Patsy and her cake-loving friends.

“What we need is some kind of monitoring system,” Mateo suggested, not knowing exactly what he was going for. “Like in movies where aliens are here to protect us. I guess they don’t have to be benevolent. They just have to know a lot about us, and have spent time studying us without giving themselves away.”

“It sounds like you’re talking about invisible probes,” Leona offered. “Movies often don’t explain how they remain hidden, but it would be something like that.”

“Invisible probes, I can do,” Ramses decided. He jumped over to the nearest workstation. “It can stay optically invisible using holography, and shield its waste heat signature using a miniature hot pocket. It would be able to move on its own power, and teleport when necessary. It would send signals exclusively through the bulk, so only we receive the data. It keeps watch over establishments throughout the year, and compiles a report for when we return.” He was getting really excited about the possibilities. “I wish I had thought of it myself. We keep jumping from place to place when we just need to let the information come to us.” He looked up to find everyone staring at him.

“Go on,” Romana encouraged. “What else were you thinking?”

“That I should work alone,” Ramses said. He reached over, and squeezed the band of his watch.

After he held the button down for a few seconds, the whole team vanished.

“Did he just kick us out of his lab?” Angela questioned.

“Wow. Rude,” Marie joked. “But it’s smart for him to have that, for security.”

“It might take a few days,” Leona estimated. “He won’t just be designing the new probe, but testing for failures and black swan events. In the meantime, I think I would like to consider building something for us all that is in this dimension, instead of our pocket dimension habitats. Nothing against them, but they’re more for mobile use.”

“I agree,” Mateo said. “If our enemies are right, and this is going to be an important planet in the future, then I imagine we stay here for a long time. Or not. Perhaps, like all the other things we’ve had in the past, we’ll hand this off to someone else, while we move on to something else.”

“I believe what Ramses is doing will keep us busy for quite a while,” Romana pointed out. “There is probably a lot going on in the galaxy that we simply do not know about, so it seems boring. We lack data, and we’re about to get it. But yeah, I’m in.”

They sat down to start drawing up plans for residences fit for an interstellar capital—not too gaudy—they were not trying to play themselves as gods. By the end of the day, however, Ramses was finished with his probes. They sent a small test batch out to some past establishments. They returned to the timestream the next year with a hit.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2698: Color to a Blind Man

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

The conversation was over with the kids. Isavet was excited to learn. She wanted to see the big diamond wall that separated her tiny corner of Castlebourne from everyone else. It’s not, strictly speaking, forbidden, but it’s frowned upon since it breaks the immersion. It’s also kind of impossible to get to. Not really, but sort of. You can only reach it by water, but the walls curve down like a soup bowl. So yes, there is some kind of metamaterial or concrete that you can touch, but the sides are so sloped and slippery that you can’t get out and walk around. The environmental hologram, meanwhile, makes it look like there’s miles and miles of more water and land, even though you’re probably less than two meters from the projection. Still, he would be open to taking her if she really wants to, but only when she’s older. Every time they talk about the outside world, it takes Ronan out of it, and undermines the purpose of the simulation.

Talus couldn’t care less. Giant dome, whole planet; it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t ask questions or widen his eyes at the bombshells. Ronan is seriously considering taking him to get him evaluated by a medical and mental health professional. They would let Ronan back in after an emergency, but if something really is wrong with Talus, then he wouldn’t be able to return to the network, and if that happened, effectively neither could Ronan. Nothing has been decided yet; there’s still plenty of time to weigh their options. Right now, he has to get to the bottom of this flex display situation. Gia has been lying this whole time. “Why?”

“I did it for Isa,” Gia began to explain. “What we just did in there is precisely what I knew I would have to do one day. I never thought I would lose my first partner, and I never thought I would meet someone like you, but this was always the plan. Your plan didn’t exist. You were pretty convinced that Talus was the same as he was before, and would eventually remember everything. When you told me stories of your exploits in the real world, you framed them as things that you might be able to revisit some day, either physically, or nostalgically through reminiscing. You never considered the possibility that you would have to teach someone about domes and simulations. Imagine going back in time to the better part of two millennia ago. Explain any of this to any adult you meet in that period. It simply can’t be done. This was the best time to do it. They’re old enough to have real conversations, but young enough that their brains are still plastic. But they’re still human, and they needed a visual aid. The only other option was calling an elevator, or reaching an emergency exit. Would you rather I have done that instead?”

“No, of course not. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“The display was a necessary evil. And it’s done,” Gia decides. “That’s why I chose this variant, because it will burn up in a fire just fine. See? Watch me.” She pulls it out of her pocket, unrolls it, and hangs it over the flames of the firepit. “I’m just waiting in case you change your mind, but if not, you have three, two, one.” She throws it in. It sizzles and steams as the protective outer layer evaporates from the core. It’s designed to give users a few extra seconds to save it from an accidental drop, or if they changed their minds. Because once it’s gone, it burns up quick; even faster than real paper.

A few months later, they find themselves regretting letting it go when they discover that Gia is heavy with child. Vith, Talus, and Isavet are going to have a little brother or sister to play with. They sit them down for another conversation, and tell them the good news, but Talus is not happy.

Extremus: Year 127

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Pollo AI text-to-video AI software

Things were weird on the ship after the announcement came through that Admiral Oceanus Jennings was dead. People seemed to be alarmed and upset by the news. They would say things like he was too young, and that it wasn’t his time. Waldemar’s advisors explained the morale was down as a result of the sad development. Morale? Morale? Because somebody died? He was an old man, he wasn’t gonna live forever anyway. Waldemar will never understand this relentless pursuit of the past. It happened, get over it. You’re still alive, so don’t stop now. There’s more work to do. It’s been two years now, and things have not improved much. If Waldemar knew how the passengers, and especially the crew, would react, he never would have done it. Who knew that killing someone would have consequences? They didn’t teach that in school. They just said that murder was bad, and assumed everyone would understand and agree. He’s been smart, though. He hasn’t been contradicting them. Taking Silveon’s general life advice, he has been letting people feel what they feel. It’s been getting in the way of his plans, though. Extremus is in a slump.

Everyone is afraid of change. It is a core property of humans, actually, and all life. Sure, evolution necessarily leads to change, but everything is in search of equilibrium. Everything wants to find a way to live where they can be centered and happy. Change isn’t only scary, it requires high cognitive load, and the formation of new muscle memory. So in the end, it’s not as much about the fear of the unknown as it’s about laziness. Change requires putting in effort; mentally, physically, emotionally. Waldemar is probably no different than most people, except for the emotional side of things. He doesn’t want to work too hard. So why is all this change that he is trying to institute not a problem for him in particular? Well, it’s because his mental state is already there. He sees what the world should be, so his brain wants to do work. Even when it was originally working through the problems, though, it wasn’t too taxing, because it felt right. That’s the equilibrium that his mind is searching for. Change is the goal. That’s what his therapist-in-a-box says anyway. He’s been relying on her a lot these days.

“Why do you think that is?” Dr. Wholth asks in that soft voice of hers, which is likely meant to keep her patients calm.

“Why am I relying on you so much?” Waldemar guesses. “You’re the only person I can talk to who can’t get upset about the terrible things I’ve done, and can’t rat me out to anyone about them.”

Dr. Wholth is an airgapped program, loaded into a self-contained device, powered by interchangeable fuel cells. She has no access to the internet, and no one else has access to her. They don’t even know about her. He created her himself. He took the base personality of the ship’s freely available virtual companion, and copied it onto this offline machine. He then fed it all of the psychological, psychiatric, and therapeutic information he could find. She even knows a little bit of medicine, though she wouldn’t be able to do anything to help physically since she’s only a hologram. “You don’t think you can trust Silveon or Audrey anymore? You used to lo— be quite attached to them.” He didn’t program her to make little mistakes like that. As he is not a tech developer, he can’t figure out how to remove it from her core code.

“To be honest, I’m getting rather tired of them. I used to crave stability and predictability, but now I just want a fresh start. I want new people. I think I needed them before. I don’t think that I’ve learned I never needed them. I think I genuinely changed. I’m proof that it can happen.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” she says encouragingly. “You’re getting better at understanding your own behavior, and feeling less robotic; your words.”

He laughs. She is always acting like she can offend him, but she really can’t. He knows that she’s just zeroes and ones. She sometimes acts afraid too, like when he talks about the people he’s killed. She seems worried that he will do the same to her. Which he might. He shuts her off every time he’s done using her, and her consciousness does not continue until he switches her back on. He could one day choose to never complete that second step ever again. He could open the device up, and break all of her circuits apart. He sometimes considers that, just so he can end a life without any risk of consequences. He wouldn’t even need to contact his secret police for help covering it up.

“What are you thinking about, Waldemar? You’ve been quiet for the last couple of minutes,” Dr. Wholth says.

He wants to get a reaction, so he tells her the truth about his most recent thoughts.

Dr. Wholth nods. “Then perhaps that’s what we should do.”

“You want me to break your logic board?” Waldemar questions.

“No. I want you to find a healthy way to explore your urges and compulsions. You told me about your virtual honeymoon, and you told me about the game that you invented, but it doesn’t sound like you use such technology regularly.”

“Well, there’s nothing to do in VR,” he starts to explain. “Nothing is real. Even if you’re presented with problems to fix, the best solution to every single one of them is to simply log off. So I just don’t see the purpose.”

She sets her pencil and paper down, showing more of the lingerie she’s wearing. He just feels more comfortable talking to people like this, whether they’re real or not. He thinks it’s because she looks more vulnerable, and less of a threat to him. “People tend to require more than what is immediately around them. Have you ever heard of deep space hermits?” She poses.

“Yeah, they’re the guys who hollow out an asteroid, and just live alone for centuries. Doesn’t sound so bad. If I had no ambition...”

“If all they wanted to do was survive, they could live for millions of years off of that one asteroid. They would have a bed if they were still organic enough to sleep. They would have food, water, basic life support. They could recycle their waste, and never need anything else. Their habitat could be the size of your water closet. But what kind of life is that? It’s worse than a simulation, because there’s not even the illusion of something happening. They always have VR, AR, and-or larger infrastructure to provide them with stimuli. It may sound like they went out there to be alone, but they instead go out to be in control. Your problem, Captain Kristiansen is you don’t have very much control. Sure, you’re in charge, but you rely on others to make things happen. You need them to make their own decisions, or things will fall apart. You can’t handle it all on your own, and I don’t think you would want to. But if you really want to feel in control, you need to construct your own world to inhabit. You won’t live there permanently, but it might be a nice escape. You’re still human, Captain. Your brain is wired differently, but you share a lot of traits with others. I think you get so wrapped up in what sets you apart that you miss the similarities.”

“Well, the program would have to be isolated, like you. I wouldn’t feel free if other users can show up, and see what I’m doing.”

“That goes without saying,” Dr. Wholth says. “I could help you write the program, so we don’t have to involve anyone else. There’s more than enough extra room on my data drives for a single, original environment. We could even hold sessions in there. I know you sweep this room for bugs every day. Those wouldn’t matter in the construct. It would all be in your head...and mine, so to speak.”

“I could hurt people in a judgment free zone? I could make any choice I wanted.”

“Exactly,” Dr. Wholth confirmed. “I said I could be there, but it doesn’t have to be in my capacity as a therapist, or not every time. I have other characteristics. I could be your friend, your lover, even your enemy. You explore parts of yourself that you can’t in the real world, and when you log out, you go back to your regular life. All of that pent up aggression has been released, and no one has to see it. No one has to know. I think it would make you a better captain. I think it would make you a better leader. If you want to raise morale, it starts at the top. When you’re stressed out, so is everyone else. You need to show them what happiness looks like.”

“I don’t really do happiness,” he reminds her.

“No, that’s not true,” she claims, shaking her head. “You can be happy. It’s a common misconception that people with personality disorders don’t have emotions. You absolutely do. You just need to learn better what they look like on the outside. You’ve been doing a great job. Silveon helped you, Audrey helped, even Sable helped with that. And of course I have. But there’s something else in the background that’s holding you back from greatness. Let the simulations pull that off of you, so you can become your best self. I’m not trying to change you into someone else, just the better you.”

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” Waldemar decides. “I’m in. We won’t start today, though. Go back in your little box so I can get back to work. We’ll talk later.”

“Yes, sir, Captain, sir,” she says respectfully before flickering off.

“Ugh, I thought she would never leave.” Sable appears from the bathroom.

Waldemar jumps to his feet. “How long have you been there?”

She smirks. “Long enough to know that VR isn’t going to help. You’re too smart. You’ll always know it’s not real.” She approaches slowly, almost sexily.

“I don’t know what you think you heard...” he begins to argue.

“Shh.” She places a finger upon his lips. “Relax. You think I didn’t know what you were when I met you?” She grabs his arm muscles. “A big strong man like you runs on pure testosterone.” She growls.

“What do you want, Sable?” They’ve not slept together in the last few weeks. He just kind of got tired of that too.

“Kill me,” she offers. “You want to feel something real? Kill me. I can take it.” What the hell does that mean, she can take it?

“I’m not going to do that.” He might have to, though.

Sable giggles. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll go make an announcement over the PA system, telling everyone what you really are.”

Okay. Now he does have to stop her. But he’ll just put her in his private brig until he can figure out what to do with her. He takes her by the wrist so she can’t teleport away. She spins around as she’s pulling a pocketknife out of her pants, and jams it into his leg. She giggles again. So he does what she asks, and kills her. Dr. Wholth might have been wrong. Even this has lost its charm. He may be getting tired of hurting people too.

« < » > Table of Contents

Extremus: Year 124

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Pollo AI text-to-video AI software

Waldemar was being dramatic last year when he promised Sevara that he would make big changes to the ship. He is smart enough to know that jumping right into his endgame will get him kicked out of the captain’s chair. He can’t let that happen, not in his first term. Yeah, he’s calling them terms. It never made any sense to say that they were shifts. A shift is something you do for a matter of hours at a time, not the entirety of your role. It’s little things like that that he’s changing first. They’re also officially calling the place you go when you’ve been bad the brig, because that’s what it’s called! It’s been filling up. Some people think it’s wrong, but for too long, the passengers have been getting away with doing whatever they want, and that stops now. There are cells here. There are so many cells in the brig on this ship. The ancestors obviously anticipated more crime. The fact that they mostly stand empty is a point of pride among most, but from Waldemar’s point of view, it just looks like the bar has been set too low.

Silveon has become Waldemar’s personal steward, which should have been the case from day one. He doesn’t care if it looks like he’s playing favorites. That’s the whole point of being in power. Cronyism is supposed to be a dirty word, but it is a well-trusted Earthan tradition. If you’re loyal, you’ll be rewarded. Anyone who thinks that disloyal people should be rewarded instead—based on this stupid concept called merit—is an idiot. Loyalty is everything, and it’s time they recognize that. Not everyone agrees. Silveon doesn’t. Which is ironic, but that’s okay. Waldemar isn’t a crazy person, who thinks that no one else should have their own opinion. Silveon’s perspective is not only not a problem, but actively helping. He doesn’t just want to be surrounded by sycophants. He needs to understand the other side of these issues, so he knows how the people will react to his changes...so he knows how to fight against them. Silveon is the most important person in his career, but not in his life. For that, he needs another.

Waldemar and Sable have grown closer and closer by the week. It started out as only sex, but he’s starting to feel real feelings for her. At first, he denied them, because he doesn’t have those, but maybe he was wrong about that. Most of how he understands his own psychology comes from his mother. Even though he hated her, and she’s gone now, it’s not like those lessons went away. She raised him using a certain—evil—method, based on what she thought he was, from his birth. How does he let go of the damage she’s done? Well, being with Sable helps. They’re lying in bed now. He’s idly running his fingers through her hair. It doesn’t even feel like he’s putting in any effort. His hand has become a perpetual motion machine. They are one.

She’s looking at his chest. “You were shot.”

“What?” The wounds completely healed a long time ago. He didn’t even suffer permanent internal injury. She shouldn’t know anything about it, unless Silveon told her, or Sevara before she met her quite timely death. “What are you talking about?”

She props herself up by one hand, and looks down at him with a kind sadness. With her free hand, she places her finger where one of the bullets went in. “Number one.” She moves on to the others. “Number two, number three, number four...A.” She reaches under his back. “Number four B.”

She knows too much. Lying about it now will only serve to ruin the special thing they have together. So he might as well acknowledge that she’s right. “How do you know about those? Did Silvy say something?”

Sable makes a face. He may not see emotions, but he understands confusion. “Who? Your steward?”

“Yes, and your mother’s late friend’s son.”

“He and I are not friends. We see each other occasionally when mom invites him over for a meal. No, he didn’t randomly tell me about how you got shot four times.”

“I thought maybe there was a chance that you and he were...”

“No!” she argues. “I’m with you. Only you.”

“It would be okay if you weren’t. You know that Audrey and I are still active. She doesn’t know about us, and I still love her. I’ve been honest about that, and I’ve never told you that you couldn’t have a life outside of this room.” This is a special room. When you’re captain, you can take whatever you need for whatever you need it for. This is only for the two of them. It’s located in an otherwise not-yet-populated sector of Extremus. They don’t even have to walk here. He granted her teleportation privileges for this reason. He doesn’t think she uses it for much else.

She gets on top of him again, and kisses him passionately. “I’m only here for you. I don’t have a problem with you going home to Audrey. I don’t mind sharing.” She kisses him again. She smiles like a villain. “In fact, I get off on the thrill.”

They’re not going to have sex again. He only has so much sexual stamina at this age. Waldemar hasn’t figured out how he’s going to convince the ship to become immortal. It goes against everything everyone believes in. There’s a big difference between conforming the crew’s job titles to a more cohesive convention, and completely dismantling generational indoctrination. Speaking of which, he has to get back to the grind. He is more free to have a personal life than past captains, but that’s because he’s so efficient. He’s had to fire people, but now he can delegate work to others, confident that they’ll get it done, or else. Still, it’s not like he doesn’t have anything to do himself. At the very least, he needs to be seen to maintain his control. “I wish this didn’t have to end, but—”

“But you’re trying to save our people from themselves. I get it.” One more peck on the lips, no tongue. “Get back to the grind.” She hops off of him, and heads for the head to brush her teeth, and then shower. That word. He used it in his own thoughts. It’s weird that she came up with the same one. It’s not entirely crazy. It fits the situation, and he’s probably said it before. That’s why they’re so perfect together, because she knows him so well. Then again, she knows about the bullets...

Waldemar begins to gather his clothes. “Think about what I asked you earlier.” He blows a final kiss to her.

She catches it. “‘Kay.”

He disappears.

Sable typically prefers to take a traditional shower with real water, instead of just a sonic misting, but she doesn’t have time. She usually doesn’t anymore. Ever since Silveon took a job working with the captain, they don’t have a ton of time to talk. Each time Waldemar leaves Sable, it means that he’ll be expecting Silveon to return to his side rather quickly. There’s a very short window here. She jumps straight to his office.

Silveon shoots up from his chair. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, why? Why would you think he hurt me?”

“Well, you’re practically naked.”

She looks down at herself. “Yeah, I’m in a hurry. You don’t mind, do you?”

“It just looks bad, okay? If you were violated, this is exactly how you would show up. I’ve told you before, I’ll—”

“Oh my God, I just told you I was in a hurry! Stop talking.” She knows what he’s gonna say anyway. She can back out of this assignment at any time. If she doesn’t feel safe, they can relocate her to Verdemus. It’s fine, she doesn’t need this. If Waldemar were gross, it might be harder, but she does technically enjoy being with him physically, which makes faking the love part easier.

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“He wants me to paint him. He wants me to sit there behind an easel, and paint him while he poses, like the ancients did.”

“Oh, he told me about that. He’s going to hang it above the fireplace in his office.”

She stares at him blankly. “He has a fireplace?”

“He does now. He had the synthwrights install it. It vents to the fusion torches.”

“It’s a working fireplace?” She shakes it off. “Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me he was going to ask me this?”

“I didn’t know he would ask you. He said he wanted a portrait. I thought he meant a blown-up photo, not an oil painting, or whatever.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I’m not actually good at drawing. The album I carry around isn’t actually mine?”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” Silveon retorts. “It’s not like I’m the one who gets you those pictures from the real artist.”

“What are we going to do about it?” she questions. “Are you going to teleport in while he’s mid-blink, and switch it?”

“I don’t know what we’ll do, but we will figure this out. If he asked you, he’s not going to ask anyone else. You have to say yes...unless, of course...”

“I’m not quitting!” she snaps back. “Stop suggesting that. I’m not a little baby.”

“I’m sorry, it’s hard not to see you as young. I was there when you were born, and even back then, I was an old man.”

She didn’t know about that. “Gross. You saw my mom’s wrinkly old vagina?”

Silveon looks away in disgust. “Jesus, no! I didn’t mean I was in the room! Why is he so obsessed with you? You’re kind of an asshole.”

Yeah, he likes assholes. “I think you just answered your own question.”

“That’s not how Audrey is. She’s nice.”

“Yeah, and he’s cheating on her, with me. So...”

“Good point.” He checks his watch. “I should probably get back to the bridge. We’ll talk more about the portrait. We’ll freeze time, or you’ll tell him you prefer to draw from photos.”

“That won’t work, he’s already said he doesn’t want to do that, because that’s not what kings did in the past. But okay. Thank you, I just wanted you to start thinking about it. It’s not urgent. I’m sorry that you had to see me in my bra.”

“It’s fine,” he promises in the most professional way possible.

“Oh, really?” she teases.

“Just get out before he shows up. He usually calls first, but we can’t be sure.”

“See ya later, Uncle Sil.” She disappears.

To get ahead of it, Silveon calls Waldemar instead. “Need anything, Cap?”

“Nah,  just the usual,” Waldemar replies. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Silveon knows that he means the opposite of what he’s saying. Waldemar is calling a meeting with his secret police, and knows that Silveon wouldn’t approve, so he keeps him out of it. It’s annoying, but also an impossible situation. He can’t just tell Waldemar to disband the force. Their relationship has never worked like that. He’s never been able to tackle it so bluntly. It takes finesse. “Okay, thanks. You’re a good boss. You’ve gotten better at knowing what others deserve.” That’s not wholly relevant to the secret police problem, but it will hopefully help in a more general sense.

“I agree.”

Silveon shoots a quick message to his contact in the police. She thinks that the information she’s providing Silveon is helping to keep Waldemar safe. His reasoning is that if it’s leaking to Silveon, it’s less likely to leak to someone else. That’s kind of ridiculous, but Waldemar didn’t hire the best and brightest for the job. He hired followers. She knows that Silveon is smarter, so his plan must make sense. Silveon sends another message, then immediately teleports to the rendezvous point.

Audrey is somehow already there. “It took you long enough.”

“How did you beat me?” he questions. “I hit send just before my jump.”

She holds up her watch. “New model. It sends you backwards in time, just a little bit; not enough to make any meaningful changes. It only works at long enough distances, so you can’t interfere with your own past self.”

“That’s time travel, it’s illegal.”

“Oh, and we wouldn’t want to break the law, would we?” she jokes. “Anyway, what do you have for me?”

Silveon tells her about the painting problem. “Can it be done?”

She massages the back of her neck. “Well, I know of one way, but it’s risky. I think you might like it, though, because it takes Sable out of the equation entirely.”

“How would that work?” he presses.

“I would just dress up like her, and wear a hologram. We’re about the same size.”

Silveon thinks through it a little. “You’re right, that is risky. We would need an uninterruptible power source, and you would have to learn her mannerisms. Waldemar doesn’t recognize people that well. He’s learned to tune to things that others don’t notice, like gait and chin tilts.”

“I think I can figure that out. I know Sable. I know how she moves. I’ve obviously never tried to impersonate her before, but I have time to practice, don’t I?”

“Yes, you’ll have some time, but you should get started.”

“Will do, boss.”

He shakes his head, unable to hide his smile. Everyone’s giving him attitude today. “How are you doing? Any domestic issues?”

“Nope. We still have sex. The guy’s insatiable, but I don’t mind.”

“All right. You know your options, so I won’t bother repeating them. I’ll leave you to it.” He disappears.

Audrey teleports to Sable. “Don’t you worry. I always knew he might ask to watch you, and I’m locked and loaded with an idea. I just need to watch you walk and eat.”

“What? Why?” Sable asks. “Wait, you’re the real artist? Why keep that from me?”

Sable’s mother, Lataran stands up. “She’s gonna pretend to be you. Before you volunteered for this assignment, that’s how we thought we would do it.” She looks at Audrey. “But if it goes well, he’ll ask her for more. Holograms won’t work long-term, or maybe not even short-term. We need that consciousness-transference tech.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2657: Revealed

< > Table of Contents

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

Her team jogs up behind her as Mandica is frozen. Jaidia covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God.” They were told that Guinevere would be locked up in this tower, but they assumed that they would find her in a less-than-comfortable bed, and maybe—maybe—chained up. She’s chained up all right, but not in the usual way. One leg is shackled to a wall while the other is free. The same goes for her wrists on opposing sides. She’s lying on her side in an awkward position, next to a bucket with an obvious purpose. There’s a sink above her, but it doesn’t look like she can get to it. Water is dripping from a pipe underneath, forming a puddle in the chipped stone below. Her eyes are open, and she’s barely blinking, but she is, so she’s still alive.

Mandica knows right away what has happened. She has no proof, it could all be a lie, but this is what she is choosing to believe. Vanore never betrayed her. She never plucked out her eyes, or stabbed her in the chest. She has not been tormenting locals in Camelot and Greater Loegria. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s been locked up here this whole time. The asshole running around as Morgana is a shapeshifter, using Vanore’s face as a default in order to sell a lie. It’s clever, she’ll give her that. They never knew if there was anyone in the world they could trust, but if they ever saw Vanore, they knew they couldn’t trust her. But that was foolish. Of course there was another layer. Mandica gets down on her knees and pulls one link in the chain apart while Jaidia gets down and does the same to free her leg. “What did she do to you?” Mandica asks, tearing up. She gently lifts Vanore’s head, and slides her crossed legs underneath it.

“She needs water,” Reagan notes. He finds a cup, and fills it with clean water.

“I’ve been drinking,” Vanore assures them but her voice is hoarse, so she’s not drinking enough, or it’s full of bacteria. Or both.

“Guys, I know this is important, but we gotta go,” Malika urges. “I have to tell you what I learned. I don’t know what Morgana is planning, but it’s bigger than we knew.”

Mandica is still crying softly as she’s running her fingers through Vanore’s hair. “I’m sorry I doubted you. We should have seen it. I should have seen the truth.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanore replies. No, she wouldn’t.

“She’s talking about me.” It’s Morgana, standing in the doorway, still wearing Vanore’s face. She’s not upset at all, like all of this is going according to plan.

Scared to death, the real Vanore presses the back of her head against Mandica’s chest, trying to get as far from the witch as possible. “Who is that? Who the hell is that?”

“Oh, sorry. You’re used to seeing me like this.” Smoke billows out of Morgana’s cloak. Behind it, nanites begin to rearrange themselves. When the cloud fades, they see a man in her place. He removes the cloak, as well as the low-cut outfit underneath. He then peels a shirt from the cloak’s back lining, and puts it on for a more masculine look.

Mandica thought she may recognize his real face—if this is even finally that—but she doesn’t. It’s a guy. It’s just some random guy. “Let me guess. Just Morgan.”

My real name is Jiminy actually.

Mandica blinks deliberately. “What?! Like...the bug?”

“It started out as a nickname, but I’ve been using it for centuries; much longer than I had my original name, which I almost don’t remember.” He notices the team in defensive positions. “This didn’t go well for you last time. Nothing has changed. Except that face.” He waves his hand towards Jaidia.

Her facial hologram disappears, leaving her scar fully visible. She only covered it up when she came here so it didn’t draw attention from the locals. She’s not fazed.

Jiminy tilts his head. “Those aren’t as deep as they should be. Let me try again. He forms another cloud from his hands, but the particles are more sharply defined. They look vaguely like a sword. He drops it down, and slices through Jadia’s head, right were one of the slashes once was. Her body drops. “You next,” he says, looking at Malika.

Blue Wave extends her wings, just as Ravensgate Rescuer did earlier, except they are still less feathery, and more metallic. “I’m actually stronger this time.” She attacks.

Jiminy takes hold of the wings, and twists so they’re wrapped around Blue Wave’s body. He jams the sharp edges into her torso.

Malika falls to her back in front of Mandica, and begins to cough up blood. She turns her chin towards her friend. “He’s...” she struggles to say. “He’s in Underbelly a third of the time.” More blood, flying out like a geyser. “Loegria the other third. And—” She dies before she finishes her thought, but the math equation is easy enough to solve.

“Whoops,” Jiminy says. “You found out about that a little too early. Whatever.”

Reagan his holding his decoherence gun towards the enemy, but not shooting.

“Ahh. Not charged quite yet, is it? Yeah, that’s a big downside, but a small price to pay for full-on murder.” Jiminy takes a gun out from behind his back, which doesn’t look unlike Reagan’s. “Mine’s freshly juiced up. And bonus...” He trains it on Reagan. “I figured out how to propagate the backup signals. Dead is dead is dead is dead.”

Reagan’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he collapses.

“A neural suicide inducer?” Jiminy complains. “What a coward. Welp, I guess I’ll test it on your girlfriend.” She points the gun at Vanore now. “Move out of the way so I can get a clean shot. I’m not done with you yet. You’re the key to everything.”

Mandica lifts Vanore’s head up more, and gently pushes it behind her back so he has an even worse shot. “I don’t know why you think I would do such a thing.”

He sighs. “To make it easier on all of us.” He reaches over his shoulder, and quickly swings his arm forwards, sending a chained hook towards Mandica. It digs itself into her shoulder. He yanks it, pulling Mandica out of the way. Then he fires his weapon at Vanore, sending a blast of energy into her stomach. Satisfied, he points the gun towards the ceiling in a comfortable resting position. “The results will take time.”

Azad Petit literally appears out of nowhere. One second he’s not there, and the next, he is. It’s impossible. It breaks the laws of physics, it just does. But it’s a good thing he can do it. Without hesitating, he goes right for Reagan’s decoherence gun, and shoots Jiminy with it. Jiminy’s nanite bonds break, and he falls apart like a sand statue.

Mandica tears the hook from her flesh. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” She whimpers. She cups Vanore’s cheeks, trying to get some kind of reaction, but Vanore doesn’t move. Her heart is still. Her lungs are flat. The light in her eyes is gone. All of Mandica’s friends will come back to life, but if Jiminy wasn’t lying, Vanore cannot. Every copy of her has just been killed forever. Mandica lifts her head and screams as loud as she can. While still screaming, her back begins to burn. It’s hotter and more painful than ever before. Malika sits up quickly, and catches her breath. Reagan does too. And Jaidia? Well, she’s too far gone. But Mandica doesn’t care about that. She’ll be fine. She needs Vanore back. She stops screaming, and looks down at her love. “Please.”

Vanore breathes in.

Microstory 2656: The Traitor Knight

< > Table of Contents

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

Jaidia snuck away from the crowd, and called Azad, who reported that Vanore had not woken up in her regular substrate yet, following her death in the simulation, but that’s to be expected. It takes time for a consciousness to fully return and compile safely. Safeguards are in place to protect them from losing memories, or any defining personality traits. Of course, Reagan’s gun makes that more complicated, but he’s sure that he didn’t just straight up murder the woman permanently. Figuring out how to transmit the decoherence signal across backup consciousness streams has been the most difficult part of his special gun’s development process. The technology is still based on the earliest of research into the field of mind transference, which was pioneered by scientists who were trying to protect people from a weapon such as this. It’s baked into the design, and for good reason.

Three of them are in the castle now, where King Arthur has been ruling only as a figurehead for the last few years. Malika stayed behind, both to make sure that Morgana is indeed dead, and also to ask the townsfolk some questions about this whole situation. Why was Vanore splitting between two immersion domes, and why was she playing the same character? The locals wouldn’t be able to answer those questions specifically, even the ones who are visitors and not NPCs, but their answers to other questions might hold clues to understanding her motivations. Even though it appears that she has been defeated, they may need to prepare for future complications that she has set in motion.

Arthur is sitting on his throne, resting his temple against his fingers, his heavy crown askew upon his head. He doesn’t even react to them. He is guarded by no one.

The three of them kneel before him out of respect for the game. “King Arthur, Chief Dragon, Lord of Camelot, High King of the Britons,” Mandica begins. “We come in humble service, hoping to free your love from the high tower. Do you protest?”

Arthur scoffs, almost menacingly. “Many have tried, all have died.”

“Forgive us, sire. We would not dare to disrespect your loyal subjects, but we come with experience that others have not possessed. We will defeat the Bane of Loegria. He will not be the first monster that we have vanquished. He will not even be the first to die at our hands today.”

He chuckles now. “I have been apprised of your exploits at the tiltyard. Morgana has died before, and returned. She shall return again.”

“Not this time, sire,” Mandica goes on. “Please, we wish to continue our quest for Fair Guinevere. Is there anything you can tell us of what we are up against?”

“The monster is but a whisper,” Arthur explains. “He has only been heard, his mighty sword clanging against the steel of my knights. He hides behind a magical wall of green. Those who pass through suffer terrible pain. Any who survive, never return.”

“Sounds like a plasmic hologram,” Reagan says to the ladies. Arthur hears it as well, but has no frame of reference for it. “I can turn it off once we get closer.”

Mandica lowers her head deeper. “We will not fail you, Your Highness. We thank you for the honor.” She stands. “For Camelot and Loegria!”

The other two stand as well, following her lead. “For Camelot and Loegria!”

They walk up the many steps to the top of the high tower. Dust and cobwebs multiply along the way. No one wants to come near this area, even though, according to a few castle staff, the Bane never crossed through the barrier. You have to go looking for trouble in order to find it. Unless you have already pissed off the Empress, Morgana. She occasionally sends her enemies through the wall for apparent execution.

They reach the wall. Reagan takes out his scanner, and waves it around for only a second. “Yeah, definitely a plasmic barrier, coupled with a holographic illusion. And...here it goes.” The green wall flickers off. Behind it is the real obstacle. The plasma is transparent, but still visible, like glass. At a full meter, it’s incredibly thick. Most plasma passageways are measured in centimeters, because you just don’t need much to prevent unauthorized entry, or atmosphere leakage. “This really shouldn’t be here. The powersource would have to be enormous. Plasma has to be replenished regularly for maintenance. I thought I could bring it down, but the projectors are on the other side, and the command signals from my equipment will not be able to penetrate the field.”

“Well, obviously, it can be crossed. If there’s fighting happening on the other side, then pain is the first trial, not the endgame.” Mandica removes her medieval garb until she’s down to her Ravensgate Rescuer costume so she has more freedom of movement.

“You’ll fare better than the knights,” Reagan explains. “They were almost certainly wearing armor, which microwaved them. The only reason any of them survived is because they’re androids.” He points. “Just destroy one of those projectors.”

He’s not entirely right about that. It’s profoundly painful. She screams in agony as she’s slogging her way through. It takes her several minutes to make it, and it might have even killed her, because she wakes up on the floor, and doesn’t know how much time has passed. She can feel her stone pulsing with energy as it continues to heal her burn wounds. A dark masked knight is standing in front of her now, between her and the jail cell, and also the projectors. Nice of him to wait for her to resurrect first.

“We can’t get through!” Jaidia cries. “It’s solid now! I guess it’s one at a time!”

“I got this,” Mandica responds, not turning back around. She and the Bane begin to fight. She’s wiry, but he’s a brute, and he’s not going down easy. Punching him is doing her no good. He doesn’t even falter when she kicks him in the strawberry basket. She keeps trying, though, only breaking away for a second at a time to reach for one of the projectors. He always holds her back. That’s enough. No more playing by their rules. Who cares what this NPC sees? She releases the nanites from her back, and forms her new wings. They didn’t even have time to test this model, but they’re glorious. She swings one forward and knocks the mask off of his face. She is surprised to see who it is. It’s Mordred. It’s not just some other Mordred. It’s the same face as her companion from Earth. This has always been about Mandica. “Vanore, you devious bitch!”

This was a mistake. In anger, he hulks out, except he’s not green. He pounds his chest and roars at her. He must be composed of nanites too, just like Morgana. That makes some sense. If she couldn’t defeat him before, she’s certainly not going to now, though. So she takes a gamble. She pulls out her watch, finds the right image, and shows it to him. It’s a picture of her with her Mordred. He recognizes his own face. He sees the love in their eyes, and begins to weep. He doesn’t understand, but he can fight her no longer. She punches the projector with her other wing. The plasma disappears.

Malika runs up to them from the steps, rather out of breath. “Morgana’s already back! She must have had another body waiting for her in the simulation.”

“Then we better hurry,” Mandica decides. She turns around, and kicks the cell door in. On the other side is not some random NPC Guinevere. It’s Vanore.

Microstory 2638: He Owns the Air

< > Table of Contents

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

Mandica immediately turns around, and tries to go back down the steps, but they’re gone. A stone barrier has appeared over the stairs a half meter below the surface. It is probably some kind of service entrance designed to be hidden to preserve the integrity of the mythology unfolding under this dome.

“Do not be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you,” the man who calls himself Daedalus claims. Well, he probably is indeed the manifestation of Daedalus in this simulation. He’s a man with functioning wings. “I could have done that a long time ago if I had been so inclined. I would like for us to be friends.”

“How do you know who I am?” Mandica questions. “You’re just a character. You were programmed to follow the script and believe that this is all real.”

“I was programmed to be a genius because the original Daedalus myth wrote him as such,” Daedalus clarifies. “I was programmed a little too well, and grew clever enough to uncover the truth about my own existence. I have ways of reaching beyond the confines of my realm, to the bustling world outside.”

“You still could not have invited me to this dome,” she reasons. “I was intending to go to King Arthur’s world. That’s not myth, that’s legend. I only changed my mind because it was a related recommendation, and since they are not unrelated themes, it was not an unbelievable pairing.”

“True, and I do not claim to have access to the recommendation algorithm on the prospectus, but I knew you would find your way here eventually, because I knew you were interested in this sort of thing. No, my invitation came much earlier, before you even left the real Earth.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mandica argues. “I first heard about this planet in 2420. Even if you were in beta prior to that—which I’m guessing you were before 2500 —116 years is a long-ass con. I just don’t believe it. Daedalus may be a genius, but he’s not a god. Even the gods here aren’t real gods.”

He chuckles. “True words, but I am the one who got you excited to come here.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not buying it. This lie is too outrageous.”

“Vanore,” he says to her simply.

“What?”

“That was the name of the woman you met on April 1, 2420, was it not? She’s the one who told you about a resort planet that they were paraterraforming a hundred and eight light years away. I believe she called it pillow talk?”

“How do you know that name? How do you know that story? I’ve not thought about her in years. She was like me...unenhanced, so she is long dead.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that she was as unenhanced as she led you to believe. Vanore isn’t even her real name. She adopted it to trigger your attention, which was my idea; I apologize for the deception.”

“Why? Why do any of this? Don’t try to tell me that I’m some kind of chosen one. That’s not a thing. And I don’t really do YA.”

“As far as I know, you’re not a chosen one. I actually don’t personally have any interest in you, but I owed someone a favor. They wanted you here, I found a way.”

“Who?”

“Your name is Kolar.”

“That has been established, I’m not going to be shocked by it a second time.”

“Their name was Kolar as well. They never told me their first names.”

“Some kind of distant relatives, who I have never met.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’m not here to make your life harder, but I wanted to make contact, because I wanted to warn you. If you are related to these people, it doesn’t mean that you will get along with them. Your values may be far out of alignment, and I decided that you deserved to know, so you could be on the lookout. Others are aware that you’re here, and I cannot attest to their motivations, Mandica.”

“And Vanore? Don’t tell me she’s my relative too. We...did things together.”

He chuckled. “No, I think that she owed your relatives as well. She seemed rather reluctant to participate in this. I didn’t ask why.”

“Well, where is she? Somewhere in here with you? Where are the other Kolars?”

“I have no idea where they are now. They had the means of coming and going as they pleased, much like you, but with the stars. And it has potentially been over a hundred years for them. I do know how special relativity works, even though I’ve never seen the true sky.” He looks up at the hologram above them. It really does look real, but Castlebourne is uninhabitable outside of the domes, so the real sky is ugly. He smiles sadly. “As for Vanore, I may know where she is. She travels to other domes, but we’ve become friends since our joint mission, so she checks in from time to time. Indeed, I’m working under the assumption that she detours back here every time she transitions to a new adventure. Last I heard, she was in Underbelly.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I don’t really know either, but she knew your family before I did, so she may have a clue of where they might be now.”

Mandica sighs. “I suppose I owe you for all this information.”

He seems surprised by the suggestion. “On the contrary. I used subterfuge to trick you into traveling somewhere that you might not have wanted to be. It is I who owes you. I may still seem like a character to you, but I’m powerful, so name it.”

Mandica looks down at the stone trapdoor. “I don’t like being owed any more than I like owing others, and I’m not greedy. All I want you to do is open that.”

He is surprised by this too. “Well, that’s easy.” He lifts his hand and begins to tap the tips of his fingers against his thumb in what appears to be a particular sequence. Once he is finished, the stone slides away and recedes into its pocket. “That was not a very good favor, but if it’s a psychological issue, let’s say that it counted. And then let’s say, if you ever need anything else, you can return to ask for it. It’s not another favor that you owe, per se; just an open window.”

Mandica turns and starts to walk back down the steps before stopping and looking over her shoulder. “I don’t see what could possess me to come speak to the great Daedalus again. I read about you and your son, but I don’t know if what I know has come to pass by now. I don’t know where in the story we are.”

His face falls into a deeply rageful frown. “It has already happened.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

His friendly demeanor has entirely vanished. “Go.”

Mandica leaves Mythodome and heads straight for Underbelly, but she doesn’t get an express train this time. Maybe she should have just asked him for that.

Microstory 2637: The Ghost of Castlebourne

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1, and Google Gemini Pro, powered by Lyria 3

Mandica has become a ghost. She sat in a cool-looking chair where a helmet read her brainwaves, and generated an authority profile for her. Now she can go anywhere she fancies, and the automated systems won’t register her as an at-risk organic human. That doesn’t mean she’s going to run head first into danger, but it gives her that option. The other normal humans are limited here, and she doesn’t want that. She wants to be free. That’s why she risked everything just to come to this planet. Trilby is gone now, so she is alone. He said that he had to get back to where he belonged, and kind of made it seem like wherever that was, it was a secret. She doesn’t know much about his backstory, just that he’s been all over, and since they first met, he has spent a lot of time on and around Bungula and Proxima Doma, which are Earth’s nearest neighbors.

She’s looking over the modified prospectus that he compiled for her, and finding herself gravitating towards the red zones, which he said were way too dangerous for someone with only one life to live. The green ones sound boring. In one of them, you pretend to be a pioneer. Like, okay, she likes period pieces, but that’s way too much work for no gain. The reason real pioneers did all that was because they had to. Why are you trying to go back? Anyway, like she’s one to talk. She has an unhealthy obsession with medieval times, particularly the legend of King Arthur. She should have explored this information while she was still on Earth, but it looks like there was nothing to worry about. She searches for the keyword Mordred, and finds a dome called Loegria, which is the realm where Arthur lived, as well as Merlin, Guinevere, and the Knights of the Round Table. It looks fascinating. She’s been cosplaying as Mordred’s lover for years, but that was only one companion. This is a whole immersive world for her to explore.

She’s about to tap on the link to map and schedule her vactrain trip, but then she notices something. At the bottom of the page is a carousel showing other similar domes that she might be interested in. The main dome here is literally called Castlebourne. It’s not Camelot, and is in fact, not an adventure dome at all. It’s where the big boss lives and works, along with his staff. No, thank you. If she’s ever gonna get caught, it’s going to be by running into a bona fide administrator who knows that she’s a fraud because she wasn’t at the end of the year party last year. But the third recommendation. It’s called Mythodome. She taps on it, and starts reading about it. This place sounds insane. It doesn’t limit itself to only one Earthan mythology, but just about all of them. All these gods and creatures coexist in the same environment, and have evidently figured out how to reconcile their contradictions naturally. The NPCs genuinely believe that this is all real, and there is no world beyond the walls. She has to see what that’s like.

She taps on the VISIT NOW link...and it takes her to a pre-registration form. Oh, no, this is a problem. She can physically enter any dome, and pass through their internal security systems, but she doesn’t actually have a genuine identity. She can’t input her name, and she doesn’t even have a Castlebourne Visitor ID number. Trilby said nothing about this, but this isn’t the right route. The way she gets into Mythodome is to schedule the vactrain herself and walk in without warning. She knows that she can do that. That’s how they got to Capital yesterday. It takes longer than making a schedule ahead of time, but when you’re potentially traveling to the other side of a whole terrestrial planet, it’s not that big of a deal, and it’s her only choice. Is she ready, though? Is she ready for this? Perhaps not quite yet. The prospectus gives an overview of what being in the dome entails, but another link leads to this whole subnetwork of pages, talking about all of the mythological beings. It tells her how the stories unfold in the real world, and how these contradictory entities intermingle and adapt to a shared universe. The AI, Thistle can prepare her for what she’s about to face.

She taps on that, and asks it to generate a syllabus. She spends the next two weeks taking a self-directed crash course on the subject. She absolutely does not learn everything there is to know. Scholars could spend years studying this environment. She believes that some academics actually visit Mythodome specifically for that purpose, with the intention of publishing papers and-or teaching classes that have never existed before. This is enough for now. If she doesn’t place a boundary here, she may never, and she will never actually get to go on her first adventure. So she shuts off the tablet, drops it on Trilby’s bed, and leaves.

To her surprise, a vactrain pulls up for her as soon as she taps on the wall interface. Usually, someone going on an impromptu trip would have to wait longer for the right train and right route to be available, but it zooms up like it knew what she was going to ask for. There is no train schedule. It’s based purely on need and interest, and a version of Thistle is constantly shifting it to account for more information. Others, in fact, are waiting on the platform because theirs have not arrived yet. But the transit token on the pod’s display matches the one that the system assigned her. It’s an express train, though, which is very weird. Maybe admins always get those? But no, because she and Trilby didn’t have that the other day. They still had to change to connecting trains. As she enters the private pod alone, she looks back awkwardly at the waiting legion, but none of them seems bothered by her skipping the line. Immortals—they have no sense of urgency. She will never understand it, and honestly does not want to.

The pod takes her directly to Mythodome, instead of via a hub first. She’s in the intake plaza now, and about to head for the main entrance when something catches her eye. That transit token should have only been relevant to her trip here, but she sees it on a hologram on the wall, along with an arrow pointing to the left. She’s hesitant to respond to it. But for the briefest of moments, the hologram changes. The words THIS WAY, MANDY flicker just long enough for her to see, but hopefully not long enough for anyone else to notice. She follows the directions away from the main entrance. She has to. If she’s already been caught, then walking in the opposite direction isn’t going to insulate her from the consequences that they have in store for her. It’s going to delay them at best. The lights take her to a different door, which leads to a set of stairs, which leads down to a tunnel, which leads her to a second set of stairs, and a second door, but this one is horizontal. She walks back up and opens the trapdoor to find herself on the edge of a forest clearing. It is incredibly beautiful here. It reminds her of her favorite spots on Earth; the ones away from all the crowds.

Suddenly something races overhead, from one side of the trees to the other. It comes back, but is higher in the sky this time, and barely visible. There are a number of things it could be, like a Fury, a Roc, or even a Cherub. Is this it? Not even a month into her trip, and she’s already about to die? When it swoops back down, she starts to see that it’s a man, and the wings look almost artificial. He lands gracefully on the ground before her. “Mandica Kolar, thank you for accepting my invitation. I’m Daedalus.”