Microstory 2715: Leaning Forward and Ready to Leave

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It’s over. Well, the first part of Isavet’s plan is anyway. She has learned what she needed to, and she had a plausible reason to learn it. She was born under the Nordome Network, or whatever it is. It was her home. She was just following what the gamemakers set up for her. Had she left, started a life on the outside, and then tried to commit to this training, it would have looked suspicious. Or rather, it could have. She doesn’t actually know that, because she doesn’t know what life is like away from the Nordic nations. She is going to leave soon, but she has to find her family first.

Caleb takes her back, but she doesn’t let him follow her this time. Helping with her revenge efforts was noble and very nice of him. She appreciated it. But she is in no physical danger here. It is deeply personal. He respects her decision to end the simulation here. He gave her his contact information, so they can reconnect on the outside. He and his men are going to go back down south, and continue on with their ancient Norse ways. He doesn’t know when he’s going to leave, but it probably won’t be too long. You’re evidently supposed to stay for a lifetime, but you don’t have to, and it kind of feels like he’s grown bored of it. And he probably wants to connect with Isavet, though in other ways, and he can’t do that unless he’s on the outside too.

“Father,” Isavet says. She has finally found them. She has found Ronan at last. She doesn’t see anyone else here. “Where are mother, Vith, and Leif?”

“They’ve gone, my child,” her father says. He takes her into a big hug. “This is no place for a boy like Leif. I am here to invite you to come with us. Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, and you have every right to see this world as—”

“I want to leave,” she interrupts. “I completed my work, and I want to see what else is out there. I may be okay with the violence here, in a way that Leif never was, but it’s still not real. It was only catharsis. I needed to see it through, because that is how you raised me. But now I’m ready to see how you live. Take me out of here, father.”

He smiles proudly. “Okay,” Ronan says. “Let us head for the nearest exit.”

Isavet nods, and follows him as he walks off, not bothering to break down camp. “How did you know that I was back? Can you watch me on your cameras?”

“No, I’ve been here. That is why I told you where we would be.”

“What?” Isavet questions. He shouldn’t have stayed here, all this time. He had no idea how long she was going to take. It could have been years. That might not mean much to immortals like him, but she would have felt really, really bad about it, instead of just really bad. “I can’t believe you did that. Do you not miss your son?”

“I do, but you’re important to me too. What you said, needing to see this through? I respect that immensely. I do not have access to security cameras. I had to stay.”

Isavet frowns. Her guilt will remain at least another several months, she’s sure.

Ronan stops and bends down over a patch of grass. “I wish to officially declare my intention to leave the simulation. Please raise the lift for egress.” The ground parts for him. A block of it ascends from the ground. A door opens leading to a small room. “It’s okay, Isavet. This will take us to our new home. Our family awaits.”

She trusts him. Isavet steps in first, followed by Ronan. The doors close on their own. The chirpings of a bird she is not familiar with soothe her as the walls and floor shake. She’s not scared, though. This is what is meant to happen. After a few minutes, this lift object stops. The doors reopen. The first thing she sees is a computer.

Microstory 2712: First Things First

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Isavet doesn’t know how many people from other worlds have come to this one to pretend to be real Norsemen, as she is. Either her parents don’t know, or chose not to tell her. She remembers asking questions when she was younger, but then real life took over, and it didn’t seem relevant anymore. She did sometimes listen to the two of them when they would have their private conversations about it. She was a terribly curious little girl. Now that she’s older, she has decided, however, that only one thing out there interests her, and she is not yet ready for it. This is her home, and she will fight for it, even if it doesn’t matter to everyone. Like this guy, Caleb. What kind of name is Caleb?

“I don’t know what kind of name it is,” Caleb answers. “It’s my real name.”

“Maybe we could go somewhere a little more private to talk?” Isavet suggests.

Caleb looks over at his mercenaries. “Nah, that won’t be necessary. I’m the only visitor here, and when you talk about things they don’t understand, they’re programmed to just ignore it. They’ll say something like, I wouldn’t know anything about that, and just move on from there. Have you not interacted very much with the NPCs?”

Isavet flinches. She’s heard that term before. She doesn’t know what it stands for, but it doesn’t sound very nice. She also doesn’t want to get into this. “Look, I was born here. I don’t care where you’re from, or what lies beyond the walls. This is where I belong. Now I’m looking for someone to train me. I didn’t know I would run into someone like you. If I have to move on, I will. Just tell me before I waste my time.”

“No, it’s okay,” Caleb says. “You looked like you were immersive, but I didn’t know that you were full native. Let’s have some lunch and talk about what you need.”

He respects her wishes, and doesn’t push it. She must admit, she is glad that he’s just a normal person. He’s not following any sort of programming, as her father would call it. She doesn’t have to prove herself further. He’s just going to help. Caleb didn’t come in here with meaningful knowledge of Isavet’s culture, or any sort of training. It sounds like he woke up one day and simply decided to give it a try. He has been here for the last seven years. That is what she never understood about her parents, who have been here even longer. What kind of life must they be leading where they can simply take a break for decades to lead an entirely different life? No, she doesn’t care about that. One day, she will venture through the gates and complete her final mission, but she will have to wait. She will have to protect the family she has here first.

Caleb gives her some options for who might be able to teach her how to fight better than what she learned from watching her father and Vith. This is where one of those so-called NPCs comes in handy, because none of her family members grew up like this, so their training honestly can’t be trusted. If one of these men has simply been magically given the skills that she needs, then they might be the best tools for her to receive them herself, since she can’t experience the same magic.

As it turns out, Hamarr, who all but attacked her when she arrived, is one of the candidates from which she can choose. She selects him for the irony, and because she takes the blood bond they formed seriously. They don’t waste any time. They get right into it after lunch. They start...with chores. She’s annoyed at it, but very experienced, and she’s going to respect their ways. Hamarr says that with his wound, he cannot chop wood, so she has to do it for him. Caleb doesn’t contradict the claim. So she agrees, but she will only do this to a point. If she finds out they are only using her, they will regret it.

Microstory 2705: Going Home

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The majority of the reasons that people in history had to commit crimes, or otherwise do harm, are now obsolete. The only truly valuable currency in the 26th century is energy. It’s not technically impossible to steal. It’s just very hard. It’s much easier, actually, to earn it by laying claim on one of the quadrillions of sufficiently sized small celestial objects in the galaxy, or one of the hundreds of billions of stars. There are other motivations, however, particularly ones sourced from the way a person’s brain happens to be wired. Some people are simply aberrant, and training them to improve is difficult. You can’t just reprogram an independent entity. Maintaining someone’s right to self-determination is a fundamental tenet of existence. There are many classifications of intelligence, but once you cross that threshold of self-consciousness, it is profoundly unethical for someone to take it from you. But coupled with the ease of immortality, how do you deal with someone who breaks the mould in harmful ways? Virtual reality.

Specifically, virtual quarantine. It’s essentially just a private server where you can do whatever you want, even if it would be considered awful in base reality, but you can’t leave. You’re not causing any real harm, because you’re technically alone. The only other people around you are NPCs. They don’t think. They don’t feel. They’re just ones and zeroes, ordered in such a pattern that makes them behave incredibly life-like. You can hurt them if you want, because you’re not actually hurting anyone. Or you can grow and learn. It’s up to you. It’s your world, you’re stuck in it. The question is, is even this ethical? By defaulting to immortality, you’re still stripping them of choice. The reasoning is that they can always choose to end themselves later, whereas if they first choose to die, they can’t change their minds. But not everyone agrees, which is why the debate rages on, even after centuries of having consciousness transfer technology.

Since there’s no clear answer to that, it’s one of the few major laws that are handled on a regional basis. Some say an eternity like this isn’t punishment, and some say it’s cruel and unusual. It really depends on whether he’s monitored or not. And if your pocket of civilization has opted against it, any overarching governmental body can’t override it, as long as your alternative punishment isn’t overtly unethical too. Many of the colonies, even those in the Core, have banned it. Earth employs it, as does one particular planet where it’s not only available for the locals, but also welcomes charters from others. Varkas Reflex was trying to become Castlebourne before Castlebourne existed. They were trying to build a massive theme park. But they weren’t ambitious enough and failed, so they pivoted to something smaller in design, but grander in scope. They perfected virtual simulations. That is where Talus is going, but there’s a snag.

Again, when dealing with an immortal population, people can swap bodies nearly as easily as clothing. It’s the consciousness that holds value. The substrate is only a sleeve. Which means the court is within their rights to destroy any and all of these substrates. They can always simply make another if something were to change in the future. Talus is too young. He has not had time to digitize his mind himself. He grew up in an ancestor simulation that prevented him from even knowing that was a possibility. He only has one substrate. He only ever had one. It’s therefore both unethical and illegal to destroy it, even if his mind is preserved in the virtual construct. So when he goes there, he gets to take his body with him, even if he’s not allowed to use it. But that’s also a security risk. Fortunately, that’s not Ronan’s problem anymore. He’s going home.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 13, 2557

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While Marie and Angela were exploring the area, they came across what looked like an even more intricate ice cave system. It just so happened to be roughly in the direction where they were headed now. They didn’t want to walk a thousand kilometers, and didn’t have time to do so anyway, but unfortunately, it appeared that they were being watched. If they wanted to teleport, they had to do it in secret. So they went into the caverns, waited until midnight central hit again, and then jumped pretty close to their destination, hoping that it wouldn’t be recorded. It was still freezing and snowy here, but not below them. Deep in the valley, they could see snow-free land, as well as a fairly small structure in the center of it. “X marks the spot,” Mateo mused.

They walked down the rest of the mountain, and approached the oasis. Before they could set foot on it, a man ran out to a balcony. “Stop!” he cried. “You’ll wake them!” He pointed to their right. “Over there!”

They looked over to see a bridge a couple hundred meters away. They climbed up the steps, walked across the bridge, and entered the building, where the man was waiting for them. “Hello. My name is Captain Leona Matic. We appreciate your hospitality. Could we ask, who is asleep? Who are you worried about?”

“My name is Gunther Lank,” he said. “I was left on the surface to study these creatures. We have no name for them yet. I was thinking of naming them after myself, but I don’t want to seem pretentious.”

“I think it would be fine,” Leona said. “May I ask, if they only live in the tundra oasis, why not build somewhere on the snow? Then you wouldn’t have to be so careful.”

Gunther shook his head. “There are two major lifeforms on this world. One of them lives in the oases, the other the snow. The former are predators, who respond to sound and movement; the latter prey who react to electrical signals. Our technology confuses them. Like electric eels, they use it for their mating rituals. I’m studying them too, but I have to be more careful. They vastly outnumber the sand creatures, and I believe they will attack en masse if they feel threatened. That is why we jam all tech.”

“Are they like those things from Dune, or those things from Tremors, or that thing from that episode of Sliders that was a ripoff of Dune and Tremors?” Olimpia asked.

“I do not know the references,” Gunther admitted.

“So, how do you get off the planet, and join your friends in orbit?” Romana asked.

“I don’t,” Gunther replied. “This is my home now. In a few centuries, either the snow will overwhelm the oasis, or the oasis will expand as the snow melts. I’m watching it happen from here. My colleagues are watching from orbit. We need both to get a clear picture.” He looked around. “We cobbled this facility together using dozens of dropships that they manufacture up there. We try to disturb the surface as little as possible.”

“So...” Marie began, “...bottom line is you don’t need any help with anything. Neither you nor your colleagues want to swap places, or receive new supplies, or anything like that? You’re good? You’re set?”

“We’re good, we’re set,” Gunther replied. “Is that why you came here?”

Leona nodded. “We have dedicated our lives to traveling to various colonies that exist outside beyond the Charter Cloud. We’ve come in an experimental, and extremely energy inefficient, new type of drive. Now that our technology has been turned back on, we can leave. So unless you need anything, we’ll be moving on to the next colony.”

“Well...” Gunther hesitated. “Maybe you could stay for tea?”

“We can do that,” Leona agreed.

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Microstory 2693: Settle

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They have settled down, and settled into a routine. Ronan built a small home for them to live in, with some help from the boy, Vith. Vith is not who they thought he was. He was an adult in the technical sense, but he grew up on a planet not unlike the simulation they’re in now. For him, it was real. They planted and caught their own food, and built their own structures. And if they failed at any of these things, they could die for good. He seems to be of two minds. On the one hand, after he was essentially rescued by Castlebourne, he realized that he never got a real childhood. On the other, he isn’t comfortable in the modern world, and actively sought a place that resembled his original home. Ronan and Mayumi aren’t confident that he is entirely mentally okay, but instead of trying to exit the dome, and ask for help, they decided to raise him on their own. Little Talus will have a big brother to look up to, which they didn’t originally plan.

It’s been nine months now. The harvest is going well, but Vith is having to work their garden on his own today. Mayumi is in labor. They talked about this at length before coming to the Nordome Network. Were they going to try to find someone to help her deliver the child, or do it themselves? In the end, they decided on the latter. It wasn’t the only way to do it, they were in it for the long haul. When they form a community, it will come naturally, not just because they notice a bunch of other people in their vicinity. For now, it’s just the three of them, and in this room, two.

In over 300 years, Mayumi has never given birth before. They never even had children, but out there, they would not have done it naturally. This is part of the experience that they were seeking. They want to know what it was like before genetic engineering and gestation tanks. They didn’t have to go quite this far back in the past, but they have other reasons for admiring this culture, in this time period. She is in a lot of pain. There are no drugs. There’s a wooden spoon that Vith fashioned for them several months ago. It’s very soft. Her teeth marks are going to be in it forever. Hopefully, he will be okay with that. She is screaming her head off, but she is strong, and she’ll get through this. They will be a complete family again, once Talus returns.

Ronan can see the head. He encourages her to keep pushing while he guides the little guy out of her. He’s not crying, and that’s not good. Ronan wipes the goop from his tiny face, and bounces him up and down a little, tapping on his chest ever so gently. It takes a couple of minutes, but he finally does after Ronan sticks his pinky in his mouth, and clears it out. It’s the loudest scream he’s ever heard—louder than even Mayumi was—but it’s such a beautiful sound. Apparently curious, Vith walks in. Ronan smiles at him, and shows off his little brother. Vith doesn’t seem to know what to think, but he doesn’t seem upset. He is just confused. He knew that Mayumi was pregnant, and that she was going to give birth. He knows where babies come from too. The truth is that he’s a little bit of an oddball. That’s okay, Ronan knows that he’s going to be a good brother.

“Good. We need to let mommy see him, okay?” Ronan goes over and tries to hand Talus over to his wife. “Mayumi. Mayumi?”

She’s not moving. Ronan too hastily hands baby Talus off to Vith, and tries to wake Mayumi up, but she doesn’t. She never does again. The three of them live in that small house for another few weeks, waiting for Mayumi to appear, having reentered the simulation. It’s not against the rules as it was an accidental death. But she never comes back, and the winter is about to get real bad.

Microstory 2668: Brooks Without an E

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Resi walks into the common area of his wing where everyone is watching his nationwide address. Most of the kids here are from his Fold, but there are a few from different Folds. The TV version of him is just finishing up his speech. “To reiterate, House Kutelin is here to stay, but we are no longer accepting new members, and will be doing what we can to reinstitute the Kidjum so that Tambora can successfully return to its roots, and begin letting our collective subconscious help us find a happy and prosperous place for all adult citizens of the island. Thank you.”

The broadcast ends, everyone looks back at present moment Resi. “Sir, I don’t understand,” Banu says. “I thought we were starting a revolution.”

“We—” He has to clear his throat. “We don’t have the space or resources to take in more. Aren’t there three people in your room? Which one of you sleeps on the floor?”

“We were waiting for you to fix that for us,” Banu replies. “Something’s changed.”

“Yeah, who got to you? Speaker Lincoln?” Nita guesses.

“No, it wasn’t someone from the Assembly,” Banu says to Nita.

“Right. What did the Ambassadors say to you?” another boy, Rimba presses. “You spoke with them, and suddenly you’re on board with the Kidjum?”

“The Kidjum was supposed to return days ago,” Resi reminds them. “The Ambassadors have nothing to do with it. We can’t stop them from going back to the old ways. I wasn’t helping them before, but it’s gotten out of control. We’re being exiled, and we still don’t have anywhere to go. How am I meant to feed all of you?”

“So why have we been sabotaging the Kidjum this whole time if we didn’t want any more kids to join us?” Darima questions.

What the hell is she talking about? Resi telescopes his neck as far as possible. “Who’s been sabotaging the Kidjums? I’ve not ordered anyone to sabotage the Kidjums.”

“We’ve been wetting the coals to prevent them from conducting the fire ceremony,” Darima goes on. “We’ve been stealing sheets and cots, and sending cancellation messages to fifteen-year-olds, redirecting them here.”

Resi looks around at his Fold to see about half agree with Darima. Half look just as confused as he is. As his heart sinks, it buoys back up just a little bit when it appears Chaya is one of the clueless. He wouldn’t know what to do if he found out that the person he was leaving his sister with betrayed them. “Who told you to do that?”

Now everyone has a look of confusion on their face. “You did, sir,” Darima claims. “You’ve been sending messages this whole time. You were quite specific about what you wanted us to do. You even gave us keys to the Tadungeria.”

“I don’t have keys to the Tadungeria,” Resi argues, “because we don’t use it, because we don’t do the Kidjums. I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but it wasn’t me. Raise your hand if anyone has spoken to me in person about stealing cots, or drowning coal.” He nods when no one raises their hand. “Well, there’s your answer.”

“It came from your address, see?” another girl claims, who isn’t even in his Fold, and probably shouldn’t be here for this discussion. Except apparently, this goes beyond this wing, to other members of the House. She shows him her device.

“I’m taking this.” He scans the group. “Where’s Arumay?” Their techiest tech wiz.

“Right here.” She’s behind him.

He hands her the device. “Find out who’s doing this, and how.” He goes back to the crowd. “From now on, you don’t do anything unless I tell you in person. This created an enemy that we don’t want. We can’t go up against a whole nation’s soldiers, and if the other nations get involved, that’s goodbye House Kutelin. Get ready to see God.”

Arumay hands Resi the device back after having barely any time to check it. “No one hacked the network. They just typosquatted. The emails came from resi dot brookes with an e in your last name, rather than resi dot brooks.” She scowls at everyone. “They’re just idiots. I think I remember getting an email from that address, inviting me to a new distribution pod. It went straight to my spam because I have decent filters.”

Resi sighs, and takes a moment to compose himself before he says something bad. “We are not sabotaging anyone. To be clear, this is not a revolution, a rebellion, or an insurgency. We were told that a fifth House was an option. We have since been told that it is no longer an option, and that we must leave. I can get us through this, but you have to work with me, not against me. Pay attention to the way we spell words. I will never just send you an order to do something that you’ve never done before. We will always have talked first. I was going to be fully transparent with you, but now I know that I have to keep secrets, like the Assembly. The Kidjum is not just something that we are allowing because they’re giving us no choice. Letting it go on is absolutely integral to my plan to find us a new home. I won’t tell you more than that, because now I don’t know who I can trust. One of you impersonated me and committed treason. Until I find out who that is, you’re going to have to trust me without reciprocation.”

“We thought this was going to make our lives better,” Kasati contends. “We thought we were helping push the island into the 26th century. But if things are going to go back to the way they were, and we’re not going to fight it, what are we even doing here still? My dream was probably gonna lead me to join Ilah. I might have ended up being adopted by your birth family. You took that from me with your lies. It doesn’t matter if we read the messages wrong. What they were telling us to do was exactly what we should be doing, and if we’re going to stop, then I’m going to demand that the Assembly allow me a latent Kidjum to make up for what I missed. But that’s up to you, Res. Is what you’re doing helping, or should we quit while we’re ahead?”

Resi shakes his head. “The Assembly never said that make-up Kidjums would be an option, but please, before you flood their inboxes with requests, allow me to ask on your behalf. If you wanna leave, you can leave, but if your exile applies whether you stay with us or not, you should know that there is no returning. You would be choosing to be exiled alone, and I won’t help you find a new place to live. I only help Kutelins. Give me two days to reach out to the Speaker before you make any irreversible decisions for yourself. And for the love of Yana, leave the Kidjums that are moving ahead alone.”

Some seem agreeable. Others look embarrassed for having been fooled by the fake emails. A few are still indignant, and will likely continue to be a problem.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make a new video so that our whole House knows where we stand, and that what I say goes. I’m First Tongue of Aether, I speak first. It will be coming from resi dot brooks, no e.” He leans over to Arumay as they’re dispersing. “Find out who sent those other messages. I wanna know who’s trying to get us killed.” Wait. “No e in my last name,” he clarifies to his Fold. “There is one in Resi.” He shouldn’t have to dumb this down. Maybe not everyone deserves to be in his Fold.

Microstory 2661: Destratified

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Resi Brooks has feet of stone, and his legs are on fire. His torso sloshes around, spilling drops of water on the steaming ground. His headwinds pull upwards, trying to force him into the sky. He takes another step. His left leg begins to harden, but it doesn’t last long. The fire beats against his knees, and takes back over. That’s his mother, trying to bring him over to her side of the island. That would be okay. Any of the Houses, he would be proud to be in. He just doesn’t want to end up in Kinkon. His family would be so disappointed. He can feel the stars in his eyes. They’re a smaller part of him than they are for some. Many have willingly crossed the ocean, and joined the colonists and their descendants. And they have returned, bringing their new bloodline with them. He does not come from a family of bigots. He welcomes his brothers and sisters, and the strangers. He just does not want to become one of them. Kinkon isn’t a real House. It’s just what they call it when you don’t fit in anywhere else; when you embrace the colonial lifestyle. Again, there’s nothing wrong with it. He’s been known to partake in their technology, and enjoyed their media. They make good stuff. He would miss his loved ones too much, though. He would have to leave to learn their ways, and while his family members have completed their Mori journeys, and would be free to visit him, they wouldn’t. They like it here too much. God is the one who brought their ancestors here in the first place, and they want to stay close to Him. Of course, everyone knows that it was The Mirror, the Flyer, and the Bird who actually rescued them from the Ash Death, but they believe that he was working through them. They still thank him for this world.

Resi has been so much in his head this whole time, he didn’t even notice that the wind has begun to take over his body. It’s down to his shoulders now. It’s not strong enough to lift him from the ground, but it will happen soon if he’s not careful. But does he want to be careful? House Enaiyo would be a perfectly acceptable selection. He doesn’t have any family there, but his parents would be just as proud of him, and they’re not too terribly far away. It feels like this Kidjum is taking a long time. When he would watch the ceremony as a child, the sleepers would reawaken much faster than this. Perhaps that has all been an illusion. After all, when he’s just having a regular dream, time passes differently inside than on the outside. Still, he doesn’t want to be the last to wake up with his declaration. The others won’t tease him for it, but he doesn’t want the spotlight to be on him, and he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time. Kidjum ceremonies are boring for anyone who isn’t in it, or doesn’t personally know someone who is. He remembers that from childhood. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. The way they described what it was like to be in the dream sounded fascinating, but not something worth watching from the outside more than once. It’s only interesting now.

He wakes up. No warning, no final decision. He’s just awake, and it wasn’t even finished yet. The audience is clapping. Oh, no. He really is the last one. Oh, how embarrassing. He rolls over to see the cot next to him. The dreamer in it has not awoken yet. He sits up and looks around. No one else is awake. He’s not last? Why the hell are they clapping then? They’re gonna fall silent once he tells them that he never came to a decision. Does he have to pee? Why in the world did he wake up before his time! What is he supposed to choose? He never got his answer! The Kokore walks over, and reaches out to help him up. She has a huge smile upon her face. She guides him towards the audience, who are still clapping and cheering. They know more than Resi does. She holds his hand up triumphantly.

They cheer louder. Resi notices that the kids are clapping too, but they look just as confused as he is. Whatever this is, it must be something that you don’t learn until after your own Kidjum, which explains why he doesn’t understand why he’s being singled out when the other dreamers haven’t even opened their eyes yet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in over 200 years,” the Kokore begins, “I give you a founding member of House Kutelin!”

House Kutelin? That’s not a thing. It just means five.

“Resi Brooks, First Tongue of Aether, you honor us with your presence.”

Aether? What the fuck is that?

Extremus: Year 122

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With Pronastus out of the way, Waldemar has been able to sit in his chair, and get some much-needed work done. It’s smooth, comfortable, and unworn. Past captains have sparingly sat on the bridge. He knows why, but he still doesn’t think it’s right. In the scifi shows of old, the bridge was the happenin’ place to be. It was literally the seat of power for the whole ship, and given the nature of the narratives, usually the focal point of the whole universe. The fictional captains were basically gods. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that in the real world. There are no aliens to fight or negotiate with. There are no spacetime anomalies, or colonies to save. There’s not even anything to see out here. Faster-than-light travel does not streak the stars, or show them endless ionized clouds of hyperspace. It’s just a blinding grayish light. If this bridge had a viewport, they would never be able to open it, except before they left, or once they make it to their destination. Waldemar has changed all that. He had ordered viewscreens to be installed before his chair. The stars they’re seeing aren’t really there, but they alleviate the claustrophobia. And that’s not all they do.

When the tentacled alien character appears on screen, Waldemar chuckles at him. “Lieutenant Xaxblarg. Is your boss on the shitter, or did you finally grow the balls to overthrow him?” His voice is a bit melodramatic, but it’s supposed to be.

“You know that Xaxblergins do not have balls. You insult me, human,” the alien spits back.

“Is he named after his race?” Waldemar’s helmsman whispers to the navigator.

“Stay in character, ensign!” Waldemar orders. He clears his throat, and looks back up at the screen. “Xaxblarg, I don’t care who I’m dealing with. I want your blasted blargship off that planet. You have enslaved the Tukpluckians for way too long, and we’re here to free ‘em. If you don’t go to the devil in five Milky Way minutes, I’m gonna blast a hole in your ship so big, you’ll be fartin’ xentriflux plasma for days.”

Xaxblarg chuckles evilly. “You think you’ve won, human captain, but your sensors have been degaussed. If you look outside, I think you’ll find yourself thoroughly surrounded by my strike penetrators.”

“Strike penetrators?” the science officer complains. “Jesus.”

“That’s two days in the brig, ensign!” Waldemar orders.

“In the real world, it is called hock, sir,” the ensign replies.

“That’s a stupid goddamn word that no one ever used until we started building real starships. I refuse to use it. Three days in the brig.”

“You told me to be historically accurate with my character,” the ensign goes on. “The way you wrote me as the radically honest half-trentlamite, I would push back against your errors. You have never called it the brig before—”

“Your sentence in the brig is four days now. Keep talkin’ and I’ll make it five...years.” Waldemar doesn’t like when people argue with him. It’s ridiculous. He’s in charge here. Whatever he says is right, even if it’s wrong. That’s the whole reason to be the boss. If this asshole wanted the job instead, he should have saved the ship from annihilation several years ago, instead of Waldemar.

“Four days is fine sir. Thank you.” He leaves the bridge using the door. That’s another thing Waldemar changed. Ubiquitous teleporters are too easy. Even the shows that had the technology almost always only used them to transport down to a planet, or back up. They didn’t waste energy jumping from one deck to another. Sure, the visual effects would have cost too much, but that’s no reason to overuse them in real life.

Waldemar takes a breath. “Now. Does anyone else have a problem with my script, or are you ready to get on board? Here’s something you need to understand—and perhaps I was unclear about why we’re doing this—the simulations are not just for fun. We all believe that there are no aliens out here, and we all believe that we’re never slowing down or stopping until we make it to the Extremus planet. But we don’t actually know that. What if we do encounter an alien race of slavedrivers, bent on our destruction? What if we fall into a black hole, and end up in another universe? And what if that universe is the opposite of ours, where I’m evil, and Adolf Hitler was good. We’re doing this to be prepared. I made it fun to keep you engaged and entertained. But I can make it boring if you want. Is that what you want? To be all technical and realistic,” he says with airquotes. 

“No, sir,” they grumble.

“Good. Now someone find me a replacement science officer who isn’t gonna backtalk me, and let’s run it again, from the top! I wanna get through this at least once.”

The next attempt went better. The crew performed admirably, and was able to kill everyone in the Xaxblergin fleet efficiently. He wrote the script himself, but they’re still not taking it seriously enough. Maybe he needs to hire some writers. He can still take credit for it. He doesn’t have to admit that he didn’t come up with the new storylines himself. Maybe his wife will have some thoughts on that. “You have the conn, Lieutenant.” He teleports off the bridge. He’s back in his stateroom now where Audrey is waiting for him, as usual. They have gotten into this habit where she cooks for him. The synthwrights didn’t want to engineer and build them a real kitchen, but they fell in line. They always will, or else.

“Welcome home, honey. How was your day?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Waldemar sits down. “What are we having?”

“This is chicken tetrazzini with cheesy white sauce and oven-roasted cherry tomatoes on top. For the drink, I chose a rosemary-infused sparkling lemonade.”

“I don’t like lemons,” Waldemar counters.

“Oh, you’ll like this. Lemonade is very different. The sugar—”

“I don’t like lemon anything,” he volleys, raising his voice, but still not yelling. “Bring me the milk we had last night.”

“We had turkey chili last night. Milk paired well with that, but it will not pair well with this dish,” she argues.

He swipes the cup off the table, letting it spill and break on the floor, but not shatter. “I’ll decide what pairs well with what.”

Audrey calmly stands up, walks around the table, and raps him on the nose. “No! No! We do not throw things, and we don’t knock them over. No!” She strikes him again.

She is the only person on this ship who can do something like that to him. Anyone else would be six feet under the Attic Forest or floating in the black nothing by now. He flares his nostrils, but doesn’t otherwise react. It’s not easy, holding himself back with her. He can’t just do it. He has to concentrate on it. Most things he tries come easy to him, but not social etiquette. That’s why he usually doesn’t worry about it, because it’s too much work, but she’s worth it. That ass alone...

“Okay.” She lifts her hand and taps on her fingers in the right command sequence. A bot emerges from the floor, and begins to clean up the mess.

“I told you, I don’t like those things. Your job is to keep house, when I’m not here, and when I am. If you’re going to outsource that work, what’s the point?”

“Good question,” Audrey replies as she’s returning to the kitchen. She takes the milk out of the fridge, and starts to pour. “What’s the point of playing house at all? You’re a captain for Christ’s sake.” She sets the glass in front of him. “You don’t have time for domesticity.”

“We all have our roles, dear.” He takes a bite of the chicken pasta. “I didn’t want to be captain, it was my destiny. I was born for this.” He takes a drink of the milk. “Blech,” he exclaims, letting the milk shoot out of his mouth, and land on the cleaning bot, confusing it. For a moment, he’s embarrassed. He looks back up at Audrey. “I guess you were right.” He wipes his lips with his sleeve.

“Oh, you animal,” she utters with a sigh. She sits on the edge of the table, and dabs his face with a napkin. They stare into each other’s eyes. Then she leans down and kisses him passionately. He has little need for most personal connections, but having someone to take care of him like this is nice. He won’t give it up, for the job, or anything.

He takes her hand in his, and kisses it too. “I’m sorry I got mad.”

“It’s okay.” She goes back to the kitchen again, and pours another glass of the lemonade. “It’s like you said, it’s my job to keep house. Unlike 99.98 percent of the population, I know how to cook. That’s just about all I spend my time doing. Trust me.”

Waldemar accepts the drink this time, and tries it. She’s right, as always.

He’s still feeling uncomfortable with the emotion he emulated during dinner, so Waldemar leaves the stateroom afterwards, to go on his rounds. The people know by now that when he’s walking at this pace, with this gait, he is not to be disturbed. If he wants to interact with someone, he will initiate contact, not them. And he’s not there to help anyone either. This is his personal time, which he uses to clear his head, or work through problems. He likes to be seen. He wants to be present, and for the citizens to associate him with every corner of this vessel. His focus is on the bridge, but they should not forget that he can go anywhere, and do anything he wants. He can show up any time, so it’s best not to be whispering about him, or planning some misguided coup. He absolutely detests not knowing what people are discussing or thinking, and while he hasn’t had to explain this out loud, people understand that. When he’s around, they go silent. If he wants them to speak, he’ll unambiguously let them know.

He doesn’t usually pay attention to where he’s going. Again, he has free rein, so he doesn’t have to plan a specific route. He finds himself in the park. Before Tinaya Leithe was even captain, she worked for the Parks Department, and eventually used her power to build the Attic Forest, which takes up the whole upper deck. People love it there, and use it all the time, which is why Waldemar doesn’t go there. He doesn’t care for nature, nor people. The original park is still here. It’s only a fraction of the size, and poorly maintained these days, so regular people have no use for it. He typically only comes here when he wants to be alone, but today, he has more stumbled upon it. Perhaps his subconscious mind is trying to tell him something.

He’s not alone this time. A young girl is sitting by whatever these plants are called. She’s...what is she doing? Is she drawing them? On paper? What a weirdo. He’s intrigued. “It doesn’t have any color.”

The girl doesn’t look up, and doesn’t stop. “Yeah, it’s a sketch. It’s not supposed to have color.”

“What is the point if it’s not going to be accurate?” He catches himself asking that question a lot. He used to ask it even more frequently. Silveon taught him that people notice because he’s questioning things that are obvious to normal people.

“It’s art, it doesn’t need to be accurate.” She’s still not looking at him.

He smiles. She has no idea who he is. It’s a relief, really. Yes, of course he wants people to respect him and do as he says, but there’s something intoxicating about the few who refuse to. That’s why he hooked up with Audrey in the first place, because she doesn’t take his shit. She’s almost as strong as he is, and can work at his level. This girl here, whoever she is. She might be even better.

“I’m not much into art. I’m so busy. With my job.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, Captain.” Oh. So she does know who he is, if only by his voice. But wait, if that’s true, why is she being so casual and distant? Why is she not looking him in the eyes to gain favor, or down at his feet to show her fear and reverence?

“Do you mind if I sit?” he asks.

She sighs, and closes her notepad. “If that’s what you’re into.”

He sits rather close to her. “Can I see?”

“Go ahead. I’m not ashamed.”

There are a ton of other drawings in the sketchbook, some also without color, but some with. Many of her subjects can be found around the ship, but others are nowhere near here. Lots of animals. She likes cows. She’s a cowgirl. “These are really good. uh...oh, what’s your name?”

“Sable.”

“Sable?” he echoes. “You’re Admiral Keen’s daughter.”

“That’s right.”

“Royalty.”

“Huh?”

“Uh.” Why is it so hot in here, and why is he stumbling over his words? She’s pretty, yeah, but she’s so young. It’s...that doesn’t matter at any rate. He can have any woman he wants. Why worry about this one girl? “I meant your art. In the past, you could have sold it for money, and I think they called that royalties.”

“Cool.” God, she’s such a—what word is he looking for?—renegade. Just an untamable, fierce, defiant badass. She smells nice too, and the curve of her neck is so enticing. Who cares how young she is? He must have her. She reminds him of Audrey, back before the, ya know...sagging and wrinkling.

“Have you ever painted a mural before?” He asks her, leaning in a little. She needs to know that he’s interested without it being obvious to someone watching them from the outside.

“Like on a wall? We don’t have the right kind of walls.”

“Say the word, I’ll make one. You can paint anything you want on it. Do we have paint? I’ll get you some paint. If it’s not the right paint, I’ll get you the right paint.”

“Captain, I really appreciate you trying to engage with your people, but this is really not necessary.”

“I just see your talent, and I think everyone else should too.” He places a hand against her back, noting that she doesn’t flinch at his touch.

For the first time ever, she makes eye contact. “Do you really think so?”

He begins to lower his hand. She doesn’t reject this either. “Unequivocally. Let’s talk about this some more.”

“I would like that.”

He moves under her shirt, definitely not only touching her back anymore.

She smiles. She’s so into him.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 27, 2540

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Angela inspired Ramses to alter his plans for their new pocket dimension habitat. He was still using a belt as a form factor, but instead of only having one central location where they would all live, they would have seven total. This helped a little with power management, which was important, even though they already had an advantage that not everyone trying something like this would. A temporal battery this small would not be good enough for most people’s use, but they only ever needed the pocket dimension to be active while they were in the timestream. During their interim year, it could be recharging simply by the passage of time. And if one of them lost power, the others might still be okay, and available. Each one of them would wear their own belt, which housed its own independent pocket. These would be connected to one another, though, allowing them to cross back and forth between each other’s territories seamlessly. And of course, each individual would be able to control access to their own pocket. They were in the middle of a tour to learn more about it.

“So, whose pocket is this?” Olimpia asked. “If it’s a common area, does one of us wear two belts?”

“No, this is just mine,” Marie revealed. “I figured, since I don’t have a love interest, or a laboratory, I might as well serve as the main hub.”

“Your personal quarters does lock, though,” Ramses explained, pointing to one of the doors. This was a room of mostly doors. “So you do have some privacy.”

“Well, thank you for doing that,” Leona said to Marie. “And thank you, Ramses, for building this. It’s quite lovely. Do the other pockets look like this, architecturally speaking?”

Ramses nodded. “Yes, same aesthetic, but it can be redecorated, or even remodeled, if you have your own vision. I designed them with forty-two square meters of space, though if you’re feeling claustrophobic, we can talk about expanding. It would just take a little more power...”

“That’s more than enough in the modern era,” Mateo noted. “The three of us are gonna be sharing our spaces.” He wrapped an arm around each of his wives.

“Uh, slow down there, cowpoke,” Leona said, brushing him off of her shoulder. “You’re gonna need to buy me dinner first, and it better be fancy. I’m talking laminated menus with multiple pages, and lighting so dim, you can’t read it.”

“Well, all right then. And you?” he posed to Olimpia.

“I’m easy. Just slap my ass and call me sweetheart.” They kissed.

“Gross,” Romana said.

Ramses laughed a little. “Like Marie said, this is the common area, but everyone has an antechamber like this one, but with only six doors, and smaller. You can enter each other’s domains directly, instead of going through the common area. So, Matics, you could just leave your doors open all the time, and it will feel like the same big house. Now,” he began as he was walking towards a door that was separate from the others. When he opened it, they saw a staircase. “This goes down to the basement where your respective tandem slingdrives are, along with other necessary equipment, like life support and power control. Don’t...” he hesitated. “Don’t come down here unless I ask you to, or if you really think there’s a reason. I don’t know what that reason might be, but you’re all adults, so I don’t want to make a blanket statement that it’s off-limits, or straight up lock you out. I just want you to be careful. In the past, you have not had physical access to the machinery, and I never heard any complaints, so even though you technically have access now, you really shouldn’t need it. I have direct doors to all of them, and you cannot lock those from your side, so fair warning.”

“Yeah, you’re our little basement troll.” Mateo put Ramses in a headlock and mussed up his hair. “Who’s our little basement troll?”

“I am,” Ramses admitted. He pulled himself out of the headlock, and straightened back up. “So, that’s about all I’m gonna show you. You can explore on your own. I mostly only put the basic amenities in there, like Alaskan king beds, VR connectors, stasis pods, emergency supplies. You can synthesize more, if you want. Everyone does have a giant hot tub, though. No amount of transhumanistic enhancement can replicate the relaxing feeling of hot water jets on your bare skin, lemme tell ya.”

“Gross,” Romana repeated.

“Oh, I almost forgot. One more thing,” Ramses said, leading them towards the back. He drew the curtains apart to reveal a glass sliding door. On the other side was what looked like the outside. It wasn’t just an illusion. He opened the door, and walked right out. The ground before them was only soil, but it was a sizable backyard. The landscape stretched for miles and miles, though that probably was all just holographic. At present, the sun was setting, so they stood there to watch it. “I didn’t plant anything, because I thought we might turn this into a little community garden. Wherever we go, we’ll be able to bring nature with us, even in the emptiness of intergalactic space.”

“This is really nice, Ramses,” Leona said again. “You did a great job.”

“You didn’t help?” Angela asked her.

“Not much,” Leona replied. “I ran some calculations, but the design was all him.”

“I needed a win,” Ramses told her. “I needed it to be my win, if that doesn’t sound too selfish and rude.”

“I understand,” she assured him. “It really is great. We finally have a home.”

“Is there a name for it?” Marie asked. “Like Willow Heights or Paradiso?”

Ramses started to look a little bashful now. “Well, we can come up with a different name, if you’d like, but in the base coding, I’ve just been calling it Silhefa. It’s kind of hard to pronounce in Egyptian Arabic, so that’s an anglicized approximation.

“What does it mean?” Mateo asked him.

“Turtle,” Ramses answered.

They all smiled. “It’s perfect.”

Mateo looked over, though, and noticed that there was a hint of sadness in Romana’s eyes. She was still going through a rough time, and she probably wasn’t talking to anybody about it. He slid over to her, and took her hand. She was a little surprised, but didn’t think of it as an opening to a conversation. She just smiled at him wider, and looked back at the scenery. He gently pulled her away.

“What is it?”

“Let’s talk,” he requested. He unlocked the door to his private pocket, and pulled her into it.

“About what?”

“Lie down with me.” He plopped down on the bed.

“That’s a little weird, dad.”

“You’re still my little girl. Lie down, come on.”

She sighed and lay down beside him.

“When you were just a tiny baby—I don’t know if your mother told you this—the Dardieti had built us this special bed.” He scooted over so there was more space between them that he could point to. “There was this hole in the bed which was just big enough for you. Your mom and I weren’t together, obviously, but for that brief period of time, we both slept in that bed with you. We felt like a family. It was in that bed that I made a commitment to protect you, which I was only able to do by letting you go.”

“We just talked about this on that scout ship. I’m not leaving the team.”

“I’m not asking you to. There are things I know you need that a father can’t give to his daughter. That would actually be weird. All I can do is be there for you while you figure it out. There’s something I might be able to give you, though. It won’t be easy, nor safe, but I can promise to try. I think it might help, though you would have to decide how you feel about it. The truth is, even though I didn’t know her well, I miss her a little, and would not hate seeing her again.” He drew from his memory of over a hundred realtime years ago, and used it to generate a hologram of Karla Nieman above them.

Romana teared up, and quickly started crying at the sight of her mom.

“We are time travelers. Let’s take advantage of that. Let’s go see your mother.”

“Getting into the Third Rail is not easy. Mom didn’t say anything about the baby bed, but she told me how hard it was to find refuge.”

“Then you know what to do.”

“Not exactly. She didn’t give me a map.”

“She gave you a way out, didn’t she? You made your way to Castlebourne somehow.”

“That was after the Reconvergence. I got out of the Sixth Key.”

“Well. We’ll find a way. Would you like that? Would you like to see her again?”

“Yes.”

“Come here. Come on,” he urged when she didn’t accept the hug right away.

She did lay her head upon his chest and cried into his shirt. “I have to admit something. I’ve been trying to Weird Science myself a boyfriend, using the Varkas Reflex computers. They know how to create characters, ya know. It’s not working, though. I keep trying to set very vague parameters, so he feels more like a real person that I didn’t come up with myself, but then he’s always a weirdo who I don’t really like. I thought maybe it was fate, because I thought of the idea, and then Ramses navigated us here, and it just made sense, but it’s not working out, and I feel like such a loser. I shouldn’t need an AI boyfriend. I’m just...desperate.”

Mateo sighed, not entirely sure what to say. “You had a boyfriend...once.”

“You mean Boyd?”

“Yeah.”

“You hated Boyd.”

“Well, he was an antagonist.”

She sighed.

“Until he wasn’t,” Mateo acknowledged.

“Why are you bringing that up?”

“Well. If we’re going to go back to the past to visit your mother, I don’t see why we can’t visit your ex too.”

“Really? You would do that?”

“You are my little girl. I don’t know how long it’s going to take for us to reach either destination.”

“I’m gonna need to print out a new bra.”

“Don’t push it.”

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Microstory 2544: Consort

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I have always wanted children. My problem has always been finding someone to have them with. I just didn’t click with anyone that I dated. Well, that’s too narrow of an explanation. There was always something wrong with the relationship. He didn’t want kids, or he said he did but it was a lie, or he cheated on me, or we grew apart, or he wasn’t responsible enough. I’m not saying anything special. I broke up with my past love interests for all the same reasons that other people do. I don’t have any family, and the job I had before this was very demanding. I could have cut back on the work, but only if I had a partner to help support the family. It wouldn’t have worked out if I had chosen to go it alone. The baby would have been cared for by babysitters, daycare workers, and/or nannies. Not that there’s anything wrong with those jobs, but I wanted to be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully—and this may make me sound like a jackass—I didn’t sign up to be with Landis, or to have a kid with superpowers. I signed up for a baby, and a home to raise it in. Now I don’t work at all, and I spend my whole day taking care of my little guy. There’s a roof over our heads, and three squares a day. That’s all we need. I’m not greedy. That’s kind of a barrier for entry into this program. Unless you have a job that you can do from home, you can’t really make any money from this. We’re not even given a stipend. If you want something, you request it from the Facilitators, and they purchase it for you, using their company accounts. Again, that’s totally fine with us. These restrictions are important, not only because of their inherent value in protecting the legacies, but because they don’t want millions of people signing up. If it were as easy as requesting that they ship potential mothers a sample of Landis’ seed, everyone would want to do it. Might as well. You have to be able to come here, you have to be willing to have sex with Landis, and you have to be all right with staying put, and just being a mother. It’s not for couples. And it’s not for moms who already have kids. It’s for people like me, who want to devote their lives to raising one amazing child. Superpowers or not, I love him and we’re happy.