Microstory 2033: Kentucky

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Here’s something you may not know about, but it used to be illegal to be gay and in the military. They had a law called Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, which said that you could want to be with a man if you were a man, or a woman if you were a woman, but you weren’t allowed to say anything about it. But the thing is, no one was allowed to ask you about it either. This was a way to protect people like my papa, but it also meant that he didn’t feel like he could be himself. When he left the Navy, he still didn’t feel like that, because he was required to stay in the reserves for the next four years, even though he had a regular job in Chicago. So it was a long time before he wasn’t afraid to go out and date the people that he wanted to. In the year 2011, the new president ended the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell thing, and said that it was okay to be gay in the military, and for people to know. I don’t think they can ask you about it still, though. Anyway, after this happened, papa dated a few guys, but he never fell in love with anyone. That all changed when he went on a train trip with his sister and her family. They were trying to get to Roanoke, Virginia, but their train broke down in Kentucky. It took so long to get a new one that they had to sleep there for one night. That is where my papa met my dad, Santana Lopez. They started talking to each other, and found out that they had a lot in common. The only problem was...dad lived in Virginia, and papa was only going there to visit.

Microstory 1873: Disturbing Others

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In my day, in my country, homosexuality wasn’t just frowned upon, it was outright illegal. I’m talking death by a thousand cuts, illegal. While the rest of the world was coming to terms with it—and in some parts, embracing it—mine was strictly against the so-called lifestyle. I didn’t think much about that sort of thing while I was growing up. I just dreamed of having a real family. I was too young to recall my parents, and the people who ran the orphanage either didn’t know anything either, or didn’t care enough to give me an honest answer. One thing I’ll say is that they were not abusive. They gave us very little food, mind you, but I think that was less their fault, and more due to a lack of funding. But they didn’t hurt us, or execute unreasonable punishments, or any of the other things that may become the catalyst for your favorite creepy horror film. I knew about the homophobic thing, but I was so young that it never came up. Until it did. One day, two twin sisters were introduced to us. One thing I remember noticing about them is that they never wanted to be apart. They held hands the entire time, and I’ve since wondered whether that had to do with whatever trauma broke up their family, or if that was just the way they were. One of them happened to be assigned the bunk under me, while the other was right next to her. The problem was, this whole codependence thing didn’t go away just because the lights shut off. That night, they asked me and the girl on the other top bunk to come down, and then they dragged one of them over, so they could sleep right, right next to each other, just like they probably did at home. I remember finding it funny that they didn’t ask, but it didn’t bother me. It didn’t seem to bother the other girl either. The two of us were friendly, but we weren’t friends. Not yet anyway.

The next morning, our surrogate mother came into the room to make sure we were awake. She immediately noticed the joined bunks, and scrunched her nose at it, but she didn’t make the twins put them back as they were. She didn’t even say anything. She probably wasn’t worried about it setting some kind of precedent, and since boys and girls were obviously separated into different rooms, it wasn’t going to cause any other problems as we grew older. I think it didn’t quite occur to her, though, that two unrelated girls were also part of this sleeping dynamic. But seeing her face is what made me realize it was a little weird. But not that weird, right? Well, we made it work. The twins were happy, and I was getting to know my new friend. It was a lot easier to whisper to each other in the middle of the night without disturbing anyone else, so that was a pretty special perk. As you may have guessed, things changed over time. We were both aging, processing hormones, and developing feelings. I honestly can’t say if she ever felt the same way about me as I did about her, and looking back, it might have been best if I had stuck around to find out. But I was so scared, and I was just thinking about myself. I knew that my feelings were real, and they weren’t going away, and the only way I was going to survive was if I left. So that’s what I did. With no money, no connections, I fled the country. It was easier than you would think. Other refugees were fleeing for other reasons, and as long as I always hung around an older woman, people would just assume that we were together. I lived like this for years, crossing borders, and spending some time on the other side before moving on. It wasn’t until I crossed the ocean before I felt comfortable being myself, pursuing my truth, and living without fear.

Microstory 1839: Bad Blood

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I donated whole blood every 56 days for decades before I had to stop. Back then, it was legal for a child of at least 14 years in my country to donate. They raised the age up to 16 while I was still 15, but they grandfathered me into it, because I was so dedicated. It was a girl I liked in school who got me into it. She was so pretty, she always wore this big black bow in her hair, and I would have done anything for her. She organized a blood drive, and I was one of the few kids who took her up on it, so we actually did become friends. I thought my tactic was working until she confided in me that she liked girls. We remained close, because I didn’t have a problem with it, and by then, I was already heavily invested in the blood donation thing. I scheduled classes around it, I scheduled my vacations around it. I made sure everyone who ever needed me for anything knew that I wouldn’t be able to help them on particular days. Over time, the donation process became faster and more efficient, so it was easier to schedule other things, but I still had to be careful. If I waited even one extra day for my next appointment, I would feel like I was letting someone down. I felt compelled to maximize my availability. I got to know the people at the clinic. They could count on me to always show up with clean blood. I knew their names, and even hung out with them outside of their work. Meanwhile, I was working in a factory. Do you know those little wheels in the center of computer mouses? You spin them, and it scrolls the elevator on the screen? Yeah, we make those. My boss is literally the one who invented them. Before that, we worked together to make other early computer parts, but she brought me on when she started her own company.

That was when the clinic moved locations. They didn’t move for me. I had inspired my boss to get involved in charity work. Donating a portion of our building to a brand new state-of-the-art clinic was a great way to get the word out about what we do. Everyone loves that kind of mouse, because it makes using a machine so much easier, and we all but monopolized it. Anyway, my life was good for a time. I was making great money, and never had to waver in my commitment to giving blood. One day, in the middle of my recovery cycle, the train I was on went off the rails. Dozens of people died, and the rest of us were very badly injured. We needed blood. We needed a lot of it. I remember thinking that this was going to screw up my schedule for the rest of my life, but as it turned out, that was the least of my problems. A few weeks later, I was doing fine, and eagerly awaiting the day I could get back to giving back. I had a lot to make up for. A lawyer showed up at my door to deliver me some bad news. Apparently, a mixup at a different clinic resulted in the transfusion of blood from a gay man. I’m like, “so the hell what?” Well, he explained that gay people transmitted STDs, so they weren’t allowed to donate blood. Okay, the guy lied on his form, but he didn’t even have a bloodborne disease! Now, you’ll remember that my best friend was a lesbian, and we grew up in the subculture together, because I was an ally. I had experimented a bit myself too, and I didn’t absolutely hate it. I was pissed. I knew that this was a law, but hadn’t thought much about it. I fought and protested, but nothing changed. So many people could die because of an outdated discriminatory law. So I did something foolish. I recorded myself having relations with a man, and sent it to the president of the national organization that ran my clinic. He was appalled, and decided to use his power to ban me for life.

Microstory 1812: Civic Duty

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I was alive for the turn of the 20th century, but I obviously don’t remember it. I was only a few months old at the time, but I still get people asking me what the 19th century was like. I suppose it wasn’t much different than the early 1900s. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 122 years on this Earth, it’s that things don’t change dramatically. They’re drastic. It’s not like January 1, 1980 hit, and everyone who was listening to disco at the time turned it off all at once. Life is a journey, and it’s hard to see the path while you’re on it. Living all these years, I can see my pattern; where I’ve been, and whether I made the right choices. I made a lot of mistakes, and I die with a lot of regrets. We didn’t have much money growing up, but my parents saved so they could send me and my two sisters to college. They wanted us to get ourselves educated, so that we could choose whether we wanted to work or not. Some women didn’t have a choice back then. If you didn’t continue school, you had to find a man to take care of you. Well, those weren’t the only two options, but they were the only two society told you about. I was the middle child. My younger sister didn’t go, and married the widower who lived a few streets down. Our parents were tight-lipped about our financial situation, so it wasn’t until decades later during a fight when my sister let it slip that she actually did want to go, but I had taken her tuition for myself. I was smart enough to get accepted into a really good school, but unfortunately, it cost a bit more than my parents could afford. Their future son-in-law helped make up some of the difference for me, but that left nothing for my poor baby sister, who ended up being—let’s face it—the prize for his generosity. Reportedly, he would have been willing to shoulder the burden of her higher education too, but I suspect that he strongly discouraged it. He was an old man, and she was a pretty seventeen-year-old trophy. He wanted her to be dependent on him.

As far as I could tell, he wasn’t abusive, even for the time period, which saw more blatant inequality than 2021. And when he died, she inherited all of his money, so maybe she was the one with the last laugh. I’m certainly not laughing. I went on to find my own problems. I met a nice girl in college. By then, homosexuality was all right on principle, but there was this unfair unwritten rule that you didn’t go down that path unless you were infertile, or had already given the country at least two more children. You see, we had just suffered a massive population decline from a nasty pandemic, and a lot of propaganda came out, urging people to do their part by having as many children as possible. Gay people weren’t deviants anymore, but they weren’t productive. I could have my girl on the side, but I was expected to find a man, so we could do our civic duties together. It was a war, really, against a neighboring country. Both were vying for global domination, but instead of amassing weapons, or developing technology, they figured that growth in all sectors meant prosperity. The man I married ended up not being able to have children, which of course, defeated the whole purpose. Still, neither he, nor the love of my life, were willing to share, so we all lost. Divorce was frowned upon back then, even when it could help the population problem. I wasn’t miserable my whole life, though. He wasn’t nearly as old as my brother-in-law, but he died long before me, and I was free to be myself. By that point, the population was fine, but my love had moved on without me. So I die here today, as alone as I always have been.

Microstory 1554: Shame

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Prompt

The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is check outside to see if anyone is passed out on my lawn. I live next to a frat house, so this is a regular occurrence.

Botner

Literally. They have no shame. [Here are nine more things you should know about me.] 3. I have never pooped at a gas station (and probably never will, because I refuse to pay $6 for a cup of coffee...even if they were roasting the beans with their bare hands...a lot). I try to use public restrooms at gas stations when I can, because they are generally cleaner and just usually very busy. 4. I’ve been drunk in 17 states and 7 countries. I love traveling...a lot. 5. I’ve hit a deer and I’ve flipped over a car (not at the same time). 6. I hate mushrooms and I’m vegetarian... but not for cultural reasons. When I’m inebriated I want nothing more than to have a plate of red, heart-shaped things for dessert. 7. I’ve been in a room with 1,000 women and we’ve talked about everything from N’SYNC to soap operas. I’ve come to absolutely love my girlfriends as well as become a healthier person for it...truly. 8. My favorite color is brown. 9. I’ve kissed at least two strangers in my lifetime. 10. I bought my first purse at Target...two years ago. 11. I’m fluent in Korean. I lived in Korea for 10 months and I can actually speak it. 12. I love men...but I love women just as much. I am mostly single, because I’m not sure what I...

Conclusion

...really want out of a relationship. Will anyone truly want me if they know all these personal things about me? It has taken a long time for society to accept homosexuality, and we are nowhere near out of the woods yet. Omnisexuality, which is how I identify, is so much harder. Even gay people don’t accept us. They think that we should just get off the fence, and decide already. Of course, that’s not how it works, and they’re being just as ignorant as people have always been, but I’ll keep trying to change their minds. The frat guys are actually pretty cool. The fact that they pass out on my lawn has nothing to do with me, it’s just proximity. My older brother is a lawyer, and he says this could turn into a problem, though. If one of them were to end up dead, or something, I could be liable for the damages, even though I don’t even know the guy, and I didn’t do anything wrong. He tells me I should invest in a front yard fence, but nobody has those anymore, and it’s not exactly on brand for me. Besides, I would rather they end up sleeping on my lawn than trying to drive home after the party. Still, I feel I should do something, but I don’t want to seem elitist, or anything. People think that about me when I say I don’t eat meat anymore. I’m probably overthinking all of this, and I should just stick to my own problems, and worry about who I’m going to take as my date to my cousin’s wedding. There’s this guy I really like, and I think he would be interested, but there are those in my family who do not know about me, and positively would not approve. Should I ignore them, and take the guy anyway, or should I make sure the night doesn’t end up about me, and let my cousin have her special day? Everyone else gets to take whoever they want, though. Why should I pretend to be someone I’m not? Perhaps these situations are exactly when we should start expecting people to learn to be better.

Microstory 1449: Gender Laws

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Under the Republic on Durus, women were considered untrustworthy. Later on, laws will be passed to allow a woman to earn merit points for her loyalty, and enjoy some extra freedoms, but these freedoms will never include full autonomy. They will never be able to vote, and they certainly could never be allowed to hold public office. They were allowed to work certain jobs, but only under heavy supervision, and with responsibilities that didn’t result in too much damage when they inevitably made mistakes. But what they had not considered until around 2109 was the definition of woman. As bad as the Durune Republicans were, they didn’t see themselves as sexist, homophobic, or transphobic. Their distrust of women was rooted in something completely different from the systemic sexism that pervaded Earthan history. They cited very specific examples of particular women who caused problems for society. It still wasn’t right, but it was at least based on psychology and culture, rather than physiology. At least that was how they justified their position. That led to some questions, however, that no one had had time to think about until the system was fully established. It was clear that two men were totally free to be in a relationship together, but what about two women? Well, lesbianism in itself wasn’t wrong, but now there was a lack of male influence. They definitely couldn’t raise children, because..same problem. New laws had to be passed under the third administration that covered these topics. Lesbian relationships still required male supervision, so a man had to be included to some capacity. This man was obviously not entitled to sex from either one of them, but as far as household duties and child rearing were concerned, he would be in charge. After this was settled, there were more questions on gender that needed to be answered.

Because of the prevalence of time powers—and the absence of help from Earth—technology developed on its own unique path. It was a little steampunk, and a little sword fantasy, and even a little bit space western. They still had doctors, but the medical facilities were severely underresourced. About the only thing they excelled in was the dissemination of theoretical knowledge. The library came through completely intact, which allowed anyone to learn just about anything they wanted. In fact, throughout all of history on this planet, no leader made any attempt to stifle the pursuit of an education. Not even Smith tried to stop people from getting smarter. Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough, because reading about performing a complex surgery was a lot different than having the experience to do it safely. The only surgeries that were being done were the essential ones, because if something went wrong, the patient was likely going to die anyway, so at least someone tried. Sex reassignment surgery did not fall into this category. No one had the expertise required to complete a transformation, and they certainly didn’t have the experience. The few doctors with official credentials who made it through the Deathfall didn’t even know how to do it, and either way, they died decades ago. Technology was indeed progressing, but it was happening at a snail’s pace compared to where they would be if they were still on Earth. Still, as far as the Republicans were concerned, an individual had the right to identify as any gender they wanted. This didn’t mean every woman’s problems were solved. According to the Republic’s main tenets, women were not trustworthy. It didn’t matter if they were born with female parts, or not. So someone born a girl could not just claim to be a man when he got older, and suddenly his life was as easy as it was for other men. People generally agreed to use whatever pronouns he needed, but he still did not enjoy the upper class life. On the other hand, if a man decided to start identifying as a woman, she would lose all masculine advantages and entitlements, so there was very little incentive to transform in that direction. Still, it happened, when a woman-on-the-inside just couldn’t take behaving like someone she wasn’t, even though it meant losing a lot of privileges. There were more tweaks to gender laws to be ironed out over time, but this was the start.

Microstory 1361: My Mother

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Nick Fisherman: I see the tables have turned.

Tavis Highfill: I don’t own a table anymore. We got rid of it, because it was taking up too much space, and I just use TV trays.

Nick: You know what I mean. I’m the one interviewing you today.

Tavis: That’s right.

Nick: Was this planned from the very beginning?

Tavis: It was not. The other day, my sister suggested I write a piece about our mother for Mother’s Day. She arranged her own piece of music for her, and this will be my gift. And bonus, that’s one less “suitability interview” that I have to come up with.

Nick: Oh, that’s a nice idea. So, how about it? What can you tell me about your mother—our mother—uhh...

Tavis: I was diagnosed with autism when I was twenty-seven years old. But, of course, I was autistic my whole life; it just wasn’t something that we knew. My family had to make a lot of accommodations for me, because of how I was. I didn’t like certain foods, loud sounds bothered me, and my biggest problem was that I didn’t understand people. I don’t see the world the same way others do, and I just didn’t get why. None of us did. Had I received my diagnosis early on, I think it would have been easier for them. Even in the 1990s, they would have had resources. They would have been able to speak with mental health professionals, and had me speak with them. When I acted out, they would know why, and would be able to deal with it accordingly. But that isn’t what happened. My family had to develop ways to communicate with me on their own, with no help. My mother was particularly patient and compassionate, and I can never thank her enough for it. I’ve always had a very relaxed relationship with her. I can talk to her about anything, knowing that she’ll give me the best advice—not for just anyone—but for me specifically, because I require some very specific advice. Our relationship has only grown stronger with time.

Nick: Oh, interesting. Full disclosure, though; I’m only jumping in, because this seems like a logical place for a paragraph break.

Tavis: Yes. So, when my sister conceived this project, she said I could write a piece about mothers in general. But when I tried, I realized it probably wasn’t possible. There is just no comparing my mother to others. She’s special, and I know a lot of people say that, but she is. When I was very young, I heard something on TV about gay people, and at that point, that was a word I was not familiar with. I asked my mother what it meant, and she told me that some boys feel more comfortable with other boys, so they date each other, instead of girls. She said that the same is possible for girls. She never so much as hinted that it was wrong, or that I should treat such people differently. Diversity was celebrated in my family, and I don’t know how my parents did it. I don’t know how they freed themselves from the prejudices of their hometowns, in the time that they were living in them. However they did it, I grew up without those prejudices. I wasn’t raised to feel that I shouldn’t talk to the black children in my class. I wasn’t made to feel that there were certain expectations of me because of how I was born. They signed me up for tap dancing and gymnastics, and let me quit baseball when I wanted to. They never had to teach me to treat women with respect, because at no point did I make a mistake. They never needed to sit me down, and explain why women were equal. I didn’t realize until I was much older that women aren’t actually treated as equals in this world, because my parents created a world where that wasn’t true, and simply let me be in it. I hear about people trying to figure out how to teach their kids how to behave, but the best way to do that is by example. Raise them in a loving family, like I was, and it will just come naturally to them. That is what a mother does.

Nick: That’s lovely. Thank you for this, self. And to our readers, you can watch a special edition of my sister’s video series I-Miss-You Music Mondays right here.

Microstory 1345: Gifted

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University Admissions Interviewer: So, I didn’t realize this when my assistant first put it on my calendar, but you’re a freshman in high school, correct?

Gifted Student: That’s right, sir. It’s been my dream to go to this university since I was a kid, though. I’ve been working on a thirty year plan since I was six.

University Admissions Interviewer: That’s...impressive, but why does your plan involve doing an interview with an admissions counselor when you’re only fourteen?

Gifted Student: I’m fifteen, sir, and I don’t see my age as a hindrance. I’m preparing myself for a bright future, and I’ve always seen education as the most important aspect of my life. I wasn’t born a prodigy—

University Admissions Interviewer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, you had to work for everything you have, but that’s not what I asked. Why do this interview so early? You’re not going to be admitted, and so much can happen in the next two years before any institution will take you seriously. High school is all about showing us what you’re made of. Right now, all I have to go on is whatever you did in elementary and middle school.

Gifted Student: Uhh, I didn’t provide those transcripts before, but I have them with me...

University Admissions Interviewer: No, you misunderstand. I don’t mean I’m going to look at your history, and make a judgment about your potential to excel at this university. I mean I don’t care about it, because no one does. My point is that I have very little to go on. Hell, you’re not even finished with finals for this year, so who are you?

Gifted Student: Well, I’m obviously an academic, but I have a range of interests. I play tennis and golf, I’m on the debate team, and I’m not yet allowed to work on the school newspaper or yearbook, but I’ll be doing both of those next year. I’m already and Eagle Scout too. My project was landscaping the courtyard for my middle school.

University Admissions Interviewer: You play tennis and golf. I’m going to take a stab in the dark and assume your school is in a fairly wealthy district.

Gifted Student: Umm. It’s true, I live in the wealthiest county of the state. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know hardship.

University Admissions Interviewer: That’s not what I’m saying. You brought up your Eagle Scout project. You fixed up your school’s courtyard.

Gifted Student: Yes. I had tons of volunteers. I learned a lot of leadership skills during that experience.

University Admissions Interviewer: That’s lovely, except that’s still not my point. Your school is rich, Gifted. It didn’t need your help. You could have repaired a home for someone living in poverty, or blazed a trail for a community arboretum. You chose to do something easy, in a place where you were not needed. Now, this university may not care about that. In fact, I doubt it will take anything into consideration other than the fact that you attained the highest rank in Boy Scouts. But I was a scout, and I do take it seriously, and I’m not impressed.

Gifted Student: Once you’re an Eagle, you’re always an Eagle.

University Admissions Interviewer: Well, I’m gay, so I renounced my affiliation many, many years ago, but that’s neither here not there. This is about you.

Gifted Student: Well, I do charity too. I donate a thousand dollars to Homes for Humankind every single month. If that’s not enough, though, I’m sure I could raise that to once a week.

University Admissions Interviewer: Oh my God. I don’t care about charity either. I care about what you’ve done personally for your community. Where do you get that money? Lifeguarding? Stacking shelves at a grocery store?

Gifted Student: I take it out of my allowance.

University Admissions Interviewer: Right.

Gifted Student: I don’t understand the problem here. This is one of the most expensive universities in the country. Everyone here is rich, except for maybe a few academic scholarships, and recruited student athletes.

University Admissions Interviewer: You’re right, this is as rich as your neighborhood. You would fit in well. But it’s not going to be today, or even next year. Come back when you’re a senior, and really think about how you’re going to grow as a person until then. That’s why we don’t do interviews like this when you’re so young, regardless of what legacy connections your parents may or may not have with someone here. You haven’t learned anything yet, and I don’t want to talk to you until you have.

Microstory 1340: Focus Group

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Focus Group Moderator: I’m Focus Group Moderator, but you can just call me Mod. I want to thank you all for coming in today to get a first look at our brand new series, Ya Basic.

Teen 1: Ya basic.

[Laughter]

Teen 1: Sorry, I didn’t mean you, specifically. I was talking more about the garbage people who wrote this.

Mod: Oh, I’m saddened to hear that.

Teen 1: Well, they can’t all be winners, can they?

Mod: I guess not. ‘Kay, so—

Teen 2: CHEESE!

Mod: I’m sorry?

Teen 2: You said queso. I felt it was my duty to translate for everyone in the room who does not speak Spanish.

[Laughter]

Mod: Okay. Well, thanks. The first thing I want to do is get everyone’s general impression of the TV show they just watched.

Teen 3: I didn’t understand it.

Mod: All right, so it was a little confusing.

Teen 3: I wouldn’t say that. I could follow just fine, but the story didn’t make any sense. Why was the sister doing his homework? She was established as the dumber of the two, and they never explained her motivation, or his, for that matter.

Teen 4: Yeah, and the dumb things she said didn’t make sense either. It felt like all her lines were written for a boy, but then a network executive came in and said they should gender-swap it in order to be edgy and woke.

Mod: I can neither confirm, nor deny, the network’s direct involvement in creative decisions. But this is good, it’s very good. Would you characterize this show as woke?

Teen 5: Absolutely not. Her character was just as offensive as it would be had she been a boy. And just because the kids roll their eyes at their racist uncle, doesn’t mean the writers understand why it is his racism would be a bad thing in real life.

Teen 4: It felt like the uncle was supposed to be loveable and sympathetic, but the things he was saying weren’t even relatable.

Teen 6: A lot of random, made up stereotypes.

Teen Collective: [moderately in unison] Yeah, yeah...

Teen 7: All Asians are gay?

Teen 4: Yeah, what was that? Did a producer hear the word gaysian, and extrapolate too much from it?

Teen 3: Racism aside, I didn’t get why it was called Ya Basic. Who’s basic? It’s not the sister. That word doesn’t mean low intelligence, and I actually otherwise found her rather interesting.

Teen 5: I didn’t think she was interesting. I thought the whole thing was stupid, and I had a hard time paying attention to it. It was built like a sitcom, but it’s an hour long. It didn’t need to be. Half the time a character learned something, they repeated it again a few minutes later, as if you thought we’d forget.

Teen 1: Was there any significance to the banana? The character—and, thusly, the camera—stared at it for, like, thirty seconds.

Teen 2: Banana, banana!

[Laughter]

Teen 6: Teen 2 is right; that was a reference to a completely different franchise, made by a different production company. I looked it up. And that one was for kids.

Teen 4: Was this one not for kids? I certainly felt too old for it.

Teen 7: I felt too young for it. Didn’t anyone else think the banana was a phallic symbol? The kid cracked a joke about his stamina right after that.

Teen 3: Oh, yeah, probably.

Mod: Okay, perfect. Thank you so much for your answers to these survey questions. This will greatly inform how we proceed with this production.

Teen 1: By proceed, do you mean stop?

[Laughter]

Microstory 1094: Julius

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If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like this any more than you do. I’m not as unfeeling as Clyde, or as twisted as Nannie. I’m just trying to make my life better, and unfortunately, that means yours has to end. When Homer first approached me with his offer, I...well, I just didn’t believe him. But when he showed me what I could do, I still turned him down. I’m not a bad person, Alma, I promise you. I know these chains don’t make it look like that’s true, and I understand there’s no way you and I could ever be friends, but we’re all just doing our best here. Homer explained to me that the universe only exists through balance. There is no way for everyone in the world to be happy; it just doesn’t happen like that. Everyone’s fine with corporate executives firing their minions left and right. They’re fine with protected presidents sending poor soldiers to die in an unjust war. But they get all up in arms when we make a human sacrifice or two. Can you tell me, what exactly is the difference? In all three scenarios, people die, so why is it so much worse what we’re doing? I’ll tell you why, because we and Homer aren’t part of an institution. You’re only allowed to hurt people if you’ve gathered enough others who want to hurt people. Isn’t that sickening? We’re killing two people, while world leaders regularly kill by the thousands, but somehow, we’re the monsters. Priorities, am I right? Well, I’ve been through enough, and I’m not going to take it anymore. This town may accept me as the token gay jock, even though I’m definitely not the only one, but it hasn’t always been like that. I had to learn to filter out a lot of hate when I was a kid, growing up in the deep south. I’m one of those gays who can’t contain it, even if I tried—my mom knew who I was before I even did—so I had a huge target on my back before we moved up here. The only thing that kept me alive was football. You might think my opponents would be too homophobic to even touch me, but they were always itching to knock me down. They underestimated me, though, because I hit them back, and I hit them harder.

We’re not going to sit back and let people come after us anymore, and we’re not going to be silenced. I’m sorry you won’t be around to see it, but Homer is building a better world, with more logical rules. He’s recruited some terrible people to help him, and I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but they won’t be around to see it either. I think we can all agree that there is something seriously wrong with this world, and if our species is going to survive, something has to change. The process is not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be pretty, but it starts today, and I wish you could be proud of what you’re a part of. It’s my job to explain what we’re going to be doing to you, and the first thing you should know is that each one of us went through the same thing...except that your ritual ends differently. First, we have to submerge you in water, and hold you there until but one air bubble remains clinging to your nostril. Then we pull you out, revive you, if we have to, and lather you with mud. We’ll set you on the ground next to a campfire. If you’re up for it, you can be sitting, like Maud was, or you can be lying down, like Gertrude. Homer will then use his wind magic to blow the fire towards your bodies, until the mud hardens. After a little bit of chanting, which I suspect isn’t truly necessary for the ordeal, you will reëmerge from your cocoon a new person. This is where things change from the rituals we experienced. One of us will be chosen to kill you, while another will be chosen to carry out the second sacrifice. We don’t know who that’s going to be yet, but I will almost certainly be chosen. Wanda and Della were chosen last time, while Clyde and Sidney were responsible for protecting the sacred grounds. The girls hesitated, which gave Viola the opportunity to interfere with the ritual. The guys got distracted in an argument, and were unable to stop her. Nannie and I will probably have to wield the holy blades, while Homer takes matters into his own hands, and prevents any Viola-like magician from stopping us this time. Like I was saying, I get that none of this is going to make sense to you, but things are going to get better. If ghosts exists, which it seems like maybe they do, perhaps you’ll even be able to watch humanity’s magnificent transformation from the other side. Hell, we still don’t know what all of Homer’s powers are, so he might even be able to bring you back. Oh, we should stop talking. Wanda’s here with the second sacrifice. I believe that you and Ralph have become friends, right?

Frenzy: Spending Time (Part XII)

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I catch a bus to Ace’s apartment since I have no identity, and public transportation still allows for such a thing. I still have to do some walking, which is honestly getting to be a pain. I’ve been through a lot over the last two days, and I really just want to go to bed. Assuming Ace is some kind of time traveler, and already knows what’s going on, he’ll probably let me crash at his place again. If he’s not, then I’m about to make an ass out of myself. I go up to his unit and knock on the door.

A woman answers. “Can I help you?”

“Um, does Ace live here?” I ask before adding, “or Horace, that is?” I remember him calling himself that once.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve never heard that name.”

“I must have the wrong address. Sorry about that.”

“Not a problem,” she answers. “Hey, are you one of those Frenzy runners?”

“I am,” I say. “I’m training.”

“Well, good luck next year.”

“Thanks,” I say before she closes the door.

Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t live here yet. A lot can happen in four years. Hell, he might have moved in a month before we first met in the future. Now I truly have no one. I could seek out Lincoln Rutherford, the one person I know for sure understands time travel, but I’m hesitant to do that. He was clearly freaked out to see me before, and I’m not so sure I can trust him. Still, he might be my only option. That will have to wait, though. It’s getting late, and I still have to find somewhere to sleep.

I wander the streets for nearly an hour, trying to find the best place to curl up in a corner and wait out the night. Homeless shelters are regularly closed and replaced. I do not recall where to find one back in 2022. I notice a coffee shop up ahead, and decide that that’s where I want to be. I’ll find some warmth for a few minutes before they kick me out, and someone may even let me borrow the internet so I can find a shelter. I walk in and see serendipity sitting by the fireplace. Maybe The Gravedigger, or even Rutherford, is looking out for me. How else would you explain this? Of all the coffee shops, in all the world, I walk into his. Ace is reading what looks like a very deep and thought-provoking book, and sipping from his tea. I was going to ask him for answers, but seeing him like this makes me realize that he has no clue what’s going on. Whatever he learns about this world, he’s not learned it yet. For now, he’s just a normal guy. A hot normal guy with some kind of pastry that looks better than any food I’ve ever seen.

“You can have it,” Ace suddenly says without looking up from his book.

I look behind me like an idiot. “Are you talking to me?”

“There are several other people here, so I must be talkin’ to you.”

“I’m sorry?”

He laughs and closes his book. “It’s before your time. I can practically smell your hunger. If you need something to eat, that’s available. I didn’t realize it had raisins, so I’m not gonna eat it.”

I don’t like raisins either, but I’m starving. Worried he might change his mind, I quickly grab it and swallow it up. Only afterwards do I feel embarrassed and ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“Your fine.” He reaches back and takes some paper money out of his pocket. “This place doesn’t give you shit when you pay with dolla dolla bills. That’s why I come here.”

“I...I can’t take your money.” I continue to stammer, “in—in fact, I sh...should be going.” I stand up. I really want to stay with him, but this isn’t right. We’re not supposed to meet for another four years. The longer we’re together here, the more likely it is he’ll remember me when he meets me before the Frenzy. That will just be confusing for him, so I have to cut this short and let it go. It’s time to face the fact that I’m alone in this time. No one can help me, and nor should they try. Even though I don’t consider this my fault, it’s my mess, and I can’t expect anyone to help clean it up.

“Wait,” he stops me. “What’s your name?” he asks, just so that he can get to what he wants to say.

“Serkan,” I reply instinctively. No, I should have used an alias. I’ve made it even worse; must be Tuesday.

“Serkan,” he starts off, “I don’t like to sugarcoat things. I don’t know where you come from, or what’s going on. But I can see that you need food, and you need money. I have those things. I’m actually pretty well-off. I’m not here to judge or question whether you deserve to be in this situation, but what I can do is help. Maybe it was even fate. Of all the coffee shops, in all the world, you walk into mine.”

That’s a direct quote from a thought I just had. “Can you read my mind?”

He laughs. “Can I dowhatnow?”

I don’t want to press it. “Never mind.” I take the wad of cash from his hand. “I very much appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I go up to the counter and wait in line, but as I’m doing so, I find myself frequently look back at Ace. He’s watching me as well. He’s four years younger than last I saw him, which means that he’s only a few years older than me at this point. That’s no big deal...no big deal at all. I probably don’t look like a silly little child to him, and the way his eyes focus on me makes me feel like he recognizes this as well. I try to look up at the chalkboard to determine what I should eat. It has to be filling, cheap, and as healthy as possible. As a coffee shop, it doesn’t have too many options—

Before I know it—and I’m not talking about time travel; just a form of autopilot—I’m in Ace’s apartment. We don’t even get out of the entryway before we start making out and tearing each other’s clothes off. I’m kissing him more passionately than I ever have anyone before. I’m kissing him like an adult. He undoes my Frenzy suit and tugs it off my shoulders. Now I’m standing here topless, like a surfer who hasn’t yet put his wetsuit all the way on. He starts kissing down my chest, drawing closer to the finish line. I laugh in my own head at the metaphor.

He comes back up and looks me in the eyes. “My name is Ace, by the way. Horace.”

“I know,” I say, in the heat of the moment, then I go back to kissing him on the neck.

“What?”

“I mean...that’s a great name.”

“Oh,” he tries to say through the desire.

“I’ve never brought anyone home before,” he says when we wake up in the morning.

“I ain’t never been broughten.”

He chuckles. “You must be hungry. You never did get that crumpet, or whatever, last night.”

“I got something better. But yes, I could go for some quiche, or something.”

He tilts his head. I’ve messed up again. I’m not supposed to know about that. “Funny. I’m kind of known for make an amazing quiche.” He stands up and starts some morning stretches.

“Then I guess I came to the right place.” Despite my time travel taboos, I’m doing pretty well. I’m smoother than I usually am. It must be the sex. I’ve had it before, but not like that; not with a guy like Horace... “What’s your last name?”

“Reaver. Horace Reaver.”

I nod. “Serkan Demir.”

“I feel like such a slut not telling you that before hopping into bed.”

“Then I suppose we’re both sluts.” I sit up on my knees and kiss him again. “I’m all right with that.”

I can feel his lips smile while still attached to mine. “What makes my quiche so good is that it takes an hour to make. I better get started.”

I fall back and rest my head on both my wrists. “I can’t wait that long,” I say in a cutesy voice.

“I’ll make some toast too, and I think I still have a couple hard-boiled eggs in the fridge.”

A few minutes later, I walk over to the kitchen area wearing pants and a shirt I stole from his wardrobe. I sit at the counter and eat my appetizers while watching him do his thing. “I’m not homeless,” I blurt out.

“Okay,” is all he says, not wanting to overstep.

“I just...I can’t go back home.”

He peers at me. “Do they not accept you as you are.”

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like. I was a gay baby. I never needed to come out to my family. I can’t really explain why I have to stay away from there, though. I just have some things I need to work out on my own.”

“I understand that. I mean, I don’t understand what you’re going through, but you and I are okay.”

This guy had sex with someone he thought was homeless. He brought him home to his house with fancy television monitors and a bunch of clothes, and then he slept with him. He may not make the wisest decisions, but he’s someone I can trust, and I already knew that. I can’t do this on my own. If Horace Reaver won’t help me through being marooned in the timestream, then no one in the world will. I have this urge to explain myself, so that he doesn’t think my parents kicked me out, or something. I need him to know who I am; why I’m here. “I’m a time traveler.”

“What?”

“I was in 2026, and then I fell in a grave, of all places. When I crawled out, I found myself in 2022. I don’t know why or how it happened, but I can’t get back. It looks like I’m gonna have to go the long way ‘round.”

He stops cooking and studies me. “Are you telling the truth?”

“I know it sounds crazy...” I start to say.

He puts down the spatula and goes over to grab his phone.

“I understand if you have to call the authorities, or a mental hospital, or whatever. You should know, however, that last night was real. That meant something to me. I’ve never met anyone like y—”

“Ulinthra?” he asks into the phone, cutting me off. “How fast can you get to Kansas City? I think we’ve just found the proof we were looking for.”

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Microstory 354: Equality

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Social Love

Lots of people think that the rainbow flag is a symbol for homosexuality, and it’s actually rather sad that this narrow viewpoint has continued. While it did push the issue to the forefront of people’s minds, which is the purpose of symbols, I believe that it has hurt our cause as well. The original intention of the rainbow was not only to represent a particular group, but all of them. All of us. It is a symbol of diversity. Now that you know this, it kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? Google is currently running a campaign of “be together, not the same”. I find this to be an incredibly powerful and beautiful sentiment. People who argue against bigotry often try to find commonalities between the bigots and the oppressed. And that’s great, at least it certainly has its place, but Google and I are proposing a different approach. The question we’re ultimately asking is “okay, you don’t identify with these people; why is that a problem?” We have all been told that we should be celebrating our differences, but most of us seem to be having trouble acting on this maxim. I’ve discussed the problem of bigotry with people on the right side of history, and for the most part, we all agree that bigotry has remained a constant throughout history. The police didn’t suddenly start beating black people, it’s just that everyone has a camera in their pocket now. That’s the only real difference, as dumb as that sounds. So what is equality? We all know what it literally means, but what does a world like that look like? Truthfully, no one knows. But anyone not voting for Donald Trump knows that it will be better. Yes, I said will, because we’ll get there. Love will indeed win, and there’s nothing Trump can do to stop that. Thousands of years from now, assuming you’re young enough to be immortal, you’ll look back on these days and wonder what people were thinking. This will all look even more ridiculous than it already does. The bigots, on the other hand, will all be dead.

Free Thought

Microstory 353: Social Love

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Acceptance

Love is when you not only agree that things are a certain way and that this is all right, but also that you’re for it. You’ve determined that what you hated or didn’t understand before is actually a good thing, and that you should be in support of it. My sister and I were raised by love. Earlier generations sound rather progressive to me, but they still held their fair share of ignorance, as was common in those times. Somehow, out of all that came my parents. They taught us to love people of different race, religion, sexuality, etc. It never occurred to me that there was anything wrong with gay people, so when I first encountered someone who thought as much, I was massively confused. I can’t speak for my sister’s perspective, but I can explain my own. Even if I hadn’t been raised by my wonderful parents, I doubt I would have grown up bigoted. This is because I never felt like a normal person. I’m not referring to standard pubescent angst. I’m once more talking about my autism. I’ve always felt like a completely separate species. The way you people do things, it doesn’t make any sense. You are so inefficient, and resistant to progress. It’s actually quite infuriating, being able to see a better way to do things, with no one listening. It’s ironic that I’m one of the quietest people you’ll meet, but I’m the one who wants to talk about fixing the process. All that aside, my autism also causes me to see humans from a sort of outsider’s perspective. That doesn’t mean I don’t care, but it does mean I see no difference between a black father and a single Chinese businessman, or a girl in a wheelchair and a senator. You’re all just people to me. So when I hear about all this friction between two groups of people, it’s not something I can relate to. I just can’t understand it, except on an academic level. I came from a different place, but I too had to learn love, and I’m still working on it.

Equality

Microstory 352: Acceptance

Click here for a list of every step.
Tolerance

Congratulations again, you’re one step closer to being a happy person. Here’s your ribbon. You have let go of most of your anger. You’ve stopped fighting the reality of the world. You’ve looked into the future and seen that your obstinance has no place in the world. I wish more people would be like you. Seeing the future isn’t all that difficult. Yes, we do have this thing called free will, and no it wasn’t bestowed upon us by God. If it were, then it isn’t real. Choice, like time, isn’t a conscious planning entity. It is but the natural course of events. So yeah, we are indeed free to make our own choices, but that doesn’t mean absolutely anything can happen, or that there is no such thing as causality. It just means that many things can happen, and these things can be understood. Past experiences never determine the future, but they can do a damn good job at predicting it. Every choice you make is put before you as the result of a series of prior events, some partially instigated by yourself, others by other people, and the rest by natural forces. You might be asking the screen, why is he talking about causality? Well, you see, it all has to do with this need to hold onto tradition. The past is not valuable simply by being in the past; it must be good on its own. I know I’ve used this as an example before, but I’ll say it again. This world has a history of slavery, and it is in fact persisting today, but that doesn’t make it okay. So when people argue against gay rights (read: human rights), building a wall in the year of your Lord 2017, or getting rid of schools, they just sound like idiots. They obviously have an inability to see the future, because things are going to change, and as an optimist, I believe they will change for the better. You have already changed by attaining acceptance, and soon things will get even better for you, and you’ll learn what love is.

Social Love