Microstory 2463: Overdome

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You can live here. It’s called Overdome, because everything here is oversized. Not only that, but most of them are habitable. I’m talking gigantic shoes, gigantic bookcases, gigantic whisky bottles. I’m not gonna list every little thing (or every big thing, rather) that serves as some sort of abode. What I’ll tell you is that most of the dome is empty. It’s up to you to request what you want if nothing that you envision already exists. You can be as involved in the process as you would like, or totally stay out of it. One woman I met in The Crystal Ball was only staying there temporarily while she designed her dream home to her exact specifications. It’s a 3D integrated circuit layout, obviously with multiple layers, known as a logic cube. You probably take them for granted, but every classical computer uses them to process and store data, and they’ve been doing it pretty ubiquitously since the mid-21st century. She loves them, and she wants her home to reflect that. I suppose I ought to go back a little and explain The Crystal Ball. It’s a giant crystal ball. That’s it. Lol, obviously it’s more complicated than that. Some of the objects here are just for show. They’re more like art pieces. But this one is a real building. It’s one of the biggest here, which is an important note to remember. These objects are not scaled relative to each other. The bookcase is actually smaller than the Crystal Ball, even though it’s the opposite for their real-world counterparts. The Crystal Ball is located in the very center of the dome, and serves as a central hub. You can book a room on a temporary basis, like the logic cube designer, or for a very temporary stay, like a hotel. Or you could just stay there permanently, if it strikes your fancy. It looks just like it should, except you can see people walking around in it. Don’t worry, if you are in a private room, you can adjust the opacity at will. I saw one guy as I was walking down the corridor who had the opacity at 99% for the outside, but it was fully transparent on the interior, so we could all see him change his clothes. Whatever, man. I would recommend coming to Overdome for a look, but it will be up to you if you want to stay. And then it will be up to you to decide if you want something new all to yourself. The possibilities are virtually endless. I noticed one option on the application form that was just a question mark. Apparently, you can select a mystery home. Someone will choose a design for you, and not tell you what it is for the entire time you’re waiting. They won’t even tell you where exactly your lot is located. You sign a contract that promises to stay there for at least a year, and they have all these stipulations about vacation periods, and whathaveyou. I don’t know if they choose embarrassing things, like maybe an ancient tampon, or what, but it could be kind of fun if you’re bored, or just like to live in the anticipation. Me? I can’t wait for my oversized alarm clock to be done.

Microstory 2452: Coraldome

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This dome is categorized under multiple categories, but you wouldn’t know it by finding it in one of the categories, and opening its prospectus. It’s a little nitpicky, but I just happened to notice that it shows up when you change filters. It’s unclear how many domes are multicategorical, which I guess just bothers me on principle? I know, that’s not really what we’re talking about here, but you can’t provide public feedback on the catalog itself, and I just felt like this was something that other people should know. Okay, I’ll get back to it, and I promise that it won’t be negative moving forward, and that’s because Coraldome is a beautiful place. After looking through all the category filters, I was able to determine that this dome is Residential, Leisure, Ecological, Research & Development, and Institutional. You can live here, if you find an apartment that strikes your fancy, or have a temporary stay at Korallion Hotel. Whether you’re here for long-term exploration, or a one-day visit, there’s a lot to see, and a lot to learn. Life on Earth began through a process known as abiogenesis in the ocean, specifically in hydrothermal vents. It evolved from there, organisms multiplying, taking in energy from their environment, responding to stimuli. They mutated, adapted, filled ecological niches. They transformed into independent species, gained new traits, and eventually left the waters, growing new limbs, and reaching for the sky. But some stayed in the water. Most of them, indeed. Earth’s biosphere is perfectly tailored for the life that evolved there, because any life that wasn’t suited for survival...didn’t. And it still doesn’t. Castlebourne is a different place. You can stick as many domes on it as you want. You can pump air in here, and salt the water with minerals. You can warm it up and cool it down, but it will never be Earth. It will never be our origin. Still, we like life, and our biological imperative demands that we make it. Humans are unique in that we are compelled to make and preserve other species besides our own. Whether it benefits ourselves or not, we want it to live. It’s why we consolidated our population into centralized spaces on Earth, and why we left. It’s why we settled on barren worlds, including Castlebourne; because it didn’t require us to destroy life. When you come to Coraldome, you’ll be met with a community of organisms of all varieties, imported from Earth via digital DNA. They live here now, genetically altered to survive in Castlebourne’s unique ecosystems. We may call it a clownfish, but it’s not the same clownfish that you may find off the coast of Australia. It’s a Castlebourne clownfish, because the composition of the water is different, as is the gravity. The other plants and animals are different too, which impacts how they interact with each other. You could know everything about the biosphere back home, but you’ll have to relearn everything if you come here, and Coraldome is the perfect place to do it. The fish swim all around you, right up to the glass, on multiple levels. It’s my favorite place in the world. This world anyway. Nothing will ever be better than Earth; where it all began. See? I told you that I would start being positive.

Microstory 2432: Infinity Suite

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Oh, I’ve just discovered that, not only can you review an entire dome, but also individual parts of that dome. So here I am, talking about the Infinity Suite in the Palacium Hotel. If there’s one thing this planet does well, it’s not worrying about how much space people take up. The Infinity Suite is the best example of this. I have no clue how it works, but that’s the right word for it. No matter how far I walk, or how many doors I step through, there’s always somewhere new to be. There’s always a new room to explore. Yet, I can’t get lost in it either. Each room, with no exception, has at least three doors. You can go back the way you came, press forward to explore more, or exit to the hallway. And when you do exit—again, no matter how deep you’ve gone—you’re back where you started. But here’s the thing. Your suite has two entrances from the main hallway. One goes back to the beginning, and the other returns to where you last were. So it’s not just some kind of trick of the mind, or an illusion. Or maybe it still is. It boggles my mind, I can’t figure out how the crazy Escher configurations work. Your last known location is somehow being stored in memory. And don’t you think that I’m just in a new hallway that was designed to look exactly like the original one. I’ve made changes, both inside and out, and tracked my progress. I’ve left little numbered pieces of paper on counters, chairs, and couches to create a map. I’ve matched each number with a photo of the room where I put it in. It matches afterwards. I can go back in through the second door, and retrace my steps, and nothing will have shifted. Those rooms are all in there where they’re supposed to be. That still doesn’t rule out some kind of advanced holographic illusion, but I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s still the craziest place I’ve ever been. They let me stay here for two nights, but then I had to give it up, so someone else could try it. There were presumably an infinite number of bedrooms, but I barely slept, because I was too busy trying to figure out how it works. If you manage to secure a booking, please write your own review, and provide any answers that you may have. Or, if you have any explanations, or ideas of what other tests that we could possibly run, comment below. I’m so confused and curious. I won’t ever stop thinking about it.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 17, 2499

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Mateo and Olimpia were in St. Louis on one of their business trips. There was an issue with the booking, which was forcing them into a single room with a single bed. It was no coincidence that all of the hotels were booked up this week. They weren’t the only game in this town right now. Every ridesourcing company was hoping to strike a deal with St. Louis Metro Transit. They were looking to expand their service to multiple outlying areas, but found the project to be cost-prohibitive on their own. One of the bus drivers moonlighted as a driver for Tractus Rides, and suggested they form some sort of partnership. It was a last mile program, which could help thousands get to their destinations at lower cost than if they had to drive themselves, or use a ridesharing service alone. The executives actually thought it was a good idea, but they didn’t just want to close themselves up to options. Everyone was going to get a shot to pitch their idea. This would be a huge opportunity for RideSauce. While St. Louis fell under Mateo’s purview, he wasn’t in charge of the negotiations, because that was well above his paygrade. If they managed to secure something here, there was a chance that RideSauce would make similar deals in other cities.

Only the higher ups for RideSource were here, but Tractus went a different direction. They decided to secure rooms for their local drivers as well, reportedly to show their enthusiasm for the project, but clearly just to make themselves look stronger. They took all the hotel rooms just so they could walk around with their big swingin’ wieners, and that was annoying. There was nothing that the front desk agent could do, so Mateo was gonna have to swallow his pride, and speak to his archrival. “Pacey,” he greeted with an insincere nod.

“Matthew, what a pleasant surprise.” Pacey Henricksen was essentially Mateo’s equivalent for Tractus in the central midwest, though not exactly. Their organization was structured differently, so he managed more cities, and other divisions in those cities. RideSauce focused on ridesourcing, but Tractus was also in delivery and limousine services. And he knew that Mateo would be here, obviously.

“You took all the rooms.”

Pacey breathed in deeply through his nose and nodded. “We need them.”

“This is a stunt.”

“This is all a stunt,” Pacey argued. “That’s what we’re doing here. How we appear to the client is what matters most.”

“What we can provide to the client is what matters in our eyes,” Mateo countered. “They’ll see that.” He wasn’t really here to get in a fight, but he couldn’t help it.

“We’re bigger, and they need to know how much better we’ll be at scaling operations.”

“Your other divisions are irrelevant. The bus riders aren’t going to be getting in any limos.”

“They might if they pay a premium,” Pacey reasoned.

Mateo laughed. “They’re bus riders,” Mateo emphasized. “They don’t pay premiums. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“We’ll see. Did you need something?”

“We need one of your rooms. They overbooked, so now we’re stuck with one between the two of us.”

Pacey looked over Mateo’s shoulder, at Olimpia. “I don’t see the problem.”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth, you’re not her type.”

“What’s her type?”

“Decent people,” Mateo answered.

Pacey shrugged. “I’m sure she would make an exception.”

“She and I are professionals. You might look into it. Until then, what do I need to do to get one of your rooms?”

Pacey grimaced. “You see, if I give you a room, I’ll be taking it away from someone else, which means they’ll be pairing up instead. That doesn’t really solve the problem, it just shifts it to someone else. You have more experience with that than I do.”

Ugh. Of course he would bring that up again. He always found a way whenever they ran into each other. “For the last time, that driver was not in my area. Just because he was supposed to drive the rider from Sioux Falls to Sioux City doesn’t mean he worked for me. He was registered in South Dakota. I had nothing to do with the failed background check.”

“Well, it speaks to how flippant your company is with safety and security,” Pacey decided.

“The driver worked for you too, he passed your background check just as easily, so don’t give me that bullshit. And unlike me, South Dakota is in your jurisdiction.”

“Well, he wasn’t working for us that night, which is why the judge withheld it as evidence.”

Mateo had no retort, and it was a distraction anyway. “There are only two of us, and as her superior, it would be inappropriate for us to share a room. Pacey. Please. You must know of two people who can bunk up.”

Pacey looked away in thought. “Well...there’s this one driver that I’ve been seeing. I suppose that she and I could share. Your little assistant could sleep in her room instead. We wouldn’t even have to involve the hotel. We’ll just give her a keycard. But if she takes anything from the mini-bar, you’re paying for it.”

“She never would,” Mateo explained. “I’ll ask her if she’s okay with it.”

“Lovely,” Pacey said. “Always glad to assist a colleague.”

Mateo stepped over to talk to Olimpia, who was receptive to the idea. She wasn’t entirely convinced that the original situation was a problem that needed to be fixed, but she didn’t argue. She wouldn’t, though. He needed to get better at reading her, and recognizing that he’s her boss, and that she wouldn’t want to antagonize him. As long as Pacey’s companion stayed in his room, instead of going back to her own, Olimpia should be fine. That wasn’t what happened, though, and they should have known.

“They got in a big fight apparently,” Olimpia said at Mateo’s doorway.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping away.

She rolled her suitcase inside. “She was telling me about it, but I’ve become pretty good at tuning people out. I know what they want to hear when I’m pretending to listen actively, based on tone and pauses in their speech, so I don’t have to absorb the information. I’m sure it was very banal and meaningless. The fact is, she wanted her room back, and I didn’t want to stick around. She said she was fine sharing it with me, because I seemed cool, but I really don’t wanna do that.” She looked around this room. “I was hoping there was a couch, errr...”

“No, the company’s very frugal. I typically don’t care. It doesn’t need to be big, just clean. But you can sleep in the bed, and I’ll be in the tub.”

“I know you, Mateo, you shower at night. I can tell that you already have. The tub is wet.”

He shrugged. “I always bring a swimsuit. I’ll sleep in that.”

“That’s silly. We can share, it’ll be fine.”

Mateo looked down at the bed. “It’s a full, not even a queen. Pacey must have done that on purpose as further punishment.”

“Pacey?” she questioned. “How would he have any control over what room you were assigned?”

Mateo blinked. “I don’t know, how would he?”

Olimpia blinked back. “Can you sleep next to a woman without having sex with her?”

“Yeah, can you? Vice versa, that is?”

She hesitated to answer.

“Olimpia, it’s a simple—” Wait...

She still couldn’t answer, and she didn’t try to backpedal.

No, he couldn’t sleep in the bed with her. He couldn’t even sleep in the tub. He had to get out of here entirely. “You take the bed, I’m gonna hail a RideSauce Hot. They’re almost always SUVs, so I should be able to sleep in the back.”

“That’ll cost you a fortune.”

“Not if we don’t go anywhere,” he contended. “I’ll pay under the table.”

“That is not a service that our company offers.”

“No, but...I’m the boss. I’m sure whoever it is will say yes. That’s the difference between us and Tractus. The drivers know who I am. Nobody who works for Pacey could pick him out of a line up.”

“Mateo, it’ll be fine. I’m not saying that I won’t be able to handle it. I just want to be honest about my feelings.”

“I appreciate that. It would have been real easy for you to say nothing, and let it happen. But I have to nip this in the bud. You’re my employee, and I’m married.”

“Right, which is why I’ll get over it.”

“It’s too complicated. Things are different out there.” He pivoted, and started to gaze out the window at the stars. What did they have to do with anything?

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Mateo’s phone rang. It was Leona. “Hey, I’m about to go to bed.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. What would be wrong?”

“I just had this feeling that you’re upset about something. I can’t explain it.”

“Things have gotten a little bit awkward with the hotel rooms, but we’re working it out. I think you just get worried about me when I’m gone.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Oh, hold on. I’m getting another call.” He switched over without even bothering to see who it was. “Hello?”

“Mateo. This is Angela. Is everything okay?”

“Angela? My neighbor? Why would you think there’s something wrong?”

“Marie and I just started getting this weird feeling.”

A text came in. It was Ramses. Yu ight?

What the hell was going on?

They heard a series of beeps at the door just before it opened. Pacey walked in. He looked disappointed. “I thought you three had an understanding, but it looks like the feelings are a little more complicated, so this whole hotel room gambit isn’t gonna get you where you need to be.”

“What are you talking about?” Mateo demanded to know. “How do you even have a key to get in this room?”

Pacey looked back at the door, and then back to Mateo. “What room?”

“I’m so confused.” Mateo sat down on the edge of the bed, and buried his face in his hands.”

“I know,” Pacey said. “I messed up. I was trying to respect your privacy by only extracting the memories and knowledge that I needed to set up a plausible scenario, but it wasn’t enough. I’m afraid, in order to keep you here, I’m gonna have to go deeper.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Mateo argued.

“I know, and you won’t remember any of this anyway. You and Olimpia will have had sex tonight. That’s how you’ll remember it, and you will have already told Leona about it by the time you wake up. In fact, it will have been weeks ago. She will be fine, and the three of you will move forward with your relationship. Unfortunately, in order to make this work, you’re gonna have to lose the transit contract. I’ll become a weaker antagonist if you don’t.”

Actually, this was starting to make sense. Mateo’s memories were resurfacing. None of this was real. This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t any of their lives. “I know you. You met Leona before. She ran into you in the ka—”

Mateo was nervous. He had never been on a date with two women before. Well, there was that one time, but that was more of a double date where his girlfriend’s friend’s boyfriend flaked out on her. He had never been interested in that other girl. He was interested in Olimpia, and as fate would have it, Leona was interested in her too. She seemed to like them both. This might even go okay. But a first date was a first date, and those were stressful no matter what.

“Are you ready?” Leona asked. “I just need to pick a pair of shoes.”

“Wow. You look beautiful in that.”

“It’ll look better on the floor,” she joked. “Ah, come on, I’m tryna lighten the mood.”

“Is this weird? This seems weird. Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“It’s almost the 26th century,” Leona began. “Polyamory is in.”

“I know, but...”

“Don’t shoot yourself in the foot. Two hot chicks are into you. Just let it happen. If things get messy in the future, we’ll clean it up. No one’s life is gonna get ruined.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“You and I have been through worse,” Leona claimed.

“We’ll see about that.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “But I trust in your judgment. And I love you.”

“Were I you,” she said as he was walking out of the room.

“Were you me what?”

She blinked. “Huh. I don’t know. It’s an idiom, though, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “No, it isn’t.” But was it?

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Microstory 2404: Winterbourne Park

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I understand that there are plenty of mountains, and plenty of snow, on Earth. I understand that you can go on the most dangerous terrain in one of those places, and program your consciousness to jump to a new substrate if something goes wrong. But there’s something really special about being under a dome that’s designed to be the largest ski resort anyone has ever seen outside of a simulation. That’s another thing, you can do all of this more in a virtual construct, if that’s you’re thing, but there’s nothing quite like knowing that this is all happening in base reality. This place is huge. Hundreds of hills, dozens of mountains. Sledding, skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiling, ice luging. Is that how you spell it? You know what I’m talking about. They also have fat biking, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, ice skating, climbing, sled rides. I think the animals are animatronics, but who knows? I didn’t ask. There’s a train that goes all around one of the mountains. You can jump over it on your skis or snowboard, or you can ride the train instead, and watch people do that. It’s funny when they fall, because you know they’re gonna be okay. There’s one mountain, and it’s a toughy, where they intentionally trigger an avalanche, and you have to ski or board away from it. That one’s a little scary. I didn’t do it, and plus, you have to wait for it to be reset. They have to shovel the snow back up to the top, and collect all the dead bodies. It’s not like you can just go up there whenever you feel like it. The indoor areas are just as good. The various resorts have everything you could want, like saunas and spa treatments, hot cocoa, tons of fireplaces to read next to. There are remote cabins for you to sleep in, or you can stay in the main town. They have igloo hotels, which I think I’m gonna go back to try. Didn’t have time to do it all, but everyone who was doing the things that I never got around to seemed to be having a lot of fun.

The Fifth Division: Hitting Rock Bottom (Part I)

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When Ingrid Alvarado was living in the Fifth Division parallel reality, she managed to work her way up to the rank of Telamon. She was in command of the Offensive Contingency Detachment, leading an army against the opposing force from the Andromeda Galaxy. She was happy with where she was, as were all of her compatriots, though they had complicated relationships with each other. When Team Matic showed up, they didn’t like how the supercluster was being run, and to speak the truth, neither did anyone else, really. Ingrid was proud of the work that she was doing, but she didn’t want to kill her enemies. She didn’t like it. It just seemed so unavoidable, so when Captain Leona Matic tried to take over the entire alliance by force, she knew that she couldn’t surrender. While the others agreed to send champions to their deaths, sure that they would maintain their own power in the end, she held back. When the fight was over, and only one champion remained in the ring, they were shocked to find that that winner was Leona. They had all underestimated her—all but Ingrid.

Leona and her team were wildcards who appeared out of nowhere, and began to resist the establishment pretty much right away. You don’t get that kind of courage from inexperience and a lack of fortitude. Honestly, those guys were dicks, and Ingrid couldn’t help but be pleased with the results. Leona was now in control of the Fifth Division Detachment Alliance, and Ingrid was her number two. But not really. Leona was clearly a rolling stone, so it was only a matter of time before she reached her goals in this corner of the universe, and moved on. This did indeed happen, and Ingrid was placed in full command. With her newfound power, Ingrid signed treaties with the Andromeda Consortium, and the Denseterium, which gave her even more power. She ranked up to become a Superordinate. This novel title turned out to be more important than ever when the five realities collapsed, and every living being was sent to the Sixth Key. They were unexpectedly on the verge of fighting a new war, and The Supercluster was positioned to gain more power than ever, as was Ingrid herself.

The bittersweet truth, however, was that this isn’t what happened. A sentient tree had other ideas. They were forced to negotiate in the Rock Meetings. The sparks of conflict never ignited the flames of war, but Ingrid never managed to wrest control over a whole universe either. That certainly would have been nice to see written in the history books. Even so, what she realized was that she was kind of tired of it all. Leona secretly gave her the gift of virtual immortality, which also came with a side of an immense change of perspective. This shift in her worldview happened gradually as the realities collided, tensions rose, and the diplomatic discussions pressed forth. What was she doing with her life? Why was she so violent? Why did she care so much about control? She was about to give it all up when they were abducted yet again, and trapped on a prison world to prevent them from causing a temporal paradox. But she stuck to her guns, so to speak, and is now striving for a life of peace and harmony. She loves it here in the Garden Dimension. When that same sentient tree asked for volunteers to be “human agents” she shrunk into herself, hoping that no one would volunteer her. She isn’t the only member of the military here, but she’s the only one who has seen any real action. Bariq Medley is a General, but he’s only trained in the theoretical. He doesn’t know what real war is like. His reality was too progressive before he was even born.

Right now, Ingrid is sitting on a bush that somehow grew in the shape of a bench. It’s quite comfortable, actually. The moss that grows on it is very soft, and she was told that it excretes self-cleansing saponins, though she’s not entirely sure what that means. They didn’t really have plants where she lived before. She was aware of them on some planets, but the first time she saw plant life up close was after the transition to the Sixth Key. This will be her first sunset too. “If this is a pocket dimension, how is there a sun here?” she asks. “Is it only a simulation?”

She’s sitting with Onyx Wembley, who has the title of Botanical Orchestrator. He organizes all the plants, in their little sections, making sure that they don’t disturb each other, or compete for nutrients. “It’s not just a pocket dimension, but a parallel dimension as well. There’s a whole world out there. We’re housed in a very thin pocket only so that we can better control the environment. But you could go outside if you wanted; as in, outside outside. That’s why the sun looks kind of hazy. Those aren’t clouds, it’s the mostly transparent dimensional barrier between us and the sky.”

“I see. So that is the real Earthan sun.”

“More like a copy of it,” Onyx clarifies.

She nods, and continues to enjoy the orange and red colors filling the sky now like spilled paint. Magic hour is what they called it. Unfortunately, her joy does not last long. All of the sudden, there’s an explosion out of nowhere. A cloud of particles hovers in the air a few meters from them for a couple seconds before tightening up in the form of a person. She doesn’t know who it is, but as the two of them are standing there, afraid to approach the imploding man, another dust cloud appears farther away. It coalesces into Andrei Orlov. They watch in horror and confusion as more and more people appear out of thin air, scattered randomly about the grounds. She knows a few of them, but not everyone. They all collapse on the grass, and catch their breaths. The last two people are a man Ingrid knew to be from the Fifth Division, and then Selma Eriksen. Both of them are brandishing weapons, though neither is in a position to use it.

Ingrid takes the man’s rifle, and turns it on him. “What’s your name again?”

“That?” Selma asks, chuckling. “That’s Ammo Fucker.”

“Fuck you, bitch! You killed me!”

“You’re not dead yet,” Ingrid explains.

Ayata Seegers runs over from her own explosion site, and reaches down for Selma. “Are you okay? Is your back broken?”

“It was broken?” Ingrid questions.

“I think it was, yeah,” Selma says. She stands up, and hops around. “It’s not anymore, though. Dying cured me.”

“You can’t die in the Crest Hotel,” one of the women Ingrid recognizes says. What was her name? Elmie? “It’s a safety feature. If you are killed, you’ll respawn somewhere else.” She looks around at the Garden. “Though, not wherever we are now.”

“Well, we didn’t know that,” the angry Fifth Divisioner guy argues.

“Clearly,” Andrei fires back. He gives Selma a hug, and then Ayata, and then gives Ayata a short but fervent kiss on the lips.

Everyone who lives or works in the Garden Dimension teleports in, having received Onyx’s emergency message. This includes the four other members of the original team, Arnold, Pinesong, Princess Honeypea, and their leader, Storm. Weaver, Goswin, Eight Point Seven, and Briar show up too.

“I know this man,” Weaver says. “He’s no good. Permission to apprehend him, Storm?”

“Granted,” Storm Avakian agrees.

Briar walks over to the prisoner, and places cuffs on his wrists. “I’ve been where you are before. I can show you where the path to redemption begins, if you let me.”

The prison spits in Briar’s face.

“You’ll get there,” Briar responds, calmly and confidently.

Weaver looks over at Andrei. “Report.”

“It’s a long story, could we sit somewhere?” Andrei requests.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to start interviewing the prisoner?” Ingrid asks Weaver.

Weaver just jerks her head in Storm’s direction.

“What is your interview style?” Storm asks. “Is it more torture, or talking?”

“Definitely talking. Torture has been proven time and time again to be ineffective.”

“Gossy, take her to Thornbower.”

“I’d like to go too, Onyx volunteers.

Goswin smiles. “I can take two at a time just fine.” He grasps both of their hands, and pulls them in close, but doesn’t transport just yet. “Please keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times. There’s a reason it’s called Thornbower. He finally jumps, and Ingrid sees that they weren’t joking around.

They’re standing in a tunnel made out of uncomfortably short trees, arching towards each other above. Vines have woven themselves between them all around. They’re covered in thorns, as are the trunks and branches. The ceiling is high enough to allow any normal-sized person to pass underneath, but it’s still claustrophobic and unsettling. They instinctively lower their heads, and keep an eye out for stray thorns. You cannot be too careful in here. One small step in the wrong direction, and you’ll poke your eye out. Ingrid looks behind them to find that the tunnel is as endless that way as it is the other way. If this is what they use as a jail, it’s totally fitting, and on-brand for them. There might not even be any doors or cells here. There wouldn’t have to be if there’s only one entrance/exit.

“We’ve never had to use this before,” Onyx reveals.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Goswin notes. Only now does he let go of Ingrid and Onyx’s hands, having been allowing them to hold on out of fear.

“That happens,” Ingrid adds. “There’s only a first time for everything that happens; not anything that never does.”

“In an infinite cosmos, there is no such thing as something that doesn’t ever happen,” Goswin muses. He winks before disappearing.

Onyx shivers. “This way.”

As it turns out, the endlessness is nothing but an illusion. What appeared to be a single straight tunnel is a windy maze of confusing and frightening corridors and deadends. It really would be impossible to escape if you were in a hurry. There aren’t any security cameras, and of course no guards, but based on the sounds she could hear, the walls probably weren’t all that thick. She even caught a few glimpses of blue through the branches, suggesting that one could hypothetically subvert the bower altogether, if they were brave enough, or insensitive to pain. It would still be dangerous, though.

They round one last bend, and meet up with Briar and the prisoner. This is a much more open area, furnished with nearly everything a prisoner needs to live. It comes with two armchairs, a hardback chair for a desk, and a really nice wooden bed with a queen-sized mattress. There’s no wired electricity, but there are a few lanterns for when it gets dark. For water, there’s an entire well, which could be a security concern, but there must be some design choices that aren’t obvious just by looking. She’s unsure what they might do for food.

Briar looks over at the other two. “Hold on.” He’s sitting in one of the armchairs, opposite the prisoner, leaning forward to make it a more intimate conversation. “I was raised by my mother on a planet which was otherwise devoid of intelligent life. She died when I was still young, so I raised myself the rest of the way, and I didn’t do a very good job. I killed someone. He hit the rocks on the bottom of the cliff, and bled out...alone. To this day, it remains the greatest regret of my life. The funny part is that his friends went back in time and rescued him, against all odds. That’s when I realized that I was the one on the bottom of that cliff. I was the one who was alone. He survived because people wanted him to, and if I had fallen instead, that would just be the end of it.”

“I’m not alone, I’m part of a team.”

“Are you? Where are they now?”

“They assume I’m dead.”

“So you are alone.”

The prisoner huffs, and turns away.

“Believe it or not, I managed to make friends too, again despite the odds,” Briar goes on with his personal story. “But the only way I was able to do it was to hit rock bottom first. You may think you’re there now, but I’m here to tell you, A.F., that you can always fall farther. All rock bottom really means...is how far you fall before you finally decide to climb your way back up.” Briar leans towards the back of his chair like he’s said something profound, except that’s not all he’s doing. He lifts one leg up, braces it under A.F.’s chair, and kicks it backwards.

A.F. is sent tumbling down the well, screaming for his life...until he hits rock bottom.

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The Fourth Quadrant: Flying Like a Rock (Part IV)

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Mount Hilde does not only grant access to the Sixth Key from Fort Underhill Proper. It also serves as the frontlines. In the parent universe, Salmonverse, direction and location are all about one’s frame of reference, but not here. There is a hard limit to the scope of Fort Underhill. Move far enough in any direction, and you’ll reach the physical boundaries that hold the cosmos together. You would not be able to break free through that wall, however. It’s reportedly fifty times thicker than the walls of a normal universe—whatever that means, and whatever these walls are made out of. Only something called the Aperture leads to the kasma, where you can potentially escape into the multiverse, but even that would not be guaranteed. Team Gatekeeper has come to find out why this is known as a fort at all. It’s meant to be a haven for any and all peacelovers, so the entrance is the only way in or out. The world they’re standing on right now is at that entrance. The peak of Mount Hilde is apparently pointed right at it. If someone wants to come here, looking for trouble, this is what’s gonna be in their way. It’s thusly unclear why the team is even here in the first place. This whole place was designed to keep out intruders. Security is what they supposedly do best, so why do they need a small team of individuals who only recently came together?

“You’re not here to secure Mount Hilde,” Hogarth explains. “You’re here to protect the diplomatic team that I’ve assembled. This is just the means by which we reach the plane of existence that we’re headed for.”

“You let me secure the perimeter,” Selma reminds her. “The perimeter to this facility, on this mountain.”

“You were on a roll, barking orders. I didn’t want to slow you down. Plus, it’s always good to get a second opinion on our security measures.”

Selma sighs.

“Miss Eriksen,” Hogarth continues, “you were not assigned the leadership role of your team, yet here you are, taking charge.”

“Atticus wasn’t saying anything.”

“Hey, I agree. Every military is defined by how orderly and organized it is, as is any well-run private organization. But the reality is that true leaders aren’t hired, or designated. They step up. Those are the ones that people are better off following, because they earn their place every day. If they fail, they lose it. Someone who serves as leader in any official capacity will often just be allowed to stay there, even if they don’t deserve it. I think Atticus is recognizing the same thing that I am, and is allowing you to do what you need to do. It’s what we all need right now. You are what we need. So do your thing. I’ll let you know when you’re messing something up.”

Selma is skeptical to stay the least. She taps her earwig. “Fall back to the lobby. It’s time to go.” She looks up at the foggy second story. “I’m guessing that’s our entrance?”

“You guess right.”

“It’s a portal, or something?”

“Or something.”

“That’s vague, and unsettling. Is it dangerous?”

“Everything is dangerous,” Hogarth says, likely having fun being cryptic and unhelpful.

“Please clarify.”

Hogarth sighs. “I didn’t make that. That is supposed to lead to the observation platform, where you can spot the Aperture with the naked eye. The fog was placed there by a...friend of mine. I can’t tell you how it works, because he didn’t tell me.”

“Please clarify,” an unsatisfied Selma repeats.

“He’s a god. He’s literally an energy god. He doesn’t intervene as much as I would like, but he agreed to facilitate diplomatic discussions with our apparent enemy by building us some kind of bridge. I don’t know where it goes, and I don’t know what we’ll find when we get there. That’s why I need you. I certainly can’t fit my whole robot army up those stairs. I wish that I could prepare you better, but I don’t have all the answers.”

The two of them are standing on a small mezzanine level, between the main floor, and the fog. Climbing up the rest of the stairwell would seemingly take them up to the real top of the building. Selma looks up in that direction. “No one ever does.” She watches as everyone down below begins filing back into the lobby from various doorways. Once everyone is back, she begins to walk back down the steps, but stops. “Wait. Is that the diplomatic team? Do they have any experience?”

“Those are my people,” Hogarth says. “I’m the only representative from Fort Underhill who will be going on the mission. The diplomats should be arriving shortly.”

She was right. Just as Selma is stepping down to join the group, five more people enter from the fog. Hogarth looks just as surprised as Selma and the Fort Underhillers. Four of the newcomers begin to descend the curved staircase while one of them stays at the top. “People of Fort Underhill, allow me to introduce you to...the Diplomats.” The way he pauses before the last two words makes it sound like they’re part of a club. “Flux Do-4 of Vaidy, Major Regolith Hagedus of Gavismet, Major Allomer Franks of Fanter, and Awilda Zewflux of Vaidy. Chief Truncative Kanani Kekoa could not be here today.”

“That’s him,” Hogarth whispers. “That’s the energy god. He’s not the one I talked to about the diplomats. He had nothing to do with that. At least, I didn’t think so.”

Major Franks looks back up at the god. “You’re not coming with us?”

“It’s not my place,” the god replies.

“We don’t even know what we’re doing,” Major Hagedus complains. “Where have you brought us?”

The god smiles. “To a pit stop. Come back up here whenever you’re ready.” He doesn’t move a muscle. The fog billows out a little more, and overwhelms him. When it recedes, he’s gone.

“I don’t think that was really Dyne Dyne,” Major Franks says to Flux Do-4. These are all very interesting names.

“I would have to agree,” his friend, Flux Do-4 says stoically.

Hogarth walks over to meet the Diplomats at the bottom of the stairs. “Thank you for coming. We face a great unseen enemy, and would like to resolve things amicably, if at all possible.”

Major Hagedus nods. “We’ve learned to accept any job that has been given to us, whether we asked for it, or not. Give us the details.”

Atticus is still technically the leader of Team Gatekeeper so it is he who joins Hogarth and the Diplomats in the briefing room while Selma and everyone else wait out here by the fountain. They’re in there for about forty-five minutes before they come back out. Hogarth says her personal goodbyes to her friends, then takes a few steps upstairs before turning around to address the crowd. She pulls in a deep breath, and exhales with zen-like vigor. After building sufficient anticipation, she finally speaks, “forward now, unto the breach!” She spins back around, and starts to run up the stairs.

For a second, no one knows what to do, but if Hogarth needs protecting, then Selma is going to be the one to do it. She slips through the crowd, and begin to follow her up. Neither of them make it into the portal fog, though. A blast of some kind shoots out from it, and throws them both over the railing, back towards the floor. Selma doesn’t make it there, though. The central fountain contains statues of people, standing in a circle, and reaching their hands outwards, interpretively in friendship to all. Above them, a young girl is crouching on a platform, pointing outwards as well. Slightly higher, a boy is hanging onto the central column, holding on with one hand and two feet like a monkey. His other hand shields his eyes from the sun. He’s searching for something in the opposite direction of who Selma imagines to be his sister. Just above him is another flat platform where the water splashes onto, so it can rain down below in random patterns, unlike the symmetrical nozzles near the top, which fling jets in neat, predictable arches. Selma crashes onto her back on this empty platform, head turned to the side so she can watch Hogarth’s neck slam into the edge of the pool. The rest of her body is now sprawled out on the floor, motionless.

Selma’s vision is blurring, but she can still make out what’s happening. Four silhouettes have emerged from the fog. They stand on the landing together in a line. The fog recedes up through the opening in the ceiling as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. As it does so, the silhouettes become clearer. One of them appears to be Tamerlane Pryce, though not the avatar of the magical Magnolia tree. It seems to be a real version of the original man. “Who did we get?” he asks, looking down at Selma and Hogarth. “Only two? Hm. That’s disappointing.”

Selma struggles to lift her shoulders up from the stone platform to lean against the column. It’s incredibly painful. She probably broke her back.

“Not even. Well, I guess we’ll have to get the rest some other way,” Tamerlane laments.

“Look,” the other man in the attacking group says. “What’s happening with the dead one?”

Selma struggles again to turn her head, and look back down at Hogarth who appears to be disintegrating? Her body is literally falling apart into a million tiny pieces, flaking off and fading into oblivion. It’s reminiscent of something Selma once saw in a superhero movie they made in the main sequence. During the Rock negotiations, representatives from the different realities would be asked to share art and culture from their native lands to promote unity and camaraderie. The ending to this one was particularly sad and depressing, even though it was the 21st film in the series, and they hadn’t watched the ones leading up to it. In a matter of moments, Hogarth’s body has completely disappeared into nothingness.

“Well,” Tamerlane says with one clap of his hands. “One down, however many to go. Iolanta? Make sure they stay here.”

“Done,” Iolanta replies.

“A.F., I suppose you’re the more...violent of us. Just try to make it efficient, and painless. Our only objective is to protect The First Explorer.”

The other guy cracks his own neck, and psychs himself up, bouncing around like a boxer preparing for a fight. He reaches behind his hip, and swings a rifle down and around into killing position, fancying himself some kind of action hero. Lowell Benton of Fort Underhill doesn’t hesitate before running up the stairs to meet his enemy. He anticipates being shot at, and dodges the first bullet. But the second one hits him square in the chest. He bursts into a million pieces, just as Hogarth had, though much faster. The dust he leaves behind eventually vanishes. A.F. is shocked at this. He rolls his gun a little to his left, and examines it for answers.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Tamerlane questions.

“I shouldn’t think so,” the killer responds.

“I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so keep going, A.F.”

Andrei and Ayata spring into action. They play a little gun fu with A.F. His weapon is long, heavy, and unwieldy. He can’t move it around as fast as they can sprint and hop, and it’s no good in close quarters. He gives up, and starts fighting them in hand to hand combat. He’s getting tired, though, and knows that he’s no match for them with this tactic. He manages to keep them away from him long enough to pull out his sidearm, and shoot them in the stomachs. They too instantly dust apart.

“Okay, now this is getting ridiculous!” Tamerlane cries. “That’s just a nine mil! What the hell is happening?”

“I don’t care,” A.F. growls back. “It’s working.” He gets his rifle back into position, and starts spraying bullets every which way. He’s not aiming at all, just trying to let the auto fire paint the walls with his enemies’ blood. Except there is no blood, only disappearing dust. He’s letting out a primal scream, probably believing himself to be a real life Rambo, or something. That’s another gem of a movie that the main sequence showed them on their breaks.

By some miracle, none of these stray bullets hits Selma. She’s partially covered by the stone column, but not entirely. At least one of them should have slipped through. She has to watch as all of her new friends are slaughtered senselessly. Once he’s done, he drops the end of his gun to turn it into a walking cane to hold himself up while he catches his breath. Selma looks around at the fountain, and sees that it has suffered no damage at all. It must be protected by a force field. She doesn’t know why they would bother designing it this way. She should count herself lucky, but that’s not how it feels. She’s alone now, and they’ll figure out how to kill her eventually.

A.F. seems to have come to the same conclusion when he notices that she’s still alive. He slowly and deliberately picks his gun back up, cowboy walks over there, and attempts to shoot her at point blank range.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tamerlane shouts. “Watch where you’re pointin’ that thing, asshole!”

“There’s a plasma barrier,” A.F. figures.

“Yeah, I see that. It could have ricocheted.”

A.F. steps a little closer, and lifts his hand, trying to find the barrier manually, but there’s nothing there. It passes right through, unimpeded. With a chuckle, he steps into the pool to no resistance. He chuckles again. “Loophole,” he delightedly declares. He trains his weapon for the last time, right at Selma’s head. “Any last words?”

She stares at him blankly, still in an immense amount of pain. “They keep calling you A.F. What does that stand for? Ammo fucker?” She pulls out her own sidearm, and shoots him right in the forehead. In a surprising twist, he dusts away like everyone else. That’s evidently just what happens to people when they die in this room. Her own life is hanging on by a thread, so she’s about to find out first hand if that’s true. The darkness enshrouds her eyes, and she slips away peacefully.

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The Fourth Quadrant: Rocked to the Core (Part III)

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It’s morning on this side of Castlebourne. While this planet does have an atmosphere, and there is technically a sky above them, it’s not all that pretty. It’s kind of hazy and depressing. Each geodesic dome comes with its own holographic projection on the inner shell to simulate whatever visual environment is desired. When not under the darkness of night, Dojodome is typically kept between dawn and sunrise, just because that’s what Darko happens to like, and this is his territory. There are tens of thousands of other domes here, which serve varying purposes, but the trainees have never left this one. They have never been allowed to so much as see anyone else who lives here. They are currently over a hundred years in the future from where they were living, so no one wants them to gain any insight into what’s to come. They don’t have any problem with this, as they have plenty of work to do here. They are expecting to receive details on their first mission soon, but Darko hasn’t been provided with a specific date. He hasn’t really been teaching them since the Sunshine Sticker Ceremony a few days ago. They have shed their bags of rocks, and have just been practicing their skills as they see fit. At the moment, the four of them are doing some tai chi together to greet the day.

They all stop and stand up straight when a magnolia tree appears on the other side of the room, and fades in and out of view before disappearing for good, leaving them with four strangers. “Greetings,” one of them begins, stepping forward. “My name is Goswin Montagne. I am here to acquaint you with the rest of your team, and give you your first assignment.”

“Where’s the tree?” Andrei questions. “Where’s Princess Honeypea?”

“She doesn’t appreciate what we’re doing here,” one of the other guys says. “She’s a lover, not a fighter. That’s why I love her.”

Goswin isn’t happy with his friend’s flourishes. “This is Briar de Vries. He is here to represent the interests of the Garden Dimension, and will only be serving in this capacity. He does not have authority over you.” He points to the other guy. “This is Atticus Morel, a.k.a. Gatekeeper. He is your leader, and does have authority over you. He has some experience dealing with powerful tyrants like the one we believe you are up against. Lastly, we have Catania Porter. She can take you anywhere you need to go, and get you anything you need. She’s not a fighter, don’t ask her to be.”

Catania doesn’t say anything. A handheld device beeps from her pocket, so she takes it out, and starts fiddling with it.

Goswin sees her do this. “She’s not ignoring you, she’s just really busy. She’s basically a real life Santa Claus, if you’ve ever heard of him, so she’ll be occupying herself with the needs of other clients during her downtime.”

Darko walks over, and stands right in front of Catania. She ignores him.

“Please leave her alone,” Goswin requests.

“You first,” Darko spits back. He reaches up, and places a hand over Catania’s device. He gently pushes it down, and turtles his head into his own shoulders, trying to make eye contact with her. “You’re not gonna say anything?”

Catania sighs. “Hello, son.”

“How long has it been for you?”

“Three years.”

“About the same for me,” Darko agrees.

“This is your mother?” Goswin asks, shocked. He looks into the aether. “Magnolia, what the hell did you do?”

“It’s fine,” Darko says. “She goes where she’s needed, and...she’s needed here. But I’m not.” He takes a sad breath, and heads for the entrance to the other room. “Enjoy your mission. Thank you for being my students.”

“Thank you, teacher,” Selma, Andrei, and Ayata say in perfect sync.

He turns back around and slides the door closed with a slight bow.

Catania is studying the floor awkwardly before going back to what she was doing on her device.

“I’m sorry about that,” Goswin goes on. “I’ll speak with him after the briefing. Is there somewhere we can do that?”

“We can hold it in the chashitsu; or tea room,” Selma suggests. “Ayata, could you lead them there? I’ll make the tea.”

Most chashitsu are fairly small, only fit for a few people sitting on the floor. This being a giant complex filled with all sorts of Japanese architecture, some modifications have been made in certain places. The chashitsu that comes off the main dojo is large enough for a dozen people in chairs. There are larger places for larger gatherings, but they’re farther away, and shouldn’t be necessary for this purpose. Ayata seats everyone around the table, then goes over to help distribute the tea. Goswin lays out the plans for a mission in Fort Underhill. If The First Explorer is truly a threat to the entire universe, they need to understand the vulnerabilities in the interdimensional barriers. Team Gatekeeper, as Goswin is calling it, will be responsible for security while these inspections are going on. It may be nothing. They may have nothing to do but stand around and look menacing. But it also may be everything.

Goswin has holographic maps and diagrams to give them an idea of where they’ll be working. Something catches Selma’s eye. “What’s this?”

“That’s the barrier that separates Fort Underhill Proper from the Sixth Key,” he replies. Fort Underhill is the name of a universe that a woman named Hogarth Pudeyonavic created. She actually built a whole universe with her immense power and technological prowess. How exactly she accomplished this is not something that anyone here can comprehend, but that’s not the point. It was initially a single cosmic structure, but when the parallel realities in the original universe collapsed, all inhabitants of them were shunted into Fort Underill, in some sort of separate half of this. They don’t know how one would go about cutting a universe in half either, but that’s how it’s been explained to them. It’s like a cell that got stuck in the middle of cleaving into two new cells; separate, but forever connected to each other. That’s not really what the map looks like, though. From here, it just looks like a little tumor.

“We were told that the Sixth Key and Fort Underhill were basically two halves of the same universe,” Selma contends. “Why does this look like the former is only a tiny fraction of the size of the latter?”

“You’re thinking in three dimensions. It’s a hyperdimensional structure.”

“You’re the one who drew this. I mean, someone else did; not me. This is a three-dimensional representation of the universe. Why did they make my home smaller than its other half? Unless it’s not really half.”

Goswin exchanges a look with Atticus. “I can’t explain that.”

“Because you don’t know, or because we are not authorized to know?” Selma presses.

“Let’s go with the second one,” Goswin replies.

“That’s not good enough for me.” Selma is getting really worried now. If it’s as simple as the image before them not rendering correctly, why wouldn’t he just say that? The fact that he’s refusing to clarify makes it seem like something is seriously wrong. “This is all I can think about now, and my gut tells me that it’s immensely important. We can’t do our jobs if we don’t know what we’re dealing with. How can we protect the universe if we don’t know how big it is? What are you not telling us about it?”

Goswin sighs. “It’s not my place to say, and even if I try to say it, it won’t make sense. Demand your answers from the good people of the Sixth Key. They’re the only ones who can really explain it.”

Selma isn’t satisfied with that response, but still, she leans back in her chair, and drops the subject. They continue to go over the plan, describing the layout of the embassy that acts as the link between the two “halves” of Fort Underhill. They call it Connexion. After an hour of prep time, it’s time to go on and get on with it. Despite the fact that Goswin never managed to get the sentient tree to explain its reasoning for recruiting Catania Porter while knowing full well her complicated relationship with her son, when he requests transportation to the other universe, that request is granted.

All but Goswin himself find themselves inside of a gargantuan building. If money still existed, no expense would have been spared in the construction of this place. Greek columns tower above them, possibly all the way into infinity. A two story fountain sprays water in large arches, but never splashes out of the pool, and is somehow completely silent. Abstract statues are scattered throughout the room. A three-meter wide staircase leads somewhere mysteriously covered in fog, perhaps as a somewhat literal interpretation of the stairway to heaven? A third group of people is in the middle of a meeting at a bar in the corner. They notice the newcomers.

One of the women hops off of her stool, and walks over with an outstretched hand. “You must be Team Gatekeeper.”

“Is that what we’re called?” Andrei asks.

“I’m Hogarth Pudeyonavic.” Oh. The Creator. Maybe those stairs really do lead to heaven. “Come on over,” she urges her people. Ellie Underhill, Lowell Benton, Nerakali Preston, Gilbert Boyce, and of course, the love of my life, Hilde Unger.” She plants a kiss on her partner’s lips.

Ellie and Lowell, they know. The two of them were present during the Rock Meetings, though they didn’t say much. The magical tree obviously felt like it was only right that Fort Underhill Proper be represented, but they didn’t seem to have any dog in that fight. Selma still doesn’t quite know why the universe is named after Ellie if she’s not the creator. How did that come about?

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Atticus responds. He goes about introducing everyone in Team Gatekeeper. He then proceeds to single Selma out. “She had a question about transdimensional scale.”

“I did?” Selma asks, not because she didn’t have a question, but because she does not know what that term means. She’s not a genius scientist. “I had a question.”

“Ah,” Hogarth says. “Well. If you’re on this side of the membrane, I suppose you were bound to find out. Gilly, would you do the honors?”

Gilbert strides over to a set of double doors. He musters all of his strength to pull them open. On the other side is decidedly not another room. It’s outer space, showing a spiral galaxy floating around in the blackness, complete with a supermassive blackhole at its center, and a gas cloud halo around the edge and surfaces. That’s what it looks like anyway. It must be yet another hologram. He reaches up and runs his hand along the face of the threshold. The space ripples and flows like water, or maybe plasma. Even Catania stops looking for side gigs to admire the beauty.

“What’s this?” Andrei asks, drawn to it as a moth is to a flame.

“That...is the Sixth Key,” Hogarth answers.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

Hogarth sighs to prepare herself. “There are decillions of people in the galaxy you see before you. They were all saved from annihilation when the parallel realities were destroyed. As you might imagine, that was not an easy task, and I am not at liberty to discuss details, but what I can tell you is that one way of saving energy to perform this miracle was to shunt everyone into another spatial dimension first.”

“What are you saying?” Selma demands to know.

Hogarth jerks her head towards the open doors. “They shrunk you, to put it quite reductively. In there is an entire galaxy, along with some void space around it. Many light years separate one end from the other, but only from the perspective of those inside of it. From our frame of reference, it is but a few meters across.”

Ayata falls to her knees, and retches on the floor. Lowell instinctively reaches down, and holds her hair back for her. Andrei lurches in that direction, but the gravity of what they’re seeing holds him back. Their whole galaxy is the size of a bedroom? Everything they’ve been fighting for is just right there in front of them. It seems so petty and silly now, even though intellectually, they’re aware that it’s still populated by real people with real problems. They’re only tiny from here. Down there, they mean everything. How could they not know? They have all been living here for the last half century, and they never even felt like something was different? Now they need to question everything about their whole lives. Is anything in the universe what they thought it was?

“I know, it’s a tough pill to swallow,” Hogarth goes on. “But nothing has changed. Everything and everyone you care about is still in there. It’s still just as profoundly crucial and indispensable as it ever was. Just think of this as a mountain...which it is. We’re on the crest of Mount Hilde. Down below, the people look like ants, but that’s just because we’re really far away. When you get closer, they look bigger.”

“I think we all know it’s not that simple,” Selma argues.

Hogarth nods. “Yes, we do. I get it, you need time to digest. This is a hotel, and accommodations have been prepared for you. When you’re ready, we’ll get to work. Someone is spying on us from a frame of reference even greater than ours. We wanna know who the hell it is, and what they want.”

Nerakali has since gone over to Ayata with a bucket, in case she needs to let more out. Selma gives her a bottle of water too. She spits some into the bucket, swallows some, and spits again to continue the cycle. A robot has come out of the wall to clean the floor, and everyone starts mindlessly watching it work amidst the silence.

After a few minutes, Selma breaks out of her trance. “Someone escort her to her room so she can freshen up. Get her medical attention if she needs it.” She walks over, and closes the doors to their galaxy for now. “The rest of my team will secure the perimeter. While they’re doing that, I need full blueprints to this facility, as well as its specifications. Also, get me a comprehensive list of everyone with access to this building, and to the magic door.”

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