Microstory 2427: Great Depression Dome

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Not everything on this planet has to be fun. Some of it should be a somber reflection of real life, and in this case, the inspiration is depressing. I don’t use that as a pun, but it’s a really good word to describe the nature of the source for the dome’s theme. The Great Depression was a period of worldwide economic turmoil that began in October of 1929, and continued on into the 1940s for some regions. It is defined by a global high of unemployment, institutional financial failure, and trade conflicts, among other things. I’m not here to give you a history lesson, though; that’s the dome’s job. This is a recreation of the conditions that a lot of people lived in during this time. There’s a swath of land representing the dust bowl, there’s a seemingly endless unemployment line, situated not too far from the soup kitchen line. They make excellent use of the entire area of the dome, exhibiting the various negative impacts of life on Earth in this time period. I’m glad that they put this dome here, because it happened 550 years ago. So many people alive today don’t even know what you’re talking about. There is so much to learn in your education that things fall through the cracks, and one of the biggest sacrifices we make is history. Science and math is always changing, and while it might be interesting to know how things used to be, it’s not vital. It’s more important to understand the present day concepts. History, on the other hand, never stops coming. Students today have more background to draw from than the students of yesterday, and the students of tomorrow will have even more. That is why it is so important to keep building places like this. People need to see how things were like in the past, especially in times before they were born. No one still alive right now was around to witness the Great Depression. The oldest in our population wasn’t even born yet, and that’s really sad. I don’t even know how many people can’t even grasp the very concept of a monetary-based economy. That’s where you have to start. You have to know what money is before you can comprehend what it meant to not have any of it. To not have everything you need just to survive as a living organism. Water, food, shelter. These are fundamental rights that we take for granted, but for most of human history, none of these things was guaranteed. The people who lived during the Depression understood that. I won’t lie to you, if you come here, you’re not going to “enjoy” it, but unless you’ve been studying this stuff in particular already, you are going to learn something. They do a really great job of framing the curriculum through the present-day lens, recognizing the shortcomings of conventional contemporary education, which again, must prioritize more “relevant” topics. I implore you to give it a try. Even though it’s not an adventure, and it may not be your cup of tea, it will be good for you. It would be good for everyone.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 7, 2398

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Leona is sitting in her wheelchair while Mateo is sitting up in her bed. He’s mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV, but it’s impossible to find something good. He’s sure there are plenty of great programs here, but they always make him a little uncomfortable. It feels like Third Railers are on a slightly different frequency than normal people. Their idea of entertainment isn’t wrong or even weird, it’s just a little too different than what he’s used to. It’s hard to explain what he doesn’t like about it, but he can only stomach about ten minutes of it before it makes him shiver, and he has to change it to something else.

“I’m getting hungry,” Leona notes.

Mateo checks her watch. She’s not allowed to wear jewelry while she’s checked in as a patient, in case they need to take her out for tests. It shouldn’t matter now since no one is running any tests of the sort, but they don’t want to piss the hostage-takers off any more than they already are. “Rations were meant to come an hour ago.”

“I hope they’re late because patients in critical need of nutrition are taking priority, and not that they’ve decided to starve us.”

“Want me to go out there and check?”

She shakes her head vigorously. “Nope. I don’t want you to draw attention to you or us at all. Maybe you could sneak back over to Cheyenne’s room again, though?”

“Okay.” He peeks his head through the doorway. The coast is clear—too clear, like a scene in a horror movie that you think is maybe a dream sequence, but it turns out the killer’s not dead, and he’s found her, and the hospital floor is totally empty only to increase tension, despite how unlikely that is. Mateo slinks down the hallways, and slips into Cheyenne’s room.

Marie is in there with her. They’re playing a card game across the bed. “Problem, or is she still just worried?” Marie asks.

“The second thing,” Mateo answers. “Have you heard anything? Are they going to let us out anytime soon?”

“It depends on what you mean by soon,” Cheyenne replies. “Santiens are pretty hardcore. They won’t stop until they’ve purified everyone they deem to be unclean.”

“Yeah, and you’re sure that doesn’t mean they’re going to kill them, right?”

“Positive,” Cheyenne assures him.

A group of heavily armed people belonging to a religion called Santienism took over the hospital when they learned that a group of Suiliens were involved in a bus crash, and were brought here for treatment. According to Carlin and Moray’s research, the two sects were once one, but Santiens broke away when they became obsessed with using natural remedies to cure disease. This caused the Suiliens to both metaphorically and literally dig into their own beliefs. They sleep in the dirt, and don’t ever bathe, believing that nature is the closest thing to divinity. Neither one of them believes in real science, and members of both sides get sick a lot because of their unhealthy habits. When their medical issues become too much for them to bear, they will go against their convictions with real doctors, but they are not meant to visit the same facilities due to a self-imposed policy of segregation. These are extenuating circumstances.

They have locked the building down so that no one can come in, and no one can leave. They have installed signal blockers to prevent communication to the outside world, which is why Mateo and Leona were unable to make their rendezvous with Ramses. They don’t know if he and Alyssa left without them, or if they’re still waiting in that park upstate. All they would have had to do, though, would be to check the internet for current events in the area. This isn’t national news by any stretch, as things like this happen from time to time, but it’s noteworthy enough to be reported on locally.

It’s been two nights since this debacle began, and now it’s early morning. How long exactly does it take to purify a bus full of your enemies, whether that means killing them, or not? Mateo looks towards the door, but that’s not what he’s thinking about. This is a team of action. They don’t do well just sitting around, waiting for other people to make things happen. His instincts are telling him to go out there, and make the situation better...or maybe make it worse instead, but brief.

“Don’t do it,” Marie urges him, knowing him well enough to predict his impulses. “This isn’t our problem.”

“We’ll be out of here by the end of the day,” Cheyenne believes.

“No, you won’t, and it’s your problem now.” One of the hostage-takers is standing in the doorway, aiming a gun at them from his waist like a buster in a film noir.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Marie protests.

“What religions are you?” the man with the gun asks, stepping closer menacingly.

“Unaffiliated,” she replies.

“The marker on your door indicates that you’re Caducean.”

Cheyenne leans forward to look at the faith indicator, but she can’t read it. “I hadn’t noticed. My friends must have put that there. Caduceans tend to receive priority treatment.” Caduceans do believe in science, and most medical professionals affiliate.

“Lying about your faith is an offense.”

“It’s not illegal.” One might think it would be, but not as long as the lie isn’t accompanied by other crimes. Still, some find the practice irreverent. In this case, he should just let it go as he obviously has more important stuff going on right now.

He relaxes his hand, but keeps his gun at the ready. “There are too many people in this room. One visitor at a time. One of you has to go back to your room, or downstairs with the other non-patients, depending on which one agrees to leave.”

“I’m going,” Mateo says.

“No, I’ll go,” Marie insists as she’s standing up. She gives Mateo a look that hopefully means don’t bring Leona into this, just stay here, because that’s how he’s interpreting it.

Ramses suddenly appears out of nowhere. “Oh. You have company over. I’m so sorry to disturb you.”

“Where the hells did you come from?” the gunman questions angrily.

“Umm....the bathroom?”

“The bathroom is behind me.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Ramses takes Mateo and Cheyenne by the hands, and teleports them to the rendezvous point in the park. Leona is already there, as are Winona and the AOC. Ramses makes one more jump to the hospital for Marie.

“What’s going on?” Mateo asks Winona.

She shakes her head and sighs. “Those guys who bombed the studio; they only did it to steal money, but nobody knows that yet. Someone was inspired to try to fix what they thought was a mistake. There is a bounty on Leona’s head. We had to act.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 22, 2398

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Mateo, Winona, and Tarboda arrived on Rapa Nui yesterday, but they were required to wait in a facility during a 24-hour quarantine period. They came out with a clean bill of health, and are presently arriving at the volcano on the southern end of Easter Island, Ranu Kao. The last time Mateo was here, it was in the main sequence, and things were a lot different. For him, this island is famous for the mysterious humanoid sculptures that are located in a different region. For the people of The Third Rail, this is a nice resort with a rich history that the people who visit here don’t care all that much about. The island has beautiful landscapes, unique flora, and tame fauna, and is considered one of the best places to go if you want to get away from civilization, since it’s so far from the mainland. The statues Mateo remembers were never built here, though. He can’t recall exactly what they’re called, and since they don’t exist, no one can tell him. Perhaps this island doesn’t have any special temporal properties here. It would explain why the crater lake that’s meant to be here is completely dry.

“Is that bad?” Winona asks. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea,” Mateo answers. “Leona should be here.”

“She’s quite busy.”

“Because your father is trying to take over the world with fusion power!” he argues, but he knows that he shouldn’t be too mad about it. Of course the government would want to mass produce the greatest breakthrough in energy production thus far. Leona knew it would happen, she just didn’t realize how little they cared about the rocket they built, which started it all.

“You said there was a secret passageway under the water,” Winona says, taking no offense to his words. “Maybe it’s still down there.”

He just frowns and kicks at the dirt.

“Come on. Let’s go on down. Tarboda, stay up here and keep a lookout.” The pilot nods respectfully. He’s been pretty cool about all this. He doesn’t seem to have ever belonged in that amoral group of mercenaries they met in Bermuda.

They carefully climb down the steep sides of the crater, and head for the bottom. As it was indeed underwater, and pretty dark, Mateo can’t remember exactly where the cave was, but it was somewhere on the opposite side as the ocean. His instinct is that it’s precisely the opposite, so that’s where they start looking. At a quick glance, there is no opening, which makes sense, or someone would have found it forever ago. Still, it can’t require a key, or a map, or an incantation. He also won’t accept the possibility that, like the moai—oh yeah, that’s what they’re called—it just doesn’t exist at all. It has to be here somewhere. All of the other significant places they’ve been to have been at least a little significant in this reality too. He starts running his hands along the walls, looking for anything unusual. “Go that way, please,” he asks her.

She does as he asks, but her heart’s not in it. Neither is his, but even so, they keep working at it. She has one little collapsible shovel, and one machete. She gives him the former to look for unstable spots. There’s so much ground to cover, and they don’t know where it might be on the z-axis, so Tarboda drops ropes down, and manages them from the top of the crater. No one comes to find them doing this. It’s apparently not that popular of a tourist destination, probably because it’s dried up, and they’re approaching the off-season. They work at this for hours. Ramses sent a bottle of Existence water in case he needed to do an emergency teleport, but it’s probably not going to come up, so he just drinks it once his regular canteen runs out. Once that container runs out, he decides that there is no point in going on. “Stop, just stop. There’s nothing here.”

“I know,” Winona agrees. “I’m sorry that this was such a disappointing trip.”

“What’s that you say!” Tarboda asks from above.

“We’re calling it quits!” Mateo explains.

“Oh, okay! I’ll pull you up!”

“No! I’m gonna do one more thing!” He removes his harness, and drops a meter down to the ground. Then he runs over to as close to the center of the crater as he can find. Here, while flipping off the world beyond, he pees. “Now who’s too dry?” he asks the island. Once he’s finished, he turns around, and gives the other two a thumbs up.

“Real classy!” Winona shouts at him.

He pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” Yeah, is right, assuming the question is if he’s tired, hungry, and closer to dehydration than he probably should be for as much as he drank. He tries to start walking back towards his rope when the ground trembles; just a little, but enough to throw him off balance.

“You better come on back!” Winona advises.

“I’ll get right on it!” Mateo replies. He starts again, but the ground shakes again, this time much harder. Each time he stops, the shaking stops, and each time he tries to move again, it moves too. Either it’s a coincidence, or some wibbly-wobbly shit is going on down here.

“Run!” Winona yells at him.

He takes her advice, but doesn’t get very far. The ground caves in under him, starting from the center, and expanding out, but not uniformly. It becomes impossible for him to stay ahead of it when the ground between him and Winona disappears early. Before he can see if enough of the Existence water is still in his system for him to teleport, he falls, and loses consciousness.

He awakens in the tall grass, wet from the morning dew. He’s not aching anywhere, but he’s dizzy and confused, and he can’t see well. His short term memory is gone at first, and has to come back to him in waves as he’s looking around and blinking, trying to fix his vision. The fuzziness subsides, and reveals an open grassy area, and some nearby trees. Winona and Tarboda are both lying there too. He crawls over to confirm their pulses and steady breaths. This is enough to wake them up, and they seem to be experiencing the same symptoms as they work to wake themselves up more.

“Where are we?” Tarboda asks.

“Unknown,” Mateo answers. We fell down into a cave, though, and now we’re back on the surface. Either someone moved us, or...”

“Or what?”

“Or we traveled. Can you both walk?” Mateo asks.

“Yes,” they answer simultaneously.

The three of them struggle to their feet, then struggle some more, like a newborn calf. Once they feel comfortable enough, they pick a random direction, and begin walking. It’s not long before they come upon something that Mateo recognizes. “Whoa.”

“What the hell is that?” Winona asks.

“That is Stonehenge, and these...are the missing British Isles.”

“The whatnow?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 15, 2398

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Marie is sitting on the cot, face pressed up against the glass, not in a longing sort of way, but just because she’s bored. This isn’t the first time she’s been locked up, and if she survives, it won’t be the last. The other three are doing their own thing, but they seem just as bored.

“How long have we been here?” Kivi asks.

“At least a day,” Heath answers, just guessing.

“Are they gonna torture us, or something, or is this the torture?” There is nothing in this glass cell but eight cots, one toilet, partially covered, a sink with an extension to approximate a shower, and holes for ventilation. Under the sink is a stack of these dense granola squares for them to eat at their leisure.

They haven’t seen a single soul since they woke up here yesterday. The light is dim, and they can’t see the outside. They get the sense that this thing was built in the center of a warehouse, but it’s so dark that they can’t be certain of the scope. Surely someone is watching them on monitors somewhere, but they don’t actually see the cameras. There is no sound. Not even the light fixtures give off that familiar hum you normally wouldn’t be able to get out of your head when everything else is this silent. For now, the only noises they hear are the ones they make.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” Marie tells her, pulling her face from the wall for a minute. “They’re always listening,” she whispers.

“You don’t know that,” Heath says. “Look around. I don’t see anywhere for anybody to slip food to us. Hell, one of these bars holding the glass together is probably a door, but we don’t know which. All we have may be all we ever will. This may not be a jail cell at all, but a coffin.”

“Don’t be so morbid,” Marie urges. “They brought us here for a reason.”

“What reason?” Kivi questions.

“If I knew that...” Marie begins, going back to the glass. She stops in the middle of the sentence when she realizes that there is no way to finish it. It doesn’t matter what she knows, and doesn’t. There are no actions to take in here besides sleeping, eating, cleaning, and wasting. Her guess is as good as Kivi’s

“Does this have anything to do with A—”

Marie quickly turns from the glass again. “Shh!” Kivi was about to drop Amir’s name, which she shouldn’t, in case he has nothing to do with it. Or they, rather since there are two Amir Hussains. Swapping them, and freeing them both to different places, was their only choice. They knew it would cause problems, but they didn’t think these people would take it this far. The second Amir was so interested in getting out of Birket that he gleefully accepted the risk. Marie is glad that Leona isn’t here, but she could have helped. For one, she probably would have already figured out who these people truly are, and how to get out of here, and in two weeks, she would be running the joint.

“Sorry,” Kivi says. “I’m just hungry.”

“Go ahead, and have another square,” Marie suggests.

“I can’t, we have to ration it.”

“No, we don’t,” Heath insists. “It’s fine. I was just being dramatic.”

“Yes, we do, and no, it’s not, and no, you weren’t,” the fourth prisoner says.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 10, 2398

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They’re not sure why there was a time limit to literally get through the door to get processed out of Birket, but it turned out fine. They all made it through, and walked across the desert to the Israeli border. It was there that they waited for almost the entire day before transport to Cairo came for them. People obviously weren’t in any hurry to help them. They weren’t on the road for long before darkness fell, and their driver had to stop and check into a motel for the night. He didn’t secure any rooms for them, of course, and clearly didn’t care, so they were forced to sleep under the stars on the beach in a coastal town called Taba, Egypt. Fortunately, it was pretty nice weather, and they were all glad to be free at least. So far, there was no indication of how exactly they were going to get back to the states. Their devices were confiscated from them, and never returned—wiped clean upon any attempt at unauthorized access—and no one in Taba was willing to let them use a phone.

They woke up this morning, all reporting having slept well enough, and made their way back to the motel. Neither the driver nor his bus could be found. Amir asked the front desk about it in Arabic, and learned that he checked out early, and took off. That’s very weird. It’s his job to get them to a special final processing center in Cairo, not just to help them make it all the way home. They’re expected to exit the region according to policy, which entails either meeting their sponsor, or an approved representative, in country. Now it’s going to be much more difficult to do that, and might even get them sent back to Birket. Maybe that’s what someone has wanted all along, and is driving these obstacles. Still, no one lends them a phone.

“How long will it take us to walk?” Kivi asks.

Amir laughs. “At least a week. That’s if we walk for several hours each day, which we won’t be able to do, especially not without any water.”

“Why won’t anyone help us? Do they not have any taksis, or anything around here?” Leona asks.

“I tried asking,” Amir begins, “but just because we speak the same language, doesn’t mean they like me. They know what we are, and while Egyptians don’t have any particular distaste for colonists—or freed colonists, like ourselves—there is some local annoyance that they’re being used as a waypoint for us. Their government struck a deal to make it happen after Israel and Jordan both refused, but regular citizens don’t like it. It’s not the only deal that Egypt has regarding refugees. It’s a huge political issue.”

“Is that why the driver abandoned us?” Marie asks him.

“Probably, yes, but it doesn’t make much sense. He could still get in trouble for it, because now it’s worse. The only thing Egyptians hate more than processing refugees is wayward refugees who are stuck here, and can’t be processed out.”

“What about Saudi Arabia?” Kivi presses. “How do they feel about us?”

Amir looks to the south. “You’re not getting across the Red Sea, and you’re not getting through the two borders between you and Saudi Arabia on land.”

“It was just a thought,” Kivi says, shrugging.

“Keeves, maybe you could find someone to help us?” Leona asks her.

“I’ve already asked,” Amir protests.

“Keeve?” Leona urges, not wanting to explain what makes her method different.

“I can try,” Kivi replies, uncertain of her own skills. She steps away from the group, as before, trying to seek an ally. Her stride is wider than normal, reminiscent of a wedding party gracefully drifting down the aisle. She periodically alters direction, hoping to catch a scent, for lack of a better term.

“What is she doing?” Amir asks Heath in a whisper.

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Heath answers him, probably not lying.

It feels like she walks all over town, encountering each one of the 10,000 people who live here. She doesn’t get the sense that any of them would tell them the time, let alone help get them out of the country. Amir talks to a few more people himself, and receives the same cold welcome. They’re starting to think that they really should get themselves out of the area as fast as possible. If they tried to walk to the next town over, it might only take them two days. Of course, water and food is still a problem. If only Birket gave them small samples of Energy water as parting gifts, they would be able to survive just a little bit longer. As it stands, they may die here like a flower in drought.

They don’t end up walking anywhere. They just go back to the beach, and sit to watch the waves come in. Marie suggests that they fish for food, which she surely learned how to do at the master level in the afterlife simulation. Amir informs them that he saw a sign back there, forbidding all shore fishing. Hours later, a fleet of helicopters roar towards them from the horizon. “Those are American,” Amir exclaims.

“We better go,” Leona determines.

Once more, they head for downtown, where they find a bunch of soldiers spread out, trying to take control of the populace. People are scared, but cooperating, and it doesn’t look like things are going to escalate to true violence. A woman who looks in charge spots them coming towards the crowd. She orders a group of her soldiers to escort us over. “Agent Matic?” she asks when they meet her halfway.

“That’s me,” Leona responds reluctantly. She doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s a secret agent, and only partially because she isn’t really.

“Miller Dennard. Why didn’t you call?” she demands to know.

 “We don’t have phones,” Leona explains. “No one would let us borrow theirs.”

She’s fuming, but not at them. She’s staring daggers at all the locals. “Follow me. We’re taking you straight to Frankfurt, where you’ll board your connection, like you were always supposed to.”

Leona nods to the others that they should accept the ride. “What prompted you to come for us?” she asks the Miller.

The Miller puts on her sunglasses. “Orders from high.”

“How high?”

Miller Dennard turns away to head for the helicopters herself. “All the way up!”

Leona sighs, recognizing that while this looks life a gift, it only makes things more comfortable. Every person who knows that they’re special makes their lives that much more complicated. Still, they have to get back home if they have any chance of getting back to their real home, so she runs over, and gets in the aircraft too.

Miller Dennard places her headset on as their launching, and turns towards one of the other helicopters. “Put an A-bomb in that water!” she orders.

Horrified, they watch as an object slides out of the other helicopter, and drops into the Gulf of Aqaba. Stillness until the water shudders and ripples all at once, as if a powerful electrical charge had been sent through it. They fly away.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 22, 2398

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They’re whispering, so Leona can’t hear very well, but she can make out most of what they’re saying on the other side of the door. It’s good, because she works better when people are rattled. She has had it up to here with people threatening her family, and that ends today, whether he heeds her warning, or ignores it, and suffers.

“I told you not to disturb me, Sheila,” or whatever her name is.

“I’m sorry, sir, but she has an SD6 badge.”

“SD6?” he questions. “Is it Agent Matic?”

“I couldn’t see, sir. I saw that symbol, and froze. She looks...”

“She looks what?”

“She looks...menacing.”

“Let her in, and go to lunch.”

“Sir, it’s only—”

“Go to lunch!”

The secretary comes back out to the waiting area, and immediately realizes that she’s no longer smiling, which is probably in her job description. She remedies it, and says, “he’s ready to see you now.”

Leona walks in and closes the door.

“Agent Matic, I apologize for failing to explain to you that our business relationship will be relegated to the laboratory. You are not to come to my office. I can’t be seen in your company.”

She stares at him stoically. “I failed as well. I failed my family. I thought, if I took up the mantle of the badge, you would leave them alone. I was wrong about that, and I promise that I will not let it happen again.”

“Leona, we all have a job to do—”

“And your job is to serve your country, but here’s the thing, I don’t give a shit about this country. It’s not my home, and it never will be. Those people are my home, and you’re threatening them. Where I come from, we react in kind.” She removes a little berry from her pocket, and sets it on his desk.

He’s actually scared of it, because he doesn’t know what it is. “Is that a...tiny little bomb, or something? Is that a fusion bomb?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s a hungerberry. It grows seemingly naturally on a single island in the middle of the ocean, which just so happens to be named after me, on a planet called Dardius.”

“So you are aliens?”

“We’re castaways, stop losing focus. It’s called a hungerberry, because it makes you hungry. There’s no cure, certainly not on your world. I’ve been saving it for a very long time, but I haven’t kept it refrigerated, so honestly, I don’t know how potent it is. Perhaps it ferments, and grows stronger with age. It’s not shriveled and dead yet, which is weird when you consider it’s been years since I picked it. I have more than one, and like I said, we react in kind, so right now, while you’re at zero berries, you’re treading dangerously close to one berry. Now, it won’t cause you to feel starved, but you will be slightly uncomfortable for the rest of your life. You’ll never feel satiated, no matter how much you eat, but you’ll have to regulate your intake intellectually, or you could overeat, and die. Are you following me so far?”

“Poisonous berries, I got it,” he responds.

She lives up to her recent reputation of being menacing with an evil grin, and an uncomfortably jovial timbre. “Keep in mind that when I was using the word you, I wasn’t talking about you specifically. It’s more in the general sense, because I wouldn’t be force feeding you the hungerberry, I would be giving it to your daughter.” Upon the last few words, she drops the grin, and goes straight to genuine wrath.

If he wasn’t paying attention before, he is now.

“I understand that life is a give and take, so I’m not severing ties with your family, nor the lab. I will continue to work on fusion, and I will continue to execute missions to both your discretion, and my own. But you will not reach out to my husband, and you will not threaten or harm anyone else that I care about. Because if you only learn one lesson today, let it be this. The hungerberry...is my least powerful weapon. If you fucking push me, I will ruin you. You and your daughter will suffer so hard, you will wish I had instead given you all the berries in my possession. Do you have any questions?” She overenunciates the last sentence.

He’s frightened and humbled. “No, sir. We’ll leave them alone.”

“Good. And be nicer to your assistant. Don’t be a cliché.” She takes the berry, so he can’t use it to start a war, or something, and starts to leave his office.

“One thing,” he says, still scared of her. “Is the berry real, or just a prop?”

“Oh, it’s very real. It contributed to the death of an immortal. Have a nice day.” That’ll only entice him to learn more about time travel, and find out what else is out there, but it was a pretty cool way to end the so-called conversation, so she just couldn’t help herself. She walks out of the building, and goes home to her family.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 31, 2398

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The team sits around the table, prepared to have dinner together, but not yet ready. Ramses is methodically walking around the condo, waving his wand at every wall, every floor, every object; sometimes more than once for good measure. They believe that they’ve been pretty sensitive to his needs, but there is a limit to their capacity to indulge him. “Rambo,” Marie says, but has to stop when her own grumbling stomach interrupts her. “This is the third time you’ve done that today. We’re all here to eat. Come to the table.”

“Yeah, it’s the third time, and I’m not with it yet. You think I’m gonna stop at two and a half? I just need a little more time.”

“You ain’t got more time,” Marie pushes. “Now we’re all here to celebrate Angela’s pending graduation, and you’re going to be a part of it.”

“Just one more room,” Ramses begs.

“No, it’s fine. No one snuck in here in the last three hours, and planted bugs. They would have to contend with our bugs!”

“I’m just trying to protect you in the only way I’m capable. I was once the only engineer, but now that everybody’s constantly studying, where does that leave me?”

“With any luck, at the dinner table,” Marie responds to his question, instead of trying to console him.

“Honey, he’s going through something right now,” Heath says, hoping to help.

“We’re all going through something,” Marie dismisses. “Angela has to steal my identity, Leona was just taken hostage, Mateo was...also just taken hostage, you recently quit your job, and I have to have an abortion.”

Ramses stops scanning for listening devices, and drops his arms depressively.

“You promised never to play that card,” Angela scolds.

“Why is everyone attacking me now?” Marie questions loudly.

“No one’s attacking anybody,” Leona contends. She stands up. “Ship or no, I’m still the captain of this crew. Ramses, come let us eat. Marie, be a little nicer. Mateo?”

“Huh, what?” Mateo wasn’t really paying attention. He’s too hungry.

“Pay attention,” Leona orders. “And Angela?” They hold their breath, not sure what criticism she could possibly have of Angela. “Congratulations,” she finishes.

“I’m not graduating anything,” Angela argues. “I’m just decent enough at my doppelgänger’s job to fake my way through a shift from here on out.”

“Pretty impressive, if you ask me,” Mateo says, hoping it’s enough to make it seem as if he’s been listening this whole time. He knew a kid like that in grade school. He would always answer one question, ask one question, or make one comment, per day. Sometimes it was very small and inconsequential, but that way, the teacher couldn’t claim that he never participated in class. He had some anxiety problems which otherwise made him the furthest anyone could be from the class clown, so that sort of thing was always a struggle for him.

“Well, the real test is tomorrow in the meeting.”

“I thought you had dealt with a meeting by now,” Heath says, digging into his potatoes, now that Ramses has surrendered.

“I’ve been to a meeting, yes,” Angela explains, “but I’m running this one.”

“It’s a big deal,” Marie says, trying to sound supportive, but realizing immediately that it also makes it sound like a lot of pressure. “You’ll do great.” Saved it.

“Thanks, but...”

“But nothing. You’re me, and I rock in those meetings, so you will too.”

“Who was that guy we met in the simulation?” Angela asks. “Somehow, we ended up teaching him how to play horseshoes? You remember?”

“Oh. Uh, Cyrano. What about him?”

“Well, we saw him at that restaurant something like fifty years later. He had won a ghosting mod in a raffle, and was using it to—”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Marie recalls. “He was, like, hypnotizing people to make them say weird things to their dinner dates? I don’t remember how he did that part, or why we were able to see him. But yeah, I remember him. Why?”

“You could basically do that,” Angela suggests. “I could wear an earpiece and video glasses, and you could just tell me what to say, and how to act in the meeting. That way, I wouldn’t be able to screw it up.”

“Oh, right, that’s a great idea!” Marie says, giving Angela some hope. “Oh, but no, there’s a problem with that plan.”

“What?”

“The problem is I’m not going to do that.”

Microstory 1824: Red Meat Cute

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Over a decade ago, I moved to a new city with big dreams. No, this wasn’t Hollywood, or New York. I didn’t think I was going to become rich and famous. What I thought was that I was going to get a fresh start. I wanted to—no, needed to—get away from my hometown where my grandfather closed the plant, and ruined the local economy. To be fair, it wasn’t entirely his fault. The business was failing, and this was the only option. It happens. Still, it didn’t feel safe to stick around with my last name, so I escaped. I didn’t know anyone in the area, so I went out at night, hoping to meet some cool people. That’s when I met the girl who would become who I thought was my best friend. She took me under her wing, and showed me how things worked around here. One thing in particular she introduced me to was this app that lets you order food from various restaurants, and have it delivered right to your door. I would later learn that she was kind of playing on my naïvete by making it look like us dumb farm folk hadn’t learned about this newfangled technology yet, when in reality, the city belonged to the test population for an entirely new industry sector. Nobody had this yet, I wasn’t behind the times. The app didn’t even have very many restaurant partners at the time. Anyway, I knew what my new home address was, and I knew how to use a smartphone, but I’ve always been just a little bit careless. I entered 56th Street when I really meant 56th Terrace. So I’m waiting for my food, and watching the estimated time approach, and then I see the app claims it’s been delivered. I look on the porch, in front of the garage, even on the roof, like an idiot. No, it’s not there. That’s when I realize my mistake. I call the app, and the restaurant, and they both tell me that it’s not their problem. So I take a walk.

I went to the bad address, and rang the doorbell. The guy who answered was drinking my strawberry milkshake, and I could smell the burger and fries. I explained to him what had happened, and he was apologetic, but also not? He acted like he was just an innocent bystander who had done nothing wrong. I asked him where he thought it came from. Apparently, when a stranger showed up at his door, and handed him unasked for food, he didn't stop to think that maybe someone else would be missing it. Well, I was none too happy, and I let him know as much. He apologized some more, and offered to pay for it, because he was really hungry, and had already touched everything. Instead, I showed him what app to download, so he could reorder for me, and then we would call it even. I turned to leave, satisfied with this result, when he stopped me. Actually, he didn’t instruct the app to deliver to my house, but to his own again. If I wanted it, I was going to have to stay and share the meal. Okay, I admit, that was kind of a cute way to ask me to lunch. As we were waiting, we got to talking, and long story short, we were together for eleven years; married for eight. Today, I discovered that he has been cheating on me, for what’s probably been just about the entire time. I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m talking about my best friend. I realize now that I should have seen it coming. The signs were all there. She always thought I owed her for helping me get my bearings in the city, and he always felt entitled to take whatever he wanted without considering other people’s feelings. It was a match made in hell. To make matters worse, on my way to confront her at her work, a freaking loose brick falls off of the façade of that first goddamn restaurant I had delivered, and strikes me in the head. I guess I really wasn’t cut out for this city.

Microstory 1743: Water Snake

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I went hiking yesterday afternoon, in the jungle. It was only meant to last a few hours, but it ended up being an overnight affair when I ran into a sea serpent. I thought she might try to attack me, but instead, I led her back to the ocean, where she could swim and be happy. I might even call her my friend. I slept on the little beach that night, just out in the open, content that the experience turned into so much more than just getting a few extra steps for my fitness app. I’ve just woken up, and I’m hungry. I ate all of my snacks last night before my sandy slumber. I almost feel like I’m on a remote island, somewhere far from civilization, and have no choice but to figure out how to fish with my bare hands, or hunt rabbits with a flexible stick and some string. I can actually hear a truck driving on the mountain side above me, so I’m not too far from other people. My sea serpent and I just used the most direct route yesterday, so I take a few minutes to find the actual trail. I do not want to have to crawl through the vegetation again, even if it would possibly be quicker. It’s a struggle, walking down the path, the hunger growing worse by the second. Mother always says to pack twice as much as I think I’ll need. Father always said I’ll only ever need half, so don’t suffer the weight. I always split the difference, and go with my gut. Now my gut has turned against me, screaming across the abyss. I have to find something worth eating somewhere around here. I’m not liable to find a diner in the middle of nowhere. If I do see a diner, I’ll know the hunger overpowered me, and it’s nothing more than a manifestation of my desires, carried over to limbo from the living realm. Just when I think I can’t be too far from help, the trail ends. It just stops at the shore of a lake. Oh no, I am dead, but this isn’t limbo. I just went straight to hell. I could keep walking, or turn around, or learn to fly, but it wouldn’t matter. I’m never getting out of here, and I’m never getting food.

I stand there for a moment, ready to surrender to my fate, when a familiar sight appears before me. A snake slithers out of the water, and stops a meter away from my feet. He watches me carefully, but does not seem concerned. Like last time, I don’t move. The sea serpent never hurt me, but that doesn’t mean this one won’t. He looks a little more dangerous to me. Perhaps I should try to run this time. Before I can, he begins to slither off into the grass. I take that opportunity to walk in the other direction, but he quickly darts back, and gets in front of me. We regard each other a little more. When he’s satisfied with whatever he thinks he was accomplishing, he slithers away again. I try to leave once more, but he does not like that. He starts to circle me, and I know he’ll bite if I try to go in the wrong direction. Seeing no other choice then, I head in the direction he was going. This prompts him to stop circling, and slither beside me. After several more steps, I realize that he’s leading me somewhere. Is he that smart? Could he really know where the city is, and that I need to get there? Well, his saltwater cousin seemed to possess a shocking level of intelligence, so what do I know about what animals can really do? He keeps slithering next to me, but a little ahead, and I keep following him. If he ends up taking me to a giant Indiana Jones-style pit of hungry serpentine brethren, I guess I’ll just deal with it. Before too long, I see straight lines through the trees up ahead, suggesting some kind of man-made structure. The water snake leads me right into the clearing where I finally see where we are. My God, it is a diner.

Extremus: Year 9

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The fire was not without its consequences, obviously. Omega was placed in MedHock for his actions while an investigation went underway. As for the raw materials, they were fine, albeit a bit melty. They were going to be moulded and adapted as needed anyway, so the Frontrunner project was able to continue, mostly unimpeded. A body was recovered from the shuttle that appeared in section four of the cargo bay. A simple DNA test showed that it was Elder Caverness, presumably having returned from wherever it was he went six years ago. There was no telling how much time had passed for him, or where he had been. And since he was dead, he couldn’t tell them what happened to Rita, or Airlock Karen. No other remains were found inside the shuttle.

Omega was not in some kind of catatonic state, but he remained completely silent for nearly a year. Halan came up with this idea to have the robot who delivered him food refuse to let go of it unless Omega verbally asked for it, but that didn’t work. Omega kept his mouth shut, and just began to starve. He was too traumatized by what he did. Today, they try a different approach. They need answers, and there may only be one person in the universe who can get it out of him. It’s probably going to traumatize him more, but it’s their last resort. A hologram of Old Man appears in Omega’s cell. It doesn’t say anything, and finally, Omega speaks. “You’re old again.”

“I am as I was when I died,” Hologram!Elder explains.

“You’re the one who killed him,” Omega contends. “Don’t act like it bothers you.”

“I did not kill myself,” Hologram!Elder argues. “You engaged the scorch protocol.”

“Because you told me to!”

“Why would I do that?”

Omega considered the possibilities. “I imagine you didn’t want any competition. You probably saw him as a threat to your survival. If the real Elder returned, what would he do to the uploaded consciousness he left behind?”

“Uploaded consciousness!” Halan shouts. He rounds the corner, and approaches the cell. “What is this about an uploaded consciousness?”

Omega literally slams his lips shut.

“No,” the Captain says, hovering his finger over his watch. “You keep talking, or I’m transporting you to the vacuum.”

“You would never,” Omega insists.

Halan sighs with relief. “Now we don’t have to find out. Explain. What uploaded consciousness are you talking about?”

Omega points to what he still doesn’t know to be a hologram. “I know you can’t see him, but Old Man is standing right there. He’s inside my head. He’s actually inside the computer system, but he appears to me, because I altered my DNA to match his. I was hoping he would go away when I changed my DNA back, but he’s returned anyway.”

“Computer, end program,” Halan orders, causing the hologram to flicker and disappear.

Omega regards the space he was once occupying in horror. “That wasn’t really him? It was just a simulation?”

“Correct,” Halan confirms. “I thought that you might choose to communicate with the person you killed. I had no idea that he was the one who convinced you to do it in the first place. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He finally explained who he was at the launch,” Omega reveals. “I got caught up in his claims about something dangerous coming from the section four mission. I thought it was gonna be some kind of contagion from the planet the drone landed on. I thought I was saving us. Now I realize he just didn’t want the real version of him to come back to Extremus.”

“Why did you not recognize him immediately when the hallucinations first began?” Halan questions.

“He didn’t look like himself,” Omega clarifies. “I’m sure he did that for this very reason, so no one would be able to help me.”

Halan shakes his head as he’s processing this new information. “I wish you hadn’t changed your DNA back. There’s a genetic lock on that little ship. Only Old Man is able to access the logs. We need to figure out where he was, and how he got back.” He waves his watch in front of the cell lock. The gate slides open. “Now that I know the truth, I can help you.”

“I’m not forgiven,” Omega says, not in the form of a question. “I still killed someone, unusual circumstances notwithstanding.”

“As Captain, I have every right to pardon you. You were under the influence of a powerful external entity. We’ll get rid of him soon enough, but only after he explains himself further. Rewrite your DNA for us yet again, and let that be your first step on the road to redemption.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Omega curls up tighter on the bed, even as the door remains opened.

“In hock or not, you are still under my command, and that is an order.”

Omega lays down and rolls over to face the back wall. “I’ll need a few days to make the transition. I’m more comfortable here than I ever was in my original quarters.”

Over the course of the next three days, engineers attempt to look for this uploaded version of Elder in the system, but they come up with nothing. He’s probably keeping himself contained, rather than spreading his consciousness out. It’s harder to find the code when it can move around to avoid detection. He likely doesn’t have any intention of taking over the whole vessel, but if he ever tries, they will be ready for him. Now that Omega is sufficiently Old Man on a genetic level, Halan goes back down to MedHock to retrieve him. The door was left open, but still, Omega never left. He continues to do the right thing, and since he’s become aware of how susceptible he is to persuasion, he plans on being particularly leery of others.

Lead Engineer Veca Ocean is sitting in the shuttle in her hazmat suit. She’s not wearing protective headgear, or a respirator. It’s mostly just to keep her clothes clean of the soot and ash. The internal computer system appears to be fairly intact. It’s a sophisticated ship, meaning it took time and resources to complete. As Omega enters the hatchway, it begins to power up on its own, responding to his presence. “Welcome back, Dr. Caverness,” the AI says.

“On screen,” Omega orders. The main menu of the computer appears on the HUD. “Date of manufacturing.” September 9, 2273 appears on the screen. “Power specifications.” Antimatter drive for propulsion, fusion for internal systems, and temporal energy for temporal displacement. “What is your personal timeline?” The shuttle went from October 31, 2273 to March 18, 2272, and then it continued on in realtime from there.

“So he did go back in time,” Veca noted. “It was a year and a half before he built the shuttle, so he had to take it at least that far back to make it to the rendezvous point in enough time. He was probably flying just ahead of us this whole time, and we didn’t even know it.

“Why did he wait to show up now?” Halan asks. “He could have rendezvoused with us essentially instantaneously. Hell, he could have crossed his own timeline.”

“Computer, answer his question,” Omega commands.

“Unknown,” it answers simply.

Veca takes it upon herself to look through the logs manually. Then she gets up and paces while she thinks it through. “So he lands on a planet. It’s either habitable, or he has some way of surviving using that bag he was carrying at the time. At some point, he builds a shuttle, probably using nanotech in his bag. He integrates it with a time machine so he can get back to Extremus, but he doesn’t do so for another five years. What was he doing all that time? He was the only one in here, so if the other two survived the initial transport, they didn’t come with him. What happened? Did he do something to them? Did they catch a cold and die?”

“Computer, answer her questions,” Omega repeats.

“Unknown,” it repeats.

“Keep digging,” Halan orders. “I’m going to go monitor the final Frontrunner launch. We’re doing them with a lot less fanfare than the mining automators.”

“Thank you, sir,” Omega says genuinely.

He stops and looks at Omega, unsure whether he should try to give him some advice, or what. Instead, he nods professionally, and moves on.

Omega steps down from the shuttle, and watches the Captain leave, waiting to make sure he gets all the way out of earshot. Then he turns back around. “Is this vessel reparable?”

“What?”

“You’ve spent time assessing the damage. Can you make it work again?”

“With Valencia’s help, probably, why?” Veca says.

“We may need it in the future.”

She squints her eyes, and looks at him with suspicion. “What do you have planned?”

“Nothing. Very much so nothing. Until I can be sure that this Old Man program is outta my head, I can’t be trusted with anything. I’m going back to my cell.”

“Not so fast,” Elder’s avatar says, appearing before him. “You have to stop the Frontrunner launch.”

Ansutah was first formed thousands of years before the humans living there managed to escape back to their home universe. In that time, a lot less had changed than people might expect. The human population began when a handful of them found themselves stranded. And it was those castaways that held the traditions of before together. They maintained written records of Earthan history, and passed down all the knowledge they kept with them to the later generations, eventually numbering in the billions. Some information was lost, yes, but most of it remained intact. It was important to them. It was important that they not forget where they came from, or what it took to get there. English never fell out of favor, and neither did American Sign Language. Unlike on Earth, it was a mandatory skill that every child studied, and this standard remained even after the great migration to Gatewood. Being a genius, Omega managed to learn it fairly quickly, even though he had no obligation to.

He signs behind his back as he speaks to the Elder program, hoping that Veca is watching from inside the shuttle. This is their chance to capture the program, isolate it from the rest of the system, and prevent it from causing Extremus problems. She must see his warnings, for she activates her emergency teleporter, and jumps to the bridge.

The Elder program chuckles. “I know what you just said to your little friend in there. Come on out, Veca. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Confused, Omega looks back into the shuttle. No, she’s not there anymore. She left. “Can she hear you?”

“I can always make anyone hear me. Did you think you were special? No, I just chose you because your altered DNA gave you some permissions other people don’t have, and you were susceptible to my manipulation.”

“So what you’re saying is I am special.”

He smiles sarcastically. “Right. Seriously, Veca, everything will be all right.”

Now Omega is the one who chuckles. “Elder, there is no one in that shuttle.”

“I saw her go in there,” the program argues. “You and the Captain followed, and then the Captain came out, and then you came out. But she never did.”

“Can’t you tell that she’s not in there?” Omega questions, trying to understand.

The program doesn’t answer.

“You can’t,” he realizes. “It’s shielded. The real you shielded it from you.”

He’s getting angry. “I am the real me!”

Omega steps back onto the ramp, but sticks his head out. “Can you see me now? Do I just look like a floating head to you? I saw a meteorologist do this once with a green dress.”

The Elder program purses his lips, not wanting to confirm his limitations, but confirming them just the same. “Whatever. Minor blindspot. What are you gonna do, transfer ship controls to this little shuttle?” he asks with a yawn. Generally speaking, computer programs don’t need to yawn.

Omega steps back down the ramp. “No. I’m just the distraction.”

The program begins to nod off, not understanding what’s happening to him. “What did you do? I feel...trapped.”

“We’re not gonna kill you,” Omega promises. “You just can’t be allowed to go wherever you want anymore.”

“No.” He’s struggling to stay awake. “You can’t do this. I haven’t told you yet.”

“Told me what?”

The Elder program gets down on his hands and knees, but he’s only staving off the inevitable. “I figured out why my corporeal self tainted the recall device that was supposed to send you and Airlock Karen back to Gatewood.”

“You can tell us later,” Omega says. “As soon as we’re sure you won’t be able to access anything we don’t want you to.”

“You silly fool,” the Elder program accuses. “They’re not sedating me. They are killing me. I’m trying to hold on, but I’m losing control. It’s almost over.”

“I didn’t know,” Omega assures him. “I’m sorry.”

“I die...knowing that you will never know...who hired Old Man...to kill the Captain.” He falls to his virtual face, and disappears.

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