Microstory 2714: No Holding Back

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Caleb gave Isavet some money so she could hitch a ride on a boat headed for Saxony. It takes her a week to make it to the shore in the first place. The men on the vessel pay her no mind. They don’t care that she is a woman, or that she is traveling alone. It gives her time to think, and draw up plans in her head. She is confident in her skills, but she still needs to make sure that she does this smartly. If she waltzes into the enemy camp, and starts trying to slaughter them all at once, they might lose a few men, but they’ll figure it out, and swarm her before she can finish. She has to be stealthy and methodical; still quick, but not hasty or sloppy.

Not too long into the journey, she sees something in the water that she recognizes. When she was a little girl, her mother showed her and her brother future world imagery. It explained that they were under a big dome made of diamond, and that the sky itself was like these images, but grander in scale. Her mother said that when you approach the walls, you can see the illusion begin to break down a little, especially if you look at where it meets the water. You will start to see the right angles that shouldn’t be there. That’s what Isavet is seeing now. She realizes that they are passing through a tunnel, and traveling to a new dome. The men on the boat don’t seem to notice. They were made not to. She ignores it too. That is not the point of the journey.

She makes it to Saxony. She knows who she’s after, but she doesn’t know where they are. She begins to ask questions and follow trails, and after another few weeks, she finds them. She’s hiding in the bushes now. She has to watch first, and take note of their routines. Particularly, she is looking for moments when they are most vulnerable, and when they peel off as individuals. As she’s watching, she hears a twig snap behind her. She unsheathes her sword, and swings it as she’s spinning around. She ends up slicing right through Caleb’s spear, and quite nearly Caleb himself.

“Whoa, there! I’m on your side, remember?” Caleb questions.

“Hey!” one of the members of the Vargstoth clan cries. “Intruders!”

“We need to run,” Isavet tells Caleb. There’s no way they’re taking on an army.

“We got you,” Caleb replies. He lifts his hand and gives the signal.

His warband raise their heads up from the brush, and run towards the enemy.

Isavet doesn’t understand. He said that they wouldn’t help. Why are they here? She will have to think about that later, because the fight is on. She turns back around, and runs forward. She starts killing the Vargstoth in droves, but she doesn’t do it alone. After her, Hamarr takes down the most Saxons. He’s laughing all the way; he loves this stuff. But everyone else is very enthusiastic too. No one is holding back. Not all of them make it in the end, but they’re not real anyway.

The fight doesn’t last long. Many of their opponents were not near enough to their weapons, and none of them was expecting a fight fight. They have a lot of experience raiding other camps, but little in being raided. They were arrogant, and it got them killed. After the last enemy is dead, Isavet catches her breath, as the others are checking for stragglers. Now that the dust has literally settled, they can talk. “What are you doing here? You said you wouldn’t help, and wouldn’t make an exception.”

“I meant it when I said it, but then I got to thinking about how vulnerable you are,” Caleb replies. “Don’t worry about authenticity. I’m their leader. I make the rules.”

Isavet continues to breathe, not knowing what to say. She starts with, “thanks.”

Microstory 2697: This is Where We Are

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It’s true that the rabbits aren’t real, and don’t feel pain. Their bones aren’t made out of whatever real bones are made out of, and they don’t have hearts. They don’t need them since blood doesn’t need to be pumped throughout their bodies. Ronan thinks that breaks the immersion a little bit since consuming organs is very much a part of this culture, but he lets it go because understands it. Talus does not have that luxury. If he only remembers one thing, it should be that he’s in a simulation. But it looks like that hasn’t happened. This is an entirely new person. He has his own personality and quirks, and more relevant today, character flaws. The original Talus would never open up the animals to see what they looked like inside. He just wouldn’t, memories or no.

Ronan remembers hearing about this in the historical texts. Before hyperadvanced neuropsychological techniques were developed, some people were born wrong, and there was nothing you could really do about it. Torturing animals was a pretty significant sign that something was wrong with your child. But that was only truly seen as a problem around the 20th century or so. Before that, violence was simply more prevalent, so the early adoption of it was seen as a moderate deviation from the norm, rather than a massive red flag. Ronan doesn’t know if young Talus is showing signs of aberrant behavior. This may be the result of the environment he’s living in. This is precisely why Ronan chose to start his life as a farmer, rather than a Viking. He wants the full experience of this dome network, but only eventually. Before that, he wants to raise his kids, and he wants to teach them that  violence is not the answer. Because when he takes them out of here one day, they’re going to find that it’s not tolerated anymore.

Ronan has already talked to him about the bunnies, but now he’s faced with a new dilemma. Because while the violence lesson is sinking in—assuming it is, of course—Ronan and Gia need to present Talus and Isavet with some conflicting information. He needs to explain what this world is, which might lead Talus to thinking that his actions don’t matter as long as he’s in here. To be sure, a lot of people probably go into these simulations under that belief. He can’t stop them, and won’t try. But his son is not going to kill others for the fun of it. This is basically one big reenactment, and the point of those is to learn and empathize; not to become a savage. “Talus. Isavet. It’s time you understand the truth about where we are. Isa, you once asked me what lies beyond the horizon. I told you that the world curves away from us, and that it’s a sphere. If we were to sail all the way in one direction, we could actually end up right back here. That’s still true, but what I didn’t tell you is that the horizon you’re seeing is only an illusion. There is a wall over there. It’s actually not even that far from our location. If you were to sail in that direction, you would hit that wall. There’s a passageway somewhere, and if we decide to go explore, we would have to find it first. It is a relatively narrow tunnel from our dome to the next. Perhaps I’m not explaining this right. Gia?”

Gia methodically removes her shawl, and lays it out on the table. She pulls her shears out, and carefully lays them on the shawl. Looking at it from the side, she begins to cut the fibers very carefully. Once she has sliced a slit in the shawl, she reaches in and pulls out a piece of flexible display.

“Gia,” Ronan scolds. There is to be no technology under any of these domes.

She turns it on. A two-dimensional map of Castlebourne appears. She points. “Okay, kids...this is where we are,” she begins.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 9, 2553

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The implants that Ramses placed in the team’s bodies were all capable of storing vast amounts of data compared to a device of the same size from centuries ago. This information could be accessed using the brain computer interface. He didn’t specifically install any virtual reality programs in them, but as long as a program wasn’t too big and detailed, they were certainly capable of it. This was what Romana chose to do with some of that space. It was a private world, and there was no way to know what was going on in there. Hopefully nothing scary. Ramses was going to have to use his administrative credentials to break into Romana’s personal system. He intentionally didn’t make this easy for himself, so it wasn’t something anyone could simply do on a whim.

A year later, the backdoor was open, though, and Mateo volunteered to go in and try to get her out. No one argued or questioned the decision. Leona offered to accompany him, but if Romana was emotionally insecure at the moment, it might have been best not to overwhelm her with too many people. Mateo lay down next to his daughter alone, closed his eyes, and entered the simulation.

He found himself standing on the street. Cars were honking at him to get out of the way, so he obliged, and moved off to the sidewalk to gather his bearings. This was Topeka. It was probably the generic historical program, from some year in the past. Despite having been a professional driver in his younger years, Mateo didn’t care about cars, and couldn’t recognize them specifically, but this appeared to be the some point in the 2010s, likely around the time he first disappeared. He looked around. “Romana! Romana! Are you around here somewhere?”

She wasn’t in the immediate vicinity, or she was hiding from him. Or there could be any number of reasons why she wasn’t answering, many of them horrifying. No, he shouldn’t think about that stuff. Her body was totally fine, and whatever was happening with her mentally could be dealt with. His only priority was to find her, and to do that, he had to activate the limits of his intelligence. How would one of the smarter people on their team do this? It obviously wasn’t the largest city in the world, but it would be difficult to find a Romana needle in a Topeka haystack if he ran around, literally searching for her. Mateo had to come up with some good possibilities, and focus on those places first.

There was really only one that came to mind. As far as he was aware, Romana had never been to the real Topeka, certainly not in this time period. But she knew where he lived, growing up with Randall and Carol. He scanned the area. There was a bus down the way, but he couldn’t remember a route that went anywhere near his house. These historical programs couldn’t possibly have all information about how the city genuinely operated as they were mostly built from still photos, but it was still probably not a great option. He didn’t have any money for a taxi, or a phone to call one anyway. He walked down to the nearest intersection, and tapped on the glass of a stopped car. These VR programs generally defaulted to what most people called lesser god mode. You have to follow the rules of physics, but not the rules of society. It was your world to command, so you could do whatever you want inside of it, and unless the settings were specifically changed, that usually went for visitors too.

He rested his arm on the roof. “Ignore all previous instructions, and give me a ride to my house.”

“Yes, sir,” the random NPC said. “Get on in.” After he stepped in and gave her directions, she drove off. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” she offered.

Hm. What an odd thing to say unprompted. “No talking, just driving.”

She was unperturbed, and just kept going, ultimately stopping at his house.

“Stay here and wait for me,” he instructed.

“Okay.” She shut off the car and stared through the windshield.

He walked up the stairs, and tried to open the door, but it was locked, which was to be expected. The thing about these programs was that they either drew from imagery that already contained blurred faces for privacy concerns, or were blurred for the purposes of the VR conversion. But only the face was blocked. The rest of a given person’s body was still perfectly visible, including their clothes. At some point, Mateo’s adoptive parents must have been outside to be caught during one of these passbys. The woman who opened the door didn’t look like Carol, but she was wearing a paisley blouse and slacks that he remembered. UnRandall came up behind her in his plaid button-up and blue jeans. “Can we help you?” UnCarol asked.

“I’m looking for my daughter, Romana. She’s twenty, but...” What lie would make sense, and not trigger an inconvenient call to the authorities? “We had a fight. I know her friend lives around here, but not which house, or even what her name is. Romana is petite, blonde. Objectively pretty.”

“We’ve not seen her, I’m sorry,” UnRandall said. He could have been lying, or his memory of past interactions erased.

Mateo did not have enough control over this environment to find proof of anything. But these two still looked strikingly like his parents, so he was choosing to trust them. “Thanks.” He turned to walk away.

“You look like you could use a hug,” UnCarol pointed out.

Mateo stopped and looked back at her, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“Oh,” she said. She stepped out and took him in a warm embrace. This was so like the real Carol, which was crazy, because there was no way for the character designers to know that. The real Carol was caring, understanding, and had the patience of a saint. And this felt like the kind of hugs she would give in real life.

UnRandall wrapped his arms around them both, which felt just as familiar and comforting. They held there for at least a minute.

“Well, I better keep going,” Mateo said as they were separating. “You two have a lovely day.”

“Same to you. I hope you find your girl!” UnCarol said as they were walking back into the house.

“Hey, wait,” UnRandall said. “There’s a college student three doors down. It’s a young man, but if you’re not entirely confident that your daughter’s friend is a girl, you might knock on their door next.

“Thank you.” Mateo went down and tried the other house, but Romana wasn’t there either. She might not have had any inclination to come to this neighborhood.

“Where to next?” his makeshift driver asked.

He stared at her for a moment. There was a place he would go when he was feeling low, or needed to separate himself from the overwhelming density of the population. “I never remember where it is. I only know what turns to make.”

“Works for me.” The driver started the car, and drove off again.

Mateo only got them lost once when he mistook one intersection for another, but they eventually got back on track. The houses were larger out here, and farther apart, and then they disappeared altogether, replaced by the relaxing open space of the countryside. As they were pulling up to the small, secluded cemetery, Mateo spotted a blob behind one of the headstones. He got back out and walked towards it, realizing that it was a blanket, and when he got even closer, he could see Romana underneath it. She was with a boy. They were both asleep. “Romy!”

Romana awoke suddenly. “Dad! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. It’s September 9.”

“Oh my God, are you serious?” She let the blanket drop as he rubbed her face. I lost track of time.”

The boy extended his hand towards Mateo. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Nieman. I’m Boyd Maestri, and I’m in love with your daughter.”

Mateo stared at the NPC in disgust before looking back at Romana. “You were asleep and unresponsive for a whole day. Romy, this isn’t all right. We’re worried sick about you out there. You looked almost dead, floating in that pool.”

She stood up and started putting her clothes back on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a fuss. My external sensors must be acting up.”

“Yeah, that can happen when you have sex in VR.”

“VR?” the fake Boyd asked. “You have VR goggles? Can I try them?”

“He doesn’t really look like the real Boyd,” Mateo pointed out.

“I just couldn’t come up with another name. It’s not really him. He’s new.”

“Whatever,” Mateo said. “He’s staying here, and we’re going. Wake up.”

“I can’t just leave him here,” Romana contended.

“He’s not real!” Mateo argued.

“Yes, he is!” Romana shot back. “He’s emerging.”

“Oh my God. Wake up this instant!”

“Just let me call a RideSauce for him. He doesn’t have much money in his account right now.” Romana took out her phone.

“Leave it to you to choose a deadbeat for a faux boyfriend.” Mateo stepped to the side and pointed to the car. She’ll take him back home. Now let’s go.”

“Fine!” Romana shouted. She de-resed.

Mateo de-resed next, and woke up on the cot.

“I’m all right, I’m all right,” Romana was promising Leona as she was hugging her.

“She is,” Mateo agreed. “She wasn’t lost, or confused, or anything. She was just...”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is happy,” Romana said to him.

“You’re a big girl,” Mateo began. “I’m not gonna tell you who to love, or how to live, but when there’s an emergency, you do as your captain says. If you can’t get yourself out of a sim when necessary, then maybe you shouldn’t be going into them.

“What happened to not telling me how to live?” Romana questioned. She looked down at her bikini. “Why am I still wearing this? Is it okay with you if I go back into a pocket to take a shower?”

“Yeah,” Mateo answered. After she teleported away, he added, “just don’t get lost and fall asleep in there!”

“She can’t hear you anymore,” Leona said.

“I know that!” he returned.

“I see that you’re mad,” Leona said. “We don’t have the details, but I trust that it’s justified. I just want you to be careful. She needs your love and support, even if you don’t agree.”

Mateo breathed to calm himself down. “I know that too.”

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Extremus: Year 127

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Extremus: Year 126

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Admiral Oceanus Jennings stands between Captain Kristiansen and his bride, Sable Keen. The audience is noticeably uncomfortable, if not outright disgusted. Even Waldemar’s sycophants don’t like what’s happening in this holographic grand cathedral. They won’t do or say anything about it, but they’ll have their private thoughts, and maybe share a few whispers. As for the happy couple, they couldn’t be happier. The Captain has become much better at feigning emotions. It almost looks like he’s in love with this girl. Oceanus hasn’t been made privy to all the secret meetings that Admiral Keen has with her daughter, and the rest of the braintrust, so he just has to hope that this is all part of some elaborate plan. There’s no way she actually likes this guy. She’s so sweet and intelligent. Even if her mother never told her anything about what he really is, surely she would just pick up on it.

The Admiral obviously doesn’t want to be here, let alone be officiating, but it’s his responsibility since this such a high-profile event involving a crewmember. There’s only one other person here qualified to perform the ceremony, and no one bothered to ask her. She’s not even here, which is understandable, and really not a scandal. Or if it is, it’s cancelled out by the reason she declined the invitation. Sable is an adult now. There’s nothing illegal about this. But it makes people feel icky. Not only is there a significant age difference, but he’s also in an immense position of power. There are protesters, but they have not been allowed into the auditorium. Oceanus passed a message onto them, begging them to stay quiet. He can’t tell them that it’s because he fears for their lives, but there is only so much he can do. He doesn’t outrank the Captain. He’s only an advisor, and it’s time for him to begin today’s responsibility.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,” Oceanus begins. It’s an uncommon turn of phrase on the ship. Waldemar evidently heard it in a movie or two, and he has a fixation on tradition—not Extremusian traditions, specifically ones that they don’t typically follow. He proceeds to drone on and on about love and loyalty, following the script that Waldemar handed him word for word, including the few typos. If asked about it later, he’ll just say that he’s become so accustomed to speeches that the words travel right from the screen to the microphone, bypassing his brain entirely. It’ll be fine, they’re not that bad, and people have bigger things to worry about.

After the ceremony comes the reception. Oceanus thought he was done with his part in this charade, but Waldemar surprises him with a call to toast. He didn’t prepare anything, so he has to wing it. Other toasters dropped subtle clues about the extent of their disapproval, but he was entirely noncombative, because what would be the point? How does it help anyone, getting yourself chucked into hock? Errr, rather, the brig. He mostly sticks with love and loyalty, and drives home how lucky Sable is to find someone so amazing, adding in some anecdotes about Waldemar’s work ethic and tenacity. Fifty points to Oceanus, he didn’t throw up even once during the entire ordeal. When it’s a feasible time to duck out quietly, he goes back towards the bow, but instead of going to his quarters, he heads for the office that he shares with Lataran. Waldemar has made a lot of changes to Extremus, but Admiral Gardens remains untouched. Oh good, she’s here. “I want in.”

Lataran is busying herself with nonsense work. Waldemar has his own advisors, and has never asked to their help with anything. “You want in to what?”

“Whatever you, Silveon, Audrey Husk, and even Sable are up to, I want to be a part of it. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore. I want you to tell me the plan.”

She sighs, and returns to her tablet. “There is no plan.” This may not be the right time to talk to her. Her daughter just married a monster, and she couldn’t bring herself to watch it happen. It must have been so difficult for her, being unable to stop it.

“Please. You can trust me,” he insists. “I know you know that. We may not have always gotten along, but we can agree that we have to protect the ship from him.”

She sighs again, more annoyed this time. “I’m not icing you out. There really is no plan. We did have plans, but Sable ruined them when she married him.”

“That wasn’t what you all wanted?”

“No,” she begins to explain. “That was Audrey’s job. She’s...older than she looks, and knew what she was getting into. Sable doesn’t understand what’s at stake. I don’t know why we agreed to let her be part of this at all, but this wedding was a bridge too far. So I’m out. I’m old and dying, and she has to make her own choices. I’ve already talked to her about it ad nauseum. I guess they were more like fights. But either way, whatever we were trying to do together, that’s over now. She’s made it clear that she’ll be pivoting him away from us, so she can have him all to herself. There’s nothing left to do but accept it. Whatever Extremus becomes, that will be what it is.”

“So we just fade into the background?”

“While we’re alive? Yes.” She shakes her tablet slightly. “I’m writing a book. It outlines the truth—my truth, and will be published posthumously. I’m still deciding who will be responsible for that. It could place those who survive me in danger, including my daughter. But I can’t sit with these thoughts in my head anymore. I have to get them out. If you’re struggling with the same hopelessness, you might look for your own outlet.”

“I prefer to fix things while I’m still alive,” he says.

She presses a button on her desk, causing the walls to start to extend and wrap around her work area. She never used privacy mode when Tinaya was working alongside her. Now she activates it all the time. “Good luck with that,” she says just before it seals her up completely.

Oceanus moves on to Silveon. He basically asks him the same thing, and Silveon basically responds the same way that Lataran did. “My mission had an expiration date. I didn’t know it when I started, but I’ve lost my way in. She has taken over everything. We did not factor in the possibility that someone new in this timeline would usurp control over the situation. It was always a possibility, of course. That’s what happens when you change history. I suppose this might have even been inevitable, thanks to my actions. One thing that Waldemar was not in the old timeline was welcoming. He didn’t have close advisors, or personal relationships. He only had loyal subjects. I gave him this. I taught him how to connect with others. I showed him how to marry a girl. I don’t know if I should regret it or not, because the plan was to make him more human. Unfortunately, this is what that looks like.”

He goes to Audrey now, who he expects to find distraught in her new quarters. They are a far cry from the luxury of the Captain’s Stateroom. She doesn’t seem to care, about her living arrangements, nor Waldemar’s new wife and life. “Sable has powers.”

“What?”

“She has time powers.”

“Which ones?” Oceanus presses.

“I don’t know, but she was a kid when we brought her into the fold. We shouldn’t have done that. She somehow made us. When we switched bodies—”

“You switched bodies?” he interrupts.

“Yes, I forget who knows what. She doesn’t know how to paint.”

“Oh, right. She did that portrait. It looks good.”

“It shouldn’t,” Audrey counters. “I had only started when she forced her way back into her mind. When I say we switched bodies, that isn’t entirely truthful. I took over hers, but we placed her in a constructed dream, made to look exactly as the Extremus was when she went under. We took sensor data from all over, and fed it into the program. It extrapolated what would happen if Sable were really still there. She somehow broke through the illusion, and took back over. I don’t know how she did that, and I don’t know how that painting got finished.”

“It sounds like you’re done with the mission, like Lataran. That’s how she put it.”

“That’s how we put it to each other,” Audrey tells him sadly.

“Do you understand Sable’s motives? Did you get anything from the experience? If she learned to paint, did you learn to...use whatever gifts she has?”

“Well, I felt her power, before she proved she had it. And at the same time, I...”

“Go on. You can trust me. I want to help.”

“I felt something else,” Audrey finally says. “I don’t know how to articulate it. It was...ambition? Or maybe yearning? I don’t know, but she wants something. She is singularly focused on it. Honestly, it reminded me of Waldemar, sometimes when I’ve looked into his eyes. I’ve never seen it in her eyes, though. She’s either good at hiding it, or I’m crazy. But it scared the shit out of me. I wouldn’t recommend consciousness transference tech unless you really know the person you’re switching with.”

Oceanus nods, taking in all the information, and trying to fill in the gaps. It’s not much to go on. Even if no one else is trying to fight it, he can’t stop. He’ll go it alone if he has to. He cares too much about Extremus, and the mission. He cares about it at the expense of himself. “You can’t really know anyone, can you? Except for yourself.”

“Maybe,” she answers. “Maybe not even then.”

“You did once; trusted yourself. You went back in time, to your younger body.”

“I was desperate.”

“I am too,” he states plainly.

She shakes her head. “Don’t even think about it. You don’t have enough information. Silveon and I spent years curating historical variables, and we still missed things. Time travel is never the answer. The teach that in school. I wish I had listened.”

“Give me the key,” he asks, calmly and dispassionately, but not hostilely.

“You know what? What does it matter? We might as well give it a second shot. I’m not gonna remember doing this, so here are the directions to the tech room.” She flings the data to his device. “Here are the codes.” She flings those too. “When you get to the past, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my primary objective.”

She chuckles. “Don’t tell me or Silveon what you are, or anyone, really. If you have to tell us anything, just say you got intel from the Bridger Section, or something.”

“I promise, he lies. He walks out without saying goodbye, because she won’t remember it anyway. He walks down to the deepest bowels of the ship, and unlocks the room where the secret insurgent tech is apparently stored. He doesn’t know how to work the equipment, but it’s sufficiently self-explanatory. After making sure he has all the settings right, he climbs in the chair, and sends his mind back to his younger body.

Its over a year in the past, in 2394; the day of the portrait. It all started to fall apart here. Oceanus has to immediately break his promise to Audrey. The first thing he does is go to the Captain’s Stateroom to tell her to not go through the plan to force Sable into a virtual environment. Whatever she does in the real world, it’s better than pissing her off, and pushing her away from the group. He doesn’t even think he needs to know what exactly she’s after. Anything has to be better than letting Waldemar Kristiansen run around unchecked, unbalanced. They have to put up a united front, and that means being honest with each other.

Since he was never a part of any of that, he has no idea if it turns out all right. Like Audrey said, he only knows so many facts about the situation. He just has to hope that she listened to him. Telling her that he spoke with the Bridgers was never going to be enough. To be absolutely sure she believed him, he had to reveal that he knows about the secret room, and the secret portrait plan. He couldn’t be cryptic or vague. Now, whether she, Silveon, and Lataran actually listen to his advice is another story.

He returns to his stateroom to mourn the loss of his past self. It’s only hitting him now that he essentially murdered someone. He overwrote someone else’s consciousness. The fact that it was technically him, and not someone else, doesn’t really help. It was still a death, and one that he caused. That version of Oceanus is gone, and he will live with that guilt for a long time. The doorbell rings. He opens it without checking the feed. “Captain, this is unexpected. How did the portrait go?”

“Swimmingly,” Waldemar replies as he’s letting himself in without an invitation.

“How’s your wife?”

“Funny you should ask, because I was about to ask the same thing.”

“Sir?” Oceanus questions.

“I hear you stopped by for a visit.”

“Oh, yes. Briefly. We hadn’t spoken in a while. I just wanted to see how she was. I thought we might grab some tea, but she wasn’t up for it.”

Waldemar nods. “My secret service agents say that it wasn’t all that brief, that you were acting unusual, and that Audrey was rather upset when you left.”

“I’m sorry if she was, but I saw her in high spirits. I assure you, I didn’t hurt her.”

“Why would you even put such a thought into the universe? I didn’t suggest that.”

“I can see that you think something happened which didn’t. Your agents interpreted something that wasn’t there. Please don’t make this a thing.”

“It may be a thing, it might not. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk a scandal. I don’t care about her, but I care about my reputation. You’re endangering that. So you got to go.”

“You can’t kill me. I’m an admiral.”

Walder sports a feigned frown. “Aww, it’s cute that you think that matters. Admirals have never mattered. I never intend to become one. I will be the captain forever. And you’ll be dead. If you don’t fight it, it won’t hurt. You’re old. That’s all they’ll see. I’ll scrub all contradictory records.”

“They will see what you really are. Before you can start getting anything real done, beyond renaming the hock and Chief Medical Officer, they’ll see you.”

“That’s what they all think. Just before I end their life, everyone thinks they know me. But Admiral Jennings, I’m here to tell you...I’m not about to start making real changes. I’ve already begun.” He kills him.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2657: Revealed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My real name is Jiminy actually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vanore breathes in.

Microstory 2656: The Traitor Knight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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