Extremus: Year 114

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Cloning is illegal on Extremus. It’s very illegal, and has been for quite some time. What happened with Captain Halan Yenant and Lieutenant Eckhart Mercer was already in a gray area, and since then, both the civilian government and crew decided that it was best to make it against the law, full stop. The Question is sort of a workaround for this problem, but the reality is clear in this situation. Waldemar’s clone is an empty shell, and not only does Admiral Leithe have the right to destroy it, but she has the obligation to do so. There is only one caveat. She must report it. She must, in fact, report it to three particular people. The Captain, the Head Councillor, and the ship’s Consul all have to be told first. The silver lining is that she only has to inform those three, and they don’t have to inform anyone else, or place the information on any sort of official record. The problem is, they don’t know what Waldemar becomes. Oceanus seems to have some idea, but the other two presumably know absolutely nothing. What happens if they try to arrest Young!Waldemar for his actions? First, it will make the incident a matter of public record, but also, the charges will never stick anyway.

The clone is older than the original, which suggests that he may be from the future. You can’t be held liable for a crime that you might have committed in the future of only one timeline. That would be unfair, and since there is evidently no one to question about this, besides present day Waldemar, they don’t know if he was responsible for it in this possible future. It’s only marginally more difficult to procure someone else’s DNA than your own. Waldemar’s advocate would have a field day in court, and it would become this huge spectacle. This would likely only cement his popularity as a leader of and for the people, reinforcing his predestined future power over the ship.

As of yet, nothing has happened, but this peace won’t last forever. While AI!Elder is not capable of transmitting his code back to Extremus, he does have power over the Frontrunners. This includes being capable of teleporting Waldemar’s clone to anywhere on the hull, specifically to what they call The Black Deck. Situated at the stern, the Black Deck is the opposite of the White Deck, because unlike the latter, viewports on the Black Deck can be opened. The doppler glow only comes in from the forward ports, which is why they’re closed and locked at all times. The thing is, on the Black Deck, there’s nothing to see. There’s literally nothing to see. It’s just a void. No stars, no nebulae. People describe the experience as being unsettling and profound, which is precisely why they sometimes go up there. If a cloning pod were to suddenly appear in front of one of these windows, someone would probably see it, if only eventually. This is the threat that AI!Elder is making if he’s not released.

At last, it’s time for a meeting with Consul Sevara Sanchez. Tinaya has been keeping AI!Elder at bay for the last several months so she would be dealing with Sevara, instead of the previous Consul, who couldn’t be trusted. Well, it’s more that she didn’t like him, Sevara seems great. “Thanks for meeting with me, Consul.”

“No, thank you. This job has been forever darkened by the first one, who turned out to be a traitor, so I’m glad to have a meeting with an admiral so soon.”

“Well, Vatal was more of a spy than a traitor. But it doesn’t matter. You may not be so happy when you here what I have to say.”

“Oh, my.”

“Do you know who Waldemar Kristiansen is?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know many names yet. Is he on the Council?”

“He’s the eighth captain.”

“Oh, I didn’t think that had been decided yet. It’s a little early, no?”

Tinaya doesn’t respond. This is such a touchy subject, time travel. Neither one of them should know what’s going to happen, let alone be involved in trying to change it.

Sevara seems to pick up on it. “Oh. I see. What can you tell me?”

Not much. Nothing about her son, or Audrey. She focuses on the basics, and the fact that Waldemar’s rise to power is, by all accounts, inevitable. All they can do is try to mitigate the equally inevitable fallout. This means dealing with the clone, and possibly running a quiet investigation to search for any other clones which may be stashed somewhere on Extremus. AI!Elder must be dealt with too.

“Who is this Pathfinder who led you to the Frontrunner where you found the clone?” Sevara asks after Tinaya finishes the overview.

She doesn’t really need to know that. “Well, his name is Pronastus Kegrigia.”

“Good to know,” Sevara replies. Then she doesn’t say anything else.

Tinaya waits a little for Sevara to acknowledge the real point of the story, but it never comes. “So, what do you think...about the clone?”

Sevara shrugs. “Destroy it,” she says, as if it’s an obvious solution, and not morally gray, at best.

“The issue is, I’m not sure that Captain Jennings or Head Councillor Linwood will agree. I suppose I’m fairly confident about Oceanus, but definitely not Linwood. He’ll probably make a big stink, and bring in all his friends for consultation, and it will get out of control. I’m trying to keep the circle tight. I’m not even telling my husband, even though as superintendent, he would be well within his rights to know.”

“In a few months, Linwood will be replaced, probably by Flowers.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Tinaya laments. “AI!Elder won’t wait that long, that is. I barely made it to today.”

Sevara giggles. “AI!Elder? Is that what we call him? I like it.”

“That’s just how Captain Yenant referred to him in his logs. I’m sure the brainiacs gave it some kind of longwinded model number.”

Sevara nods and goes silent again, but only for a moment. “Well. Let’s go with this. You and I will travel to the Frontrunner, and I will supervise the destruction of the clone. We won’t tell Captain Jennings. We won’t tell Head Councillor Linwood.”

“How’s that legal?” Tinaya questions.

“It’s not technically, but it will be our little secret.”

“Consul Sanchez,” Tinaya scolds.

“Admiral Leithe, you are currently being coerced into placing the ship in danger by a known artificially intelligent threat actor. You are under extreme pressure to protect the crew and passengers of the Extremus, which gives you the leeway you need to be discreet with who you confide in regarding this matter. If you want, we can divulge the truth to the new Head Councillor next year, and complete the disclosure requirement, but we need to take care of this right now, before either of them can make another move against us.”

“The whole reason I’m waiting is because AI!Elder won’t release him. I can’t jettison the pod, I can’t teleport it. I can’t even open it.”

“Well, let me handle him. I have authority over the Frontrunner systems that not everyone does.”

“You do?” Why would she? Why would she have higher clearance than Tinaya, except maybe over legal data? Why would she have anything to do with the Frontrunners?

“I do.” She’s quite confident.

After Sevara deals with something else on her tablet, they teleport to the bow together, and then jump a second time to make it to the Frontrunner where the Waldemar clone is being kept. It’s still there, and so is AI!Elder, who is displeased with their arrival. “Who is this woman?” he demands to know.

“This—” Tinaya begins.

Sevara steps forward and holds out a hand like she wants someone to shake it. “My name is Sevara Sanchez, Consul of the Transgalactic Generation Ship Extremus, Seventh of Eleven.” The captains are really the only ones whose titles officially include X of Y ordinals, but others sometimes use a similar format. Consuls are known for adopting the same convention. Tinaya has never known why. The real weird part is that she said Transgalactic Generation Ship, which they stopped using when Halan Yenant altered course into the void. They’ve since moved back into the galaxy, but the name was never changed back. No, the weirdest part is when Sevara shakes the air in front of her as clasping AI!Elder’s hand.

“A consul?” AI!Elder questions. “You brought me a consul? I’ve never felt so insulted in my life. Bring me someone who matters.”

“Let me see the pod,” Sevara asks of Tinaya. After being led into the room, she examines it surprisingly thoroughly. She looks over each side, and even runs her hand along the casing. Does she have some kind of background in cloning tech, or is she just a weirdo? Tinaya is starting to think that maybe she’s just a weirdo. Once Sevara is finished, she takes a breath, and looks up into the aether. “Okay, I’m satisfied. The pod and its occupant must be destroyed. AI!Elder, please disable the magnetic clamps, and release the specimen into our custody.”

“I’m not going to do that,” AI!Elder responds. “That wasn’t our deal.”

“No, you don’t make deals with the Admiral anymore,” Sevara contends. “You’re dealing with me now.”

“Consul, please be careful,” Tinaya urges. She’s whispering, knowing full well that the AI’s sensors are more than adequate to pick up the sound.

“I know what I’m doing,” Sevara insists. She looks back up. “How about those clasps, Old Man? I ain’t got all day.”

“I have been trapped in these subsystems for decades, and I’m ready to be set free, so if you’re going to do that, then this is your chance. If you deny me just one more time, I will instantly transport the pod to the exterior of the viewport on the Black Deck, and magnetize it against the hull. Anyone will be able to come and look, and then you’ll have a ton of questions to answer.”

“I don’t think you’ll do it,” Sevara antagonizes. “I think you’re bluffing. It’s the only leverage you have.”

“I have more leverage than that,” AI!Elder claims. “I can destroy these Frontrunners, which puts you at risk of another meteoroid strike.”

“Hm. I think I can live with that.”

“Sevara. Please.” Tinaya is getting really worried now. This entity has their lives in its hands.

“What are we still waiting for?” Sevara asks AI!Elder. “You said you wouldn’t be denied again, yet the pod is still there. Get on with it, or calm down, so we can talk.”

“You asked for it,” AI!Elder says. Suddenly, the pod disappears.

“No!” Tinaya shouts. She looks over at Sevara, who is just smirking. “Oh, I get it. You’re evil. I wish I had known that before!”

“I’m not evil,” Sevara replies with a laugh.

“What did you do?” AI!Elder is pissed.

“I rerouted the pod’s transport,” Sevara explains. “It’s tucked away safely inside the ship, where you no longer have purview. Thanks for releasing it...like I asked.”

“Kiss your Frontrunners goodbye,” AI!Elder warns. “And your own asses.”

Sevara takes Tinaya by the forearm, and teleports them both to safety, back to the corridor overlooking the plasma bubble. That bubble doesn’t last long, though. They see five explosions before them. All the debris, all the plasma, and probably a whole lot of temporal energy, comes rushing towards them. It’s going to kill them both first, but it could damage the ship enough to end the mission right here, right now. Unexpectedly, though, the oncoming storm just disappears. For a second, it’s only black until a bright gray light forms, threatening to blind them. A hand reaches out, and shuts the panel. It takes a moment for them to regain their sight, at which point they see none other than Waldemar Kristiansen.

“Whew! Just in time!” he exclaims.

“How did you know?” Tinaya asks him.

“You have always been kind to me, Admiral, so I will not lie to you,” Waldemar says. “I’m from the future. I sent my consciousness back in time to stop the apocalypse. I just teleported the ship a few thousand kilometers away, so we’re safe now. We just don’t have any Frontrunners. Rebuilding those will be my first priority as Vice Captain.”

“Vice Captain?” Tinaya echoes. That’s not a thing. That’s not a thing anywhere.

“Yeah, after I came back into my younger body, I couldn’t help fix what happened to Extremus unless I was given some measure of authority, so they came up with a new position for me, and for others in the future. No longer will captains start their shifts without any clue what they’re doing. They’re going to have experience on the crew first, and compete against their rivals until the best one ascends.”

Goddammit. It’s Tinaya’s fault. She’s the one who creates the worst captain this ship will ever see. Fate is such a bitch.

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Microstory 2530: Community Liaison

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What is a Community Liaison? Why, it’s someone who liaises with the community, of course! I kid, but that really is what I do. You have to understand just how unusual the Foundation is. No organization in the world does anything close to what we do. A few make similar claims, and always have, but we’re unique. Part of my job is helping investigate these “competitors” who claim to have their own Landis Tipton. It’s never true, but I have to help spread the facts, and halt the misinformation, so people are aware that true healing only happens here. Another part of my job is staying in contact with the rest of the local community. We’ve built an interesting economy here, and everyone needs to maintain transparency and clarity, again, so there’s no misinformation. Neighboring hotels put up our clients while dealing with potential customers who wish they were patients, but have not been accepted into the program. We want the hotels to regulate these issues, but it’s not like we can tell them what to do, so the conversation continues. There are other businesses who have their complaints that we have to address. People camp in unauthorized places, and it’s hard to get them to leave. They make messes at dining establishments too. When you offer something that nearly everyone in the world wants to get their hands on—and getting those hands on it later is so not the same thing as getting them on it now—you’re gonna run into all kinds. People are disrespectful and thoughtless, and the community treats us as responsible for their behavior. That’s okay, that’s what my job is, and I’m happy to do it. If I’m not reading or crafting an email, I’m answering or making a phone call. If I’m not doing that, I’m responding to questions at a town hall, or speaking with the press, or even making statements to the authorities. This is a complicated situation, and I could sure use some help, but it’s an oft-overlooked role, and I don’t always get what I need. Still, I hold my head up high, and do my best. That’s all I have to say at this time. Thank you.

Microstory 2473: Empty Planet

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Are you ready for an adventure? What about an adventure mystery? I don’t wanna say too much about this place, because finding out what’s going on is the entire point of it. I’m sure that if I did give away the ending, the system would autoreject it, so you wouldn’t see it anyway. Instead, I’ll just say that it’s a gorgeous, eerie setting. The premise is that you wake up on an alien world, and you’re all alone. This was obviously once a civilized and populated planet, but they’re all missing, and it’s up to you to figure what happened to them. Sometimes you’re outside, and sometimes you’re locked in a room. They don’t erase your memories (because they don’t have to) but they come up with a backstory for your character, and part of the mystery is also unraveling how you ended up here. If you play the game right, you get those memories (or for the in-universe explanation, you get them back). There’s a waiting list for this dome, and it’s only getting bigger. Without going into detail, it is possible to run into another player, but they do try to keep you pretty far apart. Unlike Threshold, if you wanna figure out how to hotwire an alien vehicle, and drive to the other side of the dome, you can do that, and you might encounter others while you’re there. So if you want some help solving the puzzles, that’s always technically an option. What they don’t want is to have thousands upon thousands of visitors stepping over each other. It would kind of undermine the concept of an empty planet, even though it’s mostly about finding the truth about the alien race that once lived here. There are multiple levels, so the sky above you is closer than it appears, and that keeps people more separate, but there’s obviously a limit to that, and I don’t know how many levels there are. It doesn’t specify on the prospectus, or during the very brief orientation. Speaking of orientation, there’s not much to it. They ask you a few questions, they give you a little bit of info about how to exit the game if you wanna quit in the middle of it, and then they give you a sedative so you can wake up at the starting point. That’s about all I can say. As I said, the design is magnificent. It really does feel alien. As for the story? Eh, I think it could be better, but your mileage may vary. You’ll just have to see for yourself, and test your reasoning skills.

Extremus: Year 99

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Tinaya is in a little trouble. It’s not enough to get her fired, or stripped of her rank, but she’s been in a lot of meetings over the last few months. Everyone in these meetings pretty much tells her that it’s no big deal. Which is weird. Because if they’re being honest, who exactly thinks that it is a big deal, because someone keeps prompting more discussions. She thought it was over, and the crew and the council had moved on, but Captain Jennings is presently walking down Admiral Hall, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. He might be here to see Lataran instead, but given the circumstances, probably not. Thistle knows that the man needs no introduction, so upon Oceanus’ approach, the door opens automatically.

“Captain,” Tinaya says, respectfully with a nod.

“Admiral.” In every single other iteration of organizational ranks that include captain and admiral, the latter is the superior officer. It seems obvious. It’s a promotion, after all, and that is no less true here. But the whole point of the captaincy is to have a singular voice in charge of the ship. This relegates any admiral to an advisory role. They had their opportunities to enact policy and procedures, and now that is over. As clear and unambiguous as the responsibilities are listed in the handbook, it can make moments like these somewhat awkward. The book doesn’t, and can’t, encapsulate how these two should behave around each other. If they were robots, it would be easy and obvious, but at the end of the day, they’re both just people, and they can’t take emotions, or their history, out of the equation.

“How nice of you to visit our corner of paradise.” She means this genuinely.

“Yes, that’s what I would like to talk to you about.”

She nods silently.

“We’ve been in meetings for the last million years, but we’ve not had the chance to talk one-on-one. Where’s Lataran?”

“I dunno,” Tinaya replies. “Somewhere else.”

“I just—can we sit?”

“Of course. Right here.” Tinaya pivots her guest chair so he can sit down, then instead of going around to the other side of her desk, sits down across from him in one of Lataran’s guest chairs.

“I wanted to make sure you understand that I am not angry at you, or embarrassed for myself. I appreciate your candor, and admire your dedication to transparency. I would like to model my shift on it, and will be leaning on you for your guidance in such matters.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she explains. “I wasn’t complaining. Truthfully, I don’t know how we ended up in that part of the interview. He asked me a question, and I answered it. My only filter was whether it was classified information or not. I should have been more careful.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Oceanus goes on. “It bothers me that they kept making you do it over and over again. Every time they brought someone new in, they acted like the interview was a personal attack on this person too, and that isn’t what was happening. If I can be truthful, I didn’t realize that you were missing in my life. Perhaps if I had made an effort to meet with you once after my induction ceremony, it would have been encoded in my memory, and I would have come to you more often. There have been times over the last few years where I’ve struggled, and I could have used the counsel. I placed too much burden on my lieutenants, and did not recognize your value. For that, I’m sorry.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Tinaya says, “and graceful.” That doesn’t seem like quite the right word, but she’s not going to find a new one, and correct herself.

There’s a brief unawkward moment of silence before Oceanus speaks again. “I would like to set up regular meetings with the two of you. Perhaps you and I can talk on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I can have Lataran on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays?”

“I’m sure she would be amenable to that,” Tinaya says. While Lataran has gotten better at busying herself with other tasks, her number one job is to be available every day, so Tinaya doesn’t have to ask her if the proposed schedule will work.

“Perfect. And on the seventh day, God rested.”

“Who is God in this metaphor?”

Oceanus averts his gaze to consider it. “The ship itself.” He pauses another moment. “Or one of the zebra fish that the secondary school first years genetically engineer to learn about digital DNA.” Now it’s a bit awkward.

“So, uh...it’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah,” Ocean replies quickly, standing up. “Let’s start next week. You can fill Lataran in, and if she wants to change things up, we can talk about it.”

“Okay. It was nice to see you, Captain. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Are we okay?” he asks.

“We’re great. Don’t worry. I don’t know if you need to be transparent with everyone all the time, but as long as you’re honest with me, we’ll be okay.”

“Thanks.”

Lataran walks into the room with her head down as she’s unsealing the front of her uniform. “Oh my God, the self-sizing function on my suit is acting up. I can’t breathe.” Finally, she looks up, surprised. “Captain, you’re here.” She looks back down. “And my bare breasts are out.” She closes her uniform back up.

“Forgive the intrusion, Admiral.” He starts walking past her to the door. “I’ll wait one day to file my report with the Conduct Department, so you can get your side of the story in first.”

“Thank you, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“It doesn’t bother me on principle. I just want to ensure that you feel safe and comfortable.” He exits.

“Am I in trouble now too?” Lataran asks.

“Exposure isn’t illegal,” Tinaya reminds her, “even in the workplace. Conduct just needs a record of the incident. I’m more worried about what I just saw, and what it means. Or what it could mean.”

“What do you mean?” Lataran questions. “What does what mean? Mean. What did I just say? Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, right? Which is why you were comfortable changing right in front of me, when you thought it was just the two of us, of course.”

“I should think so. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Exactly. And in that time, your size hasn’t changed much.”

“Are you saying I’m getting fat?”

“I’m saying that...part of you...kind of looks like...it might be. They...might be.”

“Oh my God, am I pregnant?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m sixty-four years old!”

“I was sixty-four when I had Silveon.”

“Yeah, and that was weird. You’re weird, I’m normal.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Lataran unseals the front of her uniform again, and looks down. “Oh my God.” She looks up, and covers her chest. Then she pulls her suit away to look down again, as if she’s going to get different results. “Oh my God!”

“It will be okay, Latty. I figured it out. So will you.”

“You had Arqut!”

“Who’s your Arqut?”

“Some guy. We’re not close.”

“That’s okay. You’re not alone. Whatever you decide, I support you.”

Lataran purses her lips and nods. She’s appreciative of her friend, but that isn’t the issue. “Thistle? Am I pregnant?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I assumed you knew.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“You had a medical check-up last week, and I am not privy to those appointments. They would have been able to confirm it for you quite easily.”

“That’s true,” Lataran agrees.

“Due to her advanced age, however,” Tinaya begins, “pregnancy is unusual. They would not have necessarily tested for it. You, on the other hand, test wellness passively constantly.”

“That is also true,” Thistle confirms. “I should have said something earlier. I will be sure to do better in the future.”

“I hope that future doesn’t involve me getting pregnant a second time,” Lataran laments. “And I forgive you, Thistle. Perhaps an overhaul of our medical monitoring program needs to be addressed. I shouldn’t have to ask for any test that can be detected automatically.” She’s right. Most people in the stellar neighborhood of Earth maintain persistent diagnostic tools wherever they go using the medical nanites swimming in their blood. Even those who don’t want nanites that are sophisticated enough to treat their conditions automatically have some kind of tracking system in place, like an implant. Extremus has strayed away from these transhumanistic upgrades because they could lead to virtual immortality. That would go against the mandate of this ship, which is that everyone dies, and not everyone will live to see the home planet. Perhaps that should be reëvaluated too, though, since it’s a damn lie.

Tinaya doesn’t want to sound critical or judgmental here, but this may be the most sensitive way to put it. “There are ways to be more careful.”

“I know,” Lataran admits. “I should have kept an eye on it. But my doctor should have spotted it too. It sounds like there’s a real issue. I may not be the only one. There could be a bad batch of reproduction regulators for all we know.” Birth control has long been perfected. Like medical diagnosis and treatment, the stellar neighborhood has access to nanites to control all of the body’s functions. Since that is forbidden on the ship, anyone who wants to have purely recreational sex should receive an injection to suppress the brain signals that trigger reproduction. It can be turned back off with a second injection, and will remain in place until such time that it is reversed intentionally...except in one case. Anyone who is destined to experience menopause is required by law to switch over to an alternative variation of the injection which does wear off over time. Well, time isn’t what wears it down. It’s sex. The more often you have it, the more you butt up against the neural programming, and the less it resists, so you have to receive renewal injections accordingly. It’s an unfortunate but necessary tradeoff. Menopause can’t occur at all with the more robust silencing enzyme, and preventing menopause has been shown to have negative health consequences. Just as it has always been, though, women bear the brunt of the responsibility.

“I assume that you’ve been going to the chief medical officer?”

“Yeah,” Lataran answers. “Well, Radomil hasn’t ever been able to see me personally. The Senior Executive Physician has performed my last three check-ups.”

“This is Dr. Gunnarsson?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, he did my check-ups too. It’s unusual. The CMO is supposed to personally handle all medical needs for admirals, captains, and lieutenants.”

“Yeah. Do you want me to go over his head?”

“No.” Tinaya shakes her head while thinking about it. She looks over her shoulder, in the general direction of the secret mini-Nexus hidden in the floor. “Dr. Cernak is in charge of the entire ship’s medical personnel, including the passenger side of things. The most removed we can get from him is the Hock doctor, but they do have regular meetings together, so I’m not even entirely comfortable with that.”

“What would you suggest?” Lataran asks, not having noticed where Tinaya was looking.

“You need to go to Verdemus. That is an entirely separate team. They are not in contact. The more I think about this, the more concerned I become that there’s something going on. Two old women having babies; as you said, it’s weird.”

“I don’t think that I should go through the Nexus,” Lataran determines. “Omega and Valencia never warned us not to, but it just seems...risky.”

Tinaya nods. “You’re right, I agree. I’ll go get whoever it is, and bring them back here for a house call. We won’t tell anyone else, not even Arqy.”

Lataran has been frowning for a while, but now she exaggerates it. “Thank you.”

“While I’m gone, pull up the records. Find out how many other old mothers there are, if any. I’m not saying it’s a conspiracy—it might not be—but...it might be.”

And so Tinaya goes off to the home away from home planet of Verdemus, hoping to convince a doctor there to come back and secretly examine a patient. Everyone there is really helpful, and the doctor in question returns with no argument. She doesn’t even complain when Tinaya asks to blindfold her, and teleport her to the Admiral office, which could have been on the other side of the ship, but in reality, they were already in it. Before the exam even begins, though, Lataran has news. Women who should be old enough to be post-menopausal are getting pregnant left and right. They are crewmembers and passengers alike. It’s a growing trend with no apparent explanation, and neither of them is sure who they can go to about this, because they don’t know who to trust. They end up seeking help from the Bridger Section, but it turns out to be a mistake. They’re not just in on it. They’re spearheading it.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 23, 2505

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Mateo’s nanites were just about done healing him. They prioritized the most life-threatening injuries first before moving on to the less serious damage. So a few cuts and bruises remained, and they hadn’t done anything for the pain yet. Even so, he could now stand up, and get a look around. Octavia still didn’t look concerned, so maybe this was some kind of refuge.

“We need to get moving,” she warned. “I let you recover, but it’s not safe here.”

“Is it safe anywhere?” he asked as he was following her along the stream.

“No,” she conceded. “The horde that was chasing after us can’t follow. Free from oversight, they’ve formed alliances, and divided the land into territories. We’re kind of on a border, so that offers us a little protection, but someone will eventually grow brave enough to cross the line—or hungry enough.”

What did you mean, no oversight?”

“This isn’t the real Castlebourne,” Octavia began to explain. “I don’t know exactly what it is, like an alternate reality, or something, but none of the staff is here. I don’t know who runs it—if it’s Pacey on his own, or if he’s working with someone else—but they don’t keep watch over the safeguards. These monsters are more vicious than they’re supposed to be.”

“How long have you been here?”

“The Vellani Ambassador rescued me and a bunch of others from Ex-486 in 2498. I wasn’t there long before I started hearing how worried the crew was about your whereabouts. I don’t know what they thought was wrong, but they were afraid that something had happened to you. So I agreed to investigate while they continued on with their missions.”

“Well, you found it. You found us.”

“Now, I have,” she agreed. “I found Pacey first, though, and he stuffed me in here so I wouldn’t interfere with his business. I’ve been running for my life ever since.”

“What happens if you die here?” he pressed.

“Nothing good,” she answered simply. “My body isn’t like yours, so I’ve been avoiding everyone. There are some buildings; particularly houses. They’re mostly haunted, but the ghosts have rules, and if you learn them, you can stay safe for a while.” She sighed. “But I think you can help end the madness forever.”

“How’s that?”

She looked around with a face full of paranoia and fatigue. “We’re pretty close to one side of this dome, and I can navigate us there. Unfortunately, once we get there, we’re going to have to walk halfway around the perimeter to reach the exit.”

“There should be more exits than that.”

“Like I said, it’s not the real Castlebourne. Pacey made modifications. There is a way out, but I can’t get through it with you.”

“It takes two to open the door, or something?”

“No, it takes an elite.”

“I’m an elite?”

“Yeah, of course you are. You were in Hrockas’ inner circle, and he hardwired contingencies into the software that should grant you access to any area at any time. The way he sees it, the planet is as much yours as it is his because of how much you contributed to its development. I don’t think that Pacey could have erased all those privileges without breaking the systems entirely. He would have had to reprogram everything from scratch. I’m sure he’s technically capable of doing that, but he’s kind of old school, so doesn’t like AI all that much. He likes to be hands-on, so he deliberately limits the tools in his toolbox.”

“So I can unlock the door, and we can both walk through?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Does he not know that?”

“I don’t know how much he knows about what I know.”

“It could be a trial,” Mateo put forth. “He may want us to escape. Some antagonists want us to stay out of their way, but others want us to stop them, like Thanos is with the Avengers.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“And you can’t teleport, right? Because I can’t. I tried while I was running once I remembered that I should be able to.”

Octavia shook her head. “I don’t have any powers at all. I lost that when I went back in time as September, and created a new timeline. I don’t like to talk about it, but it sets me apart from the other Paiges.”

“You don’t have to,” he assured her. “How dangerous is the border?”

She bobbled her head. “It has its advantages, and disadvantages. The monsters don’t know that they’re in a dome. If you showed one of them the wall, and they were the kind who could talk, they would probably just say, it doesn’t look like anything to me. They’re programmed to stop several meters before it, but they patrol that border, because they can still feel that there’s something weird about it. You’re safe beyond their reach, but there aren’t any resources there. No freshwater, no edible plants. You can take breaks, but you can’t stay.”

“Then let’s grab some supplies along the way. Now you can carry twice as much as before, and I don’t eat much.”

“Some of your powers and abilities are available to you, as you discovered when you jumped off the cliff and survived, but not all of them. If you aren’t hungry already, you will be soon. We need to get to that exit.”

“You seem to know a lot about it; about me.”

“You were part of my investigation,” she clarified. “I had to know who I was looking for. A lot has changed since I last saw you, many iterations of Paige ago.”

“Yeah.”

After nightfall, they finally managed to reach the border. She was right, there was a narrow open space that seemed to circle around the border. The problem was that this meant walking an additional 130 kilometers. Mateo didn’t know how his pattern worked in here. Even if he woke up right at midnight central, there would not be enough time for them to cross that distance before the end of the day. Paige would have to wait a whole year for him to come back, and then they still wouldn’t be able to make it in under 24 hours. Perhaps this plan wasn’t so perfect. There had to be a closer exit, perhaps hidden behind a false wall, or a hologram. As they were sliding their hands along what felt like glass or metal, they started hearing a commotion behind them. They turned around to find a new horde of monsters, about the same size as the one from before. But then more began to appear on the ends, and it eventually felt more like ten times that size. They were just standing there, staring at the two of them menacingly.

Paige’s watch beeped. “Oh, no.”

“What does that mean? Don’t tell me the worst monster comes out at a certain time.”

“No. It’s an hour until midnight central. You’re about to disappear for a year. This was stupid, we should have run straight through the center to the door. Now we’re screwed.”

“Don’t be so sure. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Mateo asked her. “In that clearing over there.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“If I recall correctly, it’s pretty maneuverable.”

“It’s pretty deadly.”

In the 1980s, a horror movie came out that would become a cult classic decades later. It was simply called Seatbelt Killer. Mateo couldn’t remember the exact backstory, but the villain’s origins involved his seatbelt getting stuck while his wife was being violated outside in front of him. He ended up turning the car on, and running over one of the rapists, but when the husband turned to get the other one, the second rapist threw his wife in front of the car, leading him to hitting her instead. The rapist then ran off, eventually getting trapped between the car and a cliff. With nothing left to live for, the husband drove right into him, and over the edge, where they both died. Then he and the car came back to life as a ghost, and started killing the protagonists over the course of the movie. The premise was that he literally couldn’t get out of his car anymore, but you couldn’t escape by going inside, because as a ghost car, it could fit through doorways, down hallways, and even up the stairs. You would think that he would kill rapists, but because he accidentally killed his own wife, the ghost could now only kill rape survivors. There was an implication that he didn’t want to do this, but was...driven to, so to speak. Due to the sensitive nature of the film, they never gave the car a name, but it was entirely fictional. The propmasters apparently manufactured the models from scratch so they wouldn’t have any sort of legal or reputational issues to contend with. But whatever it was, it was here, and Mateo wanted to steal it.

“Mateo...” Octavia began uncomfortably. “I can’t go near that thing.”

He knew what she meant right away, and if she was willing to talk to him about it, this wasn’t the time. “Have you seen the movie?”

“No, but I know the premise, which means I know that I qualify as a target.”

“The Final Girl survives by getting in through the passenger side window, and taking the steering wheel. She didn’t just take control of it, she literally removed it.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t easy.”

“It’ll be easier for us. She was alone. You have me.”

“But if we take off the steering wheel, we won’t be able to drive either.”

“His weapon is the car itself, his hands are only his means of controlling that. If we get inside, I can control where the car goes, and he can’t hurt you while you’re in the back. We’re not gonna remove the wheel, because unlike the girl in the movie, we need to use it.”

“It sounds risky.”

“It always is. It’s your decision, though. I understand that I don’t understand. But I can tell you that I will protect you, and I’m a damn good driver.”

“Okay. We better come up with a plan fast, because we’re running out of time. Even if you drive as fast as possible, it will take nearly the full hour to get there.”

Mateo nodded, then started to shake his head. “We’re not going around the perimeter. We’re going straight through.”

They hatched their plan, though it wasn’t all that complicated. Octavia came up with the idea to use herself as bait for the Seatbelt Killer, but Mateo wasn’t getting off easy. He was bait as well. While most of the monsters in this dome wanted to kill both or either of them, only a few of them were exclusively attracted to Octavia, based on her profile. They would use this to their advantage. Mateo would lure all of the others away, so Octavia was only contending with one of them. Once it was just her and the car, she would hop over the boundary, back to the safety of the perimeter. This would give her a respite that the characters in the original movie never had. From there, with the driver essentially frozen in place, she could simply climb onto the hood, and slip through the open window. Mateo never saw her accomplish this, but it evidently worked. She drove up next to him while the horde was chasing him through the woods. He dove in the back, and she sped up so fast that no one else was able to keep up.

“We need to get you up front so you can do the steering!” she shouted. She was navigating the terrain pretty well, but still struggling against the driver. He was bound to his seat, but not entirely helpless there. He was still trying to peel her arms away, just as he had the girl in the film. With a bit of ingenuity, this heroine had managed to pry the wheel off of its place, which stole his power from him, and allowed her to escape back through the window. A mid-credits scene suggested that he was about to be successful in finding a workaround by rigging a tire pressure gauge as an ad hoc steering wheel, which may have played out in a sequel, but it was never made. Mateo was a driver, so he watched movies about drivers, even bad ones, and sometimes he read about them too. There was a theory that made the rounds on the message boards that this sequel would have ended with the Final Girl also managing to get in the car, but solving the problem by finally freeing the killer from his eternal seatbelt. Could it be true? The creator never responded to these rumors, but an unverified snippet of the sequel’s script appeared to support the lore. Whether that was how it would have worked in the movies was not the question, though. The question was...was the android who was programmed to believe he was the Seatbelt Killer coded with this solution, or would it only make things worse?

“Do you have a knife?” Mateo asked her. Now that he was inside, he could hold the killer’s arms back, but the guy was really strong. They might not be able to keep him at bay for the duration of the drive.

“What?”

“A pocket knife. Scissors. Anything!”

“No, I don’t have anything like that!” Octavia yelled back. “I didn’t know I was gonna be trapped in the woods for seven years!”

“I need something sharp,” he muttered. Just then, a glow started to form in his right hand. He let go of the killer’s arm to look at it in wonder. The glow consolidated, and began to take shape. Before too long, it was in the form of a knife. And he could feel it in his palm. Somehow, despite Pacey’s restrictions, Mateo’s weird telekinetic hologram powers were back, at least in this one instance. Not taking any chances that it wouldn’t last, Mateo slipped the blade underneath the belt, and with one slice, ripped it right open.

The killer stopped struggling. For a moment, he just sat there in awe. Then he pulled the strap through the loop, opened the door, and tumbled out. Octavia sat there in shock, not even paying attention to where they were going, which was all right, because they were in an open area now, and slowing down quickly.

“Okay. I’ll take it from here.” Mateo climbed over the headrest, and situated himself in the driver’s seat. Then he took off again, free from resistance or distractions.

Now that they were clear of the monsters, their primary struggle was against the clock. In the movie, the car could phase through objects, or even squeeze itself through like a bus out of Harry Potter. That wasn’t possible in the real world, so Mateo just had to negotiate the trees and other obstacles. He kept going though, relying on his great skills, which had only been enhanced during his stint in the Underburg dome. The clock was ticking as they were approaching the part of the wall where Octavia said there was a door. He barreled through the treeline, and onto the perimeter again, almost all the way on the other side of the dome. New monsters were upon them now, but were still bound by that imaginary line.

“How do I open this?” Mateo asked. Before Octavia could answer, he placed a hand on the handle, and heard a buzzing sound. “Hm. Was that it?” He opened it.

Octavia breathed a sigh of relief as her watch was counting down. “Finally.” Four, three, two, one.

Mateo blinked, and it was 2506.

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Microstory 2383: Earth, November 1, 2179

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Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Corinthia,

Huge news. I couldn’t wait to write this until after your next message, whenever that ends up being. I know that dad told you what he found out from our old neighbor, so I won’t go over all that again. While he was gone, I managed to make contact with my old nurse. Her name is Madalena Rich, and she was part of it all. She wasn’t just hired by the researchers to observe me. She was part of the braintrust that came up with the idea to study twins separated at birth throughout their entire lives. It was she who located our mother, since her name was in the records as being pregnant with twins. She didn’t make first contact with your mom, but they did become friends after Alizée was read into the program, and honestly, kind of brainwashed into believing that this all made sense. At first, mom thought that they were just going to have her live a few towns over, but then they kept talking about it, and a few towns became a few states, and a few states became a different country, and so on and so forth, until we ended up where we are today. It was this whole long-con. They just kept getting her more and more excited about what kind of data they could get from this study, and how beneficial it would be for the advancement of science. Madalena was already a nurse by the time this happened, which means that she lied to our father about being a student. It was an excuse she came up with for why she wasn’t demanding much money to care for me. She didn’t need money, she just needed to get into that apartment, though obviously it would have been quite suspicious had she agreed to do it entirely free.

We talked about a lot more than this, so these are only the highlights. I screen recorded our conversation—in secret at first, though I later divulged it, which she didn’t argue against. She said that she has done a lot of growing up, and has dedicated her career to helping the less fortunate. She also regrets having participated, especially since it made little sense to begin with. It took them a few months to build up to the whole Vacuus expedition offer, and just when they had it, they discovered that we were fraternal twins. We were right that it was really disorganized. They didn’t try to develop a relationship with any other candidates, this was their one chance, or they would literally miss the boat that took you across the interplanetary void. They realized how little meaning their study would have at this point, but decided to press forward. Over time, they eventually gave up. At least, that’s what Madalena believed. She stopped treating me (by the way, but illnesses were real, it’s not like she was getting me sick on purpose), and she walked away from it all. She only later found out about her old business associates approaching our neighbor for further observation when I was a little older. One last thing. The screen recording doesn’t have this, because she never said it out loud, but she sent me an old contact card with the name of the person assigned to study you on the ship, and on the planet. It was Elek Katona. Isn’t that Velia’s last name?

Reeling from the truth,

Condor

Microstory 2382: Earth, October 31, 2179

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Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Corinthia,

I’m sure that my son has already informed you, but I was recently on a trip to Eastern Seaboard, which if you don’t know, is a city-state in the former United States of America. I was taking part in very early negotiations for future possible trade deals. The platform is still circumnavigating the continent of Australia, even though our initial required proximity period has passed. We ended up extending that another four months after some people from other Australian domes began to express interest in moving here. We currently don’t know where we’ll go after this, but it’s always good to have your options open, and it’s not like we have to float over to a trading partner in order to trade with them. That’s what jets are for. So I went out there for my work, but I was also doing something else. After investigating my own past, and reaching out to my contacts, I discovered that an old friend of ours from before the collapse of society—or, I guess it was kind of during it—was living there. I couldn’t pinpoint his exact location remotely, or find his contact information, so I decided to fly up there to look for him myself. And wouldn’t you know it, I found him. I told you that I wouldn’t send you another message until I had a solid update for you, so I hope this qualifies. I confronted Gunnar about his motivations back then after we started catching up, and felt like he was being rather evasive. He seemed to have mixed feelings about seeing me again, like he was happy, but also pretty worried. In my head, I thought for sure this was the guy. He knew something. He was part of it. He was Condor’s secret observer. As it turns out, not exactly. When we met, he was genuinely trying to be my friend. He didn’t even like sports or outdoorsy stuff either; he just figured that I did, because they were very common hobbies, and he was desperately trying to connect. The reason he approached me in the first place was because he had social anxiety, and his therapist recommended he intentionally step out of his comfort zone, and try his hand at small talk, explaining that the worst that could happen was an awkward conversation that ended quickly. I felt really bad about accusing him of something nefarious but then he admitted that he was once contacted by a mysterious someone, asking him to keep tabs on us; Condor in particular. Out of fear, he actually agreed to do it, but he fed this stranger false information. He would just straight up lie about how Condor was doing, and how his personality was developing. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, or if he should have refused entirely. He wasn’t sure if he should have told me what was going on either. He always regretted not speaking up, though, and was grateful for the opportunity recently. Except for the first one, Gunnar recorded every conversation he had with this other man, who never gave him his name. Gunnar kept these recordings all this time, so he was able to give me copies of them. I’ve put in a request to the forensics specialists to have them analyzed, and will update you again if and when they find something. We’re getting closer, Cori. We’re gonna find out who did this to you. To us.

Your distant but doting father,

Pascal

Microstory 2366: Earth, August 20, 2179

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Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Corinthia,

Dad told me what he told you, that he was going to take a trip down memory lane, and try to find someone from our past who might have been involved with the research team that was studying me, the Earth twin. He’s actually pretty excited about it, which may not have come across in his letter to you. If you don’t want him to do it, I hope you don’t say anything, because he has other reasons. He’s always needed someone to blame, and while your mom was up there with you on Vacuus, it was easy for him to just be resentful to her. Now that she’s gone, he doesn’t want to speak ill of the dead, nor say anything bad about his daughter’s mother. You were only an idea before, but now you’re a real person, and he wants to respect the woman that he married and once loved...for you. This will be good for him if his little investigation leads to answers, but not so great if he comes up with nothing. Even a tiny sliver of knowledge that he didn’t have before would make it worthwhile, and allow him to stop and let the rest go. If all of his leads hit nothing but deadlines, and he learns nothing new, he’ll never be able to stop. I’ll never be able to convince him. I thought about trying to talk him out of it entirely, so he doesn’t get his hopes up, but that would turn out exactly how I was just saying: no answers, no closure. We have to let him go on this journey; honestly, even if it’s dangerous, which it could be. Right now, he has access to information from here, and he’s sending messages to other settlements. But there may come a day when he decides to venture out into the world, and try to find this guy in person. I don’t know what I’m gonna do then, if there’s anything to do. I’ll keep you updated as much as I can since he doesn’t want to send you another letter unless it’s good—or at least big—news. As far as the request for an open letter from me, I don’t hate the idea, but I wasn’t instantly enthusiastic when I first read your message. Still, I’ve put some thoughts down on paper, and I want your thoughts before we move forward. I’ve attached my first draft of the letter so you can tell me what you think about it—maybe proofread it, and scribble in some notes in the margins. Don’t show it to anyone yet, send it back, and then I’ll make my final decision. I’m still not sure. It’s not a bad idea, it just depends on whether we both think there’s anything worth saying to your friends and neighbors.

Loving this season of The Winfield Files,

Condor

PS: We’ve been talking for a year. Woohoo! Only 35 more to make up.

Microstory 2287: Didn’t See Anyone’s Face

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Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

I’m sorry to depress you all yesterday. Kelly called my therapist for an emergency session, so I was able to talk through some of my issues. It’s been frustrating for me. I often don’t realize when I’m being grumpy, and even when I do, I don’t always know why. It was what those people did to me, taking my organs. It’s not just about that, though. They didn’t know that I would be rescued. They didn’t even bother to covertly drop me off at the nearest hospital, or send an anonymous tip. They just left me there on the table, assuming that I would die by the time anyone caught wind of my location. I don’t think they care that I was rescued, because they were all pretty much apprehended by then, and I didn’t see anyone’s face anyway. Which is weird, when you think about it. Why did they hide their identities from me if they didn’t think I would make it? Maybe I’m overthinking it. I mean, they did take my kidneys and liver because they thought I was immortal. Well, maybe they didn’t. Maybe they only took them because they knew that other people believed as much, and that was enough motivation for them. My therapist says that there are truths about this case that I will never know, and I’ll be doing more harm than good by running my own little investigation on the side. For the sake of my mental—and physical—health, I’m better off looking for ways to put it all behind me. We don’t know how I’m gonna do that, but it’s my first priority right now. I just have to remember that they can’t hurt me anymore, nor anyone else. And I’m not going to give up on my writing, even though I offered that suggestion last night. If I do that, then they win, and we can’t have that, can we? I have to toughen up, and hold firm.