Microstory 2351: Earth, May 25, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m glad that you have friends, even if you’re not the absolute closest to them as you could possibly be. I envy you, actually. A bunch of people attended our party, but they were almost all my dad’s friends. I haven’t really connected with too many people here. There’s one guy who I was really glad could make it, so I wouldn’t be left alone in the corner. Dad always talks shop at these things. Every time he attends an event, he promises himself that he’s just going to socialize, and not discuss his work, but he always ends up failing. I really prefer to leave my work at work, so I stay out of the little circles that he forms with others. People really like him, because he usually has fairly interesting things to say (from their perspective) but he doesn’t hog all the attention either. He makes sure that others are heard. He’s really good at knowing when someone wants to speak, but is too afraid to interrupt, and will in fact interrupt other people to give the quieter ones their chances. I wish I could be more like him in this regard, always charming and fascinating. Then again, I don’t think I would like to have an audience all the time. The guy I was telling you about is pretty cool, but he works the night shift at the water treatment plant, so we don’t find many opportunities to hang out. Plus, he has a family that he needs to spend that extra time with. His wife was there too, and I like her, but they talked mostly about their children. I don’t mind it, but there’s nothing that I can contribute to the conversation since I don’t have any of my own. Part of my inability to connect is due to my lifestyle and experiences. I spent so much time meeting people that I would probably never see again after the end of the trip. I would occasionally see someone I knew before for a second move, but then I would leave again. My mind grew very accustomed to that, and hasn’t really felt at home here, even though I’m pretty sure that I’ll die here one day. There I go again, being all depressing. It makes it sound like I hated the party, but it’s not true. I had a lot of fun, and I’m glad that we were looking at Libra at the same time, just for the symbolism of that moment.

Trying to feel at home,

Condor

Microstory 2350: Vacuus, May 18, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Happy belated birthday! I decided to wait a few days to send you my next letter, so it could be after the party, but you ought to already know that, since I sent you the custom read receipt about it immediately after receiving your last one. This was a really good reason to use that system, so thank you for coming up with it. The party went great on my end. We had food and cake, and everybody was wearing the same thing. That’s right, I decided to pass along your cool, fashionable garment design to all invitees, and encouraged them to print and wear one of the options themselves. The garment fabricator liked them a lot herself, so it was her idea to really lean into the theme. She was there too, along with several other people. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I didn’t have anyone to invite, or that I didn’t have any friends in general. We’re in fairly cramped quarters for logistical and practical reasons, so everyone knows pretty much everyone. I don’t like them all, and they don’t all like me, but we get along pretty well. We have to, or it could lead to catastrophe. Animosity does not mix well with a planetary base on an airless world. One person gets mad at another, and decides to open an airlock out of anger, and it’s bye bye half the living people on Vacuus. No, we obviously compartmentalize the sections, but you get what I mean. We place great emphasis on counseling and mental health. So I do have friends. It’s true that I never developed relationships as strong as the ones I sometimes see on TV, but I would still consider them my friends. I don’t know why I’ve never talked about them to you, but they were there, and we had fun. Who else was at yours? We don’t really do much with constellations here, so we’re not all that familiar. We found Libra, and everyone looked at it, trying to figure out why they’re called “the scales”. It wasn’t until someone had the bright idea to turn the image slightly then we were all, like, “ooooohhh. Kinda!” It was fun, though, and I thought of you the whole time. I wish we could have been in the same room. How did it go on your end?

All partied out and not alone,

Corinthia

Microstory 2030: North Carolina

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Papa made many friends while he was in college, and a lot of them were Mormon, but not all of them were. He had at least one who was Jewish. She lived in North Carolina, and after college, she went back there. She met a man at the place where she worked, and decided to marry him in 2011. It wasn’t too long after papa went to Michigan for the corporate retreat. Papa’s friend and her fiancé lived in Charlotte, North Carolina, but they wanted to hold their wedding on the beach of the ocean, which is on the other side of the state. They chose Atlantic Beach. My dad found pictures of it online. It looks pretty and nice. The wedding and the reception were held there at the same place, but they didn’t stay there the whole time. There weren’t a whole lot of people invited, so papa must have been pretty good friends with her to be invited. After the reception was pretty much over, they all took a boat out to an island called the Shackleford Banks. It’s a barrier island, which is basically like an extra beach that’s on the other side of some of the ocean water. There’s something very special about Shackleford Banks, though. A herd of wild horses live there. Most horses in the world are domesticated, which means that they all belong to humans. They feed them, and ride them, and even give them jobs. The Shackleford horses, though, do whatever they want, and humans aren’t allowed to live on the island with them. Luckily they’re allowed to go visit, and watch the horses from a safe distance. They don’t want them to be disturbed. The people at the wedding had fun there. I hope to go see the horses myself one day. That would be really cool.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 14, 2399

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Imani Pettis is a Compliance Enforcer in the Church of Daltomism. Unlike most Daltomists at her level, she began in a starter house where she could have easily been lost in the crowd. People who have risen up the ranks to be where she is today have done so after being born into more elite status. There’s a downside to this, because while it’s impossible to begin in the uppermost levels, those who start at the upper levels just under those are not always considered worthy by the general Daltomistic population. Imani garners a lot of respect, because she started at nothing, and earned her place. She belongs to what is called a Singularity Church, which basically means that she operates autonomously, and at the behest of the Primary Church. The paradox is complicated, but even though there are thousands of members of the Primary Church, they each technically belong to their own church. That is what gives them the highest elite status.

Imani attends services all over her region, which encompasses the majority of Northeast United States. She is there to ensure that the local chapters are following the Word of Dalton faithfully, and that no one in the congregation strays from the path too significantly. The point of starter houses is to determine who is worthy to move up to smaller meeting houses, which means that technically, people here don’t have to do anything The Word says. But she will still instruct the local leadership on how to guide the wandering flock towards the Mountain of Truth. It’s unclear why she has requested a meeting with Leona Matic, but Heath wanted to impress her because of what she can do for their mission, so he set it up right away.

“Madam Pettis,” Leona says with her hand outstretched. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She shakes her hand. “You may call me Imani.”

“Thank you, Imani. How can I help you today?”

Imani looks around, and walks forward a little. “What is the purpose of this building?”

“We hope to turn it into a refugee sanctuary. It’s not quite ready. We need to inspect all of the rooms, and there are many.”

Imani nods. “How did you come to create it? Or did someone create it for you?”

Leona looks to Heath for guidance, but he isn’t giving anything away. Okay, so a building appeared out of nowhere in the middle of downtown, which threw out the whole secrecy thing. For now, Leona has been able to remain quiet about how she’s not stunned that this happened, but it may be time to change that. If she were freaking out, she would probably be telling people, and asking the public how the hell it happened. She doesn’t know how it happened, but she knows that they can’t help her. “Someone appears to have created it for us. I had a general idea of what I wanted to do, and this building fits those parameters. I’ve taken it as a gift from an anonymous donor.”

Imani laughs. “An anonymous donor builds an invisible building for you, and then just suddenly makes it visible? I would like to meet the person with such power.”

She probably doesn’t need to know about the Omega Gyroscope. Whoever built it may not have known that it would be activated, and was intending to keep the Superscraper hidden for longer. Unless that person was Dalton himself, which is a plausible theory. “There are things in this world that most would not understand.”

“Yet you understand it?” Imani prods.

“Some things I know, some things I don’t,” Leona quotes a TV show.

“Quite,” Imani replies. She looks around some more, and steps a bit deeper in. “A Dark Citadel will fall from the heavens, and make its mark in the Center of World Power. The Watchers who come out of it will change the world forever, and the people shall know the Life of God.”

“Ma’am?” Heath asks vaguely.

“Word of Dalton, Book Two, Chapter Thirty-One.” She grins at him. “Yes, dear, there is a second Word of Dalton book. You have not learned enough to know it.” Pretty impressive, keeping the existence of a whole prooftext out of public knowledge, especially in this advanced informational age. She goes on, “tell me, do either of you recall the date that this building appeared?”

“March 1,” Heath replied.

“March 1, 2399.” She holds up a tablet, and navigates to the chapter in question. “Chapter 31...month three, day one. Page two,” she says as she swipes to the second page. “Paragraph three, words 99 through 137. March 1, 2399,” she repeats. Numerology: the fool’s excuse for being late.

“Interesting,” Leona says, trying not to scoff at the absurdity, knowing in the back of her mind that it’s possible that the book is telling the truth, and this has all been orchestrated to turn out exactly as Dalton wished.

“Tell me,” she repeats herself, “would you consider New York City to be the Center of World Power?”

“One could argue that,” Heath says.

“One could also argue that it’s Kansas. Perhaps the whole country is the world power, and Kansas is literally in the middle of it.”

Imani points at her. “Exactly, my child. Because that’s how Dalton’s words often go. He frequently means something literally that most would take metaphorically, or culturally. And while Daltomism began in Africa, many competing religions were started somewhere in the land which would become North America. Some believe that Kansas holds a plethora of sacred secrets. Besides, look around...would you consider this place to be a dark citadel? Why, it’s so white, I was nearly blinded by the façade when I pulled up.” She’s right. Normal arcological megastructures are painted a gray base, which can alter its tint automagically to reflect or absorb sunlight, depending on the regional climate, and current weather where it’s built. The Superscraper is shockingly white, making it stand out even more amongst all the puny little skyscrapers below, and it doesn’t appear to change colors at all. Plus, it shouldn’t really be described as a citadel.

“So this is not the structure as foretold in your...little book,” Leona says, knowing that it’s a pretty disrespectful way to word it, especially considering it may all be real.

“That was why I wanted to come here, and why I appreciate your accommodation, despite the line of others ahead of me.” It’s true, the number of people who have asked to cross the border has grown exponentially, and that is showing no signs of slowing down. Most of them likely don’t have any particular reason they want to come. They’re curious more than anything, but as soon as they find out that she was invited without any sort of waiting list, or whatever, others might start to feel a little ticked off. Hopefully Imani does not intend to ask for more than just a few answers.

“So we’re agreed that this is not the Dark Citadel?” Leona presses.

“It’s not, but that does not mean that it is not something else. Mr. Walton, tell me what you know of the False Watchers of the Other Worlds.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 13, 2399

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Leona was still hesitant to let Heath go undercover in the Church of Daltomism alone, but he’s finally doing it today. Daltomists meet every day of the week, but Fridays are the biggest. At first, he thought that that would be the best day to go, but if he’s trying to establish himself in the community, Saturday may be the better choice. He may be able to stand out more here, which is what he really needs. Of course, this is such a large congregation that a smaller service is still pretty big, but he has other ways of getting noticed. They practiced strategies yesterday.

He’s not going to start right away. He has to get his bearings first, and find out who here has the power to help him infiltrate. In Daltomism, just because someone is up on stage, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone in the audience who is more important than them. He’s looking for someone who all of the other congregants are avoiding, but not like they smell, because they respect and fear them. They’re more than likely too high ranked to be worshiping here as a normal person, and are here to make sure that this particular location is following the teachings of Dalton, and not straying from The Word. This person won’t know that Dalton is alive, but they may know someone who knows someone, who knows someone, ad infinitum.

There. That’s her. She’s holding herself with a strong sense of entitlement and superiority. She’s disgusted by the size of this place. In other faiths, the larger group of followers you have in one place, the more clout you have amongst the other chapters. Daltomism is different. The smaller the meeting house, the more elite you are, which is why this place is so gargantuan. It’s a starter house, and doesn’t require an invitation. He doesn’t really have time to prove himself, though. He has to move up the ranks fast...or else. That’s why he needs to get in the good graces of whoever this woman is, because she’s his ticket into something greater.

He won’t approach her right away. In fact, he’ll probably never try to speak with her at all. He’ll have to find some way to get himself noticed. He doesn’t want her to know that he’s targeting her, after all. God, he sounds like such a creep. This is important, though. Knowing that Dalton is just a man with access to special powers makes him seem a lot less mystical. Heath was never a huge believer, especially since he was taught to believe that he would never amount to much, but the truth has pushed him over the edge. He doesn’t feel bad about doing this, and doesn’t consider these his people anymore. Let’s see, he needs to get himself on stage. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention, but they sometimes bring people up to sing. They usually pick from the front, and he didn’t get here early enough for a good seat, but maybe he can swing it.

While he’s thinking about that, the woman he was eying suddenly approaches. “I know who you are,” she says to him, almost accusatorily.

“You do?” he questions. He’s not famous, in any circles. She shouldn’t recognize him in the least, especially not since they’re a thousand miles from Kansas City.

“I saw you on the news. You weren’t featured, but you were there, being led into that woman’s crime hole.”

“Oh. It’s not a crime hole. She’s trying to change all that.”

“Yeah, I don’t need to hear the pitch. I just need you to get me in the building.”

“That I can do,” he says with a smile. “Hi, I’m Heath Walton.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 252,398

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Curtis and Cheyenne have known each other for eight years now, which Mateo is finding surreal, because he’s awake even less than they are. Though, he shouldn’t think it’s that weird, since skipping time has been his life for awhile now. The two lovebirds met tens of thousands of years ago, but since they have so much time on their hands, they have spent some of it keeping track of actual time. In fact, that eight year figure doesn’t even account for the time that one of them was out of stasis without the other. A normal couple would count all the time they were geographically apart from each other, so all told, it’s longer than that. There aren’t a whole lot of options for partnerships here. Between relatives and external relationships, neither Curtis nor Cheyenne has a large pool to choose from. So they worked really hard to test their relationship with each other to make sure that it was real, and not just a last man on Earth type of situation. After all that, they have decided that they really do care for each other, and exclusively so, even if there were billions of others around. They want to get married, but the problem is that no one here is qualified to officiate the ceremony, or sign the papers.

“We don’t need a big ceremony, though,” Cheyenne says. “Are you sure that no one vested that power in you?”

“Certain,” Danica replies. “It’s the responsibility of someone else in our world.”

“Well...could you contact that person?” Curtis requests.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how,” Danica apologizes.

“I know how.” Bhulan steps forward.

“You do?” Danica question.

“Not her; me,” Bhulan says, confusingly. “This is Aquila.” Oh, right.

“Oh.” Danica nods. “You know how to contact The Officiant?”

“Yeah, I know a lot of things,” Aquila replies.

“I’m not sure that she can come to this reality,” Danica says, worried.

“She can go anywhere,” Aquila claims. At least that is the assumption. Perhaps they should come up with some way of knowing which one is talking. One of them could always be wearing sunglasses, or be holding the talking stick. “Trust me.”

“Okay. We have nothing else to do for the next 4,000 years, so let’s plan a wedding. And by let’s, I mean anyone else, because that is not my strong suit. Really, you don’t want me involved. I can set up chairs, or fold announcements, but...”

“We don’t need much,” Cheyenne says. “We can’t invite anyone else, and don’t really want to.”

Curtis is confused. “Wait, we talked about this,” he says to her in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, and I don’t think they’re gonna be able to swing it,” she replies in a more hushed tone.

They continue to argue softer and softer until no one else can here.

“Aquila, do you know if the Officiant would be able to transport people here, like her family?” Curtis asks.

“I doubt it, but you can ask. You can’t have the wedding today, she’ll want to meet you first, and then give you time.”

“Great. Call her.”

“I have to do it alone,” Aquila explains. “That includes you,” she says to her own shoulder, likely as a way of communicating with her brainmate, Bhulan. “I’ll go dormant, like we practiced,” she then says, suggesting that this is Bhulan speaking now. Yeah, a good talking stick would really help. “Just remember to wake me up.”

Aquila goes off to do whatever she needs to do to make contact with the Officiant. By the time she walks back into the room, the woman herself has arrived. A bookcase in the master sitting room disappears, and is replaced with the door to the Officiant’s office. She steps out. “Who are the lucky two?”

Curtis and Cheyenne step forward.

“Come with me so we can talk. This could be the first of many, or the last.” As they’re stepping up to the door, she looks at the rest of the group. “I need someone to join us as witness.”

Bhulan raises her hand.

“Only one witness, please,” the Officiant clarifies. “How about you, sir?”

“Me?” Mateo questions, looking behind him to see if she means it.

“Yes, you’ve gone through this before, you know what to expect. It could help.”

“We didn’t have a witness at mine and Leona’s meeting.”

The Officiant scowls. “I made a lot of concessions for that marriage. How is it going, by the way?”

“It’s been better,” Mateo replies. “I miss her.”

“Well, come on, then. Your friends need you.”

He wouldn’t feel comfortable calling either of them friends. Curtis is from a timeline that Mateo doesn’t remember, and he’s only ever met Future!Cheyenne. But still, if they need someone to be there, he can’t say no.

Once they’re all seated, she begins. “Why don’t I let you start and drive the conversation? What are your biggest concerns regarding this event?”

“Well,” Cheyenne says, looking over to make sure that Curtis doesn’t want to say something first. “Neither of us wants a big wedding, but I was hoping my family could be there. He thought it would be okay to ask if you could retrieve them for us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the Officiant replies. “Guest lists are beyond my purview. We in the business call it scope creep, and it’s caused some issues in past ceremonies. I can, however, perform the ceremony whenever, and wherever, you like. We can wait until you return to your family. Is that a possibility?”

“Not for a long time,” Curtis responds. “But we’re anxious to get to it.”

“Even if we did go back,” Cheyenne says, “people would hear about it, and ask a lot of questions. Who’s this guy? Where did he come from? Why wasn’t I invited? We don’t just want to keep it small, we don’t want excluded people to know about it.”

That’s an interesting take that Mateo and Leona might have tried in another life. There were some people at their wedding that they would not have chosen to invite. They didn’t get the chance to discuss before it was forced upon them. They probably would have split the difference, where all their loved ones could attend, but not the entire multiverse. Maybe they should consider a do-over. It’s certainly possible.

“Snap out of it,” the Officiant instructs with a literal snap of her fingers. “Today is about them. We can discuss your own situation at a later date.”

“Sorry, yes, of course,” Mateo says. He doesn’t remember her being psychic.

The Officiant nods. “Now. What else would you like to discuss?”

“The most important aspect of any wedding ceremony...flower arrangements,” Curtis jokes.