Extremus: Year 130

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Pollo AI text-to-video AI software

As angry as Audrey is at Silveon for forcing her through the Nexus, she lets go of it pretty quickly when she meets her daughter. Silvia Husk is 28 years old now, and she feels so grateful for this incredible opportunity. Her alternate self has done a great job of raising a productive and well-rounded individual. One thing that Extremus!Audrey—as they have decided to call her to distinguish her from Green!Audrey—was worried about, was how Silvia would handle this situation. Audrey herself would be a little freaked out in her shoes. It would be weird for her to suddenly have two mothers, but Silvia hasn’t been struggling at all. It sounds like she had quite the happy childhood, and has grown up into a beautiful, confident young woman. Extremus!Audrey is sad that she missed it all. But at least they have this time now.

Today, Silvia wants to show Extremus!Audrey something. Green!Audrey isn’t coming. It’s unclear if that’s because she’s already seen it, or if it’s something that will only be between the two of them. “This is only between us,” Silvia says, answering the question right away. She unlocks a safe under her bed and pulls out a teleporter band. “This is off the grid. It’s scary to use, because it relies on line-of-sight, and where we’re going, we can’t see it from here. We’re gonna have to jump to the sky a few times before landing where we wanna be, but I promise, it will be worth it.”

Audrey smiles at her precious daughter. “I trust you.” She’s never been in the sky before. She’s hardly spent any time outside her whole life. She sleeps under the stars nearly every night, even if that means teleporting to the other side of Verdemus for the right weather conditions. The immersion holograms really don’t do it justice. Nothing beats true nature. And that must be where they’re going now, because if it’s off the grid, it’s not going to be a clone factory, or a space elevator station. Plus, she said to wear her swimsuit underneath her clothes. She lets Audrey bound their wrists with a tether so if they die, they die together, and then they jump away.

They immediately start to fall. Audrey doesn’t know where to look, but that’s not her job. She smiles over at her girl, who is enjoying herself a little too much. Before they get anywhere close to Splat City, though, she looks over and jumps them back up to a higher altitude, but at a different longitude. They do that a couple more times before reaching their real target, and man is it a close call. They’re standing at the very edge of an island cliff. If Audrey were to take one step back, she would pull them over. And they could really get hurt before Silvia managed to jump them to safety again. She steps forward a few meters, then undoes the tether herself. “This is beautiful.”

“It’s an island. Pretty small, comparatively speaking. It’s basically just a tall-ass rock in the middle of the ocean. The satellites have mapped it, of course, but it’s entirely untouched. As far as I know, I’m the only person who has ever been here. I actually love to freefall. It’s one of my favorite things to do. That’s how I ended up finding this place, just from flying all over the world.

“That’s really cool, Silvy,” Audrey says sincerely. “I’m so thankful for our time together. I wish I had been able to raise you.”

Silvia begins to tear up. “There’s something else I never told my mother. And I wouldn’t tell you, but I think you have the right to know.”

“You can tell me anything,” Audrey promises. “And you can tell her too.”

Silvia fights through the tears. “I’m more like my father than I would like to admit. I’m not a tyrant, or anything, but I inherited something from him.”

“You’re psychic.”

“Only in one very weird sort of way,” Silvia goes on. “I can’t...read people’s thoughts like grandma, or feel their emotions like dad. It’s more like I see the timeline of their thoughts. I can see where their consciousness began, and...” She trails off.

“You can see where it is.”

“Yes. I know when people are going to die.”

Audrey nods somberly. “I was gonna potentially live forever. There’s this thing we have on the Extremus—”

“The Question, I know it. Mother has trusted me with a lot of secret information. She said she never considered not telling me the truth. It must have been hard for you, having to stay with my father for so long. Mother thought he might get worse over time.”

“He did, but I still hold out hope. I think maybe this was the best thing for him, and the ship. I think maybe my presence was just getting in the way, or really, that it was no longer helping. My chapter there is over, and from the way you’re sobbing, I’m guessing that this isn’t the start of a new chapter, but more of an epilogue.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you won’t get to see the Extremus planet.”

Audrey looks back out at the grandeur. “I did. This is what the mission was for. It doesn’t matter how far from the Core Worlds we traveled. That was never what we were truly looking for. I have no regrets, not even your father. He gave me you, if only for a year.”

“If it helps, I’m not sure if this truly spells the end. There’s something weird about the consciousness stream. It does end, but then... Then there’s something else. Like, a locked door that I can’t see past. Maybe there’s an afterlife. A true one, beyond the buffer.”

“Maybe,” Audrey agrees.

“Well.” Silvia wipes the tears from her face. “The good news is, you’re not in any danger. You literally can’t die today. If you want, I can tell you exactly when—”

“No, I’m fine with a little bit of mystery. I don’t need to know everything, but it’s nice to know we at least have the day.”

“Yeah. So. How about it?”

“How about what?” Audrey asks.

Silvia shakes her eyes towards the edge of the cliff. “Let’s go. I’ve done it many times myself. I assure you, it’s perfectly safe, as long as you clear about a meter from the edge.”

“Oh, is that it?” What a ridiculous suggestion.

“I told you, you can’t die.”

“And what about you? Can you see the end of your own stream?”

“No, but I don’t want to live my life cowering in the corner.”

Audrey considers the proposition. She definitely believes Silvia when she says that she won’t die, but that won’t make it any easier. It won’t make it any less scary. But she doesn’t want to be fearful either. She frowns, trying to make it seem like she’s gonna say no, but then she turns it upside down and pulls her shirt off. “Well, come on! If we’re gonna do it, let’s not waste time!”

Mother and daughter hold each other by the waist, and stand on the very edge again, but this time overlooking the water, smiling at each other. Without counting down or speaking, they turn towards the unknown, and jump off.

Audrey dies about a year later, just in time to make it to the big afterlife simulation in the sky before it apparently collapses.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2685: We Have More Time Than We Thought

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

Resi flies through the tunnel in his mind, searching for the vision that he’s meant to see. He spends more time in here than usual. So much passes him by, but it’s too quick for him to have any time to tell what other events he’s missing. He just keeps going and going and going until he sees it. Central Mountain. Framed in a circle like a painting on the wall. It’s terrifying. Smoke is billowing up into the air. Lava is rolling down the sides. People are dying. He can’t see that much detail yet, but he’s getting the feeling. It’s at the end of the line. This is the last thing that will ever happen to anyone on Yana. The painting grows larger as he draws near, and then he passes through the portal. Now he’s flying through the air. Unlike his other vision of this tragic fate, he’s not composed of the elements. He’s just a regular guy. A regular guy who can fly.

The still image begins to move in slow-motion, making it even more horrifying than it already was. Now he really can see the people dying on the ground as the ash overwhelms them. Bungulan aircraft are frantically flying in, trying to save as many as they can, but they won’t get anywhere near everyone. Catastrophe has struck, and the question is, is this what happens if Resi doesn’t report the truth to the island, or is it inevitable? Will people simply not believe him, or will he not even get the message out in time? He remembers Kartica in the caldera with him. She has that satellite phone. He has to make that call, or tell her so she can make it. That is, if he can trust her.

Resi doesn’t have enough information, but he can feel himself waking up. His body is stirring where it lies on the ground. He’s melting into the rock. He really will die, so he has to get this done before he takes that last breath. What he really needs is the date. He needs specific information when he makes that call. There’s a boat on the coast, taking evacuees in. Surely there’s a date there somewhere. He dives down towards the surface, and lands on the deck. No one can see him, because he’s not really here. They’re frantically scattered about, some using devices, but no one keeps still long enough for him to see a date. Don’t they know that he needs this? Don’t they know he can stop it?

He has to get to the bridge. It will have computers there. He dashes up and passes right through the wall like a ghost. As the vision is beginning to collapse, he gets only one decent look in the upper right corner of the nearest screen, but it doesn’t make much sense. The day and month are both fine. It’s the year that doesn’t make the least bit of sense. The number is weird and wrong; it can’t be right. He has to look around for something else. Maybe there was an EMP, and it screwed up all of the electronics?

He wakes with a start, not having had the chance to find any more clues to understand what it means. Still, it’s all he has to go on. He feels like he’s moments from death. “Pho—phone,” he ekes out, reaching his hand up aimlessly. He turns his head to find Kartica lying on her stomach next to him, probably as close to death as he is.

She fights to open her eyes. She reaches behind her back and pulls the phone off of the clip. She lifts it into the air, and starts swinging it around, delirious and confused, maybe seeing double vision. Their hands dance around each other for several seconds before they finally make contact.

Resi selects Caprice’s contact card, and tells the system to call her in whatever way will work. If point-to-point communication is best, do that. She answers, demanding to know where he and Kartica are, but there’s no time. “August 7, 0045.” She’s flummoxed. “That’s the date of the eruption. August 7, 0045.” He dies.

Microstory 2684: Whoops

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

Resi is walking across the jagged rock at the bottom of the caldera now, dodging these scary vents in the ground. He did not pay attention in school when they discussed this stuff. Again, it wasn’t important for his future, and the teachers didn’t think so either, so they didn’t get mad when students didn’t do great on science assignments. It is freezing cold, though, except for those gases. They make him cough, and gave him a huge headache. The center. He has to reach the absolute center. It’s poetic, right? That makes the most sense. So he just keeps moving forward. He kind of has to. Whenever he tries to stop, the rubber soles of his shoes begin to melt. It doesn’t feel too hot here, except when he touches the ground with his hand. God, it’s so weird. This place is weird.

Being this close, it certainly feels like the thing could explode at any moment. The air is still, but there’s a vibration all around. To be fair, he could be imagining it. If all these gases are toxic, it would explain the headaches, and the little bit of giggling that he thinks he’s doing. He can’t remember. He just keeps walking, heading for that big dream vision in the sky. Maybe he should walk faster, lest he die before he gets there.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” a voice asks from behind him.

“The time gods?” Resi asks, looking up. “Is that you?”

“It’s Kartica, you idiot!” she scolds, catching up to him. She is hard to hear with that banana over her face. Banana? Bandana. It’s either really smart, or totally useless.

“What’s the big deal? What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she fires back at him. “You’re going to get yourself killed. You don’t have any protection whatsoever.”

“Yeah, I do. I have a coat on.” He tries to show her. “Oh. Well, it was on a minute ago.” Oh, that’s right. It was too green, so he took it off. “And anyway, I’m still on the hunt for that vision. This is the one place we’ve not yet tried.”

“How did you expect to get back if it kills you first?” Kartica presses.

“I was going to call you guys and tell you what I saw. I had it all planned out. I was going to detail my vision to you, and then at the very last second, with my dying breath, I would start my final sentence, and then not be able to finish it.”

“You planned on failing?”

“It was gonna bring you three together, and together, you would figure out what the last few words were gonna be, and save the day at the very last second.”

“Quite a few very last seconds you have there, Res. And, um, tell me. How were you going to call us without a phone?” She holds up Caprice’s satellite phone.

He pats his chest and hips. “Oh. Whoops.”

“Whoops?” she echoes. “Just the fate of our island on the line, and whoops? Resi, you’re already sick on top of the toxic fumes this place has to offer. And that’s on top of you just not being that bright of a person in the first place. You are the worst person to do this job, you’re just all we got. So please, lean on your friends.”

“Are you my friend?” Resi asks. “Because I seem to recall you infiltrating my House, trying to make us look bad, and then trying to frame me for your murder.”

“That was the old me,” she insists.

“Wait, shut up!”

“What?”

“Shut up, shut up!” he urges. “I’m getting a vision.” He falls to the ground.

Microstory 2679: Plague Doctor

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi is ill. He was hot and sweaty during his speech, and he doesn’t even remember the end of it. He’s just waking up now in his childhood home. The last time he was here was three years ago, but it feels like he’s never really been here at all. It feels like that was a movie, and now he’s fallen into the screen. He’s delirious. Kala walks into the room holding a wet towel. She dabs his forehead with it, and then drapes it across his face. He’s breathing heavily and erratically. “How did I get here?”

“Father brought you,” Kala explains. “He wants to speak with you, but he doesn’t know if you’ll want to see him.”

“Bring him in.”

“It can wait,” Kala offers.

“I’m okay. Bring him in. Thanks, Kal.”

Father comes in after she leaves. He sits on the edge of Resi’s bed, and is silent for a moment. He sighs. “I think it’s time I tell you the truth. It’s gone too far.”

“What has gone too far?” Resi squirms, trying to find a more comfortable position, but his muscles are achy.

“You are not actually my son,” Father begins. Just with those few words, apparently that’s no longer the right thing to call him any more, though. “You are not even Tamboran. When we first discovered that we were not in the garden of heaven, a faction of us asked for advanced technology. The rest stayed as they were.”

“Kartica already told me this. She didn’t mention you, though. Is everyone an immortal?” Resi asks.

“No, but I’m sure she didn’t tell you everything. She couldn’t have. She probably forgot. There’s a reason you can’t figure what the Assembly’s motivations are. A little over 200 years ago, a plague swept the island. All three nations were affected, but none worse than Tambora. To be fair, we had a greater population, and of course, still do. That’s because a Bungulan cloned themself a body that looked more like us, and infiltrated Yana. He claimed to have discovered a plant that could cure the plague, and they were right. Well, I mean, they just used science, but it did cure us. Most islanders are immune now, but there was a problem. The immortal faction—our fearful leaders—suffered permanent brain damage, and it is that damage that persists, even when they jump to new bodies. The reality is that every member of the Assembly is a little bit crazy. I was not one of them in the beginning, but a few friends and I discovered their technology, and decided to become like them. We have been trying to get ourselves elected to offices ever since, and son, we have always failed. They know how to run a campaign. They’ve been doing it for a long time, and they grease the right palms.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Resi questions. He’s still in so much pain. He can’t even process his father’s words. He’s just listening to them.

“When the Kokore called you to the First Tongue of Aether, she said that there was one other in the past, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That was you. You are that Bungulan, Res. You saved our island, and in doing so, doomed yourself. Since you were just as much of a clone as the members of the Assembly, your brain continues to suffer its negative effects. We put you on ice, so you could be studied. Don’t fret, you agreed. You see, you went against the Bungulan authority to help us, so you could never return to your normal life. So we couldn’t ask them to research the problem on our behalf. Non-interference, and all that.”

“But you think you figured it out, so you moved me to this body, and raised me as your child,” Resi guesses.

“Pretty much. The Assembly, I suppose, realized what we did, and concocted this bizarre plan to turn you into a hero so you could be knocked down to a villain. Don’t try to understand their reasoning, they have none. Some Assembly members wanted you to create the Fifth House so you would take all of the recruits and leave. They think the island can’t provide for our blooming population, and they may be right about that. But there was infighting. Some started to see you as a genuine threat, and came up with demands that you literally couldn’t fulfill, because they were paradoxical. Now-Speaker Keller put a stop to it. He’s one of us, not of them. We finally got him elected when we realized that the only way to beat them was to simply pretend to be one of the originals. He’s just been lying, and it’s working, because as I said, they’re nuts.”

“But Keller is the one building the army.”

Father shakes his head. “Keller isn’t in charge of the military. He only has so much power as Speaker. He has to pick his battles, but he doesn’t want war.”

“So I’m a Bungulan, trapped in a Tamboran’s body, suffering from a plague, which I contracted 200 years ago. How do my visions fit in?”

“You’re visions?” Father asks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My Kidjums. Kartica said that I was actually seeing the future.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Father clarifies. “You never told me, and they certainly wouldn’t have either.”

“So it could still be true.” Resi finally forces himself to sit up. “If you were born centuries ago, then you know that the myths are true, and our ancestors were saved from Earth using time travel, which means that kind of thing is real, and I could really be seeing the future.”

“I...can’t argue against that, but I’ve seen no proof of that. I wasn’t born until after our people came here. Unlike Kartica, I never saw Earth.”

“Bungulans have technology that we don’t understand,” Resi reasons. “Predicting the future might be as easy for them as forecasting the weather. If Central Mountain is going to erupt, we wouldn’t have the technology to detect that, but they could, and I could somehow be channeling that knowledge.”

“Central Mountain? If anyone else were to tell me that it was about to erupt, I wouldn’t believe them, but you’ve been nothing but kind to our people since you showed up, so I will. The problem is, you’re sick. Our scientists thought they fixed you by erasing your memory of your past, but the plague has obviously caught up to you anyway. That’s why I’m fessing up now.”

Resi sits all the way up now, and swings his legs over to hang off the edge. “Then we need to find whatever plant,” he begins with airquotes, “I used to stop it in the first place.”

“We don’t have any,” Father reveals. “I would have already given it to you. The Assembly might have kept it, but Keller hasn’t located their secrets.”

Resi nods. “Then we need to go in ourselves. Let’s stop trying to play the sneaky game. Let’s just take the fight to them.”

Microstory 2677: The Time Was Not Wasted

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi hasn’t left his little patch of beach for three years, but he’s walking away now. He wasn’t happy, per se, but he was satisfied, and resigned to what he thought would be his uneventful future. But of course, the world is too complex for him to ignore. Tambora is changing, and it may be up to him to stop it if no one else is going to. Since he no longer has his own devices, he asks Chaya to disseminate a message to all of House Kutelin, or rather, those who once identified with the ephemeral House. Most will not respond, and will not be obligated to do so. They are all living their own lives now, and doing what they can to move on after what happened. But if only five or ten people want to help, he will at least have that support system.

In this time, the dorms where they once lived have been torn down. All of the debris has evidently recently been cleared away, and they are preparing to erect new, modern housing in its place. For now, it’s still only an empty lot in a valley. Since Resi doesn’t have access to anything else, however, it will do. He shouldn’t even be on this side of the border. The other nations didn’t give him any crap because his footprint was so small, but officially speaking, Tambora does not want to have anything to do with him. They didn’t outright say that he couldn’t return, but the way Speaker Sherman spoke on it, it’s clear that they just don’t want to think about him anymore. He is no longer the Speaker, though. Keller has now taken up the mantle. Resi never told anyone what Kartica revealed to him about the Assembly. They were evidently all immortals, who have been exchanging power for the last 300 or so years, adopting the names of historical figure after historical figure, and maintaining the status quo. While that sounds terrible, they don’t seem to be hurting anyone, so why stir the pot? Because now everything has changed.

Resi has been hanging out in Chaya’s house to lay low, waiting for the meeting she called on his behalf to begin. He doesn’t want to show his face until he has to, because if the Assembly, military, or island security decide that he is a threat, they might shut it down. It’s best to hide in the shadows until he knows who is on his side. They walk down the path, passing all of Chaya’s neighbors, who aren’t paying any attention to her. As they draw nearer, they hear the murmur of a crowd. At first, Resi doesn’t know where it could be coming from, but then he realizes it must be the open field, so he stops. The military is here. They’re here to stop them and arrest them. Why they thought to come out in full force for one little man and maybe a few loyalists, he can’t understand, but he certainly can’t fight them. Chaya encourages him to keep walking. It’s not the military, she claims. It’s Resi’s people, and more. They have come to help. He relents.

They round the corner, and come upon the open field. It is absolutely packed. At last count, just over 400 people were in House Kutelin, but there must be several thousand people, stretching all the way down into the valley. Arumay turns around, and points her device at him. Resi’s face appears on a giant screen built on the top of the hill. The crowd erupts into cheering and hollering. They’re calling his name. They’re smiling and crying. “How is this possible?” he asks Chaya, but also Arumay, and anyone else nearby who might be able to answer.

Caprice makes her way through the crowd. “You think we gave up? You think we fell in line? We’ve been talking to others. We’ve all been discussing what we want the future of this island to be, and it doesn’t involve the Houses, or the Assembly.” She gestures to the crowd. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

Arumay takes a half step forward. “Turning the mic on in five, four, three...” She mouths the last two numbers, then points to him with her other hand.

Well, that’s not enough time to think, so he has no choice but to speak from his heart. He tries to stand tall. “Citizens of Tambora, Yana, and anyone from Bungula who might hear these words!” he began before pausing for a moment. “Let me start by telling you what I know about where we come from, and who leads us!”

Microstory 2676: They Pull Me Back In

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi is done. After recovering from his second Kidjum, he ignores Kartica’s pleas for him to stick around and help him figure out what she claims to be his visions of the future. He exits the Tadungeria, and the Tamboran nation as a whole. He finds himself a plot of land on the border of Pekat and Sanggar. It’s not particularly comfortable, but it grants him access to the beach for fishing, and the plants for gathering. He collects his own rainwater, and doesn’t bother anyone. Most importantly, no one bothers him. His former Fold and House have abandoned him, either out of respect for his wishes, or deciding that if he’s weak enough to wish for it, he must not be worth following.

They have not been punished for their pasts. The exile has been rescinded entirely, even for Resi himself, though he’s technically fulfilling the requirement, just in his own way. He belongs to no nation now, but he has nothing, so no one is trying to follow in his footsteps. Every morning, Resi wakes up and looks towards Central Mountain. It still has not erupted, and is giving no indication that it might anytime soon. Kartica came by several times in the beginning to convince him to induce more visions, but he refused, and she didn’t try to force him again. That doesn’t mean he’s leading a quiet, simple life. He has tried to push the apocalyptic Kidjum visions out of his head, but they won’t stop coming. He went to the doctor, who confirmed that the elixir was fully out of his system, so why does he keep returning to that hellscape? What does it mean? He has decided that’s just his brain’s way of being an asshole. He still doesn’t believe that he’s genuinely predicting the future, because that would be nuts.

For the most part, he stays out of politics and society. He stays out of everyone’s lives, full stop. Someone will occasionally come by to check on him, though. His brother came by once, as did his older sister a few times. A few random people here and there. Zenith showed up in her fancy motorboat, but couldn’t do much since she was mostly bound to non-interference. Everyone else brings him food. It’s not enough to keep him alive on its own, but it’s very magnanimous of them, and he’s always gracious and kind. They call him a hermit, but there’s no reason to be grumpy or dismissive with others.

Former Kutelins have been reintegrated into society. They were allowed to undergo makeup Kidjums, and get placed in one of the regular Four Houses. Society has basically returned to normal, though there has been a significant uptick in military recruitment. It doesn’t appear to be forced conscriptions, but from his position, he can’t know what’s going on beyond closed doors. It’s been three years now, and the island should be celebrating the tricentennial, but a new announcement has overshadowed the levity. Chaya, who he hasn’t seen this entire time, has just shown up to relay that everything has changed. They have declared a massive change to their practices. Ever since the Houses were formed, one thing has been true: when you turn sixteen, you go through Kidjum, and get sorted. With so many new adults reportedly choosing military service, however, there are not enough people performing the other jobs. The Assembly has decided to seriously drop the age by four years. Starting soon, twelve-year-olds will be expected to undergo the ceremony, and start working full-time, completely obliterating the last four years of their education.

“Kala,” Resi says breathlessly. She will be turning twelve soon. He has tried to stay out of island business, but he can’t turn a blind eye anymore. Heads will roll, and the war they warned him about might finally come to pass.

Microstory 2674: Dissatisfied

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Vids text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi is back on the river of lava, standing on a small solid lilypad of a rock. His feet are made of stone again, his legs fire, his torso water, and his head air. He represents all four Houses. Before, he wasn’t really able to move, except maybe one foot up and down. He felt very heavy and locked down. Now he feels free. Now it feels like these four parts of him belong together, working in harmony. No element is trying to take over the others. He is one with himself. He hops off of the lilyrock, and begins to skate upon the lava. He feels free here, so he just enjoys the thrill of sliding around.

He’s having so much fun, he’s barely paying attention to the hellscape around him. It’s not too hot for him. It’s not scary. He’s perfectly content. But he’s also alone. He continues to skate, until he begins moving downhill, at which point, it’s more like skiing. Faster, faster, faster. He twists and turns, and makes killer jumps off of little lava rock ramps. He can’t fall. His airhead keeps him aloft for as long as he needs to find his footing. He tucks his legs in intentionally. The wind compensates more persistently, until he’s flying.

He soars and loops in the air, sometimes flapping his arms like a bird, and sometimes straightening out like a superhero. He points himself downward and dives into the lava. It doesn’t burn. It’s not even thick. It feels like water to him. He opens his eyes as he’s swimming, admiring the little rock creatures passing him by, looking for little minerals abundant in the lava snow falling from the surface. He pops his head back out, and climbs onto the rock. He starts to walk again, catching his breath, and enjoying the crisp, hellish air.

He comes upon a metal floor buried in the dirt. It looks familiar, but he can’t place it. He decides to dig. His arms and hands are the only fleshy part of him in this state. Bits of dirt stick under his fingernails. It feels good. Cool. Pleasant. It makes him feel like he’s a part of something big and beautiful. He digs and digs, and digs some more. Black paint peeks out from the ground. It’s writing. Someone has written on this curved metal wall. Yes, it’s so thick, it must be a wall rather than a floor. He keeps digging. It’s a V. No, he digs farther and realizes it’s just the top of a Y.  Y, Y, why is he digging? He can’t help himself. There is empty space to the left of the Y, so it’s the beginning of a word. He moves to the right, and pushes the soil away. A. He pushes more. N. He already knows what it’s going to say, but he has to finish that last letter. Another A. Yana. This is the Yana water tower, it’s the only building on the island that’s higher than five stories, and the next highest building only has to be that way to accommodate the movie theatre.

The island has been buried in the lava. He thought this was a fun place, but it’s not. This was his home. It was home to hundreds of thousands. Did they escape, or are they dead? They’re dead. Look at that sky. This isn’t Earth. He’s not picturing the cataclysm his ancestors escaped centuries ago when they came to Bungula. This is Bungula. That now-distant volcano is Central Mountain. It only looks shorter, because the lava has overwhelmed the land below. It erupted, and killed everyone. He knows it. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. They didn’t see it coming. They couldn’t. And now they’re all dead. Only Resi remains. Or maybe he’s dead too, because how could anyone survive such destruction? He’s not really here. He’s only the ghost of Resi, receiving the warning of what will happen if they don’t act. But how will they act? What could they possibly do?

He looks closer at the bright stars in the sky, growing brighter, becoming true suns. They’re shining their glory on the ground. The lava is beginning to disappear. He doesn’t see it end.

Resi awakens to a massive headache. He tries to reach up to massage the back of his head, but he’s tied up. He looks down at his side. It’s a cot. It’s been turned up, and he’s wearing it like a backpack, sitting on the cold, dark floor. He can’t see a thing around him besides the cot. The spotlight trying to blind him blocks his vision of anything else. Disembodied arms take hold of his. He feels the ropes begin to loosen. The cot tips backwards with a crash. The edge of it hits the back of his head, briefly worsening the pain.

The hands pull him up by the armpits, and sit him down on the cot. A second light bangs on, not towards him, but into the auditorium seating. Speaker Sherman’s granddaughter is the only one sitting there. She’s staring at him stoically, legs crossed. She plants both feet on the floor now, and leans forwards with apparent fascination. “What did you see?”

Microstory 2671: The View From Up Here

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi is on Anchor Island now, as is every Fold Leader in his House. They all came here in a boat, while Resi got to fly in what he initially called a helicopter, but which was apparently known as a shuttle. They are in a conference room of some kind. It’s very sterile and lifeless. They aren’t used to it. Just about everything they do on Yana is outside, even when they’re under a roof. Fully enclosed spaces are mainly for sleeping, and maintaining valuables. That’s what keeps them a unified peoples, and is a core tenet of their sociological philosophy, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. They’re in the tallest building any of them has seen in real life, towering over the surface so high that the view from this side makes it look like they’re just sitting on top of the ocean itself. They’re all looking out the window quietly together. Resi wishes it was showing the island itself. Caprice’s information was out of date. This place is no longer a wasteland.

“Thank you all for waiting.” The invincible shuttle stranger takes her seat at the head, waving her hand across it invitingly. She taps on the wooden table like it’s a device. It turns out to be just that when a trapdoor slides open, and lifts a glass of water up for her. When she notices the way everyone is looking at her, she taps more to activate everyone’s own personal interfaces.

They begin to play with their preferences, but Resi is all business. He’s at the opposite head, and has to raise his voice a little. “How long until the others arrive?”

“The others?” she questions. “It’s just little old me.” She doesn’t look the least bit intimidated, being surrounded by all these crazy kids, with no one to back her up. This isn’t a contentious meeting, though it will be complex and complicated. He wouldn’t want to be alone. “My name is Zenith Gerard. I am the Anchor Island Representative. Only about a thousand people live here permanently. The rest are traveling up the elevators to Anchor Station, or down from it, as well as a few who are transferring from Yana to the mainland. As I am most familiar with the way Yana works, and how it differs from the rest of the stellar neighborhood, particularly Greater Bungula, I’ve been asked to speak with your personally, rather than bringing in a diplomat from elsewhere. Before we begin, are there any customs that you must set up, or rituals that you must perform?”

“No,” Resi says. “I’ve been trying to meet with you for days, and would like to get on with it, so we can come to an amicable understanding.”

She’s confused again. “There is a procedure for reaching out to us.”

“I was not made aware of it,” he explains. “We are exiles.”

“Yes,” she replies with a sigh. “I recognize that, and wish that I could help.”

“You could,” Resi tells her. “You have the room. You said it yourself, only a thousand people live here. We don’t require much. We can build our own infrastructure, we just can’t stay where we are now.”

Zenith nods. “I hear you, but this is a more delicate situation than I believe you know. I’m not saying no, but even if you agree to live as we do, you are facing opposition from your island leadership. You should know, they’re in the other room, fighting against any aid that we might be inclined to provide.”

Resi fumes. “They are the ones who are pushing us out. Where do they expect us to go? The bottom of the sea?”

“I don’t think it’s about that,” Zenith begins. “I think they’re worried that if you leave, others might follow. Your exile is meant to be...undesireable. If you land on your feet, you show that it’s possible to leave Yana.”

“What does it matter, what they want?” Resi questions. “You have the bigger guns. They can’t do anything to stop you. Just make the call, and screw ‘em.”

“Our first thought is never of violence. That is one thing that we share in common with your island. You have to understand, Mr. Brooks. Your way of life is against the law for everyone else in the Core Colonies, and unheard of in the neighborhood.”

“What are the Core and the neighborhood? What’s wrong with our way of life?”

“The Core includes the systems closest to Earth,” she says. “They were colonized first, and are expected to maintain post-scarcity economies. Anyone who doesn’t want that is given the tools they need to travel even farther through space, to the Charter Planets, or beyond. We do not allow capitalism. The stellar neighborhood lies before the Charter Cloud, and don’t have to be post-scarcity, but they all are. Yana is an exception.”

Resi stands back up, and walks over to the corner. At this height, they can actually see Central Mountain in the distance, though only through a sliver of the glass. The rest is opaque, until now. It suddenly turns transparent, so Yana can be seen in its full glory. The other kids stand to get a look, but he looks back at Zenith. “You are more advanced than we realized. Or I should say, we are less advanced than we should be.” He slips through the crowd. “Stay here, look at the pretty island.”

Zenith stands too. “Capitalism does not disallow innovation, but it can slow it down, especially for a smaller population of protected peoples. Necessity is the mother of invention, and we obviate that. We control the weather. We hold back the tsunamis. We cure your diseases. You’ve not progressed much, because you’ve not needed to.”

 “So, where does this leave us?” Resi asks, trying to maintain composure.

“There is one way for you to become integrated into our society,” Zenith tells him, “but only the one. It’s how we’ve been doing it for centuries.”

“The Kidjum.”

“We respect your traditions,” she goes on. “Your Kidjum process is baked into the accord that I signed with your ancestors. It is how someone from your culture becomes one of us. Your leaders are willing to take you back as long as you validate their conventions, and if that ends with a few people coming here anyway, then that’s fine with them, because that is how it always was.”

“There’s something fishy here,” Resi complains. “They gave me this House, and took it away five minutes later because they didn’t like what I did with it.”

She nods. “I would have to agree, but it is not my place to take sides. The accord was with your governing body, and House Kutelin is not a recognized faction of it. In the eyes of Bungula, everything happening between you and your nation is an internal matter. I’m trying to find a way to get you need without breaking that fragile accord.”

Resi turns around to face the other Fold Leaders. He thought they were admiring the view, but they’ve been watching the two of them like an audience. “This has to be a group effort. Do we return to the Kidjum, and risk losing our momentum, or do we stand together, and fight for a home, whether that’s there, here, or elsewhere?”

It starts out slow, but dominos quickly as the other kids sit back down in their seats. “Let’s talk,” one of them says. She looks at Zenith. “Thank you. You can go now.”

Microstory 2667: Pure Guano

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

It’s been another few days since the fruitless meeting in Ambassador Hall. Resi has been trying to go over the heads of the ambassadors, and secure an audience with the Presidents of Sanggar and Pekat themselves, but no such luck. It’s looking like Cortez was right. There’s no place for them on the island anymore. Their numbers haven’t stopped going up. There are now 428 of them. Fortunately, it’s not the rainy season right now, so the kids who have to sleep outside of the dorms are doing okay. They’ve lived on an island their whole lives, so it’s not like any of them isn’t used to the elements. Resi is trying to hold it together, but everyone is looking to him to fix this. They have less than two weeks to figure out where to go, but it’s not so simple. Leaving Yana is the one thing that no one wants to do. They’re islanders. That’s their whole thing. They didn’t choose any of the four original houses, but they didn’t choose Kinkon either. They can’t stand the thought. But if they leave, they can’t just let the Bungulas plop them down wherever there happens to be open space. They’re not familiar with the planet’s geography, but there has to be more than one island. Maybe even a better one?

“Caprice,” Resi says as he’s walking towards his unit. “You’re with me.”

“Boss,” she replies respectfully as she’s following him down the hall. The way she justifies her involvement in this is that the Kidjums were supposed to end for good, leaving her free to choose a new destiny for herself. She says she couldn’t help it that the Assembly decided to go back to the old ways. That was weeks ago. She’s quit her job, and found a new one. She’s the only older person here.

Resi pops his head into the room. And there’s the only younger person here. He steps back out and looks down the hall. “Hey, Chaya! Are you free?”

“Yeah, need me to take her?” Chaya was the Ilah girl from his first non-Kidjum who challenged his decisions. Not everyone from that fateful day is part of Resi’s personal Fold now, but a lot of them have proven themselves capable of serving well as his advisors and delegates. Chaya, in particular, is good with Kala, so she takes on babysitting duties when Resi can’t look after her, or needs some privacy. She takes Kala’s hand when she comes out of the dorm on her own, knowing the drill. “Let’s go get some bolon de verde.”

“Not too much,” Resi instructs.

Caprice closes the door behind her. “I think you need to stop trying to talk to the presidents. They don’t have time for us. They don’t care.”

“Oh, I’ve stopped,” Resi agrees. “We only have one more option now, and it’s not Yana. I’m hoping that you know where we could go, given your history.”

“My history?” Caprice questioned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Kinkon,” he says. It’s not something they ever talk about, but while she looks Tamboran, she’s clearly had a lot of experience on the outside.

“What the hell are you talking about? No, I’m not. I was from Naino. I grew up as a fisherman. I hadn’t realized I hadn’t told you that. That’s why I always wear blue.”

“The color codes don’t really exist anymore, and that’s not a Kutelin thing.”

“They were when I was a kid. Naino wore mostly blue. I don’t understand why you thought I was Kinkon, because I know how to work a nanoparticle microinjector?” They don’t use a lot of technology from the outside world, but the Bungulans insisted on providing them with medical supplies. They said it was a humanitarian issue. No amount of non-interference laws could overshadow basic existential ethics.

“No, your name. Caprice is not Tamboran.”

She stares at him for a few seconds. “Yeah, my parents gave me a western world name. That’s not illegal, and it doesn’t mean I’m from one of the other settlements. I’m Tamboran through and through. I’m sorry if you thought that I had some special knowledge about what else is out there, but I probably had a worse education than you. I skipped half of the school days because I had to deepsea fish with my family.”

“So you do know about the ocean,” he presses. “Have you seen any other island, just when you were living your life, not studying it?”

“I’m sure there are a ton of islands out there. We didn’t go to any of them, because that’s not deep sea. The only specific one I know off the top of my head is Anchor Island, and we all know that one.”

“That’s the one with the elevator?” Resi asks rhetorically. “That would be in our own knowledge archives.” He takes out his device, and looks it up. He reads as much as he can without the silence becoming too awkward between him and Caprice. “It was ours. It’s only forty-two kilometers away, and used to be an extension of Yana. We gave it to the colonists not too long ago, historically speaking.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. I think our ancestors would mine guano there for fertilizer. But then they stripped it clean, and had no further use for it. They traded it for something—I don’t remember—but it was only recently that the Bungulans started using it for their space elevator, since we’re at the equator.” She looked up to think. “You were probably just being born when that was all going down. Somebody stole the top part of the elevator, and nearly started a war, so they had to build a new one to replace it.”

“Did they ever...figure out how to plant there? Or is it still barren?”

“No, I don’t think they care about that,” Caprice answers. “They just just use it to go up and down. So if you were hoping they would, for some reason, give it back, I don’t see why they would, and I don’t see what we would do with it.”

He sighed and frowned, looking down at the floor, defeated yet again.

“But. Even though I’m not Kinkon, one thing I know about them is that Anchor Island doubles as a waypoint. When they choose to leave Yana, they go there first, and start to acclimate to a new way of life. I obviously don’t know exactly what that entails, but every time they’re needed, the Anchor people come here in a really fast boat, and ferry them over. I think such an excursion is not a big deal for those people. They could probably make the trip on their lunch break.”

“How often does someone’s subconscious choose Kinkon during a Kidjum?”

“In my experience, a few people a week. It fluctuates, though. During periods of great strife, we usually end up with more, because kids believe there’s a better life for them on the other side of the ocean.”

“Is there?” Resi asks her. “Are we stupid for not choosing Kinkon too?”

She’s silent at first, looking away, then looking him in the eyes again. “Probably.”

Resi nods. “Thank you for your help. I’m sorry this conversation started out so combative. Now. I think I need a camera. For now, we are no longer accepting applications to join House Kutelin. The Kidjums must start again so someone can choose Kinkon for us, and trigger that boat. You and I are gonna get on it.”

Microstory 2666: Two Ambassadors Walk Into a Farce

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Pollo AI text-to-video AI software

When the saviors—whoever exactly they were—rescued the would-be victims of the 1815 Mount Tambora eruption, they only took those whose bodies would never have been recovered. They know this, because lots of people did die from that catastrophe, even all across the world, due to secondary effects, and no survivor left on Earth reported seeing magical beings come down and whisk certain people away. They were missing and presumed dead, most likely vaporized. The Kingdom of Tambora was closer to the volcano, so the history books have written them off as wiped out. In reality, they were brought here to Bungula, for some reason over 400 years in the future. That’s what some people currently living on Yana believe. To the rest of the galaxy, the original Yana islanders must have been an isolated population of colonists, who came to this planet in ships like everyone else, then later made up superstitious stories about their origins. Yana Islanders have accepted the more rational explanation for the most part. Some of them reject the lore so strongly, though, that they leave the island as Kinkon. Only some still believe, and out of them, the majority live in Tambora.

Fewer people were rescued from Pekat and Sanggar, but they have maintained their own culture here too. They don’t have Houses, they don’t care about the Tamboran Houses, they don’t have anything to do with any of this. They occupy a smaller portion of the island because their population remains a smaller fraction, but they have their own things going on, and certainly their own problems. Still, a few hundred sixteen-year-olds isn’t too much to deal with. Surely one of them will agree to take them in as refugees. Members of House Kutelin don’t have to stay together. It would be nice, but Resi is prepared to be flexible in case their neighbors aren’t. That’s why he has asked to meet with them at the same time, so they can all three work this out together.

Resi stands when they enter simultaneously, likely having been discussing matters away from him beforehand. “Ambassador Churchill,” he says with a nod. “Ambassador Cortez. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I apologize if our customs are incompatible. If there is anything I should do or say, please let me know. My studies focused primarily on agriculture. We were not taught much of your cultures.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Brooks,” Churchill assures him. “Let us sit.”

They’re at the triangle table. It looks about as you would expect. It’s usually for the Tambora ambassador to sit on this side, but if she has an issue with it, she can climb the hill and complain. He focuses on keeping his breath steady. “I believe that you two know why I am here, so in lieu of pitching it to you formally, I thought I would give you the opportunity to speak first. Unless, that is, you do want to hear a speech.”

“That’s all right,” Cortez agrees. “We have been talking amongst each other, but cannot give an answer until we know a little bit more information. The last we were told, there were three hundred and thirteen of you?”

“There are three hundred and fifty-five now, since it took a couple of days for you two to become available for this meeting.”

They both consult their devices. “Forgive me,” Churchill begins, “but we were to understand that your number was static. The Tamboran Assembly claims to have put an end to the new system, and reverted back to the old one.”

Resi nods. “They’re trying to do that, yes, but they’re struggling. Kids are excited to join us, and we have not been turning them away. If they skip their Kidjum, and come right to House Kutelin, we always open our doors. So far, the Assembly has not been arguing with us about it. The ceremony Kokore has...remained on my side of things, which makes reinstituting the Kidjum a somewhat complicated endeavor. I believe they are secretly relieved to have the extra time to get things back up and running.”

“Do you anticipate further defection?” Cortez presses.

“We don’t use that word,” Resi replies, “but as I said, we’ve been opening our doors to those in need. That is how I was raised. My family once took in a Bungulan who came here for vacation when there was no more space at any of the resorts.”

A brief awkward pause.

Cortez went on, “you understand that we are already reluctant to extend a hand, and risk instigating tensions with the Tamboran Assembly.”

“The Assembly has no problem with it,” Resi insists, hoping it wasn’t too rude to interrupt. He just needs them to understand this before they start arguing more, because he knows what their real concern is. “We’re not fugitives or war criminals. We’re exiles. They want us to find somewhere to live. The stratified system that they use in their economy is not conducive to the introduction of an additional house. There are no jobs left. Your systems are more fluid, allowing us to fill in the gaps wherever necessary while maintaining our distinct culture association.”

“We appreciate that,” Churchill says. “But if your numbers are increasing, it makes our decision harder. We do not have infinite resources, nor infinite jobs. The Pekat are also facing a mild distribution issue with our own population. The island is only so large, and we are never not negotiating the size of our fractions of it.”

Cortez nods. “Sanggar is running out of space as well. I don’t know if you know this, but 300 years ago, Tambora reserved the best land for themselves. They can dig down in certain regions. You have basements and high rises. We don’t have that luxury.”

“We have had to maintain strict population control,” Churchill concurs, “so we do not exceed our allotment. We may be able to take in a few dozen of your people.”

“Us as well,” Cortez agrees.

Churchill continues with the same breath, “but that’s only if those we take in are willing to live on the harsh Tambora border, and build their own infrastructure.”

“That is unacceptable,” Resi says with a shake of his head. “I can’t leave any of my people behind. There’s nowhere to go.” He takes a breath before he says something unbecoming of an ad hoc ambassador. “Let’s think this through. You need more space.” He taps on his heart. “We do too. Point to the map. Show me where they can build basements that’s closest to your borders. My former Maing’aing are excellent engineers. They can whip up a new building in a matter of weeks.”

“Nowhere on our side of the border is dig-worthy.” Churchill stands now. “I know the geography well enough to say the same for Sanggar.”

“It doesn’t have to be on that side. It just has to be close, and we’ll annex it. We don’t have anything over there. The border isn’t a heavily trafficked area. They might as well give it to us, and by extension you. But we need your support to do that.”

The Ambassadors look at each other, appearing to share a telepathic conversation before Cortez looks back over at Resi. “I’m sorry, but we simply cannot risk conflict with Tambora. Taking land on your way out isn’t really exile, is it? You’ll have to find another way. It looks like you are no longer welcome anywhere on Yana.”

Microstory 2663: The Duty Republic

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi’s new responsibilities will begin tomorrow, though he will need time to prepare, so the work actually starts right away. An average of 31 kids turn 16 every day, so the next batch has already begun their cleansing ritual. He remembers his own cleansing like it was yesterday, because it was! Now they’re putting him in charge of the whole thing. Kokore apprentices train for years before they even perform one ceremony without supervision. And it’s not like watching them work on stage would prepare someone to fill in. There’s all sorts of other things going on behind the scenes that Resi doesn’t even know about. He doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know. He just assumes that there’s more to it. For him, it’s even worse. They want him for a job that hasn’t been done in two hundred years, with no education, experience, or aptitude, and no manual. This has to be some kind of test. Is this a test?

“It’s not a test,” his mother claims.

“So you’ve heard of the fifth House?” Resi presses.

“Just stories, but yes. Before you ask, I couldn’t tell you. It’s one of many things that children are not to know until their sixteenth birthdays. I didn’t think it would ever come up. No one did. I certainly didn’t think my son would be chosen.”

“Chosen?” he echoes. “Chosen. No one is meant to be chosen for a House. It’s a subconscious decision. That’s the entire point of the Kidjum. If I was chosen, then who chose me? Who is responsible? What else do they choose? Is our whole culture a lie?”

“It’s not a lie, brother,” Omir insists. “It’s just changing. You’re the one who’s changing it. Your decision was still subconscious, but it was nearly unique. You were born to a world different than our ancestors. You see things differently. The island is ready for House Kutelin, and you tapped into that. It’s still all you, but what sets you apart is that you have a deeper understanding of the way things need to be now.”

Resi has never felt any different than the other kids. Mediocre is a word that always swims around in his head. And he’s liked that—it doesn’t sound like an insult to him. He appreciates being part of the collective. He wants to stay that way. He wants to blend in. This is far too much pressure, and he hasn’t even started whatever he’s expected to start. He doesn’t even seem to have any sort of trainer or mentor. No guidance, no real answers. His family doesn’t know anything. They’re just guessing. He looks down at his little sister. She’s a quiet one, and if he can be honest with himself for a minute, his favorite. It’s hard to tell how much of this she’s understanding, because she never lets on. When you look into her eyes, you will see nothing but wisdom and patience. He kneels down. “You’re the only one I can trust now.”

She smiles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. “I’ll come with you.”

“Oh, honey. You can’t go with him. It’s not time for you to choose—be chosen,” she corrects, “for a House yet. Seven years more.” Mother always talks down to Kala.

“It’s not about House Kutelin.” Resi takes Kala’s hand as he’s standing up straight. “They’re moving me closer to the Tadungeria. She can stay with me there.”

‘“You can’t take care of a child,” his mother argues. “Not only are you not qualified, but you won’t have the time. You have a duty to the whole island now.”

“Let’s not oversell it,” Resi counters. “I have a duty to the Four Houses.” Many refuse to acknowledge that there are two other nations on Yana, which have their own beliefs and practices. Today, they live in peace, and there is plenty of cross-pollination, but there has been much conflict in the past. The animosity can largely be attributed to a failure to recognize each other’s presence. Or really, it’s more about mentally attempting to absorb them into a single unified people. Resi knows that that’s not helpful. Pretending the divisions don’t exist doesn’t dismantle the divisions, it reinforces them.

“You also have a duty to this family,” Omir pushes back. “We need Kala here to complete our chores. You will have access to resources now. The city is well-established. You no longer need her, nor any of us.”

“Which is it, brother?” Resi questions. “Do I have a duty to our family, or am I no longer a part of this family?”

“It’s both,” his mother says. “This tradition is not changing. Even if you had chosen a different House for yourself, we would stay in contact.” Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to work, but it doesn’t make that much sense when you break it down. If your subconscious wants to join a different House than the one you grew up in, your ties to your first House are probably not that strong to begin with. If Omir had switched to, say, House Naino, Resi would not see him very often. He doesn’t even live here anymore. He should probably be at his new home right now, doing his own early morning chores.”

“I’m starting something new,” Resi begins. “It’s scary, and I don’t want to be alone. I wasn’t condescending to Kala when I said that she was the only one I could trust. She is too young to have kept anything from me.” He holds his free hand up when his mom opens her mouth to argue. “Now, I’m not mad that you did. I understand why. But I can’t do this if I’m relying on my family. If you can’t help me do what I need to do, then I need to commit to my new House. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving everything behind. I’m taking Kala, because I need her, and I don’t want to hear another word.”

Omir and their mother look over at Father. He’s a quiet one too, but not in Kala’s way. His silence shrouds an anger, and a darkness. He would never hurt them, Resi doesn’t think. He hasn’t before anyway. What’s frightening about it is how much he seems to be holding back. He doesn’t know why Father should be so mad, and why he has to work hard to tamp it down and remain calm. Resi thought he was doing something wrong when he was a kid, but grew up to decide that it doesn’t have anything to do with him specifically. There’s something bigger that bothers Father, which he can’t or won’t say. But as reserved as he is, Father always has an opinion, and they all respect it. “Son, it is not for you to know why your mind chose the House that it did. It is not for any of us to know, for ourselves, or for you. The fact is that starting a new House is no small venture. For my part, I do not care what you do with your power. You could tear down the Houses. You could wage war against the rest of Bungula. All is up to you, and we’ll love you for it, and stand by your side. But what you won’t do is deprive us of the labor and loyalty that we deserve. We had all four of our children for a purpose. You may take Kala with you, but in return, you will provide us with two new daughters as replacement, and you will do so with your first decree after tomorrow’s Kidjum.”

If anyone on this island can make Resi do something he doesn’t want to do, it’s Father. What he’s asking for—to Resi’s knowledge—has never been done before. You don’t ask for new family members to host. When someone chooses a House, they go where they’re needed, and no one is entitled to more than two children, adopted or otherwise. Yet everything is changing now. That’s what they’re fighting about today. He didn’t ask for this responsibility. “Very well, you will have your new daughters.”