Microstory 2671: The View From Up Here

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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 Caprice’s information was out of date.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

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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

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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

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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.”

Microstory 2662: Last to Still Believe

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Resi wants to go see his family, but it’s not time yet. After the cheering dies down, the Kokore whisks him away to a different room backstage. The Kokore apprentice is going to take over responsibilities for the rest of the ceremony so the current one can explain to Resi what the hell just happened. He’s waiting here now so she can pass the torch appropriately. The way she talked about it, he gets the sinking feeling that none of this was an accident. They knew it was going to happen, and planned for it by accelerating her apprentice’s experience so he would be prepared for this moment.

There’s food in here, but he’s not sure if he is supposed to eat it. Some of it looks like it’s just waiting to be distributed afterwards, but three courses are sitting separately on a tray on a table. He’s getting pretty hungry, but he won’t do anything without explicit permission or instruction. He just waits patiently, recognizing that all will be explained, even if he doesn’t like the answers. There’s no point in fretting about it until he fully understands what this fifth house is about.

The Kokore returns. “Okay, we’re good.” She looks over at the tray. “You’ve not eaten a single thing! The Kidjum elixir makes you hungry, don’t you know that? It doesn’t work if you just fall asleep. People sleep all the time. It’s a serious drug.”

“I suppose I forgot that part,” Resi admits. “I am indeed hungry, but I have no appetite. I’m too nervous. I don’t understand how I could have been assigned this mysterious fifth house. My subconscious didn’t choose it. What does aether look like? I don’t remember seeing it as part of my body in the vision.”

She snags a grape from his plate, and pops it into her mouth before she sits down. “That was the decision,” she begins. “Most people do not experience what you did. Yes, everyone has their own mind palace, and it always looks a little different, but you don’t become the elements. Or rather, you do, but no one else does. Well, I shouldn’t say that. It does occasionally happen, but only when the dreamer’s palace is already very body-centric, like a hospital operating room. Even then, their decision is always really obvious. They’re covered in dirt, or fully engulfed in fire, or totally wet, or something like that. The elements were well-distributed, and not simply on your body, but the composition of your body. That’s how we knew that you were Aether.”

“We were never told that you can see our dreamscapes. That’s another lie.”

“It’s very important that you not be given all of the information ahead of time. You know that things were kept from you. It’s our way of life. The Kidjum is a special, lucid dream state, but it’s not magical. The universe isn’t trying to tell you where you belong. This is our way of surfacing subconscious desires.”

“Yeah, that part I know.”

“Again, most people’s visions are unlike yours. They don’t only see something that represents the House they want to join. They see other things that they yearn for. It’s often...sexual. And to be clear, I did not have access to your dreamscape. Someone else was assigned to bear witness, to you, and to a few others. This is necessary because while I wasn’t lying when I said it wasn’t magic, it is important. What our dreams show us lives at the core of our belief system. We can’t just take people’s word for it. For you, you probably would have ignored the distribution, and chosen whatever House you thought you should join. If we were okay with that, then what would be the point of the Kidjum in the first place? We would just ask you. It would be a lot easier, and save time.”

“I suppose that makes sense, but I still don’t know what this fifth House is, or why I’ve never heard of it. You said I was the first in centuries. If that’s true, why isn’t it in the history books?”

She’s been smiling kindly the whole time, but her face grows serious now. “That’s the result of our last First Tongue of Aether. He destroyed the evidence. It was his final act of anger. Now everything we know about House Kutelin was passed down by word-of-mouth. I couldn’t say for sure why our ancestors played it so close to the vest, but we keep the circle tight to this day because it might have all been made up. Most of my predecessors and colleagues don’t believe that it ever happened. For my part, I didn’t think it mattered whether it was real or not. My job remained the same, which was to facilitate the ceremony. But I always knew it was a possibility, and you’re proof of that. And now...I’m out of a job. It’s bittersweet, I would say.”

“Okay. Now you really lost me,” Resi admits. “Why are you out of a job? Is your apprentice ready to take over full time? Did I precipitate that somehow?”

She laughs uncomfortably. “No, the apprentice is out too.” She pauses, presumably choosing her next words carefully in her head. “As long as you don’t end up like your own predecessor, the Kidjums are no longer necessary.” She points at the door with her thumb. “The others out there are the last round to choose Houses. For anyone who comes of age after today, you will be the one to choose for them. While my job ends, yours now begins. You will have access to their subconscious desires. You will see which of the four Houses they belong to, but you don’t have to do anything they want. You can move them to wherever you think is best, or choose it on a whim, or roll a die. You can select your own brethren too, who will join you in House Kutelin. Everything’s up to you now. According to the lore, the last head of your House chose all warriors to join him in the fifth House. He created conflict by consolidating all physical strength into one place. They used their strength to create a military state, and our culture nearly fell apart. He underestimated how strong others could be when backed into a corner. But...I really shouldn’t say any more about the spoken history. It’s not my place to sway your mind.”

“If this assignment has a history of violence, though, why was everyone clapping out there? Why are they so excited to risk that happening again?”

“That’s one reason we keep it a secret, so no one aspires to become like him. They were excited because this is how it’s supposed to be. The four Houses arose once our ancestors discovered that they were not in the Garden of Heaven. They had been rescued by time travelers, and brought to this world in their future. Of course, over time, even that part of our history has been brought into question; our culture being the last to still believe. But either way, what we do know is that we started with a singular voice. We fractured when we encountered the first Bungulan colonists, who assumed we were crazy, and just forgot that we came here in a spaceship like everyone else.”

Resi sighs. This is nuts. These weren’t just lies. They were cover-ups. He does not know who he is, or where he comes from. He thought he knew what this island was, but he wasn’t even close. He was so ignorant. How can he ever move on from this?

“I can’t tell you what to think, but I’m here to help. It’s not technically my job, but if anyone has the requisite skills to serve as an advisor, it’s a Kokore.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

She finally smiles again. “Caprice.” A colonial given name? Is she Kinkon?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 2, 2546

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Mirage and Ramses worked closely together. They had to design something that had never existed before; an onboard bulk energy weapon. A quintessence gun. The obvious choice was to reroute all that raw power from the slingdrive to the heat shunt. They were already halfway there—the hot pocket was made to pull in energy from the drive. The only difference was that it used to only be for waste heat, and now it had channel quintessence. As per usual, Ramses developed all of the procedures to make these changes by the end of the day, and then disappeared. When they returned a year later, it was done. “It’s all done?” Ramses questioned.

“All done,” Mirage confirmed. “The original planetary-scale black hole was pushed clear of the gravity well of Castlebourne’s recently moved-in solar system, so it shouldn’t cause any more issues for them. I made the new black hole about 690 light years from here, in the intergalactic void, where no one will bother it. Just in case, however, I left a buoy nearby with a copy of Thistle on it to monitor for any traffic within the next several billion years while there still might be some organics who need a certain threshold of gravity. I figured out how to switch the gravity regulators on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida and Varkas Reflex to the new source, so both planets have returned to normal gravity. The inhabitants are starting to delocalize again, though they seem to be a little gunshy about it since they still don’t know what happened.”

Members of Team Matic exchanged looks with one another. Once again, they had been rendered obsolete. Their apparent job now was to go in, spot a problem, then find someone else to fix it for them. Looking at the math, this should have always been their modus operandi, but they had already discussed all that. Leona nodded respectfully at Romana. “Okay. You’re up. Where do we go now, Navigator?”

Romana held her finger upwards and in front of her, as if showing the way to their new destination. “We’ll go,” she began melodramatically, “inside.” She disappeared.

Ramses turned back to Mirage. “Thank you for...” He trailed off before restarting, “well, I was going to thank you for your help, but I suppose I should thank you for letting me help.”

Mirage smiled sincerely. “You’ll figure out your place in this post-Edge universe. There are still some worlds that you have not returned to in a while.”

They said their brief goodbyes before teleporting into their interdimensional habitat. They had no reason to believe that anyone in Castledome would mess with their belts, but still, before Romana could give them a real answer, Leona activated burst mode. The whole stack rapidly jumped over and over again until they were at a safe distance from all others. She then sat down at her usual place on the circular couch. “Are we just taking a break?”

They all looked at Romana. Romana looked at Ramses. “What?” he asked.

“The thing,” Romana egged him on.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ramses said.

“The big thing you were working on,” Romana said, still vaguely. “I think you called it Operation Starframe?”

“Oh,” Ramses said. “That’s just an idea. I wasn’t keeping it a secret, I was just weighing the pros and cons. I’m not sold on the utility of it.”

“The utility of what?” Marie asked.

“Well, Project Stargate and Operation Starseed left Gatewood before the reframe engine was invented. Well, it had technically been invented by then, but there was only one ship, and Team Keshida didn’t integrate the technology into the modules, even though time travel could have given them that. Anyway, at this point, those modules have not yet made it even 300 light years. Operation Starframe would realize that alternative, but...I was thinking...only for us.”

“No one called it Starframe specifically,” Leona began, “but we considered that possibility at the Edge meeting. Kestral and Ishida were neutral on the proposal, but we ended up voting against it. There was only so much we were willing to give the public, and that...that was just too much. Colonization should be a controlled effort, happening gradually, so you don’t end up with a bunch of Linwood Meyers out there. Statistically, some would end up building something abhorrent on the other side of the galaxy before anyone realized it.”

“You mean like an oppressive empire run by an immortal megalomaniac?” Olimpia offered.

“Yeah, just like that,” Leona agreed. “We hadn’t heard of the Oaksent at the time, but we were worried about the possibility.” She looked back over at Ramses. “But this would be just for us? For what?”

“Exactly on that last question,” Ramses agreed. “It would be to get us around the slingdrive’s main limitation. We can only sling to where there is already an established presence. A fleet of beacons would let us go anywhere, and we would only have to wait about seven months to cover the Milky Way. But why would we do that? What would we need that for? One secret place for us, maybe, I can see there being a benefit, or maybe a few sanctuaries, but we don’t need the whole galaxy. That’s why I’ve not brought it up. I’ve been trying to determine the mission statement.”

“Plus,” Mateo said, “once the colonists do end up on those worlds, they’ll be confused about why there’s already a competing quantum terminal in the system.”

Ramses shifted in his seat a little. “Well, we don’t need a terminal to reach it, and I don’t even think it needs to be that big. I still don’t know the threshold. What does a presence even mean? Could we leave a 20th century digital watch there to serve as the beacon? What if one of the Al-Amins was there with no technology at all? Could we map onto another person instead?”

“So let’s do that,” Romana suggested. “Let’s spend the rest of the day running those tests. Send a bunch of reframe probes in all different directions, at different distances. One will be carrying the watch. Another will have a smartphone. One can have, like, an electric car... And so on, and so forth. I guess we would be doing the tests next year, instead of today, but still, you could start today.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ramses countered. “We’ve still not figured out the point.”

“Options,” Leona said. “It gives us options. What if there’s a threat out there that’s below the threshold, so we can’t get to it, but it can get to us, or someone innocent? Or what if we learn that the beacon does have to be electronic, and can’t just be people, and an anti-tech cult of cannibals forms on a colony a thousand years from now, but they’re so remote, no one can get to them...except for us. Because we left a digital watch on their planet’s moon 700 years before that?”

“You want us to be the stewards of the galaxy?” Ramses pushed back.

“Well...guardians is taken.”

Ramses blinked a few times before taking a couple deep breaths. “All right,” he said with the enthusiasm of an entry level worker who didn’t want to lose his job, but also had his limits. “I’ll get started on it.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Leona insisted. “This isn’t an order. I thought you wanted it, but you can reject the idea, or delay it, or whatever you need.”

“No, I want it, but it’s gonna take some time,” Ramses warned. “I don’t think it will be too much work for me—the automators should take care of the fabrication while we’re gone—but it took Team Keshida years to develop the original Project Stargate. To be fair, that was 300 years ago, but clanking replicators can’t break the laws of physics.”

“Take your time,” Mateo told him. “We’re all here for you, even if that means staying out of your way.”

Ramses returned to his lab to develop yet another project. The rest of the team was useless for the rest of the day. They didn’t have nearly enough reframe-capable vessels, and wouldn’t for another year, if that. Romana still wanted to sling somewhere.

“I have an idea of where we could go,” Mateo began, “but I don’t want to overstep my bounds.”

“No, please, ideas welcomed,” his daughter encouraged.

“There’s an island back on Earth. I went there—well, I may have time traveled, so I don’t know when it was—but it had all sorts of fun things to do. Scuba diving, boating, parasailing, hiking, E-T-C. The whole thing was artificial, but looked natural; just perfect. They called it Star Island.”

“Yes, I heard about that,” Romana replied awkwardly. “Boyd, uhh...”

“He talked to you about it,” Mateo guessed. “It’s okay, I know that he changed from that time when we first met. I think you would like it there as much as I presume he did. There must have been some reason why he summoned us there, instead of literally anywhere else.”

“Then, if that’s what everybody wants,” Romana said, trailing off to wait for others to respond.

“This is your choice, remember?” Leona said.

“And I’m not a dictator, remember?” Romana volleyed.

Leona just smiled at her and nodded.

“Okay, we go to Star Island,” Romana decided, trying to be self-assertive and commanding.

While most of the group was transitioning to their swimsuits, Leona took the liberty of initializing the slingdrive array, jumping them all to Earth. Their belts were floating on the surface of the sea now, magnetically linked, but not in a stack. Ramses teleported out of his lab, into the common area. “Where did you just bring us?”

“Moku Hoku,” Romana answered him. “Have you heard of it?”

Ramses seemed annoyed. “I didn’t know we were gonna sling. I kind of needed the quintessence to conduct my work.”

“Oh, we didn’t think of that,” Romana said apologetically.

“It’s my fault, I should have known,” Leona contended.

“I’m the navigator,” Romana argued. “I’m responsible for this decision.”

Ramses breathed again. “No, it’s okay. I just need two of you to stay behind so I can run my tests somewhere remotely. Or we can have fun today, and delay the project.”

Leona walked up to Ramses. “Let’s delay it. You should enjoy yourself too. You have certainly earned the vacation. It’s gonna take a few centuries to get it done anyway, right? What’s one extra year?”

Ramses considered it before shaking his head, and walking away. Just as they were frowning, he spun back around, and transitioned to his own swimsuit. “Let’s show these hedonistic Earthans how to really cut loose!” They cheered in unison, and might have popped the champagne to get the party started if any of them drank.

They first teleported out into the water to make sure the belts were securely invisible, then left them floating around out there to go have fun on the island. They would come to regret their carelessness when three of them turned up missing at the end of the day.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 25, 2507

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On the way to Atlantis, Mateo pulled up its prospectus, and took a look at what was in store for them. It was located at the bottom of the Aquilonian Deep ocean, so visitors would be fully immersed in the environment, just like they would be if they were in the Atlantis from the book series. The characters lived in a grand city, hidden from the eyes of the normal people on Earth at the time, who wouldn’t understand. Unlike most domes on Castlebourne—or whatever alternate copy of it this place was—Atlantis wasn’t under a geodesic dome. The prospectus called it a monolithic dome; just a transparent shell with no lattice structure. It was non-holographic too, to better simulate what it was like for the Atlantians from the story, which protected their city through telekinesis, rather than physical infrastructure. It’s also much wider than it is tall. Other domes are hemispheres, but the Atlantic ocean only goes a few kilometers down, so Atlantis is shaped more like a cap, like the Aquilonian Deep itself.

Something weird happened when the train stopped at the Atlantis station. The pod started to creak and shake a little. The doors wouldn’t open, and the virtual windows weren’t operating, so they couldn’t see what was happening outside. They received their answer soon enough, though. As Leona and Ramses were once more trying to fix the issue, water began to leak  through the cracks. They became a house divided. Most of them had pressed themselves back against the wall with the controls. Mateo and Octavia happened to be on the other end, and did the same over there.

“I thought that Atlantis was literally under water, but not actually in it,” Marie began, loud enough for all to hear. “I thought the inside of the dome was fully dry and livable.”

“Without maintenance, it must have buckled under the pressure at some point,” Leona figured. “This isn’t the real Castlebourne.”

“The domes are made of diamond!” Angela argued.

“Partially,” Leona corrected.

“How do we get out of here?” Romana asked. “Can you guys teleport?”

Olimpia shook her head. “I’ve been trying. It’s still suppressed.”

“Why would he send us here,” Ramses questioned, “knowing we’re gonna die?”

“Wait. This is part of the experience, isn’t it?” Mateo put forth. “I never read the books, but I think Atlantis does—”

He was unable to finish the sentence before all hell broke loose. The vactrain could hold back the deluge no more. Water came rushing in. They were fully submerged in seconds. For most of them, this wasn’t that big of a deal. Their nanites tightened themselves around their bodies, and sealed up. They could have survived without air for a period of time, and even the force of being violently tossed around the pod, but the suit was an important extra precaution. Unfortunately, not all of them had one of these. Octavia was totally unprotected and in grave danger. Mateo was already holding onto her, making sure she didn’t hit her now. He was now hoping to somehow breathe into her mouth, but his helmet was in the way. He tried to open it up temporarily, but the nanites did not recede. They had a job to do, and it would seem that they were not programmed with the knowledge of Mateo’s advanced substrate. He didn’t need the suit. Octavia did, and if he didn’t do something immediately, she was gonna die.

Mateo closed his eyes to concentrate, realizing that giving her a few rescue breaths wasn’t gonna do much good anyway, as they were likely still trapped under a fully submerged dome. These nanites. They were stored inside his body, and right on the surface when engaged as a vacuum suit, but this was not a requirement. They could be reconfigured to fit loosely around him like regular clothes. He actually wasn’t even wearing regular clothes. They were all nanites the whole time, clinging to each other in the form of a shirt and pants until the suit was needed. If they could hang loosely from him, then they should be able to adhere to something else...someone else. Despite their protests, he commanded them to let go, and swarm Octavia instead. Finally they did as they were told, releasing their grip on his skin, and swimming over to envelope Octavia instead. He maintained his mental control over them, so they would maintain their cohesion. Then he took Octavia’s hand, and began to swim away.

Now that the pod was fully filled with water, it was no longer so turbulent. He was able to see his friends, who were starting to exit through the giant hole in the doors that the pressure had made. Leona was swimming over to beckon the two of them forth. The entire station was also submerged, so there appeared to be no respite. Ramses seemed to be less concerned about it. He led them along the outside of the vacuum tube, to a maintenance hatch. Once he managed to open it, the water flooded into that compartment as well. They had to wait until it too was filled before swimming in. After they were all in, Ramses shut the hatch behind them. Then he worked the controls to open a much bigger hatch. The water flooded there too, but as the space was now twice as big as before, it was no longer completely engulfed. There was a pocket of air for them to breathe in without their helmets. More importantly, they could finally talk about what just happened.

“What just happened?” Olimpia asked.

“We survived,” Ramses answered. “Again.”

“Did you know I could do this?” Mateo asked, jerking his head towards Octavia. She was still in his suit, because she had no mental control over the nanites. And for some reason, neither did he.

Ramses waded through the water towards them. “I didn’t. Good thinking. Can you release her?”

“They’re being difficult,” Mateo replied. “It was hard enough getting them to switch over to her. Now they don’t want to come back.”

Leona waded over too. “It was probably your adrenaline, which allowed you to exercise more control over the nanites than they were programmed to be subjected to. They only exist in three states: dormant, emerging, and stabilized. They’re stable around her now, and aren’t listening to you, because...” She contemplated the issue. “You’re too far away.” She shrugged. “Give her a hug.”

Mateo hugged Octavia, placing himself closer to his nanites, and commanded them to recede into his implants and go dormant, which they did. So he was still naked, but he didn’t want to command them to do anything else. He was afraid of another glitch.

“I’ll tweak the programming, and maybe boost the signal,” Ramses decided. “Might be nice if we can do what Mateo did, but on purpose, and with less resistance.”

“I did it on purpose.”

“I meant, premeditatively.”

“Where are we?” Romana asked, looking away as if examining their surroundings, but she was really just uncomfortable with seeing her father like this.

“Service tube,” Ramses answered, wading back in her direction. “They put pods in here to repair and replace parts.”

“How do we get out?” Angela pressed.

Ramses kept going towards a computer terminal, which was thankfully, waterproof. He started looking through the data. “I may need time to come up with a solution.” He shook his head. “Seven people, six suits, and flooding appears to be quite comprehensive. We need a clear path out of this dome, and into the next one. We can’t just walk though, or even try to swim to the top.”

“Octavia’s gonna be stuck here alone, in the water, for an entire year,” Marie pointed out. “No food, no freshwater. No escape.”

They all looked sadly at Octavia.

She took a breath. “What else is new?”

While Ramses was trying to come up with an escape plan, Leona was at another terminal, trying to figure out how to drain the water out of here, so at least Octavia would have a dry place to stand. The Waltons, meanwhile, were working on extracting a dayfruit smoothie module and a water recycling module out of their respective pocket dimensions. Octavia needed these things more than they. The ladies solved their three problems in enough time for the jump to the future. The tube wasn’t designed to be drained of this much water, but it did have a drain, which could take care of it over time. Octavia would be alone, and in this terrible place, wet for a few days, but at least she would have food and water.

“I’ll stay with her,” Romana declared.

“What?” Mateo asked her. He was fully clothed now.

“It’s something I can do, and I should, Romana reasoned. “She shouldn’t be alone. She’s been so alone.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Octavia assured her. “It’ll be boring.”

“Actually,” Ramses said. “The terminal has some entertainment stored on it. I don’t know why, as they don’t really use human workers for this, but it’s there. Should last you. Lots of ancient reality TV, though.”

“Have you not found somewhere better where they can go instead?” Leona asked him.

“Afraid not,” Ramses responded. “Atlantis is totally flooded. Every nook, every cranny. The vactube was the only dry space, but it only stayed that way, because there wasn’t any activity. We altered the pressure differential by coming here.”

“It’s okay,” Romana decided. “We’ll make this work.” She smiled at Octavia. “Together.”

Their watches beeped.

“Last time to back out,” Mateo said.

“Not gonna happen.” Romana hugged her father. “I’ll see you in a year. You’ll see me in a minute.”

Midnight central hit. When they returned, Leona’s draining program was complete, and the service tunnel was totally dry. The weird part was, Romana was in a different spot, but Octavia wasn’t. The former was sitting on one chair, resting her feet on another, casually filing her fingernails. The latter was exactly where she was before, still wet, and very confused.

“What the hell happened?” Mateo asked. “Octavia, you’re on our pattern?”

“I don’t see how.”

“What’s that humming sound?” Olimpia asked.

Leona knelt down to the floor, and pulled her bag off to open it. She took out the crystal that Pacey had given them. The colors had abated after the initial lightshow, but they were back, presumably triggered by the time jump. “First thought. This put her on our pattern, hopefully for her sake, temporarily.”

“Oh, Romana. You’ve been alone this whole time,” Mateo whined apologetically.

“NBD,” Romana said, hopping off of her chairs. “I watched every episode of Survivor and The Amazing Race. I read those Witches of Atlantis books too. I know why it flooded.”

“Still,” Mateo said, embracing his daughter again. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish Pacey would have just been clear about what that crystal was. Talk about a solution without a problem.”

“It’s really okay. Now we know. And that’s not all we know.” She walked over to the hatch they had come in through, and opened it. No water came in. “As you said before, it’s all part of the experience.”

Even though they were confident that it was fine, the six of them cautiously passed Romana, and stepped out of the tunnel. The train station was completely dry. Everything was fine. Had they imagined it?

“You’re not imagining it,” Romana said. “It’s periodically flooded on purpose. I don’t know what the exact schedule is, so we shouldn’t stick around, but I have not been living in that service tube this whole time.”

“Why would the station be flooded too, through?” Leona questioned. She looked down at the pod, which was still warped and damaged. “That’s a major safety hazard.”

“That I believe was an accident,” Romana determined. “Pacey left a door open. Only the dome itself is meant to be inundated. I closed it.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mateo said.

She laughed and scoffed. “Dad. Anyway, I looked for Buddy, and he’s not here. He must have moved on to a different sector in Recursiverse, perhaps a different planet.” She used airquotes.

“How do we do that?” Ramses asked her. “The vactube is down, so do we take a spaceship?” He used airquotes too, because if there were indeed ships here, they were probably only simulations, meant to make it feel like visitors were traveling through the simplex dimensions, to worlds light years away, when they were probably only driving to the next dome over.

“The Atlantians didn’t use ships,” Romana explained as they were leading them down the corridor, still in the perimeter structure of the dome. She stepped into the driver’s seat of a shuttle cart, and drove off once everyone was on board. “If they wanted to leave Earth, they used something else.” She drove them a few kilometers until they reached what was clearly a Nexus building.

“Is this functional?” Leona asked, intrigued.

“I don’t think so,” Romana replied. “You tell me.”

“Hey, Venus Opsocor,” Leona said to the aether after walking in. “Are you there?”

No response.

“She may not wanna answer,” Leona explained, “but I’m guessing that it’s simply not a real Nexus.”

“Probably not.” Romana started to walk up the steps to the control room. “Shut the door.” She reached into the room without stepping in, and swung her arm once against the wall.

Marie smirked and looked up towards the ceiling with her eyes. “We’re moving.”

“Yeah,” Romana agreed. “Right now, we’re rotating into the next dome over, while that dome’s Nexus rotates into here. It takes about four minutes, and is meant to be imperceptible. If you’re paying too much attention, you can tell that it’s just a simulation, but visitors are expected to step into the cavity, and pretend that it’s real. We don’t have to do that. We’re just gonna wait for the rotation to be complete, open the door, and we’ll be in the new dome.” She pointed. “I think there’s a corridor over there, so we could have just walked across, but...”

They stood there and waited. Only Leona wandered into the cavity, mostly out of boredom. Technicolored lights rained down on her from the Nexus drum above, but that was all they were; lights. The rotation ended, and they left. Everything looked pretty much identical to where they were before, until they crossed the ring, and opened the inner doors. They were definitely not in Atlantis anymore.

Romana passed by them, and held her arms out as she was spinning around. “Welcome...to Ce—”

She never finished the word. An explosion knocked them all on their asses.

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