Microstory 2530: Community Liaison

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

Microstory 2529: Settlement Specialist

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I was one of the first people to work at the Foundation, I’m proud to say. I’m the one who came up with my own job title. They wanted to call it a Cashier, because that’s the best they could come up with, but it’s not really accurate. No one is paying up little enough money to warrant dealing with cash, and we absolutely can’t payout in cash either, even at the smallest figures. We will agree to write you a check if you really think you can handle it, but we don’t even like that. I’m not saying that scammers and muggers hang around our hotel, waiting to steal people’s money because they know that’s what we do here, but it’s not like it’s a secret, so it’s entirely plausible. We really prefer direct deposit, but we understand that not everyone is banked. This is why we’ve partnered with WinterTree Bank to offer clients prepaid debit cards for their financial needs. They’re useless without the PIN, and can be reloaded at the ATM should they like to deposit any other cash they do receive, or a paycheck. While the Financial Evaluators determine how much a patient owes or receives, and the Accounts keep track of our finances overall, I’m responsible for making sure that money goes in, or comes out, accordingly. Once Landis finishes his healing, they come to me, or one of my teammates. We verify their ID, we confirm with them and their Guide that they did indeed receive a breath treatment, and we explain to them what the computer says about their situation. People who are making a pay-up know roughly how much money it’s going to be, but the people receiving payouts are not provided with this information ahead of time. They are quite often rather surprised. Sometimes it’s good news, and sometimes not, though, because some were hoping for a little bit of money, when it turns out they don’t qualify for either. They don’t have to pay, but they’re not getting any money either. You need to have thick skin working this job, and you need to know how to handle stress. It can be quite the roller coaster. It’s usually rewarding. For people receiving money from us, it’s almost always so much more than they dreamed of getting. But it can be hard when they’ve heard rumors of how much some people are getting, and their case doesn’t match up with their hopes. It’s a little like gig jobs, where the company will advertise that you can make up to a thousand dollars in one day, when really, that’s something that happened to one driver once, who happened to keep being at the right place at the right time, and it still didn’t give him health insurance. Even so, for the most part, the patients are grateful, even the ones who pay-up, because they’ve just been healed, and that puts most people in a good mood. This job is worth the uncertainty.

Microstory 2528: Unhoused Patient

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I have some sort of disease that I can’t pronounce, and I don’t like to talk about it. They diagnosed me at the free clinic because I was having these phantom pains all over my body. They say it’s neurological. Or I should say that they said that, because I don’t have it anymore. Yeah, I heard about this Tipton fellow, and didn’t think it had anything to do with me. Why would they take some raggedy aging woman who lives on the streets? I mean, I didn’t even get that far in my thinking. I heard the news on the radio, shrugged, and then moved on with my life. A few years later, I was sitting in the park, which I do every Tuesday, because that’s when they water the plants, which soaks the soil, which brings up the worms, which brings down the birds. I know, I’m a bit of a stereotype, but who doesn’t like birds? Anyway, I was just sitting there when this social worker comes up and tells me about a program which assists unhoused people in applying to be healed at the Foundation. I said, “you’re crazy. We live in Denver. How the hell am I gonna get all the way out there anyway?” He said that they offer transportation too. I asked him what church he was with, and he said none. This is just something the city wants to do to help out. I was, like, “okay. Sign me up. Literally!” Then I laughed, and he laughed too. And wouldn’t you know it, they actually followed through on their promise. Now, I don’t wanna sound too cynical, but you know how cities feel about their homeless. I’m sorry, you’re supposed to say unhoused these days. You know how they feel about their unhoused. They don’t like ‘em, and they wanna get rid of them. And sometimes what they do is just bus them out to a different area. I don’t know, maybe that was happening here too, but the Foundation is a real thing, and my application was real too. They gave me a burner phone so I could get my information, which told me where to go, and when to be there. I sat in the room, and I waited in line, and this kid breathed on me. But it doesn’t stop there. After I left the room, they guided me to a cashier, or whatever, who gave me money. They set me up with a special card that’s specially designed for people without easy access to a normal bank. I haven’t had a bank account in fourteen years and don’t trust them anymore. I thought they were joking, but dammit if I didn’t end up with $18,000 dollars all for me. Can you believe it? They paid me to take the cure. These people are nuts. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I kept my mouth shut, and walked away with my card. I never went back to Denver, because there’s nothing there for me. I got myself some affordable housing, took a shower or two, and now I’m currently looking for a job. Let me know if you know anyone who wants to hire a 54-year-old formerly unhoused woman who still doesn’t have a car, but did once work as a secretary for a plastics manufacturer. This new money is great, but it ain’t gonna last forever.

Microstory 2527: Poor Patient

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I used to clean toilets for a living, which speaks both to my financial situation, and my medical problems. For years, I was asked to do my job with a cleaning solution called Bartho’s. You may have heard about them in the news recently. It was discovered that Bartho’s included a chemical known as diacetyl. They were aware of its harmful effects when inhaled, but deliberately kept it off of their ingredient list. That is a huge no-no, and it’s why we’re going to win this class-action lawsuit no matter what Henderen Co. says about the ultimate solution to their gross negligence. Can you believe that they actually point to Landis Tipton as the reason why the case should be dismissed? They claim that their clear violation of safety laws doesn’t matter now that any disease that might have been caused by their mislabeled products can be cured with a simple breath. Oh, that’s not gonna fly. Not everyone has access to the cure, and even if we did, that doesn’t mean they didn’t break the law. It’s not even about the money; it’s about the injustice. Money, I have now. As a patient at the Foundation with low income, I was awarded roughly $6,000 dollars in addition to my healing. There were no stipulations or hoops to jump through. I sent them my bank statements, and they gave me free money. It’s just this extra little thing that they do. I don’t understand how the model works, but I think it all comes down to the fact that it’s a non-profit. From what I hear, it’s relatively easy for them to pay for their expenses. It’s therefore easier to charge the wealthiest patients up the wazoo, and give any extra they end up with to people like me. If you think about it, it’s not that crazy. Billionaires get sick too, and they may have access to better health resources, but there’s only so much you can do. Five years ago, very few diseases had been cured. So they can afford thousands, or even millions, of dollars to save their lives. They were probably paying more for persistent treatment, so for them, it’s still a great deal. And it supports everyone else. Which, if they have a problem with, they probably don’t deserve to be healed. Anyway, I’m still scrubbing toilets, but now maybe my son can go to college.

Microstory 2524: Financial Evaluator

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People think that there’s nothing to my job, because so much of the processing goes through the AI, but it’s not 2045, it’s only 2025. The AI makes mistakes, and its work has to be checked. Obviously, I don’t just duplicate the work that it completes. It does a deep dive of the candidate’s financial situation, and comes up with the results. Someone has to read and interpret those results, and ensure that they match up with the overall impression of the accounts. If, for instance, the report told me that the candidate was the CEO of a company, on the board of directors for another organization, and owned three jets, then concluded that he was entitled to a Class 3-A payout, then I would know that something went wrong. That’s a gross exaggeration—we don’t run into those kinds of major technical issues—but that sort of thing is happening at more plausible scales all the time. Without boring you with all the numbers and details, the computer sometimes has trouble understanding the whole picture. Like I said, it’s really complex, but it boils down to looking at two factors. We calculate a candidate’s income, and we calculate their assets. A bachelor working at a fast food restaurant might not be making that much money, but if they still live at home, and have all of their necessities paid for, their assets might look pretty good. On the flipside, a single mother supporting six kids—two of which are in college—might be severely struggling despite raking in six figures. Humans are better at understanding such things than AIs are, so a Financial Evaluator has to see every case, and make a reasonable judgment. This typically means making an adjustment up or down a subclass, but there have been times where we’ve felt that someone was entitled to a payout, even though they technically appeared to be middle-class. There was one candidate whose gambling winnings had not yet been paid out, but we projected that he would secure him, so we decided to assign him a pay-up. Since he wasn’t very liquid yet, he couldn’t pay right away, but of course we have payment plans, and he was absolutely happy to do that. We had to reach out to him before his appointment so we could explain the assessment to him, and he was actually pretty excited. He was proud to qualify for pay-up, because not everyone is, and he considered it a great honor to help support such people. He understood it, because a couple of weeks prior, he was one of them. That’s why we set up the direct-donation portal, because a lot of people want to help, even if they’re not getting anything out of it, and we certainly don’t want to discourage them from doing that. I don’t handle those funds, but according to my co-worker, the percentage of revenue we receive to maintain the program is increasingly coming from that source. I never thought that I would be working for a place like this. Of course, all charities have donors and recipients, but the way they’ve streamlined it, it’s the most fiscally elegant system I have ever been a part of. It’s really quite beautiful, when you see how all the gears turn.

Microstory 2522: Patient Advocate

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I don’t work for the foundation. I am a professional Medical Advocate working for a medical outreach agency, which is commonly employed for patients who need a little extra help navigating the process. I’ve been doing this job since long before the Foundation was even the spark of an idea. Some patients get confused, or know their personalities and skillsets well enough to not trust themselves with being solely responsible for their own medical data. A healthy fraction of such patients have family members or friends who can help them through such difficult and complex processes, but there are others who aren’t so lucky. My agency has a long history of providing chaperoning service to patients who don’t want to be in the exam rooms alone with their medical providers. We help them ask questions, and understand the answers. We help them make their follow-up appointments, and fill their prescriptions. This is typically a paid service that you can find all over the world, but we can do it free of charge for Breath of Life patients through a special program where the Foundation pays for our services on behalf of their neediest patients. Again, I don’t work for Landis, but I’ve become particularly familiar with their practices and procedures, and can help each client get through the process safely and comfortably. Some of them are suffering from dementia, or related conditions, and require that one-on-one care. I tell ya, this is the most rewarding job I’ve ever had. Before this, I did a lot of crying, because I was handling patients who were at their worst. They weren’t getting better, and many of them remained my clients until they died. I’ve been to a lot of funerals throughout the run of my career. Well, not anymore. All of my patients live now, which is something I never thought I would see in my lifetime. I watch as a client with Alzheimer’s becomes suddenly lucid, and in a way that is not going to be undone the next time she sneezes or closes her eyes. This is it. This is what people like me have been hoping for our entire lives. I absolutely love it when a client stops needing my services, not because they die or can’t afford it anymore, but because they’re healthy now. And it gets me every single time. I guess I’m still crying, but they’re tears of joy now. I feel for my colleagues in the industry who don’t work here, who are still going through what I was before. They wish they could have my job, but there are only so many positions. They’re excited about the panacea. Even though it will mean the end of their jobs, they can’t wait for it, because it’s the best outcome possible. I’m pretty excited about what the future holds too.

Microstory 2521: Queuer

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Guides and Queuers are two sides of the same coin. My co-workers are there to answer questions because they are a lot more knowledgeable about how all of this works. My primary responsibility is to literally keep the line moving. We maintain constant contact with each other, and coordinate to make sure the process is physically smooth while patients transition from one place to another. To do this job, you need to have great spatial reasoning, and the ability to count a group of people extremely quickly. Has a job interviewer ever asked you that before? Did you ever study that in school? It’s not as easy as it sounds. Counting heads is just something you have to practice, but it’s vital to our job of making sure everyone is in the right place at the right time. We simultaneously don’t want too many people, or too few. It wastes everybody’s time, including both patients and staff. Landis can only heal one person at a time, so it’s up to the rest of us to make sure each next person is ready to go once he’s done with the last one. It’s stressful and chaotic, but I find it quite invigorating. The line never ends until the end of the day, but man, once we get there, it’s so satisfying. You don’t even know. One by one, the last of the patients step through that door, and you feel like you’ve completed a puzzle. And this happens every single day. Well, I mean, I don’t always have the post-lunch shift, so I don’t always see the end, but then I saw the beginning, and either way, it’s rewarding to keep people moving through that queue. Since you have to be good at counting people, and at recognizing them—so you don’t start giving people the same instructions they already heard, or asking them duplicate questions—you really see the progress you’re making. One after another; Bob, then Sue, then Sally, then Manuel. They walk up, go in, and disappear, never to be seen again. If you notice the same person too many times, you’re probably not coordinating them correctly. If you don’t ever notice the same person more than once, you’re probably not fit for the job. It’s all about balance. That’s what I tell people. I’m a balance worker. Moving lines, adjusting stanchions, filling waiting rooms as soon as they’re emptied of the group before. It’s a delicate dance that would probably make for a good show if you could see it from a God’s eye view. And I get to be one of the choreographers.

Microstory 2520: Guide

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Once you walk into the building, and get checked in with one of the greeters, you can ask me for help. There are a ton of us, patrolling and stationed strategically around the floor, ready to provide assistance. There’s at least one in every waiting room, one in the auditorium, several in the mainline. Outside, inside, topside. If you’re thirsty, we’ll get you water. If you don’t know where the nearest restroom is, we’ll escort you there. If you were in line when you had to step out, we’ll have a queuer keep track of where you were, and put you back in it at the right place. We can also answer questions about the history of the Foundation, and behind-the-scenes information. We know where you need to be, and where you’re going, and who you will be dealing with. Guides are friendly, knowledgeable, and always ready to take action. We get a ton of steps, so there’s one advantage. Since our job requires moving around so much more than others, we enjoy a very special exception. We’re entitled to injury healings. Hold for gasps. For the most part, Landis does not handle cuts and broken bones. They may hurt, and they may even be life-threatening, but because of the acute time constraint involved in the most severe cases, the responsibility falls squarely on traditional medicine. It will get your application immediately rejected, even before you upload your medical and financial records. Some applicants have actually gotten real upset about that, because they also had a chronic illness, and figured they should include the normal injury along with it to be the most accurate. Don’t do it. Anyway, that’s not really the point. I’ve kind of made it sound like guides and queuers are getting injured left and right, but really, it’s more like a benefit in our insurance package. It’s there if we need it, and while it has happened before, we rarely need it. Mostly, the only people who ever had to use it were either exhausted or dehydrated. I recall one guy who twisted his ankle, and another was straight up punched in the face by a patient companion who was trying to defend her mother against another patient. But those were extreme circumstances. If necessary, we are allowed to cut in line to get it completed, but that’s only when we can’t continue our shift without it. Since it almost never happens, it might seem like a small thing, but I think it speaks to the culture of our organization. The leaders understand that there are exceptions to every rule. It’s important to maintain order and fairness, but that doesn’t mean being overly strict and inflexible. It’s also just kind of cool being a little bit more special on a staff of a very special Foundation.

Microstory 2519: Greeter

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People hear my job title, and think that all I do is smile and wave at the patients as they come in. Whoa-ho-ho, that ain’t it. You come to me, you give me your name and ID, and I check you in. I make sure that you’ve come within your appointment window, and aren’t trying to jump the line, or that you’re late. I then send you to a waiting room based on availability. Once one room gets full, I’ll move onto the next one. So don’t go thinking that there’s anything connecting you with the other patients in your room. People have come back out and complained, because they get to talking with one another, and decide that some patients are less needy than others. That’s not what’s happening here. You’re grouped based on time, as was the appointment window in the first place. We encourage you to make friends while you’re waiting, and bond over your shared experience, but don’t imagine that the group you end up with says anything about what we think of you. I don’t know why I have to say all this, but I do. I would certainly never call mine the hardest job at the Foundation, but it’s not as easy as people think, so I always want to clarify that a nice smile is not all you need to do it. You will get belligerent people here, who feel entitled to certain accommodations, and as the first person they encounter, you will receive a lot of that hostility. It doesn’t happen every time. Ninety-nine out of a hundred patients are perfectly lovely. But it does happen sometimes, and it makes it hard to maintain that smile. I do it, because it’s important, and that’s what’s expected out of me. It’s not terribly complicated, so there’s really nothing more to say about it, but we’re always looking for new greeters, because we do have a shockingly high turnover rate compared to other departments. So if you think you can handle the stress, please apply. People think that operations are winding down because the panacea is close, but that is not what I’m hearing. The Foundation may never close. There may be a persistent market for direct healings, and obviously, it’s not up to me. It’s a decent job with great pay, and it’s really nice to just live right upstairs, so don’t let the news discourage you. Even if it doesn’t last forever, it covers any gap you might otherwise have in your résumé, and the Foundation shutting down is definitely a better reason for it to end. Most of the time, I bet your job ended because you were let go, right? That doesn’t really happen here, so just something to think about.

Microstory 2518: Daily Coordinator

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I am in charge of patient experience. The Appointment Coordinator is technically my superior, but she doesn’t have time to manage our department’s staff, so that falls to me. While the automated system is great for setting up appointment windows, what it can’t do is make sure that people actually show up for their appointment, or more importantly, don’t show up outside of their window. When your application is approved, you’re assigned a two-hour window on a particular day. If you can’t make it, you need to pull your application, and try again. It may sound like it helps us for people to show less urgency, but it overcomplicates the process. Just come when it’s your time. If you fail to show up, your name will be flagged, and your reapplication will be a lot more complicated. Don’t. Be. Late. That’s why we have the campground, and why nearby landowners literally built new hotels to help mitigate visitorship. I have to keep track of 2,000 people every day. The greeters will check you in, and tell you where to go, which sometimes means going right back out that door if you come before your window. I have it all set up real nice. Part of the first floor is dedicated to waiting rooms, where you wait with your group of 40 to 45 other people. Yeah, that’s right, we know how to break it down. Forty-five people per room with a total of eight rooms equals a maximum of 360 people in each two-hour window. While you’re sitting there, we may call you up individually to confirm some information, such as your financial situation. We got to keep things moving, so when your room is called, you’ll all proceed to the auditorium, where you’ll watch the orientation video. Don’t ask the host any questions. That’s what my guides and queuers are for. When the video is over, depending on the timeline, you’ll either go back to your waiting room, or go ahead and get in line. People have asked why the line is so long, and why they can’t just wait in the rooms. Well, it’s because Landis averages three patients per minute, but that doesn’t mean we record exactly three every time. Some people have mobility issues, and we experience other delays. If there’s a problem with your candidate profile, you may be bumped down to another group. That all takes time, and we don’t want to waste any of it. We don’t want Landis to be sitting there with no one to heal for an extended period of time. It’s gonna be hard, waiting through all of this, but it is absolutely worth it, because when you’re done, you’ll probably feel better than you ever have in your whole life. If everything goes smoothly, we might get the full 2,160 patients, but we usually don’t, and for that, we apologize. You will not miss out on your healing, though, so don’t fret. Any remainders at the end of the day will end up in Group One for the next day, and we might ask you to come in earlier than normal operating hours to make up for it. I know, I sound really blunt, and maybe a little aggressive, but this job is not easy, and if I take the time to be too polite and nice, we get behind schedule, and I can’t allow that.

Microstory 2515: Appointment Coordinator

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Hello. I have been the Appointment Coordinator here for about two years. Before that, I was the Assistant Appointment Coordinator, which is a position that is no longer offered at the Foundation. Don’t worry, no one was fired. My boss, who had this job before me, had to move with his family to a different part of the country. His son secured a job working at a prestigious university, and the family wanted to stay together, even though the son is obviously fully an adult now. We’re still friends, and stay in contact. There is a reason why my previous job wasn’t backfilled, and it’s because it’s no longer necessary. Over time, we’ve incorporated more and more technology—specifically artificial intelligence—into our operating procedures. We are nowhere near a place where the application process is automated, but I no longer get a look at most appointments. I predominantly handle what we call Appeals. When you apply to get a healing from Landis, the system goes through a number of checks. First, it needs to confirm your identity, which you do either with a credit card, or facial recognition. You have to upload your medical records to make sure that you legitimately have a condition that even qualifies for healing. The system has to handshake a number of various medical databases to confirm this legitimacy. If we’re not partnered with your provider, you will have to upload your documents to them instead. We don’t need your entire life’s story. We don’t need to know every time you went in for a broken arm. We just need to know what’s wrong with you now, and what—if anything—you’ve done for it in regards to treatment so far. Similarly, you are expected to provide your financial records, and we have partnered with many financial institutions for the handshakes on that side of things too. We need to know if you’re rich, not-so-rich, or very not rich. That determines whether you pay for the procedure, or qualify for additional charity. I coordinate with other departments, like Patient Experience and Finance, to make sure everything has gone through smoothly. If everything is processed correctly, and there are no errors, the AI will find a slot for the candidate, give the patient all the necessary information, and everything will be ready to go. I only need to step in when an applicant is not only rejected, but also appeals this decision. We have an automated system for them to log their appeal too, but a human has to see all of that, so they can make a decision on the matter. I am that human. I look through every single appeal, and reach out to the applicant as necessary, as well as their associated institutions. I am not at liberty to divulge what percentage of applications are rejected, but if you think about it, I’m only one person. There is only so much time in a day, and I can only do so much with that time. Most rejections come from fraudulent claims, which the computer almost always catches appropriately. If I’m looking at it, it’s probably because the fraudster is still hoping to complete whatever scam they’re going for. I also can’t tell you how many appeals overturn the original decision, but...it’s very rare. It’s really only when there’s some missing data in the application that the computer couldn’t catch, because it doesn’t know what it wasn’t told. When this happens, I submit a reapplication, and it goes back through the automated system, but it’s flagged for me so I can keep an eye on the progress. In case it runs into another issue, it holds priority, and doesn’t end up at the bottom of the appeals list again. That’s just a little bit about what I do here. It’s a lot, but I absolutely love it.

Microstory 2514: Staff Supervisor

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I was one of the first people who Landis and the Director hired after all the contract work retrofitting the hotel was finished. He figured, if you’re going to start hiring people, you better find someone with experience doing that, so they can handle it for you. Prior to this job, I had eight years under my belt working in Staff Services at various organizations. I wouldn’t have called myself the best of the best, and that’s what Landis was looking for, I think. He was working with a tight budget, so he couldn’t waste all his seed money on someone who would demand mid-six figures. Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was doing. He gave me a list of positions he thought that we would need to work the Foundation, I added to it, we collaborated, and I worked to fill out the staff. Unlike a lot of other startups, we kind of needed a full staff right away. We couldn’t just start with a few people, and grow our business gradually. As soon as the public even caught a wisp of a hint that there might be someone in Kansas who could possibly even plausibly come anywhere close to alleviating their conditions even just a little bit, we knew that they would arrive here in droves for help. We needed people to coordinate all the visitors, to manage all the finances, to care for the patients, to support Landis directly, to maintain the facilities, and to reach out to the community. We’ve added a few brand new positions since then, like the Research Liaison, and everyone in the Legacy Department, but for the most part, we had a solid idea of what today would look like. Yeah, I’m just looking at our old notes, and we were pretty spot on. We did the math, and determined how many people Landis could heal in one day, which gave us the number of workers we needed to keep track of them, and we’ve not had to go too far beyond that. This is the best job I’ve ever had, because I actually feel like I’m making a difference in the world. I count myself lucky to be on board, and I think pretty much everyone here would say the same thing. It’s my job to know these things. If someone were having a problem, I would know about it.

Microstory 2511: Landis Tipton Himself

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My name is Landis Tipton, and I don’t like to brag about myself. I really think that anyone in my position would do the same thing that I did. They might not do it in the exact same way, but they would have done everything they could to help. For one, while being awake for several hours every day, and meeting thousands of people, is exhausting, it doesn’t compare to what lots of other people do for work. I breathe on people. That’s it. It’s so simple. I get situated in my big apparatus, and breathe. Each time I cure someone, that’s all it feels like. It doesn’t drain me of energy, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Anyone could do what I do and feel fine. I mean, I’m breathing anyway. I might as well cure someone while I’m at it. They take really good care of me here at the hotel. They treat me like a god, even when I don’t want them too. Yes, I have a personal assistant, a personal chef, a bodyguard, a nurse, a doctor, and a masseuse. I’m not gonna sit here and claim that I’m not living a privileged life. You expect me to say a but here, but there is none. It’s a good life. The least I can do is make it count. If I weren’t doing something to earn it—if I were just randomly born a king, or some stupid thing like that—I would have no appreciation for any of this. My dad used to try to teach me that I had to contribute positively to society, in one way or another. I never understood that until five years ago when I started this Foundation. To clarify, I knew what he meant when he would tell me that, but I failed to recognize its importance. I’m contributing now, and I feel lucky to be capable of doing it in this way. They’re getting close to a panacea, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life after that. Would my father still be proud if I just hid away, and stopped working? My friend insisted that I take in a salary for this. I insisted that it be a modest amount, but after all this time of everything I need being paid for by the Foundation, it’s added up to being more than enough to live happily, and without having to find another job. My problem is that I’m not all that bright, and I never actually had a salaried position before this. So I was thinking in terms of an hourly rate. I work twelve hours a day, which may sound like a lot, but again, I just sit there and breathe on people. Not exactly grueling...kind of monotonous, really. I do work seven days a week with no vacation time, but my evenings are pretty relaxed, and I don’t have anywhere that I want to travel to, so that’s not a problem. The hotel has been paid for, including the suite that I live in, and I’ll probably stay here after the panacea goes on the market. So that means no rent. Even when I have to start paying for things again, like food and utilities, I doubt I’ll ever break $2000 a month. A pay of $15 an hour for five years has added up to over $300,000. If I do that math, it should last me about...thirteen years. Hm. I’m not making as much as I thought. Well. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m not greedy. I’m just Landis.

Extremus: Year 108

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Tinaya and Silveon are sitting in their living room. The latter has the day off from school while the former has a day off from work. Arqut was here earlier, and will be back later, but he had to leave for a while to meet with the Bridger Section Superintendent. They started doing this a few years ago, but they don’t reveal what their discussions are about. His family has learned to not ask questions. Well, they didn’t really need to learn that. They each have their own secrets.

“This is actually the best time for me. It’s one of the things that works in my favor. I wouldn’t be—” He’s cut off.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Thistle says. “A visitor approaches.”

“Open the door,” Tinaya says.

Soon after it opens, a woman appears from around the corner. “Sorry to bother you, Family Leithe.”

“Hey, Marquita,” Silveon says. He hasn’t finished his education yet, but he apparently already knows some of the people he’ll be working with once he earns his license.

“Hey, Silveon,” she replies. “The Captain would like to speak with you.”

“Him, and not me?” Tinaya presses.

“I’m afraid he didn’t say anything about it. What do you think? What would he have intended? I can’t lose this job. My parents will never speak to me again.”

“It’s okay, Marquita,” Tinaya insists. “I’ve known Oceanus for years. If he doesn’t want me there, I’ll leave, and he won’t hold it against you. He won’t even make any connection between you and me. Where is he?”

“His office. No teleportation.”

Each Captain has run their ship differently. Halan never stayed in one place too long, and rarely stepped foot on the bridge. He might not have even been aware that he had an office. Kaiora conducted most of her work in her ready room. Tamm grew up watching old scifi media, like Star Trek and Galaxy Quest, where a lot of the action took place on the bridge, so that’s where he felt most comfortable. Lataran operated out of a command center that was particularly close to the entrance to the Bridger Section. She seemingly stayed in direct contact with them during her tenure, but Tinaya was on Verdemus for most of the time, so she wasn’t really around for that. Oceanus likes his office. It’s away from everything, and he considers it to be highly secure. There is no teleportation in or out, and he’s completely cut off from system-wide superintelligence, which is why he couldn’t just tell Thistle to summon Silveon for him.

The three of them make their way down the corridors, and up to Captain Jennings’ office. “Be with you in a moment,” he says, busy typing on his computer without even looking up.  A few minutes later, he gets to a stopping point. “Admiral, I didn’t expect you.”

“Sorry, sir. It was my fault,” Marquita begins to say.

“I insisted on coming,” Tinaya claims. “This is highly irregular.”

“Your son is an adult,” Oceanus says. “I can speak with whomever I must.”

“Based on what happened with Soto Tamm,” Tinaya begins, “I wouldn’t say that’s true.”

Oceanus nods. “Quite.” He stands, and starts to walk around his desk. “Thank you, Miss Sugar. Please take a break.”

“Much appreciated, sir.” Marquita curtsies and exits.

Oceanus smiles as he watches her leave. “Her teacher retired before you matriculated, Mister Grieves. She was...old fashioned. I’m sure you didn’t learn to bow.”

“We learn a shoulder bow,” Silveon answers. He demonstrates it by closing his eyes gently, tilting his head, and lowering it down ever so slightly; only enough for his shoulders to make a small dip.”

“I suppose I could be okay with that. I don’t know how to get her to stop and just nod to me plainly.”

“I see,” is all that Silveon says.

“Marquita is who I wanted to speak with you about, actually,” Oceanus goes on.

“Sir?”

“She’s new...new for me, anyway. As you’re obviously aware, stewards don’t have shift lengths. You work as long as you want to, and as well as your contribution points hold after you decide to leave. She’s good at her job. She’s a bit frazzled and flustered, but she knows her shit. I can’t just let her go.”

“What is this about, Oceanus?” Tinaya asks, stepping in. “Did Silveon ask you to fire her, or something?”

“Oh, of course he would never ask me that, would you, Silveon?” Oceanus casually leans against the edge of his desk. “No, I just wanted to get ahead of this. By the time you’re seasoned enough to become an executive steward, my shift will have ended, and your only hope for an executive position of any kind—let alone her job—will lie with my successor, or perhaps even their successor.”

“Sir, I wasn’t expecting any sort of special treatment.” Silveon looks over at his mother. “That my mom is an Admiral, or that she knows you, has no bearing on my pursuit of stewardship. I’m not even sure that I would want an executive assignment.”

Oceanus chuckles. “Everyone says that. They wanna sound humble. But everyone wants an executive assignment.” He reaches over to a book on his desk that’s sitting on a display stand. He flips it open. They catch glimpses of past captains before he finds the right page. On it is what they call his main Star Photo. The captain gets photographed a number of times throughout their shift, with various important figures. This has included standing with their Admiral, with the council or the First and Second Chairs, and some other leaders. Tinaya had one with her family, though she’s unique for that since she was the only captain with a family of her own. The main photo is always with the lieutenants, since they’re the primo team. Oceanus’ First and Second L-Ts aren’t the only people in this photo, however. Marquita is there as well, standing in the corner, almost not moving at all. If not for her occasional blinks, they would think it was a still photo of her inserted into the animation, but for some reason, not animated as well. The three men aren’t moving that much either, but trying to look regal and sophisticated, with puffed out chests, and rising chins. “The Captain’s Steward is always in the Star Photo.”

That is a lie, and an easily disproven one too. Soto Tamm is the first captain to employ an ever-present steward. She was just as mousey and invisible as Marquita appears in this anipicture, but she was always there, somewhere nearby. He wanted her to be available at all times, but not close enough to even look like they knew each other. Looking back, what he turned out to be shouldn’t have been surprising. He was a self-centered dick. His predecessors didn’t use stewards at all. Halan didn’t even allow one to be assigned to him, preferring to get his own hands dirty. Olindse and Kaiora basically always had their stewards work from home, which really meant, I don’t need you. Enjoy your life. Lataran and Tinaya typically asked their stewards to assist their respective Lieutenants’ Stewards on whatever projects needed to be completed on that side of things. So the truth is, Oceanus is the only one using his for the job’s intended purpose, both utilizing her skills, and respecting her boundaries, while also respecting her as a person. Tinaya could clarify all this, but she zips her mouth shut.

“Be that as it may,” Silveon replies, “I’ll be happy wherever they place me, or with whoever they place me with. There are all kinds of stewards on Extremus. Some of them are attached to people, while others are tied to a particular area, or even one room. It’s actually the only role that crosses the imaginary crew-civilian boundary. It’s just one big department. That part is what some don’t truly understand. A lot of people look down on the job, because it always feels like something that anyone can do. And when you look at only one steward in a vacuum, sure, it might seem like that, but the truth is that that person did not go to school to learn how to be that specific type of steward.

The department is fluid, with workers shifting from one assignment to another, sometimes by the week. You have to know how to be an engineering steward as well as a Lieutenant’s Steward, or even a Captain’s Steward. That’s obviously when you’re at the show, and the most coveted type of all, but you can’t rely on that during your education. Stewards know the entire ship. If you have a relatively basic question about how the material reclamation system works, try asking a mess hall steward. Unless it’s overly complicated, and something only a reclamation maintenance worker would know, they’ll probably have an answer for you.

“I just wanted to mitigate your expectations,” Oceanus explains. “When I found out that you were studying stewardship, I thought maybe it had something to do with me, and I wanted to make sure you understood the timeline. You’re just too young.”

“If my son wants to work directly for a captain, you could help with that. Pick a good captain to succeed you.”

Oceanus smiles widely. “That was always the plan. There are too many captains with criminal records, I’ve always said that.”

“Is that all?” Tinaya asks. “My husband will be back from his meeting soon, and we were wanting to play a game of racquetball together.”

“All three of you? Playing cut-throat.”

“We don’t call it that.”

“Well, I’ll let you go soon, but I do wanna ask, Silveon, what made you decide to go into stewardship? It’s about the furthest you could be from your mom’s path, and your father’s, for that matter. Bit of a rebel?”

“Just my personality, sir. I like to move around.” What he likes is to be a fly on the wall. The reality is that this is his best way forward if he wants to protect his mission. He and Waldemar are growing apart, and it would not be politically prudent for Waldemar to select Silveon as one of his lieutenants, or any other high-up position. It wouldn’t garner extra support, and it wouldn’t give him access to anything special. Stewards are generally invisible. They’re there to help if you need something, but when you don’t, you don’t pay them any attention. They see everything, and they talk to each other. That is the benefit of having such a large department. They can meet up and swap stories without shirking their duties, because one of the others can jump in to cover them at a moment’s notice.

Managing Stewards are just as gossipy as the rest. They’re not really bosses, but more like human schedulers. Getting the promotion doesn’t earn them significantly more contribution points, and doesn’t gain them clout. So they’re still just stewards themselves, and are willing to move things around when secrets need to be shared. Even if Silveon doesn’t ever make it all the way up to an executive assignment, he’ll be able to track Waldemar’s movements and decisions. Oceanus has nothing to do with it, and he never did. That’s what they were discussing when Marquita showed up. The timeline is going well. Silveon is getting his licensure right now, and at the right age to be in a good spot when Waldemar rises to power.

“Well.” Oceanus steps back over to the other side of his desk. “I won’t keep you two any longer. Enjoy your day off together.”

“Thank you, sir,” Silveon says. He leaves the room.

Tinaya decides to hang back for just one moment. “Oshie?” she asks. She doesn’t call him this often, but she’s the only one who does, other than his mother.

“Yes, Tiny?”

“You’re doing a fine job. My son would be honored to be your steward, if the timing worked out. Marquita seems very happy.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

She looks over her shoulder, but changes her mind once more. She steps over and picks up the Star Book. She comes around the desk and sets it down in front of him. “Did you know it could do this?” She places her index fingers on the top of the photo, and her thumbs underneath, farther apart from each other. After holding for a few seconds, she turns her index fingers outwards, and her thumbs closer together. The image shifts. It looks about the same as before, except Marquita is now the one in the foreground, while the men are relegated to the background in her place.

He smiles up at her. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“All anipictures can do it.”

“Ha. Could you erase Tamm from his own Star?”

Tinaya flips over to Soto’s Star Photo. She places her three middle fingers on Soto’s image, holding for a few seconds again. She then swipes all the way over to the left, carrying him with her. When she crosses past the border, he never returns. Soto Tamm is gone from his own picture.

“Interesting,” Oceanus responds, seemingly deep in thought. “Very interesting.”

“What do you have planned?” She asks him.

“You’ll see. One day.”

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Microstory 2509: Former Girlfriend

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Landis wasn’t always the great and noble guy you’ve heard of. I’m not surprised that he became what he is today, but I do wish that it was happening while we were dating. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he really struggled with motivation. He didn’t want to work very hard at anything. He didn’t want things handed to him, but he didn’t want to have to think too hard either, and figure the solutions out for himself. He wanted to know how to do something, and understand why he should be doing it. He didn’t have a great job, bu he was content with it, because he gave an unremarkable interview, yet they gave it to him. He didn’t care about being promoted, or even making more money. His budget was always based on the bare minimum, and he didn’t care about anything else. He didn’t want to improve, or have a better life. This sounds really selfish of me, but it might have been nice had he treated me to dinner every once in a while. I felt like I was the only one making an effort in the relationship. I had to leave him, because it was so one-sided, and when I finally did, he didn’t seem to care. This goes to show how dispassionate he was. I wanted him to want something, even if it wasn’t me. I couldn’t tell you how he got his powers, because I wasn’t around for that, but I’m happy for him. I am not bitter, and I’ve not tried to get back together. He’s doing his thing, and I’m doing mine. I feel lucky that the path we walked took us to where we are. Even if I were miserable, at least he’s a superhero now, and that’s a beautiful thing. People ask if I regret not sticking by him but if I had, the Foundation might not exist. It’s all so mysterious, so we don’t know how he ended up with the abilities, but he has told us that we received them. He wasn’t born with them, so he would not have randomly developed them in an alternate reality. He was reportedly simply at the right place at the right time. If we had still been living together, he would have been in a completely different place at that particular time. We would have gone on with our lives none the wiser, still not happy, and none of you would be cured. I guess I should say...you’re welcome.

Microstory 2507: Pain Feeler

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I can feel your pain, and kindle your ecstasy. Isn’t that such an interesting way to put it? You know, these gifts we had; they didn’t come with instruction manuals. We had to figure out how they worked, and develop ways to explain them. Other people’s gifts might be a little vague and profound, but mine was simple. If you were in physical and/or emotional pain, I could feel that. Fortunately, I could choose not to feel it. Not everyone on the team could exercise so much control, and switch it off when they didn’t want it. I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if I couldn’t so I’m grateful for that, and I’m sure Landis is too. Basically, what I did was make people feel better. It was only a temporary solution, and a very complicated and delicate process to navigate. Sure, I could have run around the world alone, essentially as a walking-talking recreational drug, but that’s not going to help anyone in the long-term. And honestly, if they wanted to feel better in the way that I could help them, they could just do it themselves. What I did was only one step of the program. When it was the right time, I eased their suffering, so they could think clearly, and figure out how they were going to improve their lives. It wouldn’t work if I did it too early, because then they would have kind of forgotten what was so upsetting to them in the first place. They would basically treat my gift as the only useful solution, and not worry about what would happen when it wore off. I couldn’t do it too late either, or they would get frustrated that they did all this work, and I could have just solved their problems right away. I had to find a balance, which was the hardest part of the job. These days, I’m pretty happy. I loved what I used to do, and I think about it sometimes, but it’s kind of nice to just have a regular job, and live a regular life. Things were so complex, and I was always having to think about how I was going to kindle someone’s ecstasy. Now I move boxes from a truck to a shelf, or a shelf to a truck. There’s an answer for everything, and you know when you’ve done it wrong. And the burden of responsibility was a weight on my shoulders that I didn’t know I was carrying until it was gone. Basically, all I’m trying to say is that I’m glad that it happened, and I’m happy with what I have now. I don’t think I could say the same if my life were just one or the other. Landis is going to cure everyone one day, and while it won’t necessarily alleviate pain, I know that it will help, and it’s more than I could have ever done on my own.

Microstory 2506: Desire Hearer

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I can hear your desires, and sing your fears. I am not like the others. Their passive gifts are all negative, while their active gifts are positive. I can’t tell you why I’m the opposite, but truthfully, it has always made me feel a little left out of the group. To be clear, they never made me feel like that; it was just the nature of my condition. It’s kind of hard to explain what I could do. Landis might have better wording, though I think he actively ignores this side of him. It’s not that I could hear your thoughts. It’s not even that I could see the images in your mind. It’s more like I could hear the music of your soul, if that makes any sense. When I would listen to people’s aura—for lack of a better term—I could hear where it was pointing, be it another person, or an object, or even the future. The tone of their aura music was key to understanding and interpreting their desires. I would say that mine was the toughest job, because they had to be open with me to clarify exactly what they wanted out of their life. It was just so...abstract and intangible a lot of the time. Sure, if they were staring at the person they were secretly in love with, their desire song for them would be obvious. And to be fair, anyone who is just naturally good at reading others could probably see it all over their face without any special gift. The key was getting them to come out of their shells, and be honest about what they wanted. It felt like cheating, just straight up asking them to vocalize their feelings. No one else in the group had to do that. They were just able to sense what they were meant to sense. That’s kind of why I had to step up as the leader; not because I was particularly suited for it, but because I had to drive the progress for us to get anywhere with people. The client’s own goals were paramount in helping them. It didn’t matter how they felt, or whether they were lying. If they didn’t have an objective, what were we gonna do for them? How were their lives gonna turn out? I didn’t always have to use my active Vulnerability gift, but there were many times when it was necessary. They sometimes even asked for it. To get what they wanted, and get past what was holding them back, it was necessary for them to face their fears. It was easier for them to do that if they were confronted with them directly using the fear songs, rather than having to conjure them up in their own mindbrains. It usually went all right. The client and I were both always in control, and I could clear the sounds if they became too much to bear. Obviously, it went wrong one terrible time, and that’s why we’re here, but I can’t help but think that all of that happened for a reason, because now we have Landis. I do miss having the gifts, but I’m glad that someone else has them, even if he never uses them. At least they’re not gone forever. And the sweet song of life on Earth continues.

Microstory 2502: Father of the Cure

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I’m going to be totally honest here, Landis and I have not always agreed. His mother always believed that he was gonna move on to do great things, but the kid was approaching his thirties, and he had nothing to show for it. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to death, and nothing he could have done would have been able to change my mind. I just remember wishing that he would have some kind of ambition. I wasn’t one of those fathers who had a plan for their kid, and they were going to follow it no matter what. I only had a few requirements. Number one, he had to learn a second language. Most of the world understands English, and I feel like the least we can do is meet them halfway. You can’t learn them all, but you can at least learn one. Well, he didn’t do it. He didn’t even try. He did the bare minimum in school, in his language classes, and everything else. He wasn’t an idiot, but he was a poor student, because he lacked motivation. I only got him into sports to teach him discipline, and perseverance. I didn’t care if he became obsessed with it, or even if he liked it. He could have switched to theatre or A/V Club, if that’s what struck his fancy. I chose baseball, because that’s what I was familiar with, but I made it clear that he had a choice. What he didn’t have a choice in was doing nothing. He couldn’t just coast through school, and work minimum wage for the rest of his life. I know, that might seem unrealistic. Someone is working minimum wage, that’s why it exists. I just wanted him to want more out of his life. Again, he didn’t have to do anything that I specifically chose for him, but he had to have at least some passion about it, even if that passion was for the money itself. He had to contribute positively to society, and if that meant sticking with that minimum wage job, well, I figured I could get over that. At least he was doing something. But he kept losing them, and having to find something new. Secretly, I think that he preferred it this way. He gets tired of things, you see. He doesn’t quit because he’s no good at it, but because he just doesn’t wanna do it anymore. It becomes tedious. I’m actually kind of surprised he came up with his foundation, because it’s the same thing; day-in, day-out. I can’t believe that he can take it, but I’m proud of him, and I’m happy for him. I never expected him to cure the entire world. I would have just been happy with him holding down a job for longer than six months. But he went for it. He really went for it. He exceeded all of my expectations, and I regret every doubt I ever had for him. That’s my kid, and I’m grateful for him.

Microstory 2437: Warehouse Dome

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This is a big planet, and it needs a lot of stuff. But you don’t just make all the stuff you need, put it where you need it, and walk away. Some stuff gets consumed, while others get worn out. Plus, they’re always expanding, so stuff needs to be added to these new environments. They build the stuff ahead of time, and store it away. I don’t know how many warehouses there are, but there are at least thirteen, and this is one of them. Picture a warehouse with concrete floors, tall shelves, and a bunch of random artifacts. Now multiply that by who knows how much. That’s Warehouse Dome. I have no idea what all these things are for. I’m guessing that there were more appropriate goods in a section that I didn’t see, like dayfruit growers and vactrain seat upholstery. In the area where I was, I saw a set of humming golf clubs, a whole shelf of glass insulators, and a giant vat of purple goo. Tell me what that’s all about. The people I saw there sure wouldn’t. I immediately felt totally accosted by them, like I wasn’t doing my job, or something. I was apparently in the wrong place, and was supposed to be in a different aisle doing inventory? Those idiots thought that I worked there. It didn’t even seem like they expected any visitors in the first place. Like, there was no tour or orientation, not even anyone who seemed to be in charge. They were just really secretive and weird. I was probably not meant to be there at all, but if that’s the case, why did they even let me in in the first place? Can you just go anywhere? Can you go to any dome you want, no matter how much of a threat you are? I heard of one where they keep all the water. Can you just pour some poison into it without even sneaking around, or breaking in? Whatever, it was boring. I perused the objects—like the self-typing old-timey typewriter, and a mirror that had some creepy little girl in it—for a little bit, but then I left. Lock your doors, or put up a sign, or something. Don’t just leave me hanging like that. I don’t see this as my fault. By the way, the above is my name for it. They just called it Warehouse 13. I didn’t bother finding out if the first twelve were just as weird. Then again, maybe the prospectus is broken. It was listed as an adventure dome, despite clearly being logistical, so I don’t even know.