The Seventh Stage: Rock and a Hard Place (Part III)

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Ezqava ‘Effigy’ Eodurus has had a storied past. Much of it, she prefers to forget. She was young and stupid at the time, and very vulnerable. She placed her trust in someone who turned out to be so much better than her, she never wants to feel that judged again. She truly doesn’t understand her own mind. She’s mischievous and unpredictable, and even sometimes violent. That’s why they locked her up on Earth, and now on this random remote penal colony. Colony isn’t the right word for it, though, since she lives here alone. It’s not too bad. She has a nice home with a pool. The weather is always tame, but she can see storms range in the distance, which is interesting. They’ve provided her with countless hours of entertainment, but no means of communication. She can see what’s going on all over the universe, but can have no effect on it. Unless someone comes to talk to her. Which they do, all the time, though less so in recent days. When she was trapped in her cage on Earth, no one visited her. Most people didn’t even know that she existed. Here, she’s so popular. Here, they value her knowledge. Sadly, they don’t value her as a person. It’s her fault, and she knows it, but it’s still been difficult.

It won’t always be like this. Effigy doesn’t have the power to see the future, but with all the data that she’s collected, she’s pretty confident in her predictions. Hers is not the only transcendent power in these lands. There are two others, and based on the trajectory of their dealings, it won’t be long before they meet. The only question then is whether she can convince them to join forces with her. In the past, she would attempt to gain allies through trickery and subterfuge. Her ability to shapeshift into any human form has always been too tempting to ignore, and too easy to abuse. Her usual methods won’t fly with Clavia and Echo. Not only will they see right through it, but they actually have the power to turn on her. The reason she was in a cage for centuries was because none of her combatants knew how to kill her. The Cloudbearer twins do not suffer the same shortcomings. They have more power than her, and it’s hard to tell how they’ll use it. They’re good...for now—if there even is such a thing as a good person. That doesn’t mean they won’t fight her. If she wants them to trust her, she has to be honest, good, and honestly good. That’s why she has spent the last several years helping leaders of this pocket universe. She’s been asking for favors in return, but only because that’s what they expect. If she did it for nothing, they would be suspicious of her.

Effigy has been trying to get better, but without an unbiased third party to assess her progress, she can’t know if it’s worked. Her self-improvement was driven by her desire to regain the power and freedom that she once had. Is this a paradox? Is it impossible to be worthy of the power that one seeks if they seek it? Is ambition inherently evil? More importantly, how will the god twins see it? Earlier, she planted the seed of her answer when an old friend came for a visit. Either she’s about to get a third visitor in one day, or her friend is back.

She watches as the personal pod streaks across the sky, and lands somewhere on the other side of the wall that keeps Effigy from seeing the ocean. She’s tried asking for a tower to have a better view of this world, but she’s never given anyone enough intel to warrant such a gift. She’s going to play it differently this time, not like she did before with Bariq. She’s going to be cool and composed, but genuine and professional. The door opens. Two women walk through. One is the friend, but the other is a stranger. “You have returned,” Effigy begins, “sooner than I expected.”

“The term sequence that you provided was right,” Tekla replies. “It took me to an evidently unused Nexus, which allowed me to travel to Origin, where I met an apparent god, who connected me with this one here.” She gestured towards the other woman.

“Hi, Francis Deering,” she says, offering her hand.

Effigy reaches out for it, then pulls back in horror. She forgot to shapeshift into the form of a human. She looks like her true self still...a white monster. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see me like this. I didn’t realize.” She takes a breath, and transforms herself into a woman she once knew by the name of Slipstream.

“It’s okay,” Francis assures her. “You don’t scare me.” Her skin begins to vibrate and ripple. Within seconds, she looks like a masculine version of herself, perhaps a twin brother, or something. She—or he—seems as surprised as Effigy and Tekla do. “Wow, that was much faster than it is where I’m from. Your world is interesting.”

Effigy smiles. “May I ask, what are your pronouns?”

“She/her when I’m in my female form, and he/him when I’m like this.  If you’re talking about me in a more general sense, and you’ve encountered me in both forms about evenly, you can use they/them.”

“Can you turn into anyone, or just this one guy?” Tekla asks him.

“I’m not turning into a different person,” Francis explains. “I’m both people. Nothing about who I am as a person changes when I’m in one form or the other. They call me a dimorph; both male and female. I can only have one reproductive system at a time, but my mind and personality maintain continuity.”

They nod.

“I can shift back, if you’re more comfortable...” Francis offers.

“No, it’s whatever you want,” Effigy assures him. “Is that why you chose him?” she asks Tekla. “Because he’s a shifter.”

“I explained the situation to the god, Senona Riggur, who suggested a therapist would be of some use to you. This is who they chose.”

“So, you’re from another universe?” Effigy asks Francis.

“Am I?” Francis volleys. “No clue. I just go where they tell me.”

“Well, I really appreciate you coming here, and I would appreciate more of your time. You see, I’ve traditionally not been so great of a person. As you saw, I’m not a person at all. I think that I’ve learned the error of my ways, but self-assessment can only get you so far.”

“You say you’re not a person. What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you saw. I’m not human.”

“Just because you’re not human doesn’t mean you’re not a person.”

“Do you know a lot of non-humans where you’re from? I mean, more intelligent beings than just dogs and cats.”

Francis smirks. “I know a few.” She takes a beat. “Let’s get into this. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Yeah. Tekla, do you need to get back to Judy before she gets suspicious?” Effigy asks, worried. Maybe she is better, worrying about others.

Tekla laughs. “You think I took the Nexus to a hostile unknown location without getting my boss’ permission first? She went with me. She was granted her own wish alongside mine. Don’t ask what it was, though.”

“I see. Tell her thank you. She’s always been more supportive and understanding with me than other people.”

“I will pass along the message. Until then...” Tekla starts to say, “I’ve never skinny-dipped before, but I hear that’s how it’s done in this pool.”

Now Effigy is the one to laugh. “You can if you want. I also have suits in the cabana. We’ll be in the solarium, if you don’t mind a little sun, Mr. Deering. The windows are rated high for UV shielding.”

“That sounds lovely,” Francis replies.

The two of them head to the other side of the house to discuss Effigy’s issues, and her self-doubts. In the spirit of my agreement with Dr. Hammer to stay out of the therapy sessions that she has with her own patients, I cannot relay what Francis and Effigy discussed in private. While Dr. Hammer did not technically ask me to maintain the privacy of all of my characters, I believe that she would prefer me to respect therapist-patient confidentiality across the board except for conversations which are integral to the plot. Suffice it to say, Francis’ wisdom was very helpful in Effigy’s quest to not only become a better person, but to understand what that truly means, and how to measure her own progress, as well as recognize her successes for what they are.

Effigy looks up to the sky again. “You’re in my head.”

Is she talking to me?

“Yes, Superintendent, I am talking to you. You are writing this story from an omniscient third-person perspective. You know everything that I’m thinking. The fact that you chose not to watch my therapy session is meaningless. You still know exactly what happened. You could always just pull it straight out of my thoughts.”

“Who are you talking to?” Francis asks. They’re currently strolling around—

“No, no, no,” Effigy interrupts me. “You’re not going to ignore my question by droning on and on about the minutiae of our current behavior, just to reach some arbitrary word count goal on this installment. There’s vivid imagery, and then there’s pointless and trivial details. We’re walking back to the other side of the house. There. Done. That’s all you need to say.”

I wasn’t ignoring your question. You didn’t ask one.

Effigy stops to think for a moment. As she does so, a beetle-like insectoid crawls along the leaf of a plant hanging from a pole on the side of the building. A spider-like creature is on the underside of this leaf, and the question is whether one will notice the other, both each other, or neither. No one is looking at these organisms, but it’s still happening. Things like this are happening all the time, all around you. If Effigy weren’t blinded by her frustration with me, she might have the capacity to take a moment to admire the beauty. She’s standing next to it right now, stewing. She’s choosing not to look over at the insectoids, knowing all too well that if I wanted her to look at them, she would goddamn look at them. For as powerful as she thinks she may be, she is nothing compared to the might of the author. I could erase her from the story with a few taps on my keyboard. She would never connect with Clavia and Echo. She would never realize her full potential. She would never really know if she became a better person, or if the leopard simply can’t change its spots. I already spent years not mentioning Effigy and her exploits at all, and I can do it again. I could do it forever if I like. Her past as the final boss in the Springfield Nine franchise may never have happened. I could erase that too if I wanted. And maybe I will.

I just did. Effigy who?

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Microstory 2430: Advanced Research Dome (ARD)

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In the early days of interstellar colonization, they largely expected you to start from scratch, though the definition of this term is a little loose. I mean, they had domes too, because almost none of them had an atmosphere that was breathable by organic Earthans. So there was some technology right from the start, and they were making scientific advances on their own, but Earth remained front and center in the industry. You just can’t beat that kind of established infrastructure and strong, lasting institutions. I’m not sure that’s true anymore. While Teagarden took over the majority of the military needs of the Core Worlds, that was mostly for political reasons. They wanted to erase any sense that it favored the nations of Old Earth. Physics research didn’t have to switch homes, but it has. These new reframe engines people are using to travel at faster-than-light speeds? Those were apparently invented here. Developments in anti-gravity; induced stasis; transhumanistic enhancement, including bioforming; terraforming; power generation and distribution...it’s all here. Dare I say, we’re now more advanced than Earth is, even with all of its advantages? I’m sorry to tell you that that is my conclusion. If you’re interested in furthering our understanding of physics, biology, chemistry, or any other scientific field, your best bet is to come here. Earth’s programs are nothing to scoff at, and I don’t think they’re doing anything wrong, but at some point, the brightest minds in the galaxy evidently decided to move, and before anyone realized what was happening, the power shifted here. Good or bad, that’s what happened. This power may shift once more, back to Earth, or perhaps some third star system, but for now, this is the nexus of scientific exploration. The silver lining is that they’re not hoarding it any more than Earth did. They’re sharing what they’ve learned with others, so we’re at least safe from the privatization threats that we’ve faced in days past. Word of warning: this dome is not for visitors, really. You can come, and they’ll let you walk around, but we’re dealing with a lot of dangerous things here, so the majority of the sectors are off-limits without proper authorization. People keep randomly showing up, believing that we have something to show off, but that’s not what we’re doing here. This is just for us. If you want to join, fill out the right application. If you don’t yet qualify, find a learning platform, and catch up. There are no limits to who can help humanity and its offshoots achieve everything we ever dreamed of.

Microstory 2429: Capital

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This is the Capital City of Castlebourne. It doesn’t have any other name besides that, which is unusual, since they seem to have an appreciation for word puns in their other names. I suppose they just wanted to be real serious here, which is probably a good thing. Where I’m from in the Goldilocks Corridor, our planet didn’t have a capital. It was just a village where we made soap. That’s really it. Several years back, we were visited by the resistance to the Exin Empire. They wanted to know if any of us were willing to join the movement, and fight alongside them. We didn’t understand why we would even consider that, because for the most part, the empire left us alone. They asked us for soap, we gave them the soap, and they left. They never abused us, or attacked us, or anything. The resistance started educating us, though. They taught us about the other worlds, which were being forced to do other things to serve the Emperor. They showed us images of these other places, involving big machines that could produce their own wares in a fraction of the time. We were stunned. Some of us didn’t believe it. Some of us still don’t, and presumably still live on our home planet. We were making soap by hand. It was hard work, and the only reason we didn’t complain before was because we literally didn’t know that there was any better way. We were intentionally kept in the dark. Well, anyway, no, none of us joined the resistance. We were soap makers, we didn’t know how to fight! But then a few years later, another new ship showed up, and promised to take us somewhere where we wouldn’t have to make soap anymore. We asked them what work we would be doing, and they kind of laughed. No work, they said; we wouldn’t have to work at all. This was another concept that we didn’t have any frame of reference for. You work, it’s what you do. Not even the war-fighting people said anything about a life where we wouldn’t have to work. After some further education, most of us agreed to go with these other people. We flew away, and landed on Castlebourne. They didn’t lie to us, we don’t have to work. It’s taken some adjusting, but we’ve gotten used to just being alive and happy. I still wanna work, though. It still feels like the right thing to do. So I came to Capital to see how I could contribute to the governing body of our new society. I don’t have much experience, but they were all so welcoming to me. I’ve not been assigned anything yet, but they’re working on finding a place. I’m sure it’s difficult since I don’t have any skills. As for the dome itself, it’s gorgeous. Our village was dull and lifeless. I didn’t realize how much of a struggle it was for us just to survive. In contrast, this place has trees and other plant life. Tall buildings with hundreds of people work to make the world a better place for us refugees. For whatever reason, we were allowed to know how to read, but not everyone here had that luxury, yet the government is helping, and they’re doing it in style. I can’t wait to get my new job, and get to come to this beautiful dome every single day for the rest of my life.

The Seventh Stage: Piffy on a Rock Cake (Part II)

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Bariq walks briskly into the room, finally finding his co-parent standing there with one of her assistants, whispering about something or other. After they see him, they both smile, make one last exchange, then part ways. He walks farther in. “Where are they?” he demands to know.

“The kids?” Judy guesses. “I’m sure they’re just out partying with their friends.”

“I just ran into them in the hall,” Bariq counters. “They haven’t seen Clavia or Echo anywhere since they left the ceremony.”

“You saw all of their friends?” Judy questions.

“I saw enough,” he replies. “They don’t have many.”

“They have more than you think. Not all of them are from the Seventh Stage, you know. They have a lot in common with some of the students from the Third Rail.”

“Judy. The kids are missing.” Over the years, she’s become calmer and more trusting of their children. She’s allowed them to be young and dumb, and make mistakes. She teaches them right from wrong, but she has always seen them as preadolescent and adolescent humans. The reality is that they’re both unimaginably powerful superentities, and very dangerous. Bariq loves them, and cares for them, but he has not forgotten how they started out. They’re both far older than they appear, and he sometimes sees that in their eyes. They will seem normal one minute, bright-eyed and curious. Then the next, they’ll slip into this unsettling state of all-knowing indifference. He has been afraid of them growing up and getting their memories back this whole time. It’s put a strain on their relationship, and yes, he’s even worried that this strain will create a self-fulfilling prophecy that leads to the realization of his greatest fears. He can’t help it, though, because they really are dangerous, and it doesn’t seem prudent to ignore that.

“What do you want me to do?” Judy questions. “Sick a tracker on them?”

“I want you to take this seriously.”

“I do. They’re sixteen years old, they’re gonna run off and do stuff without permission.”

“They’re not sixteen, and stuff without our permission could be blowing up planets or smoking nebulas.”

“That is...quite the imagery,” Judy says, “and is completely unfounded. They’re good people. You should believe in them more.”

“So you’re not gonna help look for them.”

Judy sighs. “I have Rebecca for the year,” Judy explains. “I’m going to spend some time with her today. Maybe you should do something for yourself. How about that woman from the academy? She seemed into you.”

Bariq closes his eyes. “She’s a hundred years younger than me.”

Judy shrugs.

“You wouldn’t get it, you grew up with your soulmate.”

“And then I lost her.” When the main sequence version of Earth was copied into the Sixth Key, Judy was duplicated along with it. Her wife, however, Rebecca happened to be in the past at the time, because that was where she was working. When she returned to her present, the other Judy was waiting there to greet her. It took a while for them to even find out about the whole Reconvergence mess. Since then, they’ve established a unique relationship. Rebecca spends some of her time with main sequence Judy, and some of it with Seventh Stage Judy, like an odd joint custody sort of arrangement. It might be unusual, but it’s working for them. And the kids love Rebecca. They treat her like an aunt. Yeah, she’s technically more like a stepmother, but she can’t really discipline them since she’s gone half the time, so they ended up framing it differently.

“Then you got her back,” he reminds her.

Judy concedes the point. After a moment of silence, she thinks of something. “You know who you can go to if you’re looking for someone. And it’s not a tracker.”

Bariq is confused for a moment, but quickly gets over that. “We promised to never go back there.”

“We promise that all the time.”

He sighs. He has a feeling that something is wrong. Echo and Clavia aren’t just hanging out on a habitable moon, watching the gas giant that it’s orbiting dominate the sky. They’re somewhere, doing something. It might be good for all he knows, but it’s not innocuous. It’s not meaningless. He has to find them, and if that means talking to a certain dangerous prisoner, then he will. “Don’t tell Cedar.”

“I don’t talk to that guy anymore,” she says.

“All right. I love you.”

“Love you too.” They are the twins’ parents, but they aren’t married. They have never had any romantic feelings for each other. In fact, their relationship started out pretty rocky. They were chosen to negotiate together during The Rock meetings specifically because they didn’t always see eye to eye. That’s not how it was for every duo at those talks, but it wasn’t uncommon either. Over time, as they’ve tried to raise these kids together, their connection to each other has strengthened, and love is a decent enough word for it. She has Rebecca, and he has his consorts, but they always try to be on the same side, even when it’s hard.

He walks out of the room, and down the hall to their personal Nexus, which will take him indirectly to where he needs to go. While his target is a prison, she’s not in a typical locked facility. It’s too risky to leave her anywhere with people on a regular basis. She’s too charming and beautiful. She has a way of getting into people’s heads, which they take measures to combat with psychic wards. Because of the need for distance, if she needs anything, it’s up to her to provide it for herself, using whatever she can find where she’s being kept. That’s not a lot, but she doesn’t seem to need a lot, so it appears to be okay. And she’s gotten more over the years. Bariq would normally ask one of his kids to transport him there remotely, but since they’re the reason he’s deigning to go this time, that’s not an option. He takes the Nexus to the nearest space station, and then a personal pod the rest of the way. It’s slow, but that’s the point. If there were too many ways to get to the penal planet, there would be too many ways to get off of it, and that’s not an option.

The prisoner has extraordinary extrasensory perception, allowing her to know things without experiencing them, or being around. Even where she is, trapped and alone, she knows what’s going on everywhere else, even back in the original universe. That’s what makes her such a big threat, and why she can’t ever be allowed to leave. Unfortunately, she appears to be immortal, so keeping her in place might be an eternal responsibility. She has taken a particular interest in their family, as would be expected of someone in her position, driven partially by their repeated visits for information, and sadly, even advice. They’ve used this resource far more often than they morally should. It’s just too tempting. The issue is how much she likes it. She loves the attention, and it gives her a sense of power that she doesn’t deserve. Bariq prepares himself at the entrance. The walls are a hundred meters tall, and this is the only way in or out. It’s not guarded by anyone, but a satellite in geosynchronous orbit keeps constant watch over it. He holds his hand up, and motions for the AI to open the door for him, which it does.

He finds the prisoner in the courtyard of her home. Again, it’s not a normal prison. It’s actually a pretty nice place to live at this point. She even has a pool, which she is using right now. Without any clothes on. She knew that he was coming, so it’s not like she’s been caught off guard. “Oh my,” she says in total false modesty. “My king, you’ve arrived. I’m afraid I’m totally unprepared.” She speaks with a hint of an accent. Vaguely transatlantic, Judy once deemed it. The prisoner climbs the steps out, holding her arm and hand over her privates, but not doing a very good job of it. At the moment, she has given herself the appearance of Judy. Sick bastard.

“Take off that face, Effigy,” he demands. When the Reconvergence happened, and the main sequence was copied into the Sixth Key, most time travelers weren’t around. They were warned that it would happen, and given ways of protecting themselves, often by simply skipping over the moment entirely. Effigy was a prisoner in a different place on Earth, and had been for many centuries prior to all this. The theory is that whoever put her in there died, or completely forgot about her, so now there are two of her, just like everyone else there.

“Is this not pleasing to you?” She sounds innocent and naïve, but it’s all an act, just to screw with him.

“Go back to normal.” This is a loaded command, because her real form is an intimidating white monster. She’s literally not human. They call her a Maramon.

“Do you really mean that?” she asks.

“Yes.” Intimidating is a strong word when it comes to Bariq’s constitution. She doesn’t scare him, and her true appearance doesn’t change that.

“Very well.” She transforms. “How can I help you today, Your Majesty?”

He’s not going to once more argue the point about him not being a king. It’s exhausting, and there is no way to win. She could deny the existence of light if it served her agenda. Logic and reality were irrelevant concepts, as was perception. “You know where my kids are.” It’s not a question.

“I do.”

“Are they safe?”

She smiles. “They’re safer than you are.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that your greatest fears are coming to fruition. They are realizing how powerful they are, and they’re learning to exercise their independence.”

“What. Does. That. Mean?” he reiterates.

She waits a moment to respond. “If I’m going to help you, I need something in return.” She always does. That’s why she has this swimming pool, and a breadmaker. And an actual parachute made out of gold, which they only agreed to give her because it’s too heavy to fly.

“What is it this time?”

She looks around with a feigned frown. “Here I am, piffy on a rock cake. I’m nice and  sweet, and everyone loves me...but I’m so small. The rest of the cake is bland, and boring. It deserves more of me. It deserves more piffy.”

“Honestly, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. What is a piffy?”

“Nobody knows.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh.

She mimics him. “General Bariq Medley, always so frustrated. If humans still had heart attacks, why you would have died centuries ago.”

“Get on with it, what do you actually want?”

“A mirror.”

“No,” he answers. He doesn’t know why exactly, but they have been told that she is not allowed to have mirrors. Sure, there is such a thing as a time mirror, which is a temporal object designed to view—or even access—other points in spacetime. But you can’t just turn any mirror into a time mirror. That’s mostly just what it looks like on the outside. There’s all sorts of technology and temporal magicks hidden in the guts. But in a world of time travelers, they can’t take any chances. She can presumably indeed give a regular mirror temporal properties.

“Oh, it’s just for my vanity. I have no one to talk to when you’re gone.” She exaggerates her frown, but a little too much. Her face is warped enough to throw her into the uncanny valley. Even white monsters don’t usually have this creepy of a face.

“So you’re going to talk to your own reflection?

“That’s my business.”

“Isn’t your reflection right there?” he gestures towards the water.

“I told you, I’m a piffy.”

“I still don’t know what that is.”

“It’s too big, I need a smaller mirror. I don’t care how it’s designed, just so that it can sit on a flat surface on its own, and is too small to fit through if it were a window.” That might sound like safer specifications than the most dangerous time mirror would have, some of which can be stepped through as portals, but no means of reaching across space and time is worth what she might do with even only an ounce of freedom beyond the confines of this one corner of this one celestial body.

“As I said...no.”

“Then you will never find your children.”

“You are not my only avenue.” He turns around to leave.

“No tracker can find them either,” she insists. “They are...beyond their sight.”

He looks back with a bit of a smirk. “A decent tracker can find anyone in the universe. If they’re beyond that, they’re in another universe. They’re in Fort Underhill.” He turns around again, and begins to walk away.

“Not...Fort Underhill,” she clarifies. After he turns to face her again. “Not Salmonverse either. Not even Ansutah.”

He narrows his eyes at Effigy. “A new universe,” he reasons. “That’s what they’re doing. They’re building one, just like Hogarth did. I knew it.”

“I never said that.” She’s either realizing that she has said too much, or this is all part of some dastardly plan, and her upset demeanor is yet another ploy.”

“Either way, I know who to talk to now. You’re not getting your mirror.” He turns away for the last time now, determined not to let her change his mind.

So he can’t see, but he can hear that she’s turned back into Judy. “Stop! No! I’m so lonely. Don’t go!” There’s a pause before he makes it back over to the wall. “Daddy!” She sounded like Clavia just there. He knows that it’s a trick. It’s easier to see that when you’re aware of the extent of her powers. Still, it’s hard to ignore, and he has to fight his instincts. It takes everything he has to open that door, and leave.

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Microstory 2396: Vacuus, April 28, 2182

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Dear Pascal,

It has been over two years since we have been able to contact Earth. Vacuus as a whole has been able to make contact for the last couple of weeks, but due to restrictions, the common man was unable to send any messages. Basically, it was a waste of time for us to try to send any signal out, so it was temporarily against the law, and that law had to be repealed, which took a little time. Once capabilities were finally restored for me and my own equipment, I immediately tried to send a letter to Condor. I actually had it all written up already. I wrote in a few months after the blackout started, and every few months, I would rework it to include more updated information. I was so excited, and so happy, but ultimately disappointed. Two weeks after my message, I received a bounceback. Condor’s server could not be reached. That is so weird, because even if he couldn’t check it himself, it should still be online somewhere. I tried again, and two weeks later (today) it bounced back again. I’m really hoping that nothing terrible happened, but I’m so afraid. Nothing happened to the Earth overall—that much I know—so please, is there anything you can tell me? How long has it been since you’ve spoken to him? Do you know where he could be? If he’s dead, then just be honest. If it’s time to grieve, then I need to know it, and I need to tell Velia... Oh, I don’t want to be so negative, but that’s the only answer that I can think of for why he wouldn’t be able to receive my message. I mean, I don’t know for sure that you terminate people’s comms credentials when they die, but that’s part of protocol here, so there’s no confusion. If you can think of a better explanation, but still don’t know the truth yourself, please tell me that instead. Basically, just tell me what you know, and we’ll sort it out later. I hope you are doing okay, and I’m going to be waiting for two whole weeks for the other shoe to drop. That’s assuming you receive me, and respond to me right away. What if something happened to you or your credentials too? Well, if that’s what happened, then I guess no one will ever read my frantic and desperate words, and start to question my sanity.

Impatiently waiting for your reply, and hoping for only good news, but prepared for the truth either way,

Corinthia

Microstory 2366: Earth, August 20, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

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

Loving this season of The Winfield Files,

Condor

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

Microstory 2359: Earth, July 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Thank you for reminding me about the whole study aspect of our separation. I did ask dad about this, and didn’t let him leave the room until he explained everything. At least that’s what I said when the conversation began; he never actually tried to escape. He doesn’t know what happened after you and your mother left. They deliberately withheld information from him. The way we’ve understood it thus far, it seemed like this twisted, nefarious conspiracy with a cabal of evildoers who don’t care about ethics. Dad painted it in a new light, even though I’m not sure he realized it. In reality, it kind of sounds more like an amateur job. They weren’t very well-organized, and they didn’t have much of a plan beyond separate twins, study behavior. Imagine that in a caveman voice, because the more he talked about his limited involvement, the dumber the researchers sounded. After the atmosphere started to become toxic, the only constant in my life was him. No one else was around for any meaningful length of time. There was no one studying me, up close, or from a distance. They couldn’t have. Society was breaking down, and had yet to rebuild itself in a new way. Whoever was assigned to keep tabs on me would have either lost me, or given up. Or, I suppose they could have died. Not everyone made it through that dark period in our history. Dad says he doesn’t have names, and I believe him on that part. I mean, you can look through your own databases on Vacuus, but I can’t find a single study that has anything to do with observing twins across two planets. I think you said it early on, we’re not identical, and we’re two different genders, so right there, the study was already bizarre. There are too many relevant variables to account for, so unless it’s part of a larger case study, you’re not going to gain any significant insights into how twins develop in terms of nature versus nurture. My guess is that they realized as much before too long, and eventually just gave up, leaving us to live our lives however we were going to. I don’t think we’ll ever really know who was responsible for this, or what they were thinking. Some information has been lost on my world, but I do have access to quite a bit of it. A small group of brave people during the toxic buildup dedicated their lives to preserving humanity’s knowledge. Some regions have information that others don’t, but only due to oversights and lapses, not a concerted effort to hide the truth from us. At least not when it comes to this stuff. The people who poisoned the air in the first place? Sure, they hid as much as they could from the people they were hurting, and still do, but they really would not care what happened to the two of us specifically. On the lighter side, I’m glad that you’ve worked things out with this Bray fellow. Let me know if he gives you any more trouble, though, and I’ll beat him up for you.

Enjoying my private life,

Condor

Microstory 2324: Vacuus, November 2, 2178

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Dear Condor,

I know that I don’t know you very well, but please don’t try to travel out of your dome. I hope I’m not stepping over the line by asking this of you. It sounds like it’s safe enough in there, and that it’s super dangerous on most of the world. As far as I’m concerned, the answers can wait. I would probably be okay if we never knew what happened between our parents, or why they thought it would be a good idea to separate us at birth. We can’t go back in time to undo it. All we can do now is try to move forward, and become siblings from here on out. That being said, please do keep me updated on his situation. It sounds like his work comes with a lot of risks, not only from traveling through toxic zones, but from dealing with all sorts of different people who are living in different environments, and have different agendas, which may be difficult to parse. As far as what to call him goes, I’ve not even noticed, but I think I’ve used both your and our as well. You can say whatever makes you comfortable. We’re not a hundred percent sure that he’s even our birth father, are we? He may only be the one who raised you, but didn’t make you, in which case, I would hardly call him my dad at all. I think we have to get more information before we can make any judgments on that. I mean, he clearly knows something, or he would have been, like, what the hell are you talking about? when you first asked him about all this stuff. So yeah, I think it probably makes more sense if we think of him as your dad for now. I think that we can safely assume that the woman who raised me is mother to both of us in the biological sense. She has to be my mother, or some protocols here would be different. The infirmary has to have an accurate understanding of my medical history in order to treat me properly, and there would be questions about inheritance and access control. I would know if she had I weren’t related, so she must be related to you too. Unless you’re not related to either of us. You could be catfishing me, for all I know! I’m just joking. I don’t want to get into this whole epistemological argument over what we know, and what we can’t possibly know, because the answer to the second question is literally a profound nothing. What a great way to end a letter.

Happy November,

Corinthia

Microstory 2188: Trust in Other People

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Thank you for being patient with me yesterday. How easy it is for us to forget the lessons of our youth. I’ve been trying to take on too much work for one person, and it’s had a negative impact on my well-being so I need to learn to lean on others. Or rather, I need to relearn it, because I already figured it out during college. I was taking a class in the linguistics department called Semantics, but I wasn’t working very hard at it. I didn’t go to class unless a classmate was presenting—because I wanted to show them respect—or if there was a test. I was at a high risk of failing when I discovered that some of my classmates were regularly meeting for a study group. I’ve joked that the TV series Community was probably based on them. Lol, you don’t know what I’m talking about, but that would be really funny if it were true. I wouldn’t know, because I never attended the meetings. I wasn’t invited. They did let me use the study guide that they had curated for the open note exam at the end of the semester. I aced that test, and passed the class with a C. I didn’t learn much about semantics, but I did learn everything I needed to know about humanity. I learned to trust in other people’s expertise, and their efforts. People are basically good, and they’re just trying to do the right thing, so don’t assume the worst in them, or try to take advantage. Share knowledge, and help when you can. You never know when a friend will come in handy. I won’t ever forget that again.

Microstory 2178: Taboo For People to Share

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I’ve been working on the job descriptions for my team today, so we can find the right people to apply for them. Human resources will handle the actual search for me, and once a candidate fits their criteria, they’ll pass them on to my desk so I can see if they fit my criteria. I honestly don’t know how it’s going to go, or how many applications I’ll get. When I’ve applied to jobs, it’s been a really frustrating experience. They make you fill out the same information in multiple places, they ask dumb questions that have nothing to do with the position, and worst of all, they don’t get back to you. I actually spoke with someone in HR, and they assured me that they have an auto-rejection subroutine in their system. Everyone who isn’t going to get the job will receive an automatic reply through email about it. It’s the absolute least you can do, right? It’s so easy. I did get a quick update from my alternate self on the other Earth, and right now, he has a job where he processes hundreds of emails per day. So even if a company receives thousands of applications, it should not be that hard to sort them, and shoot off a quick canned response. That’s assuming you don’t make it easy on yourself by sending a single email per day, and blind carbon copy everyone who needs it. And that’s assuming you don’t use more sophisticated methods, like email client scripts, or in our case, a candidate management system with robust automated features. Again, it’s really not that hard. Sorry, it’s just been really annoying in the past, so now that I’m on this side of it, I want to make sure I don’t treat people the way that I’ve been treated. I’ll promise you this too, if your application goes far enough in the process that I’m seeing it, and I choose to not offer you the job, I will take the time to write up a tailored email to you. It won’t be poetry, but it will be sincere, and most importantly, it will exist!

I received some other news today, in the form of my official salary in this new position. My superiors made whispers with the number, but nothing was concrete until now. I know that I’m not supposed to tell you what it is, but truthfully, I think that’s bullshit. That’s not the way it should be done, it’s just the way that it is. No matter what world you’re in, if your society uses a capitalistic system, it’s taboo for people to share their wage information. But that convention is not to protect the people. It’s to protect the corporations. So I’m just gonna come out and say it. I’m now making roughly $108,000 per year. That’s right, I’m at six figures. There’s never been a job quite like this in the country, but they found some close ones. Consultants of this nature usually make just under 100K, but since I’ll be directly responsible for a dozen and a half people, that bumps me up pretty high. I think it’s important for you to know this, because you’re paying for it. My salary comes out of your tax dollars, and I think that it’s only fair that we be transparent about what we’re doing with that money. Don’t worry, I spoke with the legal department to make sure that I’m not violating any sort of non-disclosure agreement. I firmly believe that we need to all be more honest about these things. It empowers workers to advocate for themselves, and to make sure that everyone is earning fair pay for their hard work. Most people aren’t in the industry that I am, but I guess I’m hoping this encourages others to be more open, to help not only themselves, but those who are in less fortunate positions. I hope it doesn’t backfire on me, and just make you angry to see that number, but I don’t think it will. I have faith in you.

Extremus: Year 61

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The Attic Forest is a beautiful place. It is, in fact, the most beautiful place on the ship, though that’s not saying much, except when remembering the first time you were in the engine room. It’s not just Tinaya, Lilian, and Cainan anymore. A whole team works shifts, gardening, maintaining the atmosphere, giving tours, and performing other necessary duties. That’s not even counting the events that are held here. It’s a hot venue that people use for concerts, poetry readings, and the like. The section is frequented by a great deal of people every day. It’s hard to tell how much the Extremusians love to visit, but anecdotal evidence suggests an undeniable success.

Last year, Tinaya was able to finish the coding for the giant sequoia in the basement. It’s currently around a half meter tall, and the growth rate will increase year over year. Still, very few people know about it; only the essential members of government and crew. Most of these positions won’t even maintain the secret to future administrations. When they leave their positions, they won’t pass the information on to their successors. There is presently no strategy for announcing it to the public. The specimen is still so fragile, and that’s what they’re most worried about. It’s better to let it grow big and strong before they start letting people see it. One day, though. One day.

Today, Tinaya is in another meeting. She attends these from time to time when someone comes up with a new idea of what to do to make Attic Forest better, or at least what they believe could accomplish this. Most of them are stupid or bad, but others are not so terrible. They would just be really difficult. Extremus did not simply wave goodbye to Gatewood, and fly off into the space. The ship contains data upon data upon data. Earthan history, Ansutahan history, philosophical papers, cooking recipes, all kinds of entertainment; basically the scope of Earthan and vonearthan knowledge. While they do not maintain constant communication with anyone back in the stellar neighborhood, Team Keshida sends periodical updates with new information. It’s just about possible to know everything that everyone in the galaxy knows. Part of this data includes genomic databases for every known species on every planet.

If you wanted to know what the DNA double helix for a penguin looked like, you would be able to look that up. For the most part, that’s all you would be able to do. The people who came up with the idea of this mission didn’t accumulate most of this information for any specific purpose. It just didn’t make any sense not to have it, and it’s not like virtual storage space is a precious commodity. Now the bioengineering scholars have other ideas. They’ve become inspired by the Attic Forest project. At the moment, plants are the only things that have been grown from their genomes, but they could take it further. They’re interested in trying to develop animals now, starting with fish. It took a long time to get this project off the ground, so to speak. This next stage—if it ever happens—will surely take even longer. The ethical questions are so much more plentiful for this proposal, and it’s not something that Tinaya or Lilian can help with. Even so, they have to be at all the meetings, because they’re in charge of the biome. Today is different. This meeting isn’t with the bioengineers.

The Resource Allocation Team: RATs, as they’re called by people who don’t like them. And most people don’t like them. They’re a weird little bunch. They’re responsible for handing out things like watches and tablets, and teleportation devices—which are against the law for now. If you want a new set of clothes, you go to them. If you want a new couch for your room, they have to approve it. Everyone has a horror story about going to Allocation for something they need. Capitalism was mostly vanquished centuries ago, and replaced with something better, but elements of it are kept alive on the ship, and it’s all thanks to the RATs. It’s not really their fault. There’s limited space here, and therefore limited resources. Even the time traveling excursion ships can only do so much for them. There is no trade with any other culture, and there are no takebacks. So they have to be careful with what they give, and who they give it to. They pay close attention to the contribution points market, which is the best approximation of a currency here, and that can lead them to making a lot of decisions that people don’t like, even if those decisions are reasonable, or at least unavoidable. People’s perceptions of them aren’t all rational, but human beings are not rational. The question is, what the hell do they want with the Forest Guides?

“We would like to make more paper.” Oh, yeah. They’re the ones who used some of the trees they found on the verdant planet they came across a ways back for paper.

Lilian stares at them dumbfounded. “Really?” More paper? Why has the novelty of this not worn off yet. A computer will let you write and overwrite the same space virtually countless times. What’s the point of not being able to do that? And anyway, it goes against the whole purpose of this project. “You wanna kill my trees?”

“Not all of them,” RAT Two tried to clarify for his partner. “One tree can make a lot of paper.”

“And what are we doing with all this paper?” Lilian presses.

“We’re...writing books...and sharing leaflets. I mean we’re not doing it. We’re just providing the materials that are needed.”

Lilian sighs. “We survived on this tin can for sixty years without a single sheet of paper. Before that, we were in the Gatewood Collective for forty years, also without paper. It wasn’t even that common on Ansutah. There is a reason that Earth was able to move away from it as it advanced technologically. Why are you so desperate for it now?”

RAT one and RAT Two exchange a look. RAT One clears his throat. “Honestly, Madam Diamond, we have no clue. Like he was saying, we’re not doing anything. It’s the people who want paper, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Let’s stop beating around the bush,” I jump in. “Pun intended. You have a public image issue. You’ve had it since departure day. Well, you probably lasted a few days before the first generation started realizing all the things they could never have, because they were stuck on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere. But ever since then, you’ve been fighting to look like the good guys. And the truth is, you’re okay. Your job is important.” I tap on my chest. “And individually, most people know that. “Our world would be chaos if everyone could just go take whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it. We’d run out of paper in half a second. You found something that works. As you said, it’s stupid, but it’s fun, so you want to capitalize on that success. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to. That is not what the forest is for.” I stammer a little. “That sentence doesn’t really even do it justice. It’s for...very much not that. That is to say, we didn’t just build it for something other than making paper. We did it to show the value of life in its (albeit relatively) natural state. Earth long ago had a huge problem with the amount of wood it was using. Everyone knew it, no one knew what to do about it. Eventually, however, they figured it out, and we have reaped the benefits of that struggle without actually going through it ourselves.

“On my grave will I let you send us backwards! I don’t care what people think of you, we’re not making any more goddamn paper! We’re not making any handcrafted chairs. We’re not not making any fucking bonfires. We’re not doing any of that. The Forest stays as it is, and we won’t tolerate its destruction, or even just talk of destruction. If you breathe one word of this to anyone else, and make anyone believe that there is a remote possibility of this happening, I will float you myself. I’ve been in hock, it’s not that bad. I will gladly die in a cell to stop you from peeling one piece of bark from one tree. Is there any confusion about what I’ve just said?”

The RATs exchange another, very uncomfortable look. I turn my head to share one with Lilian, worried about her being disappointed in me, but she’s not. She actually looks proud. The allocators are scared out of their minds. They are not going to call her bluff on the whole homicide thing that she threatened them with. “In that case, would you consider...”

I tilt my head, prepared to go to war, showing them that I still mean business. What could they possibly ask after my speech?

He takes a breath, so he can keep going. “...working for us.”

What? “What?”

“You hit the nail on the head.” RAT Two avoids looking Tinaya in the eye. “We have an image problem. The Parks Department had one too, didn’t it? It didn’t have any image to speak of. No one thought about it. No one cared about it.” Now he makes eye contact with her. “You changed that. You joined the team, and suddenly it’s a real thing. You built all of this.” He spread his arms to indicate the forest. They’re sitting in something they call The Fishbowl. It’s a glass structure somewhat close to the center of the Forest, where meetings like this can be held. Of course, there’s no weather in here, but it’s nice to have for privacy’s sake. It’s completely soundproof.

“You want me to fix the RA—” She stops herself; they don’t call themselves that. “...the Resource Allocation Team?”

“It would really help us out,” RAT One said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

I look over at Lilian again, who frowns at me, but very softly. She looks to the men. “Would you please give us the room? You too.” There is a fifth person in the room. He is a representative from the government. Someone like him always sits in on these meetings in order to advocate for the best interests of the Office of First Chair. He bows slightly to her, but deeper to Tinaya, and then leaves quietly with the other two.

“Uhh...I don’t know why they would ask that,” Tinaya says to Lilain. “It’s such a dumb question, right?” She laughs. “Right?”

“It’s really not,” Lilian counters. “They’re one hundred percent accurate about their assessment of you. You are...an inspiration. I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. You are like the Goddess of Inspiration. You make things happen, and you make them better, and I would be selfish to keep you.”

“What are you saying, Lilian? Are you firing me?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to realize your potential, then yeah.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“I don’t really mean that. If you want to stay, I’m not going to force you out, but I think you should go on your daily walk, and really think about whether you belong here still. You will always have a home with me, but the rest of the ship needs you, and I can’t believe it took those guys to make me realize it. Just...look into your heart, and think about your future. Even if you would rather stay, is that really what’s best?”

Tinaya isn’t sure. Is it?

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Extremus: Year 60

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Today is the grand opening. Hundreds of workers contributed to the construction of the Attic Forest, whether it was planting a single seed, or installing the walls on what was once the exterior of the ship. They actually made Extremus bigger, adding an entire new layer on the top. Well, it wasn’t entirely new. There was already and eleventh deck, but it hardly extended more than a few meters. Now the rest of the kilometer has been filled in for this project. Right now, it’s all dirt and paths, with a few little ponds here and there, many of which are connected to each other via a series of streams, waterfalls, and pumps. There are spots to picnic, and a smallish venue for entertainment. The paths will be predominantly lined with beautiful plants that were genetically engineered from the DNA data stored in the database. Most of the plants were taken from Earth, but a few came from Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida’s records.

Right now, the only stuff that’s full grown is the bamboo, which is exclusively used to signify entrances, exits, facilities, and emergency terminals. At the moment, the rest of the trees and plants are ready to go. Temporal engineer Greenley Atkinson and her team have created a time bubble that will speed up the growth of all of this life. They just have to find out who is going to push the button. It’s up to Tinaya to pick the name out of the proverbial hat, but the ceremony is being delayed, because there is an issue in the basement. “What is it? People are waiting.”

“It’s Operation Wellington, sir.” After Tinaya was promoted to Senior Forest Guide, it only seemed right to hire a Junior Forest Guide. Cainan Suárez switched his primary studies to botany soon after Project Attic Forest was announced. He is still studying in college, but he helps out in his free time. He missed a skills evaluation this morning to work on this, but his advisor is allowing him to make it up next week. Cainan is distantly related to Halan Yenant’s first Lieutenant, Rita Suárez.

“Obviously that’s why we’re down here. What’s the issue?”

“It’s this.” Cainan steps over to the wall screen, and brings up the genetic information for the Journey Tree. “Okay, here is the DNA for a giant sequoia. This is supposed to be the genetically modified DNA for the giant sequoia we’re planting, because it needs to be tailored for an indoor environment.”

This is how Tinaya knows that the mind sharing machine that messed up her friends’ brains gave her knowledge that came from at least one person besides the other three in the machine. None of them possessed this much of an understanding of genetics. “It’s too big.”

“Yeah. They modified it too much. The root system is going to dig too deep, and the canopy is going to spread too wide.”

In the center of the ship, there is an atrium. It’s this giant metal tube that goes all the way from the engineering section, up to the tenth level. Tinaya isn’t sure why the ship designers included it. It’s big, but it’s not beautiful. There’s nowhere to sit, and no elevators or stairs. There’s no plant life either. It just sits there. If you happen to be on the bottom deck, you can walk through it, but if you’re on any other level, it just forces you to go around. Because it’s thirty meters in diameter, and it serves no real purpose...until now. Now it’s going to become the growing tube for the ship’s largest tree. It will grow to be so big that they can’t even plant it in the Attic Forest, or it will crash into the ceiling. Actually, all of the trees would crash into the ceiling, if given a chance. Once that big red button is pressed, the tallest of the trees are going to grow up to thirty meters, which won’t work, because the ceiling only goes up six meters, which is two meters higher than most decks. That’s why Atkinson also designed a pocket dimension for them all to grow up into. But even that won’t be enough for the ultimate height of the Journey Tree. Hopefully, by the time it gets to be too big, though, they will be able to transplant it to the Extremus planet. That’s one reason why it’s not going to be part of the temporal bubble. It represents the journey that they’re all making together, so it will grow at the same rate as everyone else. That’s the idea, anyway.

“How did they make this mistake?” Tinaya questions. “They can see, it’s got a radius of fifteen minutes.” She points to the atrium, and then down to the floor “And they know that below this level is frickin’ outer space. It can’t be that big.”

“I know, I wish I had caught it, but I’m still learning this stuff.”

“No,” Tinaya says with a shake of her head. “That’s not your job. I should have caught it. I know how to decipher this stuff.”

“The way I see it,” Cainan goes on, “we have two options. Either we delay the planting of the Journey Tree so this problem can be fixed, or we plant it anyway, and hope that the walls of the atrium regulate the tree’s growth.”

She shakes her head again. “We can’t let it do that. First, I would say that the roots are the bigger problem. They’ll spring a leak, if allowed to go as deep as this code commands it to. But also, the sequoia is a symbol. It’s a symbol of unimaginable growth. It’s a metaphor for Extremus itself. We can’t let the walls dictate how big it gets, because the who reason we’re on this mission is to go against the rules, and find a new home in the outskirts of the galaxy.”

“Yeah, I was kind of thinking the same thing too.”

She sighs. “I can fix it. I can rewrite the code, faster than even the real geneticists can. I just...I don’t have time today. I don’t want to delay the planting. The reason we’re doing these two things at the same time is to lean into the symbolism I was just talking about. I mean, ideally, we would have planted it on day one, but barring that, any day but the day that the rest of the Attic Forest goes online will be arbitrary and meaningless. It has to be today, and I have to be in two places at once.” A child is going to be selected to engage the temporal bubble that will grow the forest before their very eyes. Every kid who wants the honor has put their name into the lottery, which Tinaya is scheduled to select right around...exactly right now.

“What if...no...” Cainan doubts himself.

“No idea is a bad idea. Go ahead and say it.”

“If we’re most worried about the roots, then let’s not plant it on the bottom level. Let’s toss in some more dirt, and plant it higher.”

“I dunno,” Tinaya says nervously. “Look at this here. They also programmed it to be bigger than a normal giant sequoia. In the next 156 years, this thing is going to grow, and at the moment, it will be a tight fit. The canopy could reach the top of the pocket dimension. In order to get this project passed, Tinaya and Lilian had to explain how they were going to fit the really tall trees in the forest. Most decks are four meters high. Some of them are double heighted which means the ceiling of one deck has been excluded, and is just using the ceiling for the deck above it. And some parts of some decks are only two and a half meters high, leaving the rest for crawl space. But all added up, including the thick hull, Extremus is only about fifty meters high. The government didn’t want to build a forty meter high deck on top of that just for the forest, so to make it work, the pocket dimension will make it bigger on the inside. There are risks to this. If there is ever a power failure on the ship, they’re going to prioritize things like life support and artificial gravity over superfluous pocket dimensions. Perhaps one day, the ceiling will be raised, but that’s a decision for a future administration. For now, if everything remains as is, and that giant sequoia gets too big, it’s unclear what will happen.

“What do we do? Do we lie? We could plant this tomorrow, and just tell everyone we did it today. That’s why it’s a secret. I mean, of course, this isn’t why, but we may as well take advantage of that.”

“No, that won’t work either,” Tinaya contends. “I’m going to repair the DNA, and the file will reflect the save date before we 3D print the seed. There will be a record of the delay in planting, or at least it could be called into question, and that would just be embarrassing.”

“I’m all out of ideas then.”

“You could do it.”

“Me?” he questions. “I can’t write code like that. Like I said, I’m just learning.”

“But you can pull a name out of a hat,” Tinaya reasons.

“You want me to do the ceremony. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I’m just a Junior Guide. I can’t do that either.”

“Cainan, that’s a made up job. These are all made up. We’re making up the rules as we go along. There’s no reason you can’t do it. Just go up there and pick a name. When the kid shows up, shake their hand, crack a few jokes—”

“Crack a few jokes? What jokes? I only know dirty jokes, and I don’t think you want me to say them on broadcast.”

“You’ll know what to do; I trust you. Lilian will be right there next to you. Meanwhile, I’ll be down here, recoding this seed.”

“You don’t have that much time. If the lottery draw starts right now, the kid will push the button pretty quickly.”

“No, I won’t be planting the seed at the same time, but it will be before midnight.”

He hesitates. This isn’t his thing. People aren’t his thing; he’s always said that. He’s much better with plants. He talks to them, and treats their reactions to his care as responses. But she really does have faith in him, and he trusts her just as much. “Okay. I’ll need to change first, though, and my cabin is on the other side of the ship.”

“You don’t have that kind of time.” She takes off her ring, and hands it to him. “We’re obviously not allowed to teleport, but I have my ways. Just rub the gem, and concentrate on your destination. Make sure to make jumps to unoccupied spaces, so no one sees you. And obviously don’t tell anyone about it. I’m not supposed to have that.”

“You are in two places at once sometimes. I’ve always thought that.”

“Go, Cainan. Good luck.”

“Good luck to you too.” He puts the magic ring on, and disappears. Hopefully he didn’t accidentally land on the bridge, or something.”

Tinaya takes a deep breath, and switches the broadcast on so she can keep one eye on the show. Her other eye will be focused on her work. She’s had this genetic engineering knowledge for years now, but she’s not used it, because the right situation has not yet come up. Well, it’s here now, so hopefully whoever’s mind she unwillingly copied them from is as smart as her initial impression makes them seem. Two centuries from now, children may be able to sit under this tree to read or have a chat, but that can’t happen unless she figures out how to translate it from code to seed.

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