Microstory 2720: They’re Not Afraid Anymore

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Chief Asset Manager Pribadium Delgado is sitting across the table from the seemingly self-appointed leader of the so-called Doma Tertians. His name is Sora Shimizu, and he has already proven difficult for her. He doesn’t like what she’s wearing, claiming that the shine offends his eyes. She does tend to favor the sleek and glossy aesthetic, and this is the sort of thing she normally wears, but she can be flexible. She taps on her wrist interface to shift her outfit to a matte purple.

Sora looks down at the purple scarf around his ankle. “That won’t win you points with me. I wear this in honor of a loved one. It was her favorite color, not mine.”

Pribadium has her limits. Without saying a word, she taps on her interface again, reverting back to her usual shiny suit as she folders her arms. Now she’s in his head.

Sora grits his teeth. “Whatever you’ve come to say, you should know that I know my rights. I know that we are legally allowed to settle on any celestial body massive enough to coalesce into a meaningfully spherical shape. No party may stake singular claim to an entire legally categorized terrestrial planet at the expense of other settlers—”

“I know the law,” Pribadium argues. “I helped write the most recent amendments.”

“Did you know that these laws apply to all neighborhood planets, and that the potential for sole ownership only begins outside of the bounds of a fifty light year radius from Earth?” Sora presses.

“Of course I know that,” Pribadium reiterates. “I wrote them! You obviously didn’t read or comprehend them. Those laws only apply to colony worlds. The Gatewood Collective was not categorized as a colony world. It was a military outpost for centuries before being released to a special asset distributor, which I run. The planet that we are on right now was deemed excessively inhospitable, and unfit for colonization. Squatter’s rights do not apply, because no one is allowed to settle on it. We are not settling on it either. It has been scheduled for obliteration. The process has already begun, and cannot be undone. If you stay, you will die when the pulse arrives.”

“We do not accept that decision,” Sora contends. “We might have landed after you fired your big gun, but we are here now. We know that there are ways for you to deflect the beam. You either do that, or count yourself responsible for the permanent deaths of hundreds of colonists who are also refugees. You will lose your job.”

“First of all, it’s a job, not a calling. If I lose it, then fine. In a few thousand years, no one will remember this. Secondly, we won’t come out looking bad. You were informed of the facts. You chose to stay. Everyone will know that. I’ll be fine. Gatewood will be fine. Thirdly, we can’t deflect it. It’s moving at the speed of light.”

Sora folds his arms now. “I know you have your ways. You can’t fool me.”

Oh, he’s just crazy. She knows that she shouldn’t use that word, which is why she doesn’t say it out loud. He’s clearly not mentally well, though. He might have been born that way, or the horror he faced on Proxima Doma changed him. This is gonna be tough either way. Then again, she does have the ability to manipulate time. There’s no way he knows that, right? I mean, if he were a time traveler, he would just speak with her honestly about it. He has to be bluffing, and her status is a complete coincidence. Right?

Sora chuckles softly. “Take all the time you need. We survived the destruction of our planet. It turned to soup underneath my feet. We are not afraid anymore. Are you?”

Microstory 2717: Not Living Safely

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Isavet’s trial is coming along swimmingly. Her parents try to fight for her, but the state adherent, Jericho Hagen is relentless. He argues that Isavet grew up in a simulated environment, where she was raised to believe that death was a matter of fact, and not a temporary setback. In fact, as she was born in there, she was never one of these transhumanists they talk about. Since she never consented to having her mind made immortal, she will die one day too. Since Isavet thought that destroying Mayumi and Talus the Elder’s bodies would result in permanent death, they categorize the crime as attempted murder. It’s all about intent; not outcome. The only question now is what to do with her, and this is where the delicate dance comes to a satisfying conclusion.

Isavet spent years formulating this plan. She knew what she wanted; she just didn’t always know how to achieve it. The way she has been acting is carefully designed to set her on the right path. They want her to be sad and remorseful, but she can’t do that. When she was with Caleb, she would periodically ask him questions about the justice system. She knows what happens if she asks to repent. They won’t send her where she needs to go. So she leans into the horror. She talks about how much she enjoyed it, and she warns the court that, if released, she will find a way to kill her victims permanently. She pretends that she didn’t know they would come back.

The two of them look terrified of her, even though they’re safe in their magical god bodies. It wasn’t entirely necessary for them to feel that way, but it’s a nice bonus. She does blame them at least partially for everything that happened to her family. According to Caleb’s teachings, there are two major lifestyles that sprung out of the medical advancements that created virtual immortality. Some people embrace it. Like him, they go on adventures just for the thrill of it. They want it to hurt. They want it to be scary. They want to feel alive. Isavet has respect for such people. They’re more like her, even though death is just as impermanent as it is for the second group. Others, like Mayumi and Talus the Elder, try to live safely. They focus on the abundance of life-giving resources, which the true Norsemen didn’t have. They don’t let themselves die, or even be scared. Their goal is continuity. Isavet doesn’t disrespect these people completely. She knows it’s a valid choice. But these two took it too far, and innocent people got hurt.

Caleb is actually here, having taken a sabbatical from his Viking life to support Isavet, and even argue on her behalf. Everyone argued on her behalf. Even Mayumi and Talus the Elder seemed sympathetic. But Caleb’s testimony was interesting, because he spoke more about her strength and spirit than about her kind heart. Her family said that he was hurting her case, but what they didn’t know is that he helped her more than anyone.

“Thank you, Caleb,” she tells him. “You are a good friend, and a great leader.” She steps over to face Vith. “Thank you, big brother. You are a strong fighter. But you’re more independent than you would like to admit. Stay in touch with the family, but you should find your own way. Perhaps leave this planet.” She steps over. “Take care of yourself kid.” She rubs Leif’s hair, mussing it up. “Don’t let anyone tell you who you are. Advocate for yourself and what you want to do with your life.” She steps over and sighs at her crying mother. “Mother. I’m sorry you lost two of your children. One day, you will have your revenge. I promise.”

“I don’t want revenge,” Gia argues.

“You will have it anyway.” Isavet steps over. “Thank you for everything you taught me, Father.”

Ronan opens his mouth, but can’t seem to bring himself to speak. That’s okay. He has already said everything he must. He will get his revenge on Isavet too, whether he wants it or not. She broke up the family just as much as Talus the Younger did, and she will pay for that. When she’s done.

Isavet turns around and walks back to the big chair in the center of the room. She stands in front of it calmly, and faces the adjudicator, flanked by the two arbitration panels. She was tried as an adult, so she got the full complement, unlike her brother before. She waits patiently for the adjudicator to go through the whole legal spiel.

Finally, it’s time for the sentencing. “For two counts of attempted murder, Isavet Truett, you are hereby sentenced to indefinite virtual quarantine, to be carried out on the Core World of Varkas Reflex.”

Isavet smiles. Her plan worked.

Microstory 2713: The Laws That Govern

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Isavet’s training doesn’t ever have to be over, but it can be today. She has been with this warband for the last six months, and has learned a lot. She has turned out to be wrong about Caleb. He knows his way around a sword and a spear. All the guys do. They might be mercenaries, but they are honorable men. Her plan to prove herself on day one worked. They accepted her, and treated her like one of their own just about immediately. Of course, she had to continue to be worthy of their regard, but she never felt like her bust had anything to do with it.

The men have not been too forward with her either. It was a few months before she realized that it’s because Caleb, as their leader, essentially has inherent claim to her as his woman. One thing she understands about the world that lies beyond is that there is no such thing as owning another person, in any sense. So he has not tried to exercise any control over her, except in his capacity as her leader. He has not technically relinquished this claim, however, hopefully so no one else tries to take it, and not because he is planning something for the future.

Isavet stands at a crossroads now. Two choices lie before her. Will she begin to go on campaigns with the men, or is she satisfied with her training? If she stays with them for two more years, they will help her get revenge. If she cuts out now, she will have to do it on her own, but now that she has the skills, that might be okay. That doesn’t mean she’s confident yet. She is still thinking.

“Do you want to know what I think,” Caleb asks, “or should I just shut up?”

“I am open to your opinion,” Isavet begins, “as long as it is a good one.”

Caleb sighs. “You were born to this world, and in this world, death is permanent. That is a gray area for Castlebourne. Certain domes are off-limits to people like you, because of how dangerous they are. Being born in here is not something that the laws accounted for, but if you will indulge me, I would like to show you this.” He removes something from his bag. It looks like paper, but it’s glowing.

Isavet recognizes it. That is the magical technology which her mother showed her when they were trying to explain that this was all only a simulation. “I don’t want to mess with that. I will see plenty when I’m ready to leave, which will be on my terms.”

“I respect that, so I’ll just tell you. The law was changed because of Talus. I don’t think they are going to force you to leave, but someone may show up here to strongly encourage it. You would be well within your rights to return if you opt for virtual imm—”

“Don’t say that word,” Isavet warns. “That means something to my people. It is not something that you can simply request from one of your friends, or however it is you do it. I like myself the way I am. I’m not changing. When I go out there and fight the men who burned down my home, I will do it knowing that it could be the last thing I do on Earth. I’m okay with that, and you’re going to have to be okay with it too.”

“But that’s just it,” Caleb says. “You’re not on Earth.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter. I have made my choice. Your king can send as many people as he wants, I’m not leaving my world until the job is done,” Isavet explains.

“Okay. So what are you going to do? I won’t make it easy on you, and except you from our traditions. Will you stay and fight for our causes, or will you go off alone?”

“I believe that you have shown me the light,” Isavet says. “Now that I know others may be after me, all I can do is stay alone. Goodbye, Caleb. Thank you for teaching me.”

Microstory 2705: Going Home

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The majority of the reasons that people in history had to commit crimes, or otherwise do harm, are now obsolete. The only truly valuable currency in the 26th century is energy. It’s not technically impossible to steal. It’s just very hard. It’s much easier, actually, to earn it by laying claim on one of the quadrillions of sufficiently sized small celestial objects in the galaxy, or one of the hundreds of billions of stars. There are other motivations, however, particularly ones sourced from the way a person’s brain happens to be wired. Some people are simply aberrant, and training them to improve is difficult. You can’t just reprogram an independent entity. Maintaining someone’s right to self-determination is a fundamental tenet of existence. There are many classifications of intelligence, but once you cross that threshold of self-consciousness, it is profoundly unethical for someone to take it from you. But coupled with the ease of immortality, how do you deal with someone who breaks the mould in harmful ways? Virtual reality.

Specifically, virtual quarantine. It’s essentially just a private server where you can do whatever you want, even if it would be considered awful in base reality, but you can’t leave. You’re not causing any real harm, because you’re technically alone. The only other people around you are NPCs. They don’t think. They don’t feel. They’re just ones and zeroes, ordered in such a pattern that makes them behave incredibly life-like. You can hurt them if you want, because you’re not actually hurting anyone. Or you can grow and learn. It’s up to you. It’s your world, you’re stuck in it. The question is, is even this ethical? By defaulting to immortality, you’re still stripping them of choice. The reasoning is that they can always choose to end themselves later, whereas if they first choose to die, they can’t change their minds. But not everyone agrees, which is why the debate rages on, even after centuries of having consciousness transfer technology.

Since there’s no clear answer to that, it’s one of the few major laws that are handled on a regional basis. Some say an eternity like this isn’t punishment, and some say it’s cruel and unusual. It really depends on whether he’s monitored or not. And if your pocket of civilization has opted against it, any overarching governmental body can’t override it, as long as your alternative punishment isn’t overtly unethical too. Many of the colonies, even those in the Core, have banned it. Earth employs it, as does one particular planet where it’s not only available for the locals, but also welcomes charters from others. Varkas Reflex was trying to become Castlebourne before Castlebourne existed. They were trying to build a massive theme park. But they weren’t ambitious enough and failed, so they pivoted to something smaller in design, but grander in scope. They perfected virtual simulations. That is where Talus is going, but there’s a snag.

Again, when dealing with an immortal population, people can swap bodies nearly as easily as clothing. It’s the consciousness that holds value. The substrate is only a sleeve. Which means the court is within their rights to destroy any and all of these substrates. They can always simply make another if something were to change in the future. Talus is too young. He has not had time to digitize his mind himself. He grew up in an ancestor simulation that prevented him from even knowing that was a possibility. He only has one substrate. He only ever had one. It’s therefore both unethical and illegal to destroy it, even if his mind is preserved in the virtual construct. So when he goes there, he gets to take his body with him, even if he’s not allowed to use it. But that’s also a security risk. Fortunately, that’s not Ronan’s problem anymore. He’s going home.

Microstory 2704: What Truly Matters

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Ronan is frustrated. After the initial run-in with Mayumi, he goes back to his temporary housing, and tries to get some sleep. He wakes up realizing that none of it matters. It doesn’t matter that Mayumi let her avatar die on purpose. It doesn’t matter that she cheated on him, or that she’s been living with the man Ronan thought he was raising as a child. The only concern is young Talus. While Mayumi is executing her testimony, he begins divorce proceedings. These days, it’s easier in some ways, but harder in others. When people live as long as they do, they have time to accumulate a lot of possessions. Someone could potentially own an entire colony planet. Redistributing that after a legal separation is complex, but they don’t have to worry about liquid wealth.

Ronan has his own energy credits, and Mayumi has hers. Credits can be given as a gift—governments don’t care how they’re distributed after they’re earned; it’s not like they can be stolen—but the two of them never had any reason to do this. By design, they don’t own much overall, and Ronan doesn’t care about what they do own. They have a small storage unit back on Bungula, where they lived before coming here, but as far as he’s concerned, she can have it all. So that’s what he puts on the forms. There is no point in commissioning a lawyer for either side. He hopes Mayumi feels the same way. But he won’t let her stay married to someone she doesn’t love. He’s quickly falling out of love with her too, after all this shit. He has Gia now.

It feels like these proceedings are taking forever, even though he knows it’s not true. As Earth became a post-scarcity society, there was a profound dropoff in crime. Why steal someone’s TV when you can get a free TV of your own, built by automators, which were built by other automators, all powered by the sun? A lot of the justice system is automated as well, though there is still a naturally-created component. You don’t have to be human to be an adjudicator, but you can’t have been programmed. You have to have either been born, or otherwise created as a blank slate. Then you have to develop in realtime. That is a key distinction which may never be changed. Even so, the process is a lot faster than it used to be. Still, he has mixed feelings about the current state of affairs. He just wants this to be over. He wants to return to his family in Danmörk, and put this all behind him. He is only stuck with Talus because Mayumi abandoned them both first. So now he can’t abandon Talus too, or he’ll look like a massive jerk.

Mayumi showed up because she is technically the boy Talus’ mother and had an obligation to attest, but she hasn’t been the one to raise him. Like the changes to the legal system overall, parentage is now determined more by nurture than nature. Leaving your offspring behind doesn’t automatically cause you to forfeit your rights, but the more deliberate it was, and the longer it lasts, the less likely it is that the court will see you as a rightful custodian. Obviously, this cuts both ways. If someone were to abduct a kid, and hold them for years, they wouldn’t likely maintain their parental status. It’s all about intent and action now; not blood. They don’t care about blood. Which is what makes this so difficult, because Ronan is genetically not young Talus’ father. But he is by circumstance, which is precisely how Mayumi wanted it. The older Talus is probably the real father, and this is just a regular kid who grew in Mayumi’s womb. It was perfectly timed to the Nordome trip. Had she long-conned him into that timetable? How long has she been trying to escape? No. Remember, none of that matters anymore. It’s time.

It’s time for the sentencing.

Microstory 2702: Alternate Arrangements and Agendas

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It’s time for Ronan to speak. In the old ways, a witness would be assigned either the defendant or the plaintiff or prosecutor. They were on one side or the other. Over time, this started to feel too combative. Society decided that the point of the justice system should be to uncover the truth, and balance fairness. There were different variations for the setup, but the changes were sweeping. A whole new vocabulary was created, which alone, made everything seem less partial. Lawyers became advocates or adherents to more clearly define their roles. Defendants became accused, and were considered pending so as not to bias the decision from minute one. Even juries changed. Half of the arbitration panels deliberated in one room while half did so in another. If they came to the same decision, maybe it was more likely right. Ronan still remembers the old ways and the old terms, and since this is the first time he’s ever been in any court in the centuries he’s been alive, he still frames everything he’s seeing through that lens. It’s jarring when they contradict it.

He must remember that he’s an attestant, not a witness. Attestant, not witness. Because he didn’t witness Talus do anything, he can’t attest to it. He can only tell the court what he knows, and what he knows is that Talus is not right in the head. As he’s sitting up here, not answering the most recent question that he was asked, he’s thinking about who else could be blamed for his son’s behavior. He keeps coming back to the implantation procedure. Something must have gone wrong. They must have made some mistake. They...spliced the wrong genes, or—he doesn’t know, he—

“Mister Truett. Mister Truett,” Jericho Hagen urges. “Have you seen any other behavior out of the accused which you might categorize as abhorrent?” he repeats.

Ronan was zoning out, but now he’s more sure of what he wants. He waits to answer again, but this time, he’s looking the attorney—no adherent—dead in the eye. “I wish to make an alternative accusation.” He looks up at the judge—adjudicator. “Did I do that right? Am I supposed to say it another way?”

“There is no formal syntax,” she replies. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I—” Ronan begins to say.

“This is not the place for that. We will have to schedule a new inquisition to formalize your accusation. Until then, you cannot be expected to attest further at the current proceedings. But I must warn you, people have used this as a delaying tactic in the past. I will not stand for it in my court, so you better have a plausible accusation.”

“I do, your honor.” What Talus did was wrong, but it may not be his fault. Ronan is not going to try to stop Talus from being dealt with accordingly, but those bot doctors need to answer too, and he doesn’t want to continue until they do. He stands from the chair, and begins walking back towards the attestant waiting area.

“Agent, please prepare the next attestant for a round of assertions,” the adjudicator orders. They changed it from bailiff to fit all the other A-terms. So stupid.

The agent escorts Ronan back into the joint chamber, where he is supposed to go into his own little private room. They keep attestants separate, again to maintain impartiality. Something has gone wrong here too, though. The next attestant is out of her own room already. She seems as surprised to see him as he is to see her.

“Mayumi.”

She doesn’t speak. She picks her jaw off of the floor, and slips back into her room.

Microstory 2701: This is the Beginning, and This is the End of the Sentence

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It’s not the trial yet. This is called the inquisitorial period, where all of the primary evidence is laid out before the court. There are no witnesses, there are no testimonies. The state, in this case, the owner of Castlebourne, has provided them with what they claim is the proof of Talus’ guilt. Truthfully, Ronan doesn’t doubt it. Talus hasn’t been right since he’s been old enough to make his own decisions again. He doesn’t understand why Talus would try to kill his little brother, but there’s almost no way that Castlebourne has this wrong. They have this whole world wired up. You can only keep your secrets as long as they don’t hurt anyone. Once they do, it ends up out in the open. You know that going into a simulation, and Ronan and Mayumi had no problem with it. They still don’t. Especially if it’s true that Talus did hurt Yumo with malicious intent, they need to know what happened.

At first, the footage is all right. It’s certainly weird, but out of context, it’s totally fine. Maybe Talus was gathering dirt and leaves to make a new pigment. Maybe he wanted to study them, or build a terrarium. It is easily explainable, or rather would be if they didn’t know what they knew. The next part is far more damning. Talus takes all the stuff he picked up from the forest floor, and rubs it into little Yumo’s bellybutton. His eyes. That’s the hardest part. They’re so...detached. He’s not angry or sad. This is just a task he has to complete, and he has no strong feelings about it. Ronan has to look away. It’s horrific. He did it with such intent. He doesn’t know if it’s because the original Talus would be smart enough to understand the mechanism, or if the new one teased it out. Or if it was some sick combination of both.

“That’s enough,” Judge What’s-Her-Name says. “We don’t need to see the whole thing. Is that it for the state’s evidence?”

“It is, Your Honor,” a lawyer named Jericho Hagen replies.

“Does the defense have evidence to provide the court at this time?”

Talus has an attorney of his own. His name is Kyle K. Stanley. “We do not, Your Honor. We accept the state’s evidence as a matter of existence without acknowledging any particular interpretations of it. We are anxious to prepare our defense.”

“Very well,” the judge says. “If there are no objections, this inquisition hearing will come to a close, and we will break for two days while the advocates prepare to call witnesses, and make their cases.”

“I plead guilty,” Talus says.

“Son, that’s not how it works. There will come a time for that—” the judge begins.

“I plead guilty now, I plead guilty now!” Talus insists. “I did it. I tried to kill him, and I would do it again! He was never supposed to exist! He’s not real! It’s just a simulation! He’s an NPC! He’s not real!” As they’re dragging him out while under contempt, he keeps yelling that. “He’s not real! He’s not real!”

“What does this mean?” Ronan asks Stanley. As the father, Ronan doesn’t have any legal authority in this court. He doesn’t have the right to know something simply because he raised Talus for the last eight years. Still, it’s okay for him to ask.

“If the judge accepts the plea, we will move on to the sentencing portion of the proceedings. That was always going to be the more grueling component of the process. Honestly, he is guilty, and we all know it. What we need to determine now is how to handle him. That’s what I was really brought in for, and I will protect him as much as possible.”

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Microstory 2690: Forbidden Science

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Ronan Truett sits on the exam table, wearing what he calls a gasmask, but the doctor called it something else. It is quite literally freezing cold on his face, but he doesn’t mind it. It isn’t going to be the hardest thing he will ever do over the course of the next few decades. After the twenty minutes are up, the doctor comes back and removes it. “How does it look?” he asks.

“Good. How does it feel?” the doctor volleys.

Ronan rubs the new beard on his chin. “Like a thousand tiny cuts.”

The doctor dismisses it with his facial expression. “That’ll go away in a few minutes. Would you like me to hot press and discolor it? I can make it unkempt and wild, so you look more rough and tumble.”

“Actually, historical Norsemen were quite well-groomed. A long and well-styled beard was the sign of a masculine and respectable man back then. Pay no attention to the inaccurate old movies you may have seen. They didn’t wear horned helmets either, if that’s what you’re picturing.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“It’s not in your internal database? Can you access the central archives remotely?” Ronan presses.

The doctor chuckles. “My brain doesn’t do that. I’m not an android, but one of those virtually immortal organics. I change substrates when I need to, like you, but I don’t have cybernetic connections.”

Ronan is surprised and impressed.

The doctor seems to sense this. “I just like medicine, so they let me do the simpler procedures, like your hair follicle stimulation. I wouldn’t be allowed to conduct any major surgeries. Castlebourne follows the same laws that Earth does in that regard.”

“I see,” Ronan says as he’s admiring his new appearance in the mirror. He’s never been one for facial hair, but he’s about to become a Norseman, so he wanted to look the part, and really immerse himself in the simulation. He’s not the only one. “So that’s why you’re not doing the foetal consciousness transfer for my wife.”

This gives the doctor pause. “I’m sorry? Foetal?”

“Oh, she’s not going to transfer herself to a foetus. She’s going to carry the foetus, and have the baby in the simulation.”

The doctor is still confused by this, and also now speechless.

“I assure you, it’s perfectly legal. We’re well within the Charter Cloud—”

“I’m aware of how the law works on this planet, Mister Truett. I’ve probably lived here longer than you. I know that foetal transference is possible, and I’m not surprised it’s legal. I’m surprised anyone would actually ever do it. There’s a reason it is illegal in the Core Worlds. We don’t know what it would do to a person, regressing to a prenatal state, or even early developmental, with all that neuroplasticity. What impact does that have on a person’s psyche, when their brains rewire themselves so drastically? Can you even have a continuity of consciousness when you let that happen? Is it not just an elaborate form of death? Suicide, that is?”

“Well, we’ll see,” Ronan says as he’s putting his shirt back on. He needed a little chest hair too. That is designed to take longer, which is fine. “My friend has fully consented to it.”

“He’s your friend?” the doctor questions. “I’m not sure if it’s weirder that he’s not your wife’s biological son already, or if it would be more awkward if he were.”

“Pretty judgy for a medical professional. A bot doctor would never say that.”

He shrugs. “You could have designed a substrate to develop facial and body hair during the gestation process, but you chose to come to me. Most people like my blunt attitude, specifically because they can’t get it from a bot doctor, unless it’s their personal model. But you’re right, I’ll zip my mouth. There’s the door, have a good immersion.”

Ronan leaves the exam room, and heads down to the other floor where his wife and friend are sitting up next to each other in their respective gurneys.

“Oh, you look great,” Mayumi reaches up towards his face with a dumb look on her own. “Fluffy.” She actually looks and sounds intoxicated. Her gown is on backwards.

“She’s on drugs for the implantation procedure,” their friend and future son, Talus explains. “I am not. I have to be sharp before I become a baby again.”

Mayumi smiles over at Talus. “You’re gonna love my uterus. We play hip-hop on Tuesdays.”

“Not anymore, we don’t,” Ronan points out. “It’s all lyres and flutes for us for the next thirty years. We’ll play the lyre for you while you’re baking in there, son.”

“You don’t know how.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to learn.”

“When you’re not off a-viking,” Talus reminds him.

“Maybe even then.” Ronan cracks his knuckles. “I’m sure I could break heads and carry a tune at the same time.”

“I don’t think I have a head anymore,” Mayumi says.

A new doctor walks in—a proper bot this time. He hands Talus a tablet. “Okay, the mother has already finished her consent forms, but here’s the last one for you, Mister Sauter. This one personally absolves Hrockas Steward from any liability in the event that the results of this procedure render you neurologically damaged, physically defective in your new substrate, or philosophically deceased and replaced. It is the same waiver you signed before, but the owner wanted you to sign a separate one for him.”

“Sounds good to me,” Talus agrees. He signs without hesitating. He has thought about this for a very long time. They did not do this on a whim.

Ronan must admit, this is a crazy idea, and yes, there is a reason it has never been done before. What comes out of Mayumi nine months from now may not be Talus at all. It may be an entirely different person; new memories, new personality, new everything. It could mean that this Talus right here is dead. He deliberately didn’t make a copy of his mind as backup, since that wouldn’t really be him either, since it would already have been outdated by hours at best. This might very well mark the end of Talus Sauter, and they won’t really have an idea for another ten years maybe? But it’s what he wants, it’s what Mayumi wants, and while his opinion doesn’t technically matter here, it’s what Ronan wants too. He is going to raise his best friend in a simulation of Scandinavia in the first millennium, and he couldn’t be more excited. He kisses them both, then leaves for the waiting room so they can move forward.

An hour later, Mayumi wheels out alone. She smiles at him. “Great news, husband. I am no longer light.”

“Okay,” Ronan says, clapping his hands. “Let’s go to Danmörk.”

Microstory 2689: Full Circle

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Resi is back on the beach. He doesn’t know if he’s truly going to end up on Castlebourne at some point, or if his vision is pointing him to some other direction. The futures he sees can clearly be changed, or he wouldn’t be lounging here right now. This whole area would be covered in ash and lava. He just wants to relax and be happy. He hasn’t been able to do that for a very long time, and when you think about it, maybe not ever. When he exiled himself to the border, he was indeed lounging all day, but he was also always really tense. Now he doesn’t have to think about anything, or worry about what’s gonna happen. It’s just him, the sand, the sun, and the sea. This is a nude beach, making it all the more freeing. He feels a presence, so he opens his eyes.

The sun is at her back, so he can’t see who it is at first. “Back on Earth, when I was a kid, we called people like you slackers!” she yells, joking. He knew her voice. It was Brooke Prieto. She taught him how to see the future. That was a hundred years ago.

“I’ve earned a vacation,” he tells her, dropping the shades back over his eyes.

“I can’t disagree.” She sits down on the sand next to him. She looks ridiculous in her spaceman outfit. The opposite of a relaxed vibe, and it can’t be comfortable.

“A bit overdressed?” he muses.

“I can change,” she replies as they’re looking out over the water.

He hears a noise. When he looks back at her, she’s suddenly in a pink bikini. “Neat trick. Still overdressed, though.” He can be funny too.

She laughs.

“How has your life been?” he asks. “A hundred years is quite a long time.”

“Has it been that long?” Brooke questions. “Wow, the decades just fly by. You’ll see when you’re older. Speaking of which, are you considering getting all of your memories back? I don’t know if you’re worried about no longer being Resi anymore, but you shouldn’t be. You won’t stop being you. You’ll just be...more you.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty happy with who I am right now. I finally feel like I am finally who I’m meant to be. Now, God forbid, if another volcano erupts, and I see it in my dreams, I won’t write it off or freak out. I’ll be more confident. I won’t necessarily know what to do right away, but I’ll manage to work through it. Hopefully it won’t kill me again.” He nudges her shoulder with his own.

She nods, but not understandingly, more just patiently. She continues to watch the waves crash onto the shore. “I had a friend a long time ago who you remind me of. Belahkay. Ludicrous name. He was easygoing at heart, but not a waste of space. His people were facing a dangerous task, and none of us could do it for him. It had to be a regular human, and he could have genuinely died from it. This was actually here on Bungula...very early days. The earliest.” She takes a breath. “It was when we were terraforming it. He was very brave, and he survived. He was the first true Bungulan, if you use the right definition. We went on some adventures together; ended up thrown clear across the galaxy, where we were forced to destroy a planet for some not-so-great people. He always wanted to do the right thing, though. I’ve not seen him in a long time. He had to volunteer for another mission, and he had to do it alone. And we let him, because we had other things to work on at the same time.

When we went back for him, he couldn’t remember us anymore. He had become someone else, and didn’t wanna leave. So we tried to move on. But. Then he called. Out of the blue. I mean, it wasn’t him, but word got back to me that he needed our help. He still couldn’t remember me, mind you, but he was still the same person, deep down. So I flew back to his planet, and helped him through some stuff. And wouldn’t you know it? I lost him again. He made the ultimate sacrifice. Again. I thought he was gone forever, but then I get another call, and I’m told that his consciousness was being stored on an off-site server that people just forgot about. The laws on this planet, they’re tricky. We weren’t allowed to just plug him back in. We figured it out, though. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t remember me, except for the short window where I helped him understand how to see the future. That was new. He couldn’t ever do that before. I think he was exposed to temporal energy, or something, and...it changed him.”

Resi is no idiot. He knows who she’s talking about, but now he can’t bring himself to look over at her. He just keeps watching the water.

She has one more thing to try. “You may not want him back. But I need him. Resi, I need my friend. It’s been centuries, and I don’t care how old we end up getting, that kind of time apart will always be excruciating.”

He breathes, and finally works up the courage to look over at her again. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Microstory 2687: Then She Winks

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The eruption is pretty cool, though probably less spectacular than if they let it spew everything all over the place. The two of them watch it for a few minutes, but Resi isn’t paying that much attention to the glory. It’s not what’s really on his mind. “Are you my sister?” he asks the woman quietly.

“Yes,” Kala replies. “I’ve been alive for over a hundred years now.”

“So you chose Kinkon.”

“I told you, we don’t do things that way anymore. There’s no sorting. The people who live on this island live simply, but they don’t do much work. They do some, to be sure, but most of it’s automated. It blends into the background, you don’t even notice it. There are some androids, which perform more of the front end labor, so they just look like regular people. This is still a very natural environment, and what can’t remain perfectly natural is simulated. If you take issue with it, getting your full memories back might help. Understanding where you came from, long before Yana, might give you some perspective. I don’t know how you feel about it, though.”

“What about everyone else I knew? Our parents, our siblings? My Fold, my House? Is everyone still alive? Did they all choose this route?”

“Not everyone, everyone,” Kala answers. “But most people did, yes. They decided that that’s what you were trying to do for them. Your legacy lived on after you. In terms of specifics, Caprice is still here, as is our sister. Chaya moved to Castlebourne, and I think our brother did too, but he may have gone somewhere else instead. Arumay moved to Varkas Reflex, and uploaded herself to a virtual environment, so she doesn’t have a physical body anymore. Our parents chose to remain as they were, so they’re long dead. I think that’s pretty much it, I don’t remember anyone else.”

“Kartica,” Resi says. “A.K.A. Speaker Lincoln. What happened to her?”

Kala frowns. “She died next to you a hundred years ago. Her consciousness was no longer streaming to the network, so she couldn’t be revived. She saved us in the near-term. Her sacrifice was just as impactful as yours. The Assembly letting her die was a major crime. There are laws that prevent you from being reckless with disposable bodies, especially those you don’t own. But murder? Straight up murder, where there is no coming back; that is still the big one. The colonial establishment couldn’t let it slide, even though they were part of a different network. The culprits were all locked up, and I lost track of them, but the important thing is they lost all of their power.”

“Wait, father was like us. He was backed up. Why is he dead now?”

“He could be backed up,” Kala corrects. “He fell in love with our mother, so he cut his own consciousness stream, and chose to let his body die, and with it, his mind. The laws surrounding that are complex and nuanced, but suicide is not illegal, as long as they prove that’s what it is, and not a complicated form of homicide.”

“I wish I could apologize now, for everything,” Resi admits. ‘To everyone.”

“This is why we live the way that we do. What father did was a choice. When I was a kid, there was no choice. I was going to die, that was just it. Whether you realized it or not, that is what you were fighting for; the freedom to choose our own destinies. The Houses were stopping us from that, and we’re grateful they’re gone.”

“I’m happy for you, but I don’t know what I want to do now...what to choose.”

“Why don’t you sleep on it?” Kala suggests. Then she winks.

Microstory 2686: Redirected

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Resi opens his eyes. He is lying on his back, half naked and confused. A familiar face appears over him. She looks down with a hint of sadness, but also some familiarity. He tries to speak, but air isn’t passing through his lungs. How could he be alive but not breathing? He starts to panic, but tries to remain still. It all comes out in his eyes, wide like an open door. The young woman says nothing, but reminds him how with her own breath. She sweeps her hand in circles in front of her lips, down and up. Resi opens his mouth again, searching for the right positions of his tongue and throat to form the right words. Her own eyes widen encouragingly as she waits patiently, still refusing to speak first. He finally thinks he has it correct. “Report.”

She smiles proudly. “You did it. You saved us. You figured out when the volcano was going to erupt, and we were able to prepare for it. It wasn’t even that hard.”

“So you’re Bungulan? Kinkon?” he asked. “You dropped a magical bomb into the caldera, or whatever you would do to put a stop to it.”

She laughs, and tries to find her own words. “Volcanoes are not destructive beasts which must be broken. They are the means by which the planet replenishes itself. When a volcano erupts, the planet is breathing. Would you like to see? I advocated for reviving you in time to witness the eruption yourself.”

“It’s still going to happen?” He looks around, panicking again. “You’re not stopping it at all? Did you just evacuate?”

She places comforting hands on his shoulder. “No need. We didn’t have to evacuate the island. We’re just redirecting the danger.” She points to a window. She then has to help him stand and walk a little. Reviving the dead can’t be easy.

He manages to walk over there without her having to hold him up. There is Central Mountain in the distance. He’s seeing it from a high vantage point. They have really built this place up. How long has it been? “How long has it been?” he asks her.

She sighs. “Resi, you’ve been dormant for one hundred years. It wasn’t my decision, I didn’t even know you were still alive until recently. I demanded they bring you back. The brain disease you have, there’s a cure. The Bungulans weren’t allowed to use it before, but things have changed. We have new laws now. You’ll learn them.”

The mountain looks vastly different. He can see residences in the distance. They’re just regular bungalows and treehouses, but there’s all this big metal piping on the side of the mountain. He doesn’t understand what it’s all for.

“We’re going to redirect the lava and ash when it erupts. The planet will still breathe, but it won’t hurt anyone. We have had decades to plan and build it. We are far more advanced than we were in your time. There is something else you should see. Resi, your body died a century ago. There was nothing anyone could have done back then. Like I said, the laws have changed. The non-interference policies no longer apply. We are all Bungulan now. Some live on Yana, some don’t. The Houses aren’t necessary anymore. And you...are no longer Tamboran.” She flipped a switch.

The window shifts to a mirror so Resi can see his own face. He is white. Why? Why would they make him white? He touches his face in horror.

“This is what you looked like hundreds of years ago, before you came to Yana to help our ancestors the first time. You have a choice. You can stay like this and retrieve all of your memories, or you can go back to how you looked when you were Resi.” She shifts half the glass back to window mode. Central Mountain erupts.

Extremus: Year 124

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Waldemar was being dramatic last year when he promised Sevara that he would make big changes to the ship. He is smart enough to know that jumping right into his endgame will get him kicked out of the captain’s chair. He can’t let that happen, not in his first term. Yeah, he’s calling them terms. It never made any sense to say that they were shifts. A shift is something you do for a matter of hours at a time, not the entirety of your role. It’s little things like that that he’s changing first. They’re also officially calling the place you go when you’ve been bad the brig, because that’s what it’s called! It’s been filling up. Some people think it’s wrong, but for too long, the passengers have been getting away with doing whatever they want, and that stops now. There are cells here. There are so many cells in the brig on this ship. The ancestors obviously anticipated more crime. The fact that they mostly stand empty is a point of pride among most, but from Waldemar’s point of view, it just looks like the bar has been set too low.

Silveon has become Waldemar’s personal steward, which should have been the case from day one. He doesn’t care if it looks like he’s playing favorites. That’s the whole point of being in power. Cronyism is supposed to be a dirty word, but it is a well-trusted Earthan tradition. If you’re loyal, you’ll be rewarded. Anyone who thinks that disloyal people should be rewarded instead—based on this stupid concept called merit—is an idiot. Loyalty is everything, and it’s time they recognize that. Not everyone agrees. Silveon doesn’t. Which is ironic, but that’s okay. Waldemar isn’t a crazy person, who thinks that no one else should have their own opinion. Silveon’s perspective is not only not a problem, but actively helping. He doesn’t just want to be surrounded by sycophants. He needs to understand the other side of these issues, so he knows how the people will react to his changes...so he knows how to fight against them. Silveon is the most important person in his career, but not in his life. For that, he needs another.

Waldemar and Sable have grown closer and closer by the week. It started out as only sex, but he’s starting to feel real feelings for her. At first, he denied them, because he doesn’t have those, but maybe he was wrong about that. Most of how he understands his own psychology comes from his mother. Even though he hated her, and she’s gone now, it’s not like those lessons went away. She raised him using a certain—evil—method, based on what she thought he was, from his birth. How does he let go of the damage she’s done? Well, being with Sable helps. They’re lying in bed now. He’s idly running his fingers through her hair. It doesn’t even feel like he’s putting in any effort. His hand has become a perpetual motion machine. They are one.

She’s looking at his chest. “You were shot.”

“What?” The wounds completely healed a long time ago. He didn’t even suffer permanent internal injury. She shouldn’t know anything about it, unless Silveon told her, or Sevara before she met her quite timely death. “What are you talking about?”

She props herself up by one hand, and looks down at him with a kind sadness. With her free hand, she places her finger where one of the bullets went in. “Number one.” She moves on to the others. “Number two, number three, number four...A.” She reaches under his back. “Number four B.”

She knows too much. Lying about it now will only serve to ruin the special thing they have together. So he might as well acknowledge that she’s right. “How do you know about those? Did Silvy say something?”

Sable makes a face. He may not see emotions, but he understands confusion. “Who? Your steward?”

“Yes, and your mother’s late friend’s son.”

“He and I are not friends. We see each other occasionally when mom invites him over for a meal. No, he didn’t randomly tell me about how you got shot four times.”

“I thought maybe there was a chance that you and he were...”

“No!” she argues. “I’m with you. Only you.”

“It would be okay if you weren’t. You know that Audrey and I are still active. She doesn’t know about us, and I still love her. I’ve been honest about that, and I’ve never told you that you couldn’t have a life outside of this room.” This is a special room. When you’re captain, you can take whatever you need for whatever you need it for. This is only for the two of them. It’s located in an otherwise not-yet-populated sector of Extremus. They don’t even have to walk here. He granted her teleportation privileges for this reason. He doesn’t think she uses it for much else.

She gets on top of him again, and kisses him passionately. “I’m only here for you. I don’t have a problem with you going home to Audrey. I don’t mind sharing.” She kisses him again. She smiles like a villain. “In fact, I get off on the thrill.”

They’re not going to have sex again. He only has so much sexual stamina at this age. Waldemar hasn’t figured out how he’s going to convince the ship to become immortal. It goes against everything everyone believes in. There’s a big difference between conforming the crew’s job titles to a more cohesive convention, and completely dismantling generational indoctrination. Speaking of which, he has to get back to the grind. He is more free to have a personal life than past captains, but that’s because he’s so efficient. He’s had to fire people, but now he can delegate work to others, confident that they’ll get it done, or else. Still, it’s not like he doesn’t have anything to do himself. At the very least, he needs to be seen to maintain his control. “I wish this didn’t have to end, but—”

“But you’re trying to save our people from themselves. I get it.” One more peck on the lips, no tongue. “Get back to the grind.” She hops off of him, and heads for the head to brush her teeth, and then shower. That word. He used it in his own thoughts. It’s weird that she came up with the same one. It’s not entirely crazy. It fits the situation, and he’s probably said it before. That’s why they’re so perfect together, because she knows him so well. Then again, she knows about the bullets...

Waldemar begins to gather his clothes. “Think about what I asked you earlier.” He blows a final kiss to her.

She catches it. “‘Kay.”

He disappears.

Sable typically prefers to take a traditional shower with real water, instead of just a sonic misting, but she doesn’t have time. She usually doesn’t anymore. Ever since Silveon took a job working with the captain, they don’t have a ton of time to talk. Each time Waldemar leaves Sable, it means that he’ll be expecting Silveon to return to his side rather quickly. There’s a very short window here. She jumps straight to his office.

Silveon shoots up from his chair. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, why? Why would you think he hurt me?”

“Well, you’re practically naked.”

She looks down at herself. “Yeah, I’m in a hurry. You don’t mind, do you?”

“It just looks bad, okay? If you were violated, this is exactly how you would show up. I’ve told you before, I’ll—”

“Oh my God, I just told you I was in a hurry! Stop talking.” She knows what he’s gonna say anyway. She can back out of this assignment at any time. If she doesn’t feel safe, they can relocate her to Verdemus. It’s fine, she doesn’t need this. If Waldemar were gross, it might be harder, but she does technically enjoy being with him physically, which makes faking the love part easier.

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“He wants me to paint him. He wants me to sit there behind an easel, and paint him while he poses, like the ancients did.”

“Oh, he told me about that. He’s going to hang it above the fireplace in his office.”

She stares at him blankly. “He has a fireplace?”

“He does now. He had the synthwrights install it. It vents to the fusion torches.”

“It’s a working fireplace?” She shakes it off. “Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me he was going to ask me this?”

“I didn’t know he would ask you. He said he wanted a portrait. I thought he meant a blown-up photo, not an oil painting, or whatever.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I’m not actually good at drawing. The album I carry around isn’t actually mine?”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” Silveon retorts. “It’s not like I’m the one who gets you those pictures from the real artist.”

“What are we going to do about it?” she questions. “Are you going to teleport in while he’s mid-blink, and switch it?”

“I don’t know what we’ll do, but we will figure this out. If he asked you, he’s not going to ask anyone else. You have to say yes...unless, of course...”

“I’m not quitting!” she snaps back. “Stop suggesting that. I’m not a little baby.”

“I’m sorry, it’s hard not to see you as young. I was there when you were born, and even back then, I was an old man.”

She didn’t know about that. “Gross. You saw my mom’s wrinkly old vagina?”

Silveon looks away in disgust. “Jesus, no! I didn’t mean I was in the room! Why is he so obsessed with you? You’re kind of an asshole.”

Yeah, he likes assholes. “I think you just answered your own question.”

“That’s not how Audrey is. She’s nice.”

“Yeah, and he’s cheating on her, with me. So...”

“Good point.” He checks his watch. “I should probably get back to the bridge. We’ll talk more about the portrait. We’ll freeze time, or you’ll tell him you prefer to draw from photos.”

“That won’t work, he’s already said he doesn’t want to do that, because that’s not what kings did in the past. But okay. Thank you, I just wanted you to start thinking about it. It’s not urgent. I’m sorry that you had to see me in my bra.”

“It’s fine,” he promises in the most professional way possible.

“Oh, really?” she teases.

“Just get out before he shows up. He usually calls first, but we can’t be sure.”

“See ya later, Uncle Sil.” She disappears.

To get ahead of it, Silveon calls Waldemar instead. “Need anything, Cap?”

“Nah,  just the usual,” Waldemar replies. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Silveon knows that he means the opposite of what he’s saying. Waldemar is calling a meeting with his secret police, and knows that Silveon wouldn’t approve, so he keeps him out of it. It’s annoying, but also an impossible situation. He can’t just tell Waldemar to disband the force. Their relationship has never worked like that. He’s never been able to tackle it so bluntly. It takes finesse. “Okay, thanks. You’re a good boss. You’ve gotten better at knowing what others deserve.” That’s not wholly relevant to the secret police problem, but it will hopefully help in a more general sense.

“I agree.”

Silveon shoots a quick message to his contact in the police. She thinks that the information she’s providing Silveon is helping to keep Waldemar safe. His reasoning is that if it’s leaking to Silveon, it’s less likely to leak to someone else. That’s kind of ridiculous, but Waldemar didn’t hire the best and brightest for the job. He hired followers. She knows that Silveon is smarter, so his plan must make sense. Silveon sends another message, then immediately teleports to the rendezvous point.

Audrey is somehow already there. “It took you long enough.”

“How did you beat me?” he questions. “I hit send just before my jump.”

She holds up her watch. “New model. It sends you backwards in time, just a little bit; not enough to make any meaningful changes. It only works at long enough distances, so you can’t interfere with your own past self.”

“That’s time travel, it’s illegal.”

“Oh, and we wouldn’t want to break the law, would we?” she jokes. “Anyway, what do you have for me?”

Silveon tells her about the painting problem. “Can it be done?”

She massages the back of her neck. “Well, I know of one way, but it’s risky. I think you might like it, though, because it takes Sable out of the equation entirely.”

“How would that work?” he presses.

“I would just dress up like her, and wear a hologram. We’re about the same size.”

Silveon thinks through it a little. “You’re right, that is risky. We would need an uninterruptible power source, and you would have to learn her mannerisms. Waldemar doesn’t recognize people that well. He’s learned to tune to things that others don’t notice, like gait and chin tilts.”

“I think I can figure that out. I know Sable. I know how she moves. I’ve obviously never tried to impersonate her before, but I have time to practice, don’t I?”

“Yes, you’ll have some time, but you should get started.”

“Will do, boss.”

He shakes his head, unable to hide his smile. Everyone’s giving him attitude today. “How are you doing? Any domestic issues?”

“Nope. We still have sex. The guy’s insatiable, but I don’t mind.”

“All right. You know your options, so I won’t bother repeating them. I’ll leave you to it.” He disappears.

Audrey teleports to Sable. “Don’t you worry. I always knew he might ask to watch you, and I’m locked and loaded with an idea. I just need to watch you walk and eat.”

“What? Why?” Sable asks. “Wait, you’re the real artist? Why keep that from me?”

Sable’s mother, Lataran stands up. “She’s gonna pretend to be you. Before you volunteered for this assignment, that’s how we thought we would do it.” She looks at Audrey. “But if it goes well, he’ll ask her for more. Holograms won’t work long-term, or maybe not even short-term. We need that consciousness-transference tech.”

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