Castlebourne Capital Community: Council Criminal Conspiracy (Part II)

« < » > Entire Story

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

If this wasn’t the most difficult game in 2.5Dome, Dreychan absolutely did not want to see whatever was. What Lubiti and Maaseiah didn’t—couldn’t—understand was that this wasn’t anywhere near the first game he had ever played. His homeworld of Ex-777 didn’t have work. People played around all day. It was basically Castlebourne, but without the domes. They were lazy and hedonistic, and while he preferred a more quiet life, it wasn’t like he spent every waking moment curled up with a book. He had never played a game quite like this, but he did have some experience. Even his muscle memory had some idea what to do, because virtual reality was ubiquitous on 777. So he survived. He ran through the level, avoiding every obstacle, jumping over every gap. It wasn’t easy, and he was exhausted throughout the whole thing, but he did make it. And once he finished that first level, he went on to the next. And the next, and the next. He kept trying to escape, either by taking small moments to try to repair his emergency bracelet, or by just looking for a weak point in the walls. He also screamed for help, but no one responded.

He never found respite, except for a few minutes between the levels. If he managed to get significantly ahead of the moving wall, it wouldn’t have to catch up to him. A new wall would simply slide in place, and start coming for him instead. Sometimes, he had to figure out how to open a door, but it was never too complex, and he was a pretty smart guy. They had underestimated him, and that was their first mistake. He was at the final level now, and about to finish the whole thing. The one thing left to do was to defeat the final boss. How hard could it be?

Oh my God, so hard. It was this giant sort of skeleton creature that could spin its whole torso around on an axis, which it used to try to slap Dreychan away. There had been a sword in the eighth level, which he failed to retrieve. He knew that would come back to bite him in the ass, but there was no fixing it. A normal player could have let themselves die to try again, but he didn’t have that luxury. Any death would mean the true death, so he kept having to cut his losses, and press forward. That one mistake could not be what ended him here. He could do this. He had no choice. It wasn’t only because he obviously wanted to live in general, but seeing the looks of horror on Lubiti and Maaseiah’s faces when he confronted them—he couldn’t lose that opportunity.

He was on the ground, though, on his back. The skeleton creature towered over him. It usually moved fast and violently, but it was slow now, confident that it had Dreychan beat. It didn’t have that much in the way of a recognizable face, but it might have even looked like it was smiling? It reached back with its giant lanky arm, and prepared to smash Dreychan into the floor when something stopped him. It was the hammer from level seven. Dreychan had noticed it on the wall, but it had been receded into a pit, and looked more like decoration. After he spotted the sword, he figured that the hammer was just a distraction. Maybe not, though. Dreychan looked up to see Teemo wielding it. Teemo?

Teemo screamed through gritted teeth as he reangled his weapon so he could press against the bottom of the handle, and push the skeleton’s fist back. The skeleton was confused, and surprised at finally encountering an enemy who might actually defeat him. Teemo made one more push to knock the skeleton off balance for a second, which was enough for him to regrip the hammer, and smash the skeleton’s toes. The skeleton began to hop on one foot as it massaged its metatarsals and phalanges. Teemo didn’t stop there. He hopped over to the other foot, and swung to the side to smash into its ankle. That was enough to tip the monster over to his back. Teemo took a breath, and looked over at Dreychan, who was only now getting back up to his feet. Teemo expertly threw the hammer upwards, letting it slide between his fingers and thumb, catching it once his hand had reached the metal. He pointed the bottom of the handle towards Dreychan. “Care to do the honors?”

Dreychan stepped forward. “How are you here? Why?”

“Do you want to ask questions, or do ya maybe wanna kill the monster first?”

Good point. Dreychan accepted the weapon, found his own grip on it, and smashed the giant skull into a dozen pieces. After all this time, the doors finally opened.

A few days later, Dreychan was all rested up, and ready for the next Council meeting. According to Teemo, the plot to have Dreychan killed wasn’t limited to Lubiti and Maaseiah. More people were involved, but unfortunately, he didn’t know who, or how many. The only reason Teemo knew about it was because Maaseiah underestimated him too. Teemo didn’t explain why he helped Dreychan, but that obviously wasn’t the concern right now. They needed to identify the other conspirators. They had one chance to curate that list, or maybe not even that. If Dreychan had actually died in the game as he was supposed to, they probably would have heard about it, so their surprise might have faded by now. Or, they deliberately shielded themselves from the potential of hearing such news in order to extend their plausible deniability for as long as possible. He was about to find out. Teemo was already in there, recording the Council in secret. Dreychan was waiting in the ancillary hallway so no one would spot him.

They had been waiting for one straggler, but she was here now. Dreychan took a deep breath, walked back over to the main hallway, and stepped into the Council chambers. A hush fell over the room, which was weird, but he just kept walking, not looking. Teemo was recording, he had to trust that. He really wanted to see how Lubiti and Maaseiah were reacting, but he would be able to watch the footage later. Teemo would run it through a special program that was specifically designed to detect surprise, even if someone was trying to hide it. Dreychan casually strode over to his seat, and sat down as he always did. He looked up at Council Chair Rezurah because she was about to call them to order.

“Uh, uh...um.” She was so flustered. Why was she flustered? Was she looking at him? Holy crap, she was looking at him. She was part of this too? She shook her head quickly, trying to loosen up and get back on track. “Thank you all for coming. Um, I—I was able meet—to meet with Mr. Hrockas, I mean Stewart—Steward! Mr. Hrockas Steward. Hrockas. And we came up with the specifics of a plan. We’re gonna move our star 83 light years away, a little bit closer to Earth. We will end up 83 light years from Earth. Now, I know that might be confusing for some, but you have to remember that space is three-dimensional—”

“Sometimes it’s two-point-five!” Teemo interrupted. He stood up, and started walking towards the dais, holding his tablet down by his hip.

“Mister Teemo, you will wait your turn!” Rezurah demanded.

“I’m afraid I don’t have to wait for shit!” Teemo fired back. “You are all under arrest!” He looked over at Dreychan. “Except you, Drey.”

“But all of them?” Dreychan questioned. “Every single one of them?”

“Every goddamn one,” Teemo confirmed as he looked back up at Rezurah.

“You do not have the authority to arrest anyone, and you don’t have any proof whatsoever,” Rezurah argued. “You’re just a scribe.” She looked down at Maaseiah. “I thought you said he was one of us.”

“He was,” Maaseiah replied before standing up himself, and looking Teemo in the eye. “You helped us scrub the security footage.”

“No, I didn’t,” Teemo explained. “Because I am not Teemo.” He lifted his tablet, and started tapping on it. His face began to flicker before disappearing entirely, revealing his true face underneath. “My name is Dominus Azad Petit of the Castlebourne Charter Contingency. Teemo has already been placed in holding, you will all be joining him shortly.” Azad made another tap on his device. A bunch of masked soldiers suddenly appeared. They began to secure the perimeter, and place cuffs on people. “No, not him,” Azad ordered the one who cuffs Dreychan. “He’s not guilty.”

“We’re not either!” Rezurah shouted. “We had an obligation to protect our people, and the planet! We did it for you!”

Castlebourne Owner, Hrockas Steward appeared next to Azad. The man escorting Rezurah met him halfway in the middle of the floor. “I brought you here. I gave you a home when you had none. You didn’t even know what a home was. I gave you everything you needed to live happily and safely.”

“And we’re grateful for that,” Rezurah insisted. “Nothing has to change.” She scowled at Dreychan. “Except him. He’s a danger to us all. You have this whole thing backwards.”

Hrockas shook his head. “My team investigated Mr. Glarieda for months, and found no evidence of him leaking information. You, on the other hand; we have evidence of your crimes.” He jerked his head at her escort, who began to shuffle her away.

“You impersonated a Council leader, and infiltrated our private meetings! You have no right to do this! The people will rise up! There are more of us than you!” She trailed off as she was being pulled out of the room. The rest of the detainees were taken out behind her.

“Sir,” Azad began, “why didn’t you just teleport them all into holding?”

“I want people to see,” Hrockas answered coldly as he watched the last of them go. “I want them to see what happened here today.” He spun around. “Mr. Glarieda, on behalf of Castlebourne, and its executive leadership, I would like to extend my deepest apologies to what you have endured. Your experience has illuminated a number of security flaws in our system, particularly in 2.5Dome. You never should have been able to step through that first door with a broken emergency beacon. I want to assure you that the entire dome has been shut down, and will not be reopening until we have secured a more robust set of guardrails. Furthermore, I have called in a third party to audit our system overall to identify any flaws or room for improvement. As everything on this planet is free, I can offer you no compensation for your suffering, but...” He looked around at the now empty chambers. “The Council is yours for now. I try to stay out of politics. I only stepped in because it was a conspiracy to commit murder. That’s rare these days, and I cannot allow a permanent death to overshadow what we’re trying to build here. Not to sound callous.”

“I understand,” Dreychan responded sincerely. “I’m grateful for the assist. Particularly to you, Dominus Petit.”

“It’s my job,” Azad said. “You almost had that skeleton. I would have been there sooner, though, but we could not get the emergency exits open. I know that sounds bad, but it’s what we’re gonna use to nail these guys. They hacked our system, which means they left a trail for us to follow.”

“Yeah,” Dreychan agreed with the silver lining.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Hrockas said. “I have to get back to work.”

“Wait,” Dreychan said before they could disappear on him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You can’t have a council with one person. We need to fix this, and I’m not qualified to do that alone. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I will need to maintain a line of communication with my...murder conspirators. They may have tried to kill me, but I recognize that they were doing it to protect Ex-Exins. They will help me.”

Hrockas nodded. “Azad can make arrangements for visitation. They will be monitored, however, so the expectation of privacy that this council enjoyed before has been undone. You’ll get it back once you backfill the positions, and I’m satisfied that there will be no repeat of this incident.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” Dreychan said.

Hrockas disappeared.

“What the hell just happened?” Dreychan asked rhetorically. This was crazy. He couldn’t run the Council, even to find all of its replacements. Even with help, he was not the man for the job. He didn’t even ask to be on it in the first place. He simply didn’t have any choice. When they first arrived, and started establishing their rules, Hrockas insisted that every old world had representation. It made sense at the time, and Dreychan agreed because the Council was so big, he could disappear into it. Now it all fell on him, and he wasn’t prepared for it. Goddammit, why wasn’t there just one other person who didn’t try to kill him the other day?

Azad started to breathe deliberately. “Just breathe, Drey. Like this. In. Out. Slowly. You can do this. You’re not alone, even if it might feel like that. You can reach out to the Expatriate Protection Bureau. As far as we know, they weren’t involved in this. The EPB was the internal police force that the former refugees created. It too was separate from Hrockas and the other planetary executives, but also operated independently of the Council. They were there to check and balance each other. Yeah, they could help. Perhaps they would be able to simply take over.

Dreychan breathed. “Thanks. I’ll be okay. Things are getting easier. The Vellani Ambassador returns every day with fewer and fewer refugees. There are fewer decisions to make than ever.”

“That’s a very positive way to look at things,” Azad said. “He tapped on his tablet a few times, and then tapped the corner of it against Dreychan’s watch. Contact me whenever you need. A Dominus commands hundreds of thousands of troops, but we are presently technically in peacetime, since the Exin Empire threat is only that; a threat. And it will be my job to lead them, not train them now. So I have a lot of time on my hands.”

Dreychan glanced at his watch to make sure his contact card came through. “This has your quantum signature. You planning on leaving this region of space?”

Azad smiled. “Light lag is still a problem even if you’re not light years away. I’m helping develop a new adventure that’s not actually under one of the domes. It’s on the edge of the solar system.”

“Oh, interesting. Well, I’ll let you get to it. I appreciate your support.”

“Any time. It was nice meeting you.” Azad disappeared.

Dreychan was all alone, in the literal sense anyway. He was in charge here now...of the chairs, and the tables. They better get in line, or suffer the consequences. That was his first order of business. He walked around the tables, and straightened the chairs out so they would look nice. Some of them had been knocked over in the kerfuffle. As trivial as it was, it made him feel a tiny bit useful. It was unreasonable to begin any real work today. The only item on the agenda was to approve the plan for the stellar engine, and there was no longer anyone here with the right to make that call. There was certainly no need for a vote. Once people were found to backfill all of these many positions, at least the room would be clean and tidy. Hell, the other original council members might even ultimately be totally acquitted, and return. He didn’t know. So to prevent any kind of future conflict, he just took the day off, and went back home. He would come to regret it.

« < » > Entire Story

Microstory 2566: Police Chief

< > Table of Contents

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

I was in charge when a suspect made an attempt on Mr. Landis Tipton’s life, but I was not allowed to make an arrest. Despite the fact that the crime happened in my jurisdiction, I was overruled by men in black who called it a national security threat. I guess I can see where they’re coming from. Mr. Tipton is a national treasure, and not just in the sense that a lot of people love him. He’s a wildly important asset that is making major changes to the dynamics of the world, almost single-handedly. He’s not just talking about fixing our problems, he’s actually taking action, and I admire him for that. The Foundation and the station have a really good relationship. We provide protection, in addition to the private security that they employ. They handle all of their internal stuff, and we take care of the outside. When you pull into the campgrounds, there will always be at least one patrol car there. My officers won’t check you in, or help security confiscate items that go against policy, but we’ll do what police do when called to action. I like to keep a uniformed presence within the campground too, but we can’t always spare the manpower for that. There’s always something to do, and something to worry about. My people consider it an honor, and most don’t find it boring. There’s a lot of people around, which means a lot of activity, and unlike with some of these rich schmoes who simply have enough pull to request protection, they typically actually want to protect this guy. I really wish I could have interrogated that suspect. We could have learned if he’s working with anyone else, or gotten an idea of whether there are more out there with his same motivations. Maybe he posts on a message board, or something. We don’t know. We don’t know anything. Neither does the public, and I don’t think that’s right. Here we have a direct threat to my community, and I’m not even allowed to report it. That’s not how we do things. Transparency is key to maintaining a healthy and prosperous civilization. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it. When people with those credentials tell me what to do, I have to do it. I will never know who this would-be assassin was, or why he wanted the healer dead, but I’ll keep doing my job, and keeping my city safe. Mr. Tipton can perform miracles, but he can’t stop violence. They’ll always need people like me.

Microstory 2277: But Also of Everything Else

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

The doctors are impressed. I’m recovering quite nicely. Don’t you go getting any ideas about stealing my eyeballs, or my fingernails. I’m not doing well because of any supernatural magic. I have a great medical team at a great facility, the support of my friends and fans, and the luck of great health prior to this. So yeah, I guess there was something supernatural about it. I was healed from the prion disease weeks ago, but also of everything else, including any aches, and phantom pains that people at my age experience all the time. So I went into that illegal, unethical, and immoral organ-stealing surgery in tip-top shape, which gave me an edge. Plus, they found me rather quickly, all things considered. Had it taken them only a few more hours to locate the site of the crime, I might be telling you a different story today. Or I might not be able to tell you any story at all, because I also could have died. But they found me, and treated me accordingly. I’m so grateful for that; I’m not sure if I can ever say that enough. This is all just to explain that I’m going to be okay, but that won’t work a second time. If anyone tries to do anything like that to me again, I will die. And for anyone who isn’t bothered by that, and is interested in trying anyway, you will be punished for it. We’re boosting our security team, as you can imagine. Law enforcement is rounding up all of the people who were involved in taking me, or my organs. No one has won. No one has gained anything. When my original organs are located, if they don’t need to be preserved as evidence, they will be destroyed as biowaste. I don’t know what that means if they’ve already been transplanted to someone else, but I don’t think they’ll be happy with the outcome. On that negative note, I’m very tired now, so I’m gonna go back to bed. Night!

Microstory 2276: Be Genuinely Worried

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Last Friday, I was able to dictate my own post for Kelly to type for me, and we talked all about my then-current condition. Things have not changed much on that front—I have a long journey ahead of me—but what I realized hours after that posted was that I forgot to express my gratitude. I’m not ready to share the specifics of what happened to me when I was abducted, but I was out of it most of the time. To preserve the internal organs that they were stealing, they had me on sedatives, instead of something stronger, like heroin. Then they put me on anaesthetics during the surgery. By the time I woke up, I was in the hospital with the replacement organs. I was very confused, and scared. I was never able to ask for help, but people helped me anyway, so please allow me to go through the list now. Thank you to the paramedics who found me. They were working with law enforcement during the literal search, and came across me first. Thank you to the cops and FBI who investigated this matter. Thank you to the medical team that transported me, and the surgical team who treated me after. Thank you to the organ donors for your selfless sacrifice for me. Thank you to the nurses and doctors who are treating me during my recovery. Thank you to Kelly and Dutch who have stayed by my side. And lastly, but not leastly, thank all of you for your immeasurable support in this incredibly difficult time. I appreciate your concern, I really do. It’s been a huge help to see everyone be genuinely worried about my wellbeing. It has gotten me through it.

Microstory 2257: And He Paid It

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

The money is in. Our bank account is so full, money is spilling out of it. I mean that in the most literal sense while still not talking about physical cash. Knowing that the funds would be in there by the end of the day, I set an autopayment for a number of various charities, so the full amount was only available for a few minutes before a chunk of it was gone. I’m laughing now, reading all of the replies and comments from readers who were under the impression that I was getting scammed. Oh, so many of you thought that it was never gonna happen; that I was just setting myself up for failure. We kept mentioning all the things we had to do at the bank, and whatever. You were convinced that it was going to come back to bite us in the ass. I suppose I can see where you could have guessed that. In an alternate reality, that’s what would happen; us becoming the victims of a long con. The thing is, though, even though I’m not telling you who commissioned me to give up my specimens, he’s not just some random guy who claimed to have a bunch of money. He’s fully on the books, and can’t run from me. The FBI, and other agencies, were fully aware that this was all happening, and they could have easily gone after him if he hadn’t been on the up and up. I know that a lot of scams work by telling you that they’ll give you a whole lot of money if you just give them a tiny bit up front, and the idea is that they’ll accept the tiny bit, and just run away with it, because to them, it was better than zero. But this guy didn’t ask me for a cent, and like I said, he’s a public figure with a life to lead. Taking my index and bone marrow probably won’t do much for him, especially since as I’ve been trying to tell everyone, they’re not the key to immortality. Risking going to prison by stealing them? That would have been even more absurd. He set the price, and he paid it. He paid it today, and now that business is done. I’m keeping enough of it for the three of us to live comfortably in this house, and to pay my security detail and publicist. Everything else should be spent on things that help the community, and maybe the world.

Microstory 2256: Keep My Mouth Shut

< > Table of Contents

Last we spoke, I told you that pretty much the only way the authorities would swoop in to clear the crowd off our lawn would be if that crowd got to be too big. They were invasive and annoying, but they weren’t doing anything illegal, and they weren’t technically placing anyone in danger. I was venting to my readers, but some of you took it as a call to action. You flooded the neighborhood for the sole purpose of forcing the cops to shut the whole thing down. They didn’t just remove you from the premises, but everyone, because it otherwise would have been some form of discrimination. I didn’t know that you were going to do that. I didn’t tell you the “loophole” even thinking that that might be a possibility. And it’s not the first time that’s happened. I have to be really careful about what I say to people. They will do things for me without me explicitly asking for it, or having any clue how they’re interpreting my words. Sometimes I just say things about how I’m suffering, or lacking, and they’ll want to fix it. And I never see it coming. When I was fifteen, a few weeks from my birthday, my parents asked me to go on a road trip with them. My aunt was out of the country, but she needed a car when she got back, and she liked a particular make and model. This is something that I knew about her, so I wasn’t the least bit suspicious that something else was up. They asked me to help them make the drive up to, and back from, Minnesota, so I obliged without question. We spent one night in a hotel, and when we woke up, we drove out to a farm where the car was supposedly waiting for us. We saw dogs in big pens, screaming at us for attention. So a farmer was selling their car, and they had a bunch of dogs? Didn’t seem like that big of a deal. We got out, and I was watchings those hounds bark their heads off when the owner came out carrying a little puppy. My parents admired it, and asked me if I would like to hold her too. I loved dogs, so I jumped at the chance. I had that wee furbaby in my arms before they told me that she was mine. She was my early birthday gift. It didn’t occur to me that the trip had anything to do with me, nor that it was weird for there to be a car being sold at a farm that also had dogs.

The point is, Sophie was a total surprise to me. I stopped asking for a dog when I was young, but I would still talk about how much I loved them, and all animals. I never asked for a bunk bed, but I got one around fifth grade, because my parents knew that about me. Again, I have to be so careful about what I say, but being autistic, I don’t ever think that my random musings will have any real impact on the world. It’s caused other problems too. Since I don’t think that way, it makes me less of an attentive person. When someone else talks about how much they would like it if things were a certain way, I hear them, I listen, but I don’t think to help them. The way my brain works, if you want me to know something, then you should say it. You should say it clearly and unambiguously. I sort of have a different idea of rudeness. Well, it’s not different, it’s just not as broad. I don’t notice subtext, and I don’t accept innuendo. Be honest and straightforward. Or don’t. Just be the way that you are, and hope that I take the hint. I probably won’t, but you can hope just the same. And me? I’ll try to keep my mouth shut in case I say something that accidentally prompts a response. We’re just talkin’ here. It’s only a blog. I appreciate what you did for us with the lawn, but don’t worry too much about my needs. I’ll figure it out. And if I ever do need your help, I’ll just ask.

Microstory 2255: A Public Nuisance

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

I’m still recovering, but I’m moving around the house just fine on my own. It hurts, but I’m used to pain, so it’s not the end of the world. This is Nick, by the way. It looks like full payment is going to be transferred into our joint bank account sooner rather than later. With that high of a sum, and the legal things that Kelly told you about before, there’s just some regulatory hurdles to jump through. It’s not like I’m depending on that money to get me through the week, so it’s fine. There are still a bunch of news people on our lawn. Some of them left, disappointed that they would never get an interview from any of us. Others have stuck around, either because they don’t believe us, and that we’ll reward their tenacity, or just to be annoying and disruptive. I’m told that there is nothing that we can do to get them to leave unless they place any of us in danger, or try to breach the walls of the house. Lawns are private property, but when it comes to public interest, camping out on them is some sort of gray area. Again, they can’t do whatever they want, but they can just sit or stand there, and they can keep coming back every day if they want. I suggested that we turn on the lawn sprinklers, but that’s apparently some form of assault and needless escalation. I guess there’s just nothing we can do, except wait them out. Fortunately, it’s nicer in here than out there. It’s only getting colder. There’s one silver lining to this. If the crowd gets to be too big, the police will step in, because then it officially becomes a public nuisance, and maybe even a safety hazard. If they were here to protest, or something, then that would be a lawful assembly, and protected under constitutional rights. But they’re not here together; they’re just here for the same reason—or rather, legally speaking, simply similar reasons. If things do escalate to that point, we may be entitled to some form of authoritative protection. It’s a security risk, not knowing if all those people have decent intentions. There could be a serial killer amongst them for all we know. Our security team is doing all they can, watching them at all times, and securing the perimeter. I’m just going to rest and relax, and hope that things don’t get worse. But just a reminder, the team is also taking note of everyone they see, matching identities, and placing everyone into a blacklist, so your only possible accomplishment could be to be intrusive. You’re not going to get the exclusive story, I can guarantee you that.

Microstory 2116: Law is Clear Enough

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2

I spent two nights in jail after they processed me. I’ve always had pretty good luck with law enforcement, probably because I easily pass for white, yet I’ve always disliked them, because of the things that happen to people who can’t pass for white. Of course, they shouldn’t have to pass for anything beyond being living creatures who deserve to be respected, and to feel safe around the people who have literally sworn an oath to serve and protect. As far as I know, there’s no oath to attack and kill unprovoked, but you wouldn’t know it reading about the coppers on my homeworld. Anyway, processing went fine, and the jail cell wasn’t that bad. I shared it with five other guys. The toilet wasn’t in a separate room, but there was a partial concrete barrier. We could still see each other, but we couldn’t see anything private unless we deliberately walked up closer, which fortunately, no one ever did. Sunday morning was a whirlwind of activity that I did not expect. I made a lot of friends on this planet, but none of them was in a position to help me with this situation. My family doesn’t live here, and I’ve not been around for long enough to form strong bonds. As it turned out, I didn’t really need them. The FBI surprisingly had my back. I helped them by luring that teenage girl’s kidnappers away from the trail while they rescued her, which was a really nice thing for me to do, but we weren’t exactly investigating terrorists. I’m not even sure if they’ve even managed to catch the criminals yet. What I did was not that big of a deal. All I had to do was drive to Alabama, and leave breadcrumbs for them to follow. The hardest part of that was having to spend time in Alabama. Boom.

Normally, I don’t think a federal agency will spend taxpayer money to bail an individual out of jail, but they were able to expedite paperwork to make me a CI. Obviously, the C in that initialism is supposed to stand for confidential, but past events have already been recorded in this regard, so who cares? Luckily for the taxpayers, my bail wasn’t all that high, because the judge knew that I wouldn’t be able to afford more than a few bucks. I’ll say, the wheels of justice seem to turn faster here than they do where I’m from. They do hearings on the weekend, did you know that? That’s so weird, but I’m grateful for it. I’m staying in a hotel right now, which the feds are allowing me to tell you, but I can’t say which one. It’s pretty nice, though. They’re treating me like an important witness, which I may be. They may ask me to testify against the ID makers whenever they catch them, and start turning the wheels of justice over them too. Don’t get too excited for me, though. They’ll probably cut me a deal for a lighter sentence due to my help in the bigger investigation, but I’m not getting off scot-free. I’ve still committed my own crimes, and the law is clear enough on that, so I’ll have to pay for my sins one way or another. The government can’t pay my legal fees, for obvious reasons, but I don’t have to worry about that either. They’re not the only friends that I unexpectedly made.

When I first left Kansas City, and hid out in Iowa, I quickly hooked up with the ID makers to generate my new identity. I still can’t tell you how I managed that, but perhaps one day. Sorry, but it’s not my secret to tell. Soon after that, I was able to find a job. It was a weird place where I worked, but I didn’t ask any questions. I just cleaned where I was told to clean, and kept my head down. They were dealing with very secretive information, but I never found out what exactly all of those documents were for. I still don’t know, but they noticed me, and they’ve decided to help out too, for reasons I couldn’t tell you. They’ve promised to cover all of my legal fees, including whatever it might cost if I decide to countersue the state, the federal government, or anyone else. I don’t think that I’m going to do that. I’m not sure what my case would be, and I’m not greedy. I knew what I was getting myself into. Well, I didn’t know that I would encounter a kidnap victim, but as far as my own dealings go, I made my own bed. Here’s what I’m worried about—and I’m fully aware that they have access to my blog—maybe they think that I saw something while I was a janitor in their offices, and don’t want me telling others about it. Honestly, I didn’t see nothin’, man. All of the regular staff members were always really good about keeping their stuff locked up, and I was really good about not letting my eyes wander. The truth is, I’m a curious person, but I’m not investigative. I could never have been a detective, because I generally don’t want to get into other people’s business. If I walk up to two people who are laughing together, I don’t ask them what’s funny. The way I see it, if they want to tell me, they can. So I don’t know what interest my former employer has in my legal issues, but I’ve decided to accept their help until they give me a reason to stop trusting them. I’ll fill you in on more tomorrow. Things are changing every day now, so I’m sure I’ll have a lot to catch you up on. This could all be a game, or a ruse, though, so my declaration stands; no matter what the autopsy says, it was murder.

Microstory 2102: You’re Only Hurting Yourself

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2

Oh my God, the coppers must think I’m preeeetty stupid if they legitimately believed that I was in Chicago. I literally told you in my last post that I wasn’t going to mention any specifics about my location, and immediately after, I claimed that I was going to be on the Chicago River? You didn’t think that I would catch that “mistake”. It was a total misdirect, meant to accomplish two objectives. First, I wanted to see if anyone who might have been looking for me was trying to use my blog as a resource. Second, I wanted to gauge the response. For my part, I think it was blown way out of proportion. They had the whole city lookin’ for me; for one little guy who hasn’t hurt anybody. You people need to get your priorities checked. A part of me wanted to continue to waste their time and money looking in the right place, but I’m not vengeful and petty like them. So this is the truth, I’m not anywhere near Chicago. I chose it, because I’m moderately familiar with it from my experiences in my home universe, and because I had already made a minor connection to someone there. He was one of the people who answered my ad that was looking for other aliens. I haven’t talked to that guy in a long time, though. Make a list of every place you think I would hide out, and then cross it all out. I would never hide where someone might think to look for me. That’s Lam 101. I never said anything about Philadelphia. Why don’t you check there? Or I know, how about the entirety of China? My advice, cut your losses, and move on to more important cases. As I said, I never hurt anybody, and I won’t. I have no reason to. I’m not dangerous, I’m not angry. I’m just trying to get home. Anyone who doesn’t understand that probably has easier access to their own home, so I’m asking for a little sympathy here. Stop looking for me! I’m not worth it! You’re only hurting yourself. I ran, and I understand that I caused a problem when I did that, but I’m telling you now that you will never find me, so if you continue the investigation, it will be all on you. I will accept no responsibility for whatever resources are expended on it, or whatever it ends up costing the taxpayers of this country. Just leave me alone, and everything will be okay. Yours truly, the ghost.

Microstory 2065: Not Gonna Hurt You

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software

Today I had a tour of the garden where I’ll be working starting next month. Or I should say, I hope I’ll be working there. She thought it was going to be okay that I don’t have any proof of citizenship, or a bank account, or a national ID number. Where I’m from, there’s no such thing as an NID. We have social security numbers that serve the same purpose, but that’s not really what the system was made for. I’m getting sidetracked again. The garden. It’s not the end of the world that I can’t prove I was born here, or that I was born at all, but there’s a process. She won’t be able to officially hire me until I get all that squared away. If you’ll remember, I was going to meet with a social worker earlier this month, but I never ended up doing that, because I secured this great place to live, and everything seemed to be okay without my new life. I’m getting over my second illness, but I’m still not there yet, so come Monday, I’ll finally be doing that. We’ll keep our distances from each other, and I’ll at least be wearing a mask. I spoke with him briefly on the phone, and he thinks that it will be okay. There is a proper way to enter this country, whether you want to come as a visitor, or stay as a citizen, but it’s not that difficult. It’s extremely difficult and painful in my version of the United States, but they see no reason to do it like that here. Where I’m from, people are terribly afraid that criminals will come in from foreign nations, but here’s the thing, there are criminals everywhere. You can commit a crime in the country you’re born in just as easily as a different one. No, that’s not true. It’s actually easier, because you don’t have to go somewhere first. How can we stop foreign criminals if we don’t just criminalize immigration itself? Uh, well what do we do about native criminals? It’s called law enforcement. Ever heard of it? It may begin with the border in some cases, but it’s not like it ends there. So stop freaking out, I’m not gonna hurt you. Can I be a citizen now? Everyone I’ve talked to about it says, yes, probably. Have a nice weekend!

Microstory 1998: Vastly Irresponsible Plan

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Leonard: Where is she? She’s not in a jail cell still, is she?

Street Proctor: No, no, no, no, no. She’s in the VIP quarters. She’s perfectly fine.

Leonard: The law station has a VIP room?

Street Proctor: Of course. They don’t on your world? [...] Oh, don’t look so surprised. You told me that you were in the wrong world when we first met, and now you’re some big shot secret agent. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you were actually telling the truth the whole time. I really wanna apologize for how I treated you back then. I was going through some stuff that had nothing to do with you, but it was no excuse for being unprofessional and unhelpful. And I’m not just saying that because you super outrank me now. I’ve been to some seminars, one workshop, and counseling every week.

Leonard: Well, I appreciate you saying that. It’s...very big of you.

Street Proctor: Yeah. Well anyway, your wife is right through here.

Leonard: *steps into the room* Keziah.

Keziah: Leonard. What the hell is happening? Where are we?

Leonard: What is the last thing you remember?

Keziah: I was going to Yuuna’s baby shower. I was driving around, thinking that I was very lost, until I realized that I was actually very, very lost. None of this is familiar. They call this place a law station, instead of a police station. The guy who helped me said he was a proctor, which is nothing I’ve ever heard of either. What is this room all about?

Leonard: Yuuna’s baby shower? That was months ago. That was...that was the day that I disappeared. You and I left our Earth on the same day, but I’ve been here since June.

Keziah: Time travel? We traveled through time? Wait, does this have something to do with your little friend? Where is he? He has to send us back home.

Leonard: It’s not really time travel. It’s that—let’s see, how did he put it—the timestreams for two separate universes have nothing to do with each other. And anyway, I’ve not seen him. I don’t think he had anything to do with it. It’s just something that happens sometimes. In fact, I believe that our link to him is the only reason either of us realizes that there’s something different about this world. There could be others here who  are from different versions of Earth, but don’t even know it.

Keziah: Either way, I wanna go home. Do you have a plan? It’s been months, right?

Leonard: Hold on... *starts to wave a little device all over the room*

Keziah: *turns the sink on* Is that a bug detector?

Leonard: Yes. We’re in the clear, but let’s whisper anyway. I have indeed been working on a plan, but I’ve had trouble enacting it. Number one, if we use the only tools we have at our disposal, we could be dooming our world to profound destruction, so if we try it, I’ll have to kill the alien who transported us right away, but that’s assuming he even took us to the right brane in the first place. And now that you’re here, I’m not sure we can both fit in the portal. Plus...I’ve sort of...built a new little life here.

Keziah: The ink on the divorce papers you texted me to say you signed, sealed, and sent out for delivery isn’t even dry yet. But you met someone, didn’t you?

Leonard: Yes, I did. You would like her.

Keziah: I don’t doubt it. But I still wanna go home. Tell me about this alien.

Microstory 1993: Purple Tie

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Myka: Is it okay that we’re all three here, and none of us is at the office?

Leonard: They’ll be fine. Deputy Director Robles knows what she’s doing.

Myka: Deputy Director Robles. Director Parsons.

Reese: *from the other room* What’s that?

Myka: We’re just spreading gossip about you! Keep putting on your pants! [...] It’s just crazy where we are now. Maybe it’s not as much for you, since you were in law enforcement already, but I never would have guessed that I would be working for a secret department in the government. How did this happen?

Leonard: I never would have guessed that I would be on an alien planet, dating an alien, and helping my alien boss friend try on outfits.

Myka: *giggles* I want to eat your brains.

Leonard: That’s zombies.

Myka: I’ve heard it both ways.

Reese: *comes into the room* Okay, what about this one?

Myka: *tilts her head* Not bad. As long as you have a purple tie to go with it.

Reese: Why does it have to be purple?

Myka: If you have to ask, you’re not ready for this look.

Reese: Okay, well, I only have one more option, so if you shoot it down too, I’m screwed, because we don’t have time to shop before the plane takes off this afternoon.

Myka: Go get it, boy! *slaps him on the butt as he leaves*

Leonard: I can’t believe he’s doing this. What is it even for?

Myka: All department heads report directly to NatCo. I have a feeling he’s going to be spending a lot more time at the Capital, and a lot less time with us.

Leonard: I hope Celandine is prepared for that.

Myka: I hope we are.

Reese: *comes back again* Okay, here it is.

Myka: Aww, you do have a purple tie.

Reese: *spins around* How does the whole ensemble work?

Leonard: Perfect, my man.

Reese: *takes a breath* I wish you two could come with me. Not even necessarily in the meeting, but just knowing you’re waiting out in the hallway, or even back at the hotel; I would feel a lot more comfortable. I’m not enthusiastic about being alone with him.

Myka: You’ll do great. You have a penis, so you’ve got that going for ya.

Leonard: How do you know that?

Reese: Wait, what does that have to do with anything?

Myka: He’s notoriously sexist. You’ve never heard the saying? If you’re a man, he’ll shake your hands. If you have boobs, he’ll rub your shoulders.

Reese: That doesn’t rhyme.

Myka: I don’t think it’s supposed to. It’s just true.

Leonard: Well, I’ll be sure to criticize him for that in person.

Myka: I think that would be a great idea. *straightens his tie* Anyway, we better get to the airport. I’ll drive so Leonard can go over your talking points with you in the car.

Microstory 1967: Recognizing the Signs

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Reese: You two set up the computers. Sasho, follow me. I need you for something. Grab that bag. No, not that one. Yes, that one. Sachs, you know which case to grab. *leaves*

Ophelia: What do you think they’re talking about up there?

Micro: Leonard knows. Don’t ya, Leonard?

Leonard: Not sure, but that was obviously a rifle case, so my guess is that they’re going to start teaching Sasho how to spot through a scope.

Ophelia: That makes sense.

Micro: You ever shot anyone in your universe, Leo? Can I call you Leo?

Leonard: Leo is fine, yeah. And yes, I have had to fire my weapon before.

Micro: One of your parolees?

Leonard: No, this was something else.

Ophelia: What did you mean, in your universe? Are you just referring to the world of law enforcement, or am I missing something?

Leonard: Uhh...

Micro: Oh, we’re not from this universe. Like, literally. I’m from Salmonverse, and I don’t think his has a name.

Ophelia: I was not aware of this.

Leonard: We didn’t tell anyone, Micro. We especially didn’t tell anyone about you, since the government already knows about me, and we can still protect you from them.

Micro: *shrugging* I don’t need to be protected. I can take care of myself. I don’t see what the big deal is. We came through Westfall, which is the least jarring way to travel. Now, if I were from Linseverse, then you would really have something to question, because then your hacker would be a talking dinosaur—

Ophelia: Is that real, or are you joking?

Leonard: She’s joking.

Micro: No, they’re real. Troodons evolved human-comparable intelligence after not being wiped out in an extinction level event, like what happened in our three respective versions of Earth. I’ve never been there, but it’s in the multiversal historical record.

Leonard: How much do you know about all this? Have you met the Superintendent?

Ophelia: Who’s the Superintendent?

Micro: *laughing* No. Ophelia, the Superintendent knows a lot about the bulkverse, because his spirit possesses psychic abilities that allow him to witness hyperdimensionally remote events, which he uses to write stories that no one reads. But he’s not the only one with such knowledge, Leonard. One day, you’ll meet others.

Leonard: You said that there was no hope that I would get back home.

Micro: I meant that there was no reason to fixate on the possibility. Don’t waste your time in pursuit of it. But once you fall into the secret underbelly of reality, it’s pretty much impossible to crawl out of it, and leave it behind. You’ll cross paths with someone new, and your conditions will change again. Ophelia will probably meet someone else too, if she hasn’t already, but she just won’t realize it. You’ll learn to recognize the signs.

Leonard: Hmm. Well, Ophelia, I hope you can keep a secret. This is sensitive stuff.

Ophelia: I promise to say nothing. As long as you teach me to recognize the signs too.

Microstory 1949: Those in the Know

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Reese: Oh, good, you’re here too. I was worried about you both, but you don’t have a phone, and she’s not picking up.

Myka: Sorry, I’m here. My phone died while we were in quarantine, and it’s still off and on the charger. Leo, we need to get you your own device.

Leonard: Yeah.

Reese: Is everyone okay? How did they treat you in there? [...] Somebody respond, I’m getting worried again.

Leonard: I’m fine, I was just trying to let the lady speak first.

Myka: I’m fine too. I missed you...both. I have something to tell you, though, and I don’t know how you’re gonna feel about it.

Leonard: Let me guess, they offered you a job.

Myka: Yeah!

Reese: Seriously? Both of you? That’s suspicious.

Myka: Why, you don’t think I would be cut out for it?

Reese: I didn’t say that. It’s just that the government doesn’t make a habit out of hiring the formerly incarcerated. Even the OSI has a thing about perfect prior records. What would you even be doing for them?

Myka: They didn’t say.

Reese: See? Suspicious. I don’t think you should even entertain the idea.

Leonard: I’m not so sure, and I think I know the reason. She knows about the aliens, and I am an alien. I think they would rather keep us close than far away where they can’t keep track of our movements and behaviors. I’m thinking about taking it. Like you said, I need a phone. And a place to live, and food. I need money for all that, just as I did on my world. How hard would it be to apply at, say, a carwash without a valid background?

Myka: You’re right, they’re trying to keep an eye on us, but that doesn’t doesn’t mean we should accept the positions. I assume you have something more substantial in the way of an offer than I do, but it sounds dangerous.

Reese: Well....

Myka: Well, what? Have you already changed your mind?

Reese: I want you both to be safe, and you knowing about aliens puts you in more danger than I’m in because I know about them too. Yes, you would be working for the people who are placing you in that danger, but maybe they’ll be less likely to go after you if you seem to share their interests. Government spies know government secrets all the time, and their government doesn’t kill them, because they’re on the same side.

Myka: So, you think I should take it?

Reese: I didn’t say that. I just don’t think we should dismiss it. We really should learn what plans they have for you. You have skills, as do you, Leonard, but neither of you has the kind of résumé they generally look for.

Leonard: How do you suppose we go about procuring such information?

Reese: We don’t. I already work there, to a certain extent. I’ll go back in and see what I can find out. You two stay here and don’t go out unless you’re buying a new phone, and don’t separate until you have one...or maybe not even then.

Microstory 1948: Myka’s Debrief

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

SI Eliot: Well, I think that’s it for me. You’ve been most helpful. I appreciate your patience. I know this has been a rough last several days.

Myka: That’s it? I’m free to go?

SI Eliot: Yep. I can arrange a car to transport you back to your home, if you need.

Myka: No, I...

SI Eliot: You what?

Myka: How long will I last out there before you find something to charge me with?

SI Eliot: Miss Tennison, if we wanted to arrest you, we would just do it. We wouldn’t have to come up with some new charge.

Myka: Wouldn’t you? Every law I’ve broken for this operation must be kept as a state secret. They can’t be listed in the records, so there’s nothing you can do right now.

SI Eliot: Even if that were true, you’re assuming that we have any interest in arresting you in the first place, which we don’t.

Myka: Forgive me if I’m having trouble believing that you’ll truly let me go with the knowledge that I have regarding the aliens. Guys like you don’t like leaving loose ends, and right now, I’m feelin’ pretty loose.

SI Eliot: You mean you intend to tell others what you know?

Myka: No, that’s not what I mean, but I’m worried that that is what you’re thinking, and you’re just not telling me about it, because you want me to feel comfortable.

SI Eliot: Again, we wouldn’t need to set you free if we wanted to stop you. I can think of six laws and policies off the top of my head that would give us more than enough reason to stuff you down a dark hole for the rest of your life. Letting you go back home in the hopes that you jaywalk, or accidentally open someone else’s mail, is a lot more work than is anywhere near necessary. The government is a lazy entity. That’s why we have buzzwords like rendition and national security, so everything falls into some sort of legal category that allows us to do whatever we want. So trust me when I say, you’re safe.

Myka: Well...I’ll believe it when I see it, which I guess may not happen until I’m on my deathbed for natural causes. Until then, I suppose I will take my leave.

SI Eliot: However...

Myka: Here it comes.

SI Eliot: If you would be willing to stay on with us in a more official capacity, we would be willing to discuss terms.

Myka: Are you trying to offer me a job?

SI Eliot: It’s like you said, you know about the aliens, and I’m not just talking about those wingèd insects downstairs. Your relationship with the human from another universe could prove invaluable.

Myka: I’m not going to be spying on Leonard for you.

SI Eliot: I’m not asking you to. I’ve had multiple similar conversations with him in regards to a job here. He has law enforcement experience, which you don’t, so I couldn’t promise you would be out in the field, but I’m sure we could find a place for you here.

Myka: Hmm... I’m not sure. I’ll need to think about it.

SI Eliot: I would be worried if you didn’t.

Microstory 1947: Leonard’s Debrief

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

SI Eliot: Shifting gears, I think we have a pretty good idea of what happened out in the desert. Your story matches other people’s accounts. I want to know more about you, and where you come from. I understand that you’re from Earth, but in another universe. What exactly does that mean? Is there another you running around here somewhere?

Leonard: I am no expert in this. Like I’ve told you, I’m just a parole officer. I only know about any of this because I had a parolee who wrote stories about it. I didn’t think any of it was real until it happened to me, so now I’m drawing on what I can remember him telling me. I didn’t exactly take notes, because again, I thought they were just stories. But no, there’s other me here. There’s a difference between a timeline, a reality, and a universe. Right? Yeah, that sounds right. Don’t ask me about the first two, but I get that the third one is completely different. It doesn’t have the same people. How two unrelated universes could both end up with a planet called Earth with humans living on it who are about the same as each other, I really couldn’t explain.

SI Eliot: Who was this parolee of yours? He was, what, just some writer?

Leonard: Well, yes. He wrote science fiction stories, and then one day he found himself in one of his own stories, and that’s what set him on the path to my universe.

SI Eliot: Where is he now?

Leonard: Apparently, now is a relative term. The last time I saw him, he was in my universe. They probably assigned him a new parole officer after I disappeared. Or...

SI Eliot: Or what?

Leonard: Or I’ll eventually go back to where I was, and no time will have passed from the perspective of everyone I left. *airquotes*

SI Eliot: So, you’re a time traveler.

Leonard: I may be a time traveler.

SI Eliot: *clears his throat*

Leonard: I told you that I’m not an expert. Look, I don’t think I would have noticed anything if my friends were here, and your laws weren’t so different. I mean, it’s not illegal to break out of jail? That’s so weird. For me, it’s a crime, and when you’re caught, you’re charged with it as such, and if found guilty, it could add to your sentence.

SI Eliot: Do you want us to do that to you?

Leonard: No, of course not. I’m just trying to illustrate the differences. This world probably seems completely normal to you, but if you went to mine, you would feel like I do now. Now imagine being a—quote-unquote—alien. Those four you have in custody right now, I bet their society is profoundly different than yours, or even mine. Just remember that. If you have to jar them with your bizarre procedures and practices, do that. If you have to try to meet them at their level, do that. But do not expect your understanding of human behavior to have anything to do with how they think. They have seen humans destroy worlds before, and even though they’ve reportedly found you not guilty of the same, I don’t see how they don’t use it against you anyway.

SI Eliot: What are you trying to say?

Leonard: Don’t trust them. They want to kill you, whether they admit it or not. Now are we done here? I’ve not slept in days, and I don’t feel like this is doing any good.

Microstory 1942: Injured Wanderer

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Dream by Wombo text-to-image AI software

Shadow Team Leader: This is Shadow Team Leader, reporting in. Do you read me, Special Investigator?

Special Investigator: Shadow Team Leader, this is Special Investigator. Go ahead.

Shadow Team Leader: We think the recon team has found something. Most of them have disappeared into the ground, presumably into some kind of bunker, or underground facility.

Special Investigator: An underground facility? All the way out there?

Shadow Team Leader: We believe so, sir. Whatever it is, they climbed into it willingly. It was just a minute ago.

Special Investigator: Who did they leave topside?

Shadow Team Leader: Two of the freewomen they had with them.

Special Investigator: The primary?

Shadow Team Leader: No, one of the secondaries. How should we proceed, sir?

Special Investigator: Are the freewomen armed?

Shadow Team Leader: One of them is, sir.

Special Investigator: We can’t risk an incident. If there are hostiles down there, we can’t appear to be discoordinated, or internally disharmonious. *pause* One of you needs to run an injured wanderer maneuver. Are there any women on your team? I think the freewomen will respond better to one of their own.

Shadow Team Leader: Shadow Team Member 1 can do it. She’s done it before. How badly do you want her to be injured?

Special Investigator: Turn her ankle and cut her upper arm.

Shadow Team Leader: Understood. Shadow Team Leader out.

Shadow Team Member 1: The cut should be on the same side as the turned ankle. I should be leaning to one side to sell it my vulnerability

Shadow Team Leader: Agreed. My knife or yours?

Shadow Team Member 1: Neither. The cut will be too smooth. If I hurt myself in a car wreck, it needs to be jagged and uneven.

Shadow Team Member 2: I can handle that. I was an art major. Which side?

Shadow Team Leader: Not here. Let’s runabout to the other side. None of them is from the area. They don’t know how close the street is from that side of their current position, but they know we’re too far from the road that came from for someone as hurt as she’s gonna be to have wandered that far.

*a little later*

Shadow Team Member 1: Hello? I could see you from way out there! I thought it was a mirage! Wait, you’re not a mirage, are you?

Freewoman 3: Stop! State your business!

Shadow Team Member 1: Hold on, I can’t hear ya! Ugh, ow. I was trying to look at the map. I’m such an idiot. I ran off the road, and hit these rocky slaps that were just sticking out of the ground like someone put them there. I couldn’t find my phone in the wreckage. It’s probably there, but now I only have one arm. Can I borrow yours?

Freewoman 3: That’s close enough. I’m going to get help. Watch her, Freewoman 4.