The Sixth Key: Sleeping Like a Rock (Part V)

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Echo begins to approach Clavia menacingly. She has been lying to him this whole time, and worse than that, manipulating him. All of her lessons were designed to turn him into the person that she wanted him to be. Perhaps he really is some sort of ethereal god-like being, but he’s not a tyrant. She instilled those values in him without him even knowing it, and she’s going to pay.

“Wait,” she says, holding her hand up defensively. “You can’t hurt me.”

“Why not?” Echo asks.

“I am more powerful than you,” she replies.

“Then why did you come here? Why do you need me? What are you after?”

She sighs like she’s relenting. “I’m more powerful than you, but you are still powerful. More to the point, you have power to give.”

“You’ve just been trying to take it? Is that even possible?”

Clavia smiles. “I don’t need the power in my own body,” she says with airquotes. “If I control what you do with it, it’s the same as having it for myself. Now, I’m being honest, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t before. But we’ve barely scratched the surface of your studies. We’ve not had time to get into the fine details of the world. I am what they call the Powers That Be. I am here to help, but I’m still so limited. I’m reliant on selecting human agents to do most things for me. In order to enact real change, I have to unshackle myself from those restrictions. When I do that, I’ll transform into the Power That is All. I came here...to ask for your help...to change the universe for the better.”

“You wanna team up?” Echo questions. “You went about it the wrong way.”

“I see that now.”

“It’s too late.” Echo turns to Hogarth. “I was naïve, and stupid, but I’m awake now, and I better understand my origins. My mother is a woman by the name of Olimpia Sangster. I was hoping to find her.”

“I am familiar with her,” Hogarth replies, “but I don’t know where she is. Last time I saw her, she was on a planet called Castlebourne, but that was years ago from my perspective.”

“I appreciate it. I’ll start there, and continue looking.”

“You can’t leave this planet,” Clavia warns. “I would have gotten us out of here a long time ago if you could. You are an extension of this place. You and it are the only things that exist. That little shuttle of yours, the suit; everything is just something that you contrived in your head to make sense of your reality. But you are really just the planet itself. That’s why you named it Echo.”

Echo was watching her as she talked, but now turns back to Hogarth. “Is this true?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know what you are, or what this place is. I only know that you’re a danger to a lot of people. I’m sorry to say...”

“No, I understand,” Echo admits. He steps away, and hops off the stage. He walks a little ways down the curve of the hill, and begins to survey his domain. He’s the planet. He made the planet. He needed a place to stand, so he came up with something. But that’s not the only kind of thing that people stand on. It never needed to be this big. Most of it is just lifeless desert anyway, it’s not like his brain took the time to intricately fabricate every single blade of grass in every part of the world. He probably did a lot of copying and pasting just to get the basic structure down. If this isn’t real, then it can be anything. He can turn it into something more manageable. He takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes, and sinks down to the ground. He sits there, and focuses, but he doesn’t concentrate. Instead, he lets go. He stops trying to keep this rock alive, and just lets it fold in on itself, not all the way, but into a much smaller shape. In only seconds, all that’s left is the hill, floating in the void, protected by a bubble of air that he controls. He opens his eyes and stands. “I am the god-being,” he says, as if explaining it to Hogarth.

One of Hogarth’s friends hops over to the edge, and glides her finger along the vacuum barrier. It ripples like water, and it kind of looks like she’s tickled by it. “I was wrong, this will not do,” she says. “This is no place for the next Garden Dimension. It’s too unstable and unsafe. We should transplant the tree back where we were going to in the parallel dimension on Earth.”

“I didn’t think this would be the place for the Garden, Princess,” another woman says to her, “but we can’t just transplant a magical tree whenever we want to.”

Princess Honeypea walks over to Echo. “The fruit. Have you tried it?” She tilts her head over to Clavia’s tree.

“She told me that it would be sort of...intimate.”

“That may not have been a lie,” Princess says. “Her tree is different than the one we had before. It may not work the same way, but if it does, it can take you to your mother. Then perhaps you move the tree itself in return.”

Echo goes back up to Clavia. “Can it? Can it find my real mother?”

Clavia takes a moment. “It could take someone to her, but not you. I’m not lying, you can’t leave, no matter how big or small this place is. It’s the void. You were born in the void. You were born of the void. It is here you must stay. You too would require human agents. If you had started out as a normal human like me, you would have one exception, but I’m afraid you’re too tied down.”

“Then what do you want from me?” Echo asks again. “I thought my power would help you lift your own restrictions. I thought that was the point.”

Clavia hesitates to respond. “A child. If we had a child of our own, it would be a million times stronger, and have the ability to leave.”

“The child of two gods,” Echo muses. “Sounds...like a monumentally stupid idea, and a very irresponsible one.” This is getting out of hand, and Echo is more confused than ever. He doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Even though he knows that he can’t trust Clavia, he also can’t trust his own mind. She’s not just been manipulating him, but brainwashing him too. There’s so much up there in his brain. How much of it is just a way for her to control him? He has to get rid of it. He has to get rid of it all.

“Are you okay?” one of the people asks him. “You look sad.”

“I’m dying,” Echo replies.

“That’s not possible,” Clavia decides.

“You’re dying too.”

“What?”

“You’re an amalgam of multiple people, some of which are here today in alternate form.” He gestures towards the group as he’s walking towards her again. “Your primary consciousness is that of a not-so-great person, but that’s just because that was the one that was prepared for it. You wanted to be in charge. I can put someone else in charge.”

“No,” Clavia argues. She looks to others for help. “You’re not gonna let him do this, are you? It’s a violation. No! No!”

Echo doesn’t need to touch her, she can back away as much as he wants. He closes his eyes again, and focuses on her mind. It’s all jumbled in there, with a bunch of conflicting thoughts rattling around. As he’s snaking his way through the amalgam, he realizes that it could be worse. It could be just The First Explorer and no one else. At least the other minds in there have been taming her thirst for power. She probably didn’t count on that, but it means less work for him. It will make it easier for him to do a little bit of rearranging. Just a tweak here, and a modification there. And...go to sleep.

Clavia falls to the grass.

“Is she dead?” Hogarth asks.

“The one you knew as Clavia is, yes,” Echo explains, “but a new being will awaken in her place.” He breathes deeply once more. “The same will go for me.”

“Is that really necessary?” Princess Honeypea questions.

“It’s the only way to be sure,” Echo replies. “When I wake up, I won’t understand any of this. I won’t know any of you. I’m trusting you to teach me; to show me what life is really about, and how to be a good person. Sorry to cut this short, but I hope that we can be friends in the next life.”

“None of us is qualified to do what you ask,” Hogarth contends.

“Like I said, I’m trusting you.” Before anyone can argue any further, Echo shuts his eyes, and erases his whole mind. He too falls to the grass.

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Microstory 2399: Vacuus, May 18, 2183

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Dear Pascal,

This is the best news ever. Are you ready for this? Get excited. You’re never gonna guess. If you’ll recall, last year, you sent me a message, informing me that your son, my brother, was found missing two years prior, and ultimately declared dead. Well, I’m happy to contradict that in the strongest way possible. Condor is one hundred percent alive. He’s here. That’s why he was missing. This guy got on a spaceship, and flew 1200 astronomical units into the black to intercept Vacuus in its lonely deep space orbit. If you want proof, attached is a little video of us at our real joint birthday party last night. It was such a surprise. We caught wind that a new ship of migrants were coming to live here, and help us grow, but we never dreamed that Condor might have been one of them. It was actually his idea, but I’ll let him tell you.

Hi dad, it’s your boy, Condor. I’m sorry I left you. I was planning the trip out here for quite a while. In fact, I first thought of it the day Corinthia’s message came through. I started doing calculations to determine how long it would take, and what the flight would be like. I did research on my own, and I reached out to other people. There was a ton of interest in certain circles to come here. It’s not the most habitable place in the universe, but nowhere is by Earth’s standards when man first crawled out of the mud. I didn’t know if I was going to be successful, but I knew I had to try, and the more letters I got from Corinthia, the more I wanted it. Most of the people I came here with are still in orbit, awaiting the Vacuans to expand their base to accommodate them, but they let me drop down in an escape pod alone, because I initiated and organized the whole thing. I’m so thankful for the chance to spend my birthday with my twin sister for the first time ever. We ate homegrown root vegetables! Now for the serious stuff. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I probably should have, but you always felt terrible about keeping this all a secret, and that only got more intense after the letters started. It had to be a surprise for Corinthia, and I knew that you would spill the beans by the time I made it. It took our ship three and a half years to get here. That is a markèd improvement over the eighteen years it took Corinthia and her mother, Alizée, but I was pretty sure the Valkyries would fly away early enough for you to tell Corinthia the truth. I know what your next question will be. Why didn’t I try to bring you with me? I did try. There was a hard age limit. I was almost too old to qualify. The cutoff was 40, and there are only a few of us around that age. Most of the passengers are in their 20s. But I knew you would be okay. What I didn’t know was that I would be declared missing, and presumed dead. This was all done through the Earth Restoration Project. I thought we were all on the same page, but we got our wires, and someone apparently didn’t know what the cover story was. So I’m really sorry about that, but I’m fine, and I look forward to your response.

With all my love,

Your son, Condor, and your daughter, Corintha

PS: This is Velia! I’m here too!

Microstory 2383: Earth, November 1, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Huge news. I couldn’t wait to write this until after your next message, whenever that ends up being. I know that dad told you what he found out from our old neighbor, so I won’t go over all that again. While he was gone, I managed to make contact with my old nurse. Her name is Madalena Rich, and she was part of it all. She wasn’t just hired by the researchers to observe me. She was part of the braintrust that came up with the idea to study twins separated at birth throughout their entire lives. It was she who located our mother, since her name was in the records as being pregnant with twins. She didn’t make first contact with your mom, but they did become friends after Alizée was read into the program, and honestly, kind of brainwashed into believing that this all made sense. At first, mom thought that they were just going to have her live a few towns over, but then they kept talking about it, and a few towns became a few states, and a few states became a different country, and so on and so forth, until we ended up where we are today. It was this whole long-con. They just kept getting her more and more excited about what kind of data they could get from this study, and how beneficial it would be for the advancement of science. Madalena was already a nurse by the time this happened, which means that she lied to our father about being a student. It was an excuse she came up with for why she wasn’t demanding much money to care for me. She didn’t need money, she just needed to get into that apartment, though obviously it would have been quite suspicious had she agreed to do it entirely free.

We talked about a lot more than this, so these are only the highlights. I screen recorded our conversation—in secret at first, though I later divulged it, which she didn’t argue against. She said that she has done a lot of growing up, and has dedicated her career to helping the less fortunate. She also regrets having participated, especially since it made little sense to begin with. It took them a few months to build up to the whole Vacuus expedition offer, and just when they had it, they discovered that we were fraternal twins. We were right that it was really disorganized. They didn’t try to develop a relationship with any other candidates, this was their one chance, or they would literally miss the boat that took you across the interplanetary void. They realized how little meaning their study would have at this point, but decided to press forward. Over time, they eventually gave up. At least, that’s what Madalena believed. She stopped treating me (by the way, but illnesses were real, it’s not like she was getting me sick on purpose), and she walked away from it all. She only later found out about her old business associates approaching our neighbor for further observation when I was a little older. One last thing. The screen recording doesn’t have this, because she never said it out loud, but she sent me an old contact card with the name of the person assigned to study you on the ship, and on the planet. It was Elek Katona. Isn’t that Velia’s last name?

Reeling from the truth,

Condor

Microstory 2382: Earth, October 31, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m sure that my son has already informed you, but I was recently on a trip to Eastern Seaboard, which if you don’t know, is a city-state in the former United States of America. I was taking part in very early negotiations for future possible trade deals. The platform is still circumnavigating the continent of Australia, even though our initial required proximity period has passed. We ended up extending that another four months after some people from other Australian domes began to express interest in moving here. We currently don’t know where we’ll go after this, but it’s always good to have your options open, and it’s not like we have to float over to a trading partner in order to trade with them. That’s what jets are for. So I went out there for my work, but I was also doing something else. After investigating my own past, and reaching out to my contacts, I discovered that an old friend of ours from before the collapse of society—or, I guess it was kind of during it—was living there. I couldn’t pinpoint his exact location remotely, or find his contact information, so I decided to fly up there to look for him myself. And wouldn’t you know it, I found him. I told you that I wouldn’t send you another message until I had a solid update for you, so I hope this qualifies. I confronted Gunnar about his motivations back then after we started catching up, and felt like he was being rather evasive. He seemed to have mixed feelings about seeing me again, like he was happy, but also pretty worried. In my head, I thought for sure this was the guy. He knew something. He was part of it. He was Condor’s secret observer. As it turns out, not exactly. When we met, he was genuinely trying to be my friend. He didn’t even like sports or outdoorsy stuff either; he just figured that I did, because they were very common hobbies, and he was desperately trying to connect. The reason he approached me in the first place was because he had social anxiety, and his therapist recommended he intentionally step out of his comfort zone, and try his hand at small talk, explaining that the worst that could happen was an awkward conversation that ended quickly. I felt really bad about accusing him of something nefarious but then he admitted that he was once contacted by a mysterious someone, asking him to keep tabs on us; Condor in particular. Out of fear, he actually agreed to do it, but he fed this stranger false information. He would just straight up lie about how Condor was doing, and how his personality was developing. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, or if he should have refused entirely. He wasn’t sure if he should have told me what was going on either. He always regretted not speaking up, though, and was grateful for the opportunity recently. Except for the first one, Gunnar recorded every conversation he had with this other man, who never gave him his name. Gunnar kept these recordings all this time, so he was able to give me copies of them. I’ve put in a request to the forensics specialists to have them analyzed, and will update you again if and when they find something. We’re getting closer, Cori. We’re gonna find out who did this to you. To us.

Your distant but doting father,

Pascal

Microstory 2371: Earth, September 22, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I forgot to tell you that the word don’t isn’t in my vocabulary. So to me, all you said was “get mad”. So I got mad. I’m not mad at Bray, as long as you’re not mad at Bray. Are you not mad at Bray? Okay. I just support you. But I am mad at our parents. It seems that every few weeks, we find out this horrifying new secret about our pasts, or our lives. The answer is yes, I was sick. I was apparently very sick as a child. I confronted my father yet again for answers, and he confessed to everything. To his credit, he’s not a doctor, and it didn’t occur to him that you might be suffering from the same condition. We couldn’t afford to visit a doctor back then. Things were bad, the entire industry sector was suffering. There was a huge gap between supply and demand for medical help, and as a result, prices were exorbitant. We could only afford a nurse. He claims that he never lied by telling me that she was a babysitter, so I guess I just grew up assuming that. She wasn’t even a nurse yet either, though, but a nursing student, so she was willing to help for less just for the experience. According to him, she was incredibly kind and helpful, and while he didn’t have the education necessary to assess how she was helping, the results were rather clear. Whenever I was showing signs of my illness again, she slipped me medicine—often hidden in the chicken noodle soup—and then I got better. She had no clue that it was hereditary, however, I’m still mad, because he should have said something recently. He should have made the connection, especially when he was compiling his list of people who might have been responsible for studying the Earth twin. It could have been her, for all we know. We don’t know. Anyway, I’ve looked her up in a database of medical professionals, which I have access to for potential telehealth needs. She’s currently living under a dome in what was once South Africa, before the borders collapsed. I’ve reached out to her, and am awaiting a response. Someone needs to fix this. I have attached a copy of all of my medical records, so you can look for yourself, and give it to your doctor. I also attached our dad’s file, with a signed cover sheet that proves he authorized it. Please take care of yourself. Don’t overdo it.

Love you so much,

Condor

Microstory 2370: Vacuus, September 13, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I don’t want you to get mad. Let me just say that right at the top, before you read any further. Remember that, DON’T. GET. MAD. I’m glad that I’ve been so busy, so I couldn’t respond to your letter to the base before my private letter from you came through anyway. And I’m glad that you sent it. What I’m not glad about is my current medical condition. I know that you didn’t want details about my love life, but I think the backstory is important, and I feel compelled to be honest about what’s going on with me, because things aren’t great, and I don’t want you to be in the dark. It also might have an impact on you, since there’s an apparent genetic component. Bray and I are going through a tough time. I don’t blame him, but he blames himself. Here’s the part you’re not gonna like. I contracted an STD. On its own, the virus wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Treatment for it is relatively simple and easy to synthesize these days. We’re living here with a small population, so we kind of have these ways of coordinating partnerships. Genetic diversity and health are more important, and harder to come by, on this planet. Anyway, they treated the virus, and I’m free from it now, but it appears that the inflammation awakened something in my body. They’re calling it an epigenetic disease, which I was likely born with. You were telling me about how you used to get sick as a child. Could you give me more details about what your signs and symptoms were? Could you, maybe...ask your father about it too? I don’t want to be pushy, but I think we need to know the truth. If there’s something in our cells that we inherited from him or mom, I think we have a right to that information. I should have asked about this kind of stuff before. I have always lacked my father’s side’s medical history. Mom said she filled out all the forms accordingly, and I trusted that before I learned about you. Those family background records were made when I was a child, and since I’m still using the same doctors as I was before, they haven’t needed updating in that regard, because the past doesn’t change! So I’ve never actually seen the records myself. She could have lied, or she didn’t know enough about Pascal’s family, and just did her best. I have lived my whole life in a controlled environment, which the doctors believe insulated me from developing symptoms before. That would make sense since you were just on Earth, where you would have been exposed to all sorts of chemicals, even before the gases were released. Just tell me anything you can, and anything Pascal says about it, if you can ask him nicely without getting mad.

Don’t be mad,

Corinthia

PS: Don’t be mad.

Microstory 2316: Earth, August 23, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

My father had to extend his diplomatic mission, which happens all the time—he had already extended it twice before this—but he calls every time, so I was able to confront him about his involvement in our separation. I would have preferred to speak with him in person, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, because there’s no telling how long this will take. We really need that food and the medical supplies, and they just can’t come to an agreement with our neighbors. I believe that he will make every effort to return as soon as possible, though, as delaying a real talk will only give me more time to hear the truth from you instead. He would have rather gotten ahead of the narrative, but of course, we both know that he had every opportunity to fess up, and never did. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to find anyone who may have known our parents back then, but he and I came to this habitat alone a year ago. So far, no one here has been of much help. I did meet a rather old woman who believes that such awful practices were not unheard of four decades ago, and there’s apparently precedent that goes back even further. Back in the early days of space exploration, there were two famous sets of twins who were studied for comparison. One would go up into space, while the other stayed on the ground. That’s how they learned that low gravity changed the immune system, and even genes. There were other twin studies throughout history, such as when one turned out to be really intelligent, and the other not so much. This old woman thinks that these experiments became more ethical over time, but started to backslide as governments lost control of society, and corporations started being able to make up their own rules. It’s hard to know for sure what I can trust about what this woman says, though, as she’s made some more outrageous claims, like that aliens walk among us, or that she once met an immortal mystic man who was born in the nineteenth century. Anyway, I’m quite curious to know more about how Vacuus works. I know that it’s quite dangerous to live on an airless world, but what does that do to people? What kind of laws do you have? Would you call them fair and reasonable? I should think that a mission that included a kidnapped baby would be rife with corruption and amorality, but I truly hope that things have changed since then, and you at least feel safe and happy with the people around you. Write back when you can.

Love (I hope it’s okay to say that),

Condor Sloane

Microstory 2315: Earth, August 21, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

I was so pleased to hear from you, I had to write back to you right away. Unfortunately, my father is out of town at the moment, and unreachable. As soon as he gets back online, I’ll write again with a full report on his involvement in this unforgivable betrayal. I don’t want to dismiss your struggles on Vacuus, but things are not all that great here either. I don’t know what kind of updates you receive from Earth, but it has become a harsh and uninviting place in its own right. The air has become poisoned with a cocktail of chemicals created by a number of competing corporations in their attempt to monopolize the world’s food supply. Some were trying to develop perfect environments for their own crops, while others were attacking their competitors, or they were hedging their bets, and doing both. This has left us with a toxic atmosphere that could take decades to clear up, and that’s only assuming the corporations don’t push on, and make things worse. I live in a giant floating dome on the ocean, which is both sealed off from the noxious fumes, and isolated from the Corporate Wars, which have been raging for 18 years now. That is why father is away at the moment. He and the ambassador are trying to negotiate a trade deal with a nearby land dome. They are running out of space, but we are running out of resources. We’re relatively new, and healthy, but I have not always lived here, and I have seen how bad things can get on the outside. So, sister, I’m not so sure that I should count myself the lucky one. We would both die by opening our respective doors, but at least no one did it to you on purpose. Even so, with all that I have been through over the course of the 36 years that you and I have been alive, I know that I am more fortunate than most people here. There are those who do not even have access to one of the domes. They found pockets of technically survivable air in the deepest corners of the planet, so they don’t die in a matter of hours, but their lifespans are quite short when compared to ours. On a personal note, I would like to thank you for reaching out to me. I never would have known that you existed. Father is not the kind of person who would confess something like that, even on his deathbed. He will be taking a number of grudges and secrets to his grave. Again, I’ll write again once I learn more from him. There also might be others here who know what happened, and exactly why.

Your other half,

Condor Sloane

Microstory 2314: Vacuus, August 14, 2178

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Dear Condor,

I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Corinthia Sloane. No, the fact that we share a surname is not a coincidence. I spent so much time crafting this message, because I didn’t want to shock you, but there is simply no delicate way to phrase it, and no best position in the paragraph to place it, except perhaps not in the first or last sentence. The truth is that you are my long-lost twin. Our parents separated us at birth. I am not certain of precisely why they did this. Perhaps you could ask our father. Tell him hello for me, or screw you, depending on what his explanation is. From what I could gather, they did it as some kind of experiment on nature versus nurture. Again, I’m not entirely sure how they thought this would be an interesting comparison. I’m a girl, born and raised, and I was told that you were at least born a boy, so we’re obviously not identical. What exactly were they testing for, and how did they account for the inherent differences in our physiology? Did they report back to each other regularly? Sadly, I am no longer able to ask our mother further questions. She confessed to me the truth on her deathbed, and has since passed on to whatever hell is somehow worse than this place. To clarify, I live on Vacuus. If you’ve never heard of it. It’s a distant planet in the solar system, taking nearly 42,000 years to orbit the barycenter! I’ve seen photos of the sky from your world, and am so jealous. From here, the sun does not appear as a dominating disc, illuminating all the lands, but a single point of light in the distance. It’s barely distinguishable from the other stars on the firmament. The surface of this planet is uninhabitable, as you would guess. It was the last one that humanity ever discovered, and it took them a very long time to figure out how. It is a cold, heartless place, where we live in stale, recycled air. It’s a wonder that we’ve survived this long, but it could all go up in an instant with a single breach in the walls. I’m exaggerating, but it is pretty dangerous and stressful here. I don’t know what your life is like, but for now, I would count myself lucky if I were you, that you were not chosen as the astronaut baby. I hope this news does not distress you too much. I only found out about you yesterday, and reached out as soon as I was able to sneak into the server room to mine for your contact information. If you are not my twin brother, Condor, please forward this message to him, or at least reply back that I have the wrong address. If you are Condor, please return as quickly as possible as I eagerly await your response. This far out, it takes light about a week to travel back and forth.

Excited to hear from you,

Corinthia Sloane

Microstory 2297: Found a Happy Medium

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Yesterday, I announced that the Kansas City Metro’s response to Nick and Dutch’s passing would be a sort of forum where people could come up on stage, and say whatever they were feeling. I didn’t get into the details before, but everyone who asked to do this was going to have to submit an application at least the day prior, explaining what they were going to say. Then, while each speaker was up at the mic, the next one would be experiencing a screening process to make sure that they weren’t planning on doing something inappropriate, like a striptease, or a racist rant. Of course, they could always lie and switch it up once they got their turn, but we believed that we could have made it work. Sadly, most people online did not take to this idea. They thought it was stupid, dangerous, or just totally irrelevant. We hear you, and we see you, so we’ve changed our plans. We’re not going to be doing that, but we’re not going to be doing nothing either. We’ve found a happy medium. The two of them touched many people’s lives while they were on Earth, and their positive impact could be felt everywhere. We are in the process of contacting everyone that they knew while they were here. It is only they who will be speaking at the event. I appreciate all of you speaking out for your truth, and clearing a path for a better concept than we originally had. This has not set our schedule back. We will still be holding the event on Saturday, the 21st. We’re not yet sure where it’s going to be, though. A sports stadium would have a lot of room, but both of them hated sports, so we are sure that we want to do that. Y’all are good at giving advice. Where do you think we should hold it?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 22, 2474

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Mateo and Olimpia actually did lose a little bit of the temporal energy that their bodies would store for regular use, namely for teleportation. The Livewire was also tapped out of whatever reserves it had for itself, if any. They didn’t know how it worked. Having no interest in staying here, the two of them exited the apartment through the door, and walked down to the ground. They spent the rest of the day enjoying the island’s amenities, focusing predominantly on the water jetpacking sector. Neither of them had tried it before, and it appeared that they had no other way out of here. They periodically checked their own energy, and the Livewire’s, but nothing. It wasn’t until the next year when their bodies were replenished by the jump to the future. They now appeared to have the power they needed to activate the Livewire. They still didn’t know what the hell they were doing, but they hoped there was some kind of psychic control connection.

Having no better ideas, they borrowed a boat, and went out to the middle of nowhere. They each held one end of the wire, and stepped back to make it taut. They tried to focus on what they were trying to accomplish, returning to the Vellani Ambassador thousands of years ago, but the opposite happened instead. Their ship appeared over their heads a few meters in the air, and crash landed into the ocean. Fortunately, this was dozens of kilometers off-shore, so probably no one saw it happen. Mateo and Olimpia teleported into the Ambassador to reunite with their people.

“How did we get here?” Leona questioned. She and Ramses were on the bridge, making sure that all systems were still in working order. “Where are we?”

“That was us,” Mateo answered.

She spun around, and exhaled with relief. “Thank God. We were trying to figure out where you two had gone. You had us worried sick!”

“We thought you had gone down to Ex-01, but we couldn’t find you, and Oaksent seemed just as confused as we were,” Ramses added.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Olimpia interjected as they were hugging. “This doesn’t make any sense. Mateo, you did teleport down to the planet. You were detoured by the trip to the island, but you were only really gone for one second. You should have returned to that very moment three days ago to close your loop.”

“That’s not what happened,” Angela contended. “Mateo disappeared, and never reappeared. You did too, at the same time. We’ve been looking for you for the last three days. We were pretty mean to Bronach because of it.”

Olimpia and Mateo exchanged a look. “We’re in a different timeline,” she determined. “What changed it? This thing?” She held up the Livewire.

“I don’t think it has the power to shift timelines,” Ramses said, taking it from her, and examining it. “Something else changed history.”

“Did you guys notice that we’re still sinking?” Marie asked, looking at the viewscreens to see bubbles shooting their way upwards towards the surface.

Leona instinctively looked up to see it too. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she brushed off. “We need to make sure the timeline is okay. What are we missing? What didn’t happen that should have?”

“Well, Matt rescued Elder Caverness,” Olimpia replied. “That’s about it, I think. Well, he also punched the Oaksent.”

“We did that,” Angela said. “The Elder rescue, that is.” She reached up to switch the channel on the nearest screen. They were looking at the security feed for the guest room now. Elder was sitting up on the twin bed, leaning against the wall, perpendicular to the head and foot. If they didn’t know any better, they would think he was dead.

“He’ll just make more,” Olimpia explained. “He scanned and stores multiple copies of Elder’s consciousness.”

“I can fix that,” Ramses decided. “Just give me some time to build a consciousness nullifier.”

“That sounds bad...and difficult,” Mateo thought.

“It will just make it so that this Elder here will be the only one in existence,” Ramses clarified. “We’ll have to go back to that time period to use it, though, which means I’ll also have to figure out how to make the navigation systems work properly.”

“Maybe that thing will help,” Leona suggested, gesturing towards the Livewire.

“Yeah, I need to run some tests now that I have better resources than I did when we last saw this thing in the Third Rail.”

They felt a small shudder as the ship landed on the ocean floor when the internal inertial dampeners were briefly insufficient. Leona and Ramses casually looked over to receive the damage report, which was minimal. Escaping the situation was not urgent. Or maybe it was. There was a ping on the sensors. “Someone is headed right for us,” Marie pointed out.

“It’s probably Search and Rescue.”

“Unidentified sunken vessel, this is Search and Rescue. Please respond,” came a voice on the radio. She was right.

“Where are they coming from?” Leona asked.

“Star Island.”

“Turks and Caicos?”

“Closer to Hawaii.”

“Never heard of it,” Leona said. “But either way, we need to figure out how we’re going to get out of this mess. We could teleport, but they would see. We could turn invisible, but we would still be displacing the water.”

“It’s 2474,” Angela said. “Don’t these people have reframe engines by now?”

“They’re certainly aware of them,” Leona answered, “but they’re not commonplace yet, if our projections from The Edge meeting are at all accurate. We basically allowed them to tell the public that it was a thing, but it’s been their job to develop the tech on their own. There may be some prototypes here and there.”

“Then that’s what we are,” Angela decided. “We’re using a prototype reframe engine. We’ll surface, and launch right in front of them. No teleporter, no invisibility, nor any other kind of holographic camouflage.”

“There’s no such thing as a water launch,” Ramses countered. “I mean, it’s technically possible with fusion rockets—which we have, and wouldn’t have to explain away—but it’s not feasible. The question those rescuers will be asking is not can we launch from the surface of the ocean, but why the hell would we bother?”

“Unidentified sunken vessel, please respond. A submarine is en route.”

“I know the cover story,” Mateo jumped in. “We tried to launch from a floating platform, similar to the ones that Aldona constructed in the Third Rail. We tried to launch with our new reframe engine, but something went wrong. The platform sank, and we crashed here.”

“Where’s this imaginary platform now?” Leona questioned. “What we’re the coordinates of our launch position?”

Mateo just shrugged. That was true, they might try to look for the platform next to corroborate this complete fabrication.

“Computer, downshift the radio signal to five by two.” A ping indicated that it had made the change. Leona pressed the comms button. “Search and Rescue, this is unnamed reframe prototype one. We attempted to launch from a floating platform, maybe...uh, thirty kilometers away from here, due southwest. We, uh, ended up flying horizontally pretty early, and managed to crash into the water. We’re presently repairing our buoyancy systems, and should be resurfacing within the next hour with no help. We appreciate the concern.”

“Thank you for your response,” the voice came back. “We’re gonna go ahead and sit tight until the submarine arrives for a more thorough investigation. You have breached Moku Hoku territory, and we need to assess the situation ourselves. We hope that you understand, but your cooperation is not required.”

Leona made sure the outgoing signal was off while she shook her head. “This isn’t going to work. They’re gonna come down here, and they’re gonna look for that platform. Our story does not make any sense. How did we make it all the way here without satellites, or other cameras, seeing our arc across the sky?”

“Rambo,” Olimpia began. “When’s the last time you purged the hot pocket?”

“It’s been a while.” He pulled up the systems. “We’re about three-quarters full. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Leona, get ready to teleport on my mark,” Olimpia went on. “Maximum range, to the other side of the sun.”

“You’re gonna fake an explosion,” Marie realized.

“It won’t stop them from asking questions,” Olimpia believed, “but it’ll stop them from expecting answers.”

Leona considered the plan, weighing it against the risks. She looked over at Ramses. “Do it. Purge the energy upwards to conceal our disappearance. She’s right, we won’t leave any debris behind, here or where this supposed platform sunk, but we’ll be long gone before they realize that. It will just have to be a mystery that these people never solve.”

They carried out the new plan. Ramses purged the excess energy from the heat shunt. It only took a second before the explosion overwhelmed the water above them. At that moment, Leona teleported them away. They didn’t jump to the maximum range of 300 million kilometers, though, because then the L3 research station might see them. They were now relatively close to the sun, which was radiating so much interference that no one would be able to detect their arrival. Now that they were free from scrutiny, they could reenter reframe speeds, and be on their way. But the question was, where were they going to go? Ramses still wasn’t confident in the navigation for his new slingdrive. Then again, it didn’t matter where they went, as long as they didn’t try to stay here. Sol was the most dangerous star system to be in when you were trying to stay hidden. They needed a good place to practice and experiment discreetly.

The group decided to make a list of all the places they could go, in the stellar neighborhood, and beyond. Then they plugged the suggestions into a randomizer, and had the computer pick one out. They were headed for a little world called Castlebourne.

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Microstory 2272: Tested For Compatibility

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People are coming in from all over the country, and maybe even beyond, hoping to donate a lobe of their liver, or a kidney, to Nick. That’s very sweet of all of you, and trust me, I wish it gave us more hope, but he’s in really bad shape. If this were the future, the hospital might be able to hook him up to machines to keep his whole body alive. They could replace every vital body part and organ temporarily until a more permanent solution could be found. I like the way you think. With all these volunteers, there’s surely a perfect match for him somewhere out there. The problem is that it will take too much time to find that person, and in the meantime, Nick’s body is shutting down. He’s being kept alive by the machines that are available today, however, they are limited in scope. I don’t want to discourage you from hope, but what do you want me to say to you? Do you want me to lie, and claim that he’s going to get out of this because he’s survived so much until now? I’m sorry, but I don’t see how we could succeed. They just took too much from him. He probably won’t survive the week, let alone major surgery. From my perspective, I am willing to try, but the donors would be risking their own health on a huge gamble. Believe me, he’ll be the first to promote living donorship. He thinks that it shouldn’t be so stigmatized, that signing up to donate should be an obvious choice that any healthy person should make. The fact of the matter is, though, that we don’t live in that world. We’re not ready for it. Perhaps one day we will. Perhaps this will galvanize society into making changes, not because we’re bad people now, but because we can always improve ourselves. Unfortunately, Nick is not going to be able to benefit from such a world. Like I was saying, the hospital is doing everything they can, and it’s not like I’m stopping people from reaching out to the administrators with their inquiries. I just feel the need to manage your expectations. If this crazy plan works out, it’ll be a miracle, and how many of those does one person get in their life. Dutch and I have already been tested for compatibility, and we’re no good, so it would be up to you. Sadly, I don’t like our odds. His luck and time are both running out.

Extremus: Year 88

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For her first year as Captain, Tinaya lived with a lot of anxiety. It was eating her up from the inside. She was keeping so many secrets, and she just wanted to forget everything. She used to be grateful that at least she wasn’t dealing with a bunch of other tangible problems. Omega and the Verdemusians were protecting them from the war, leaving the Extremus free to continue on its journey. The crew and passengers were getting along, and there weren’t any major crises to solve. Her therapist would say that if she were working through those kinds of captainly issues, she probably wouldn’t have much space in her brain for anxiety, and that might be true. Whatever the case, all of that disappeared the day that her husband, Arqut did. Tinaya didn’t see it herself, but one person happened to be in the corridor with him at the time. He didn’t just blink away, which is the most common form of temporal or spatial travel. No, if he had done that, then the witness probably would have just assumed that he had gone away on purpose.

The way the passerby described it, Arqut was looking rather sweaty. Then he started spinning around like there was a bug on his back, and he was trying to get ahead of it. The witness apparently tried to reach out to help, but missed his opportunity when the spinning seemed to start to happen on its own. He vanished in a haze of dark particles, which gradually faded within seconds. Current temporal engineer Sabine Lebeau had never heard of anything like that before, and it wasn’t in any database that she could find. The uncertainty scared Tinaya more than anything. This was no accident. Someone wanted Arqut, and for the last three months, had yet to return him to her. Unfortunately, her means of investigating were severely limited.

Most people on the ship could not know that he was missing. He disappeared once before, but that was in pursuit of getting Tinaya back. If she admitted that this time was not a planned departure, it would raise too many questions. Only a few people were allowed to know what was going on, and were sworn to secrecy. The witness agreed to his silence in exchange for a minimum on his contribution score. Basically, no matter what he did now, his score would never go below a certain threshold. It was a small price to pay, as long as he didn’t try to use this advantage to become a serial killer, or something. But even if he did, no deal with the captain would protect him from retribution. After that matter was settled, she started to work through the investigation, mostly on her own, though she couldn’t let it interfere with her regular duties either. That would raise questions too. But she wasn’t completely hopeless. She couldn’t make a big fuss about it publicly, or risk other truths coming to light, but there were still ways to conduct this investigation both vigorously and quietly at the same time. She made a list of suspects, and started running down every lead. She started by accusing the Bridgers of having something to do with it, but they denied it, and even let her return to the Bridger section to see for herself. He wasn’t there, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up in the future, or hell, the past.

Today is not a good day, though. All of her leads have dried up. She has no one left to talk to, no test left to try. He could be lost forever. It’s worse than it was when she was the one trapped on the outpost planet. She knew where she was, and she knew where Arqut was. The uncertainty; what could she do to remedy that? She’s supposed to be discussing her problems with her therapist at the moment, but instead, she’s retching into the toilet in her stateroom.

“How are you doing, Tinaya?” Most people would not be able to just start talking to her like that without waiting for Tinaya to answer first, but some people have special communications privileges, such as medical staff.

Tinaya spits into the bowl. “I’m fine.”

“Come back, I need to talk,” Dr. Lebeau requests. That’s right, another Lebeau. Tinaya would normally use the Executive Psychologist for her personal needs, but Sabine introduced her to her sister in order to enact a sort of loophole. While any therapist would respect patient confidentiality, the EP is obligated to report meeting times to the ship’s council, so they can make sure their captain isn’t isn’t showing signs of not being able to handle this job. A private therapist, on the other hand, is under no such obligation. Tinaya can talk to her all she wants, and do so at their joint convenience. Plus, Virve Lebeau already knows many secrets that not even the EP does.

“I’m a little busy.” She spits again.

“I can tell. I can help.”

“Fine, one second.” Tinaya flushes the toilet, and washes her face. Then she teleports back to Dr. Lebeau’s office. “What is it?”

Dr. Lebeau is holding her watch between her thumb and index finger.

“It’s your watch. Okay, are you scolding me for wasting your time? I’m sorry, next time I’ll use your bathroom, and talk to you about my feelings in between forcing last night’s dinner out of my stomach.”

“No, it’s not about that, Captain.” Dr. Lebeau walks forward, and drapes the watch over her opposite backhand, as if presenting it as a prize for a gameshow. “See these little dots under here?”

Tinaya is confused. “Uh, yeah, those are for blood tests. They spring microneedles to take samples on the fly. Why are you asking me about them?”

“These are necessary when the user doesn’t have any sort of medical implant that could test twenty-four-seven,” Dr. Lebeau goes on. “Obviously, though, you can’t program the watch to poke you whenever it wants. You have to tell it to do it. You have to decide when you’re ready for an update.”

“Are you saying that I have a virus, and I should test myself for it?” She’s still so confused. “Okay, I’ll find out. I think it’s just acid reflux, though. Stress-induced, I’m sure; we can talk about that, if you want.”

“Not a virus. I think you’re pregnant.”

Tinaya chuckles. Then she does it again, but louder. She manages to stop at that, though. “What? I can’t be pregnant, I’m in my sixties!”

“Did you ever go through menopause?” Dr. Lebeau questions.

“I think so.” This isn’t a dumb answer. Thanks to advances in medical science over the centuries, menopause still happens for those who were ever biologically capable of birthing young, but it’s far less pronounced than it was for ancient humans. The same is true for pregnancy and the menstrual cycle as a whole. These conditions are not nearly as uncomfortable as they were back in the day. It’s not that uncommon for people who lived particularly physically rough lives to not even notice that menopause has come and gone for them. If they’ve ever been on advanced chemical or implantable birth control too, it’s really easy to lose track of the cycle due to persistent interference in the body’s natural scheduling.

Dr. Lebeau raises her eyebrows, and looks down at Tinaya’s own watch.

“Y...you want me to test right now? Fine.” She swipes the screen to the appropriate menu, and releases the microneedles. Once it’s done, she self-assuredly bobbles her head a little bit while they wait for the results. After the beep, she takes one look at it, and shows it to the doctor. “See? Look. Pregnant. Pregnant? Fuck.”

“Congratulations,” Dr. Lebeau says to her, rather unconvincingly, one might add.

“I can’t be pregnant.”

“You can. You receive some of the best medical care in the galaxy. Many don’t experience the change until their seventies. You don’t read that in the reports.”

“Virve, I can’t be pregnant. The Captain. Can’t. Be pregnant!”

“There’s no law that says a sitting captain can’t be pregnant. It’s just never happened before,” Dr. Lebeau reminds her.

“For good reason. It splits attention. I must be fully committed to the operations of this vessel, and the safety of its crew and passengers. That is literally my only job.”

“If that’s how you feel about it—”

“I can’t have an abortion either. It’s not illegal, of course, but it’s...unbecoming.”

“Sounds like you’re in a tough spot. I can help you through it, but you have to be willing to explore all options. And you have to be patient, with me, and yourself.”

“Those are my only two options. I mean, what the hell else am I gonna do?” She starts to pace the room. “And yeah, I know, I could put it up for adoption, but that would be scandalous too. That kid will grow up knowing that its mother was just too busy for it, not that she was genuinely incapable of caring for a child. Adoption doesn’t hardly ever happen here, because nobody dies before they’re old! And they don’t have kids after they become old, because that’s nuts! I mean, if Arqut were here, maybe we could make it work together. He could take care of the baby, and even when I’m there, I would be able to teleport at a moment’s notice when duty calls, and I could always argue that that’s an option when anyone tries to criticize me for going through with the pregnancy. But is that enough anyway? Because it’s not just about the perception that my priorities are split. It’s about them actually being split. How can I look out for everyone on the ship, when there are only two people I truly care about? Then again, I am the only Captain who has ever been married at all, so that’s always been a lingering criticism, even though I’ve never heard anyone say that to me, I’m sure that plenty of people feel that way. And now he’s missing, and I can’t even tell anyone about it. I have to claim that he’s on a new mission. But then once people find out that I’m captaining for two, they’re gonna wonder why the father of my child hasn’t come back for his family. Then some are gonna realize the possibility that he’s not the father at all, and there will be a cheating scandal that isn’t even true, but do you think people even care about the truth anymore? That’s all we’ve been talking about; perception, and there’s nothing I can do about that. And either way, this whole thing is gonna get people wondering where Arqut has been this whole time, and they’ll start asking questions, and they’ll all find out that he’s missing, and that we’re been course correcting for decades, and that Verdemus wasn’t destroyed, and why aren’t you trying to call me down!”

“I think you need this outburst,” Dr. Lebeau explains. “It sounds cathartic.”

“Well...” She starts, prepared to argue. “I think you’re right, I appreciate it.”

“Captain?” Tinaya’s First Lieutenant asks through her watch.

“What is it, Faiyaz?”

“It’s Arqut. He’s back.”

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Microstory 2270: This Global Investigation

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It’s been all over the news, so I’m sure you’ve already heard about it, but I’ll tell you what’s going on from our perspective. Nick has been abducted. Those men in suits who showed up on our doorstep, and gave our personal security team their credentials, were not affiliated with any government branch. Though don’t blame our security, because the authorities are about 90% sure that these were not random amateurs who got drunk one night, and decided to try for some ransom money. They’re highly trained professionals who probably used to have the credentials, so they know how to make fakes, or something similar. That is currently the most promising lead, hunting down military vets who were dishonorably discharged, or even missing in action. Everyone is doing everything they can, and they will catch these assholes, sooner or later. We do not presently know the motive, but we’re guessing that it’s political. They don’t want Nick to meet with the President, or vice versa. It can’t possibly be that they’re trying to turn him into a double agent, or something, right? I mean, I seriously doubt that the DPA is going to let the meeting move forward now anyway. No, they want something that Nick can offer today. We have to figure out what that is, and use that information to determine who wants that, and where they’re holding him. The frustrating thing is that he could be on the other side of the world by now. They took him so early in the morning, and it was hours before anyone knew that anything was wrong. We thought that it was above board. They knew things. They knew things about the plan, which probably means that this is an inside job, and at least one person still working in the right position in the government is feeding them the info. That’s another angle that will help the agencies find who is responsible for this travesty. We’re going to get our man back, and those who did this to him will pay for it. Governments from other countries are even reportedly cooperating with this global investigation. If the perpetrators manage to find anywhere to hide, it won’t do them good for long. [This post has been officially approved by the Diplomatic Protection Authority for posting and lawful redistribution.]