Microstory 2745: My Respect and My Friendship

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Pribadium and Sora retreat into the auxiliary control room because that’s the most interior sector of the base. It’s deep in the asteroid. The rest of it is slowly being torn apart by the tidal forces of the dimensional barrier collapse. They won’t be able to stay here forever, though. They need to come up with a plan. Or rather, she will have to come up with it, because as intelligent as Sora is, he doesn’t know much about this stuff.

“Can you freeze time?” he suggests.

“Freeze time?” she echoes.

“Yeah. Just to give you more time to think of a permanent solution. I saw that in a TV show once. The ship was about to be destroyed by a big laser so they created a time bubble. I think they spent something like fifty years in there, which for people like me, is a long time, but that’s barely a blip for someone like you. Is that possible?”

Pribadium thinks about it. Yes, of course it’s possible. She is a time scientist. The problem is, what she needs is not in this room. This controls the lab itself. It doesn’t have any time tech in it. The main time lab is presently under siege. “It will be dangerous. It may already be destroyed. We’ll be jumping blind.” She offers her hand.

He takes it without hesitating, letting her teleport them both to the lab.

The walls are buckling. Particulates are falling from the ceiling. The tremors make it impossible for Sora to stay on his feet. She only can because of her advanced substrate. While he lies down on the floor and braces himself, she teeters over to the workstation and starts running through the process. It’s too long, it’s taking too long. She should have imagined this could happen, and been better prepared.

Just as the airlock buckles and bursts open, the bubble engages, preventing the air from escaping, and saving their lives. She dives down to make sure Sora’s okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assures her. He stands and looks at the hole. “It worked.”

“Sort of,” Pribadium says. “In my rush, I didn’t set the differential to be wide enough. For every minute that passes, a second passes out there. We probably only have about half an hour before this sector collapses too. I can’t raise the differential now. I would have to cancel it and start again. And if you were thinking about transporting the bubble back to the aux room, that’s not possible either. I only delayed the inevitable.”

“I wasn’t seriously suggesting we spend fifty years in here,” he explains. “You’re a genius, and if this is the main time lab, I’m sure you have everything you need to figure it out. Thirty minutes should be more than enough. I believe in you.”

Pribadium takes a deep breath, appreciating what he’s saying. It’s at least not so dire, but as she looks around, she’s seeing all the damage. All of her tech is lined up against the walls for feng shui reasons. The time machine, the time reverser, even the dimensional generators; they were all decimated prior to their arrival. There’s just nothing that will—the timechairs. They’re in the middle of the floor, intact. She looks over at him with sad eyes. “Our only hope is to send our consciousnesses back to their younger bodies. The only safe place is in the past. This timeline is defunct.”

“That will undo all of this,” he determines. “Runaway and Sugar will never exist.”

“No, they will,” Pribadium contends. “They left the universe entirely, which permanently protects them from timeline collapses. They’ll still be out there, and if they ever return, they will find the new timeline, but...what will that timeline look like?”

He offers her his hand like she did before. “Let’s go find out...together.”

Microstory 2744: House of Cards

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Sugar and Runaway are on Tau Station. The latter is standing on a stage in the recreation room, trying to explain to the survivors where they are, and what’s going on. They’re panicking, because she has freed them from her control, and let them cope on their own. They will be okay, though. They will live. They won’t be able to go back home, because they’re all duplicates, whose alternate selves are blissfully unaware of all this, but they will be out in the bulk, where they can start new lives literally anywhere else.

Sora is still in the lab with Pribadium as she’s preparing to force Tau Station through a small tear in the universal membrane. At the second to the last second, he will teleport over to the station too. They have modified his spatial tether with her so that when it tries to pull Pribadium along with him, she will be able to fight it until the very last second. That way, she will be able to hold on long enough to make sure the survivors make it all the way through the quintessential barrier. The machine is very demanding.

Once the station is safely on the other side, she will let go of the controls, and let the link teleport her over too, allowing the breach to seal itself automatically behind them, leaving the outpost to be crushed when this pocket universe collapses completely. Tau Station isn’t as much as she wanted to serve as a bulk traveling hub, but it’s better than nothing. The important part is that everyone will be alive.

The outpost asteroid is starting to break apart as the dimensional barriers pulverize it. Tau Station is smaller, but this has to happen, and it has to happen now. “Is everybody ready!” Pribadium shouts into the comms. “Do you have them secured!”

“The rec center operates on its own equilibrium drive!” Sugar yells back. “As long as it’s running, the whole station could tremble, and we wouldn’t feel it!”

“Good!” Pribadium replies before facing Sora. “It’s time. Press the button.”

“Are you sure?” Sora asks. “You’re not just trying to be a martyr, are you?”

“I don’t wanna die, Sor,” Pribadium assures him. “That’s your plan one day.”

“I am rethinking that,” Sora admits. “There’s so much more to see, and not eno—”

“I’m glad you’ve come to that realization. Why don’t you hop over there so you can follow through with it,” Pribadium urges. “Go. Go! It’s halfway through already!”

“If we don’t make it,” Sora annoyingly goes on, “I’m not going to tell you I love you, but...I don’t hate you anymore. I really don’t hate you.” He hits the button.

Pribadium feels a tight lurch in her chest. At first, she thinks it’s Sora’s tether trying and failing to pull her along, but then it lifts with a sudden snap. She physically almost falls to her face. She tries to shake it off and refocus on her work station.

“What was that?” Sora asks through comms. “It didn’t feel like how you said.”

“Oh, no! Our tether! It’s broken!” Pribadium cries back. “I guess I am a martyr.”

She hears someone’s voice through the radio, but it’s so garbled that she can’t tell who it is. “Try—just—if y—we can almost—we see—technico—try ag—hurry!”

Pribadium exhales and sits down to watch on screen as the station disappears in a bright swarm of technicolors. They left just in time. The universal walls are so close now that space is warping like a giant magnifying glass for the stars. “Not long now.”

“Hey,” Sora says behind her. “I teleported back. I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Goddammit, Sora. I accepted my fate, and was trying to relax,” she argues.

“We can still relax,” he reasons. “We can do it together. No one should die alone.”

“No. Now I have to get back to work. Now I have to find another way to save you.”

Microstory 2743: Dead Woman’s Switch

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They have figured it out. They know how to push the lab through a tear in the membrane of the universe, and enter the bulk. The breach will not be open long, and it will not be very big, but they will make it through as long as they have enough power.

“We don’t have enough power,” Sugar reports.

“We don’t?” Pribadium questions. “Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” Sugar replies. “I went over the calculations three times. If we try to squeeze both the outpost and Tau Station through the portal, probably neither of us will go through. It’s like that slapstick gag where two people try to enter the doorway at the same time. If we had more time, we could siphon energy and store it up, but then we would have to invent an entirely new type of battery, and that’s just not viable.”

“The barrier is upon us,” Runaway reminds them. “We barely have time for this.”

“Okay,” Pribadium says. “If we have to choose one, I choose the outpost. Runaway, could you please teleport everyone over here. Send them to the hangar bay.”

“I can’t do that,” Runaway argues. “I can only make them move in real space.”

“No, don’t put them back in the shuttles. That’s stupid. Moving them again makes no sense.” Pribadium looks around at the part of her outpost that she can see. She worked really hard on it, and never thought she would lose it. But she knows that it will be okay. Everything she built can be rebuilt, thanks to a little inspiration from an old friend. She runs over and starts to decouple her forge core. This has everything.

“What is that?” Sugar asks.

“We’re abandoning ship,” Pribadium replies. “It won’t take but a second to transport the four of us over to Tau Station.”

“It’s more than that,” Sora says, almost proud of himself for having realized. “You can’t open the rift thing from there, can you? You have to move your machine too.”

The three ladies stop and stare at him. It is becoming a habit. “We can’t do that. We can’t transport the machine. It’s integrated into the whole outpost,” Sugar reasons.

“Someone has to stay behind,” Pribadium decides. “Someone, meaning me.” Before Runaway can argue, she holds up a hand. “You have to stay with the people. That’s a given. Sugar, I may have needed you for your clarity of mind, but I still understand this tech better than anyone. There’s no argument to be had.”

“You can try to teleport over to us at the last second,” Sugar suggests.

“I will,” Pribadium promises, “but I won’t count on that. It’s okay. You’re an alternate version of me. You’re missing a lot of my memories, but they weren’t the most interesting ones anyway. If I die, I’ll do so knowing that a part of me still lives.”

“That was never good enough,” Sugar contends. “There’s a reason your Pribadium!Two didn’t want to be resurrected after her last moments weren’t recorded.”

“It will have to be,” Pribadium determines. “Now go. Take Sora with you.”

“No,” Sora says. “I stay with you. Don’t bother arguing, I’ve already linked us.”

“How exactly did you do that?” Pribadium asks him skeptically.

“I was afraid that you would throw me out an airlock,” Sora explains. “I connected us, so wherever I go, you go...within a certain range, of course. I am guessing that another universe falls outside of that range. I’m glad I did that now, just for different reasons.” He notices all the girls smirking. “What? You can’t undo it, can you?”

“No, Sor,” Pribadium says. “You just solved it. You made me a deadman’s switch.”

Microstory 2739: Nobody Exists on Purpose

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Pribadium’s friends once compared her to Rick Sanchez. She is not as cartoonish as he is, and she doesn’t break any laws of logic, like building a robot in a couple seconds with a screwdriver just to pass the butter. She does, however, frequently invent things just because the ideas are floating in her head, and she has to get them out. Or rather, she did. She has not developed anything significant in years, so she’s a little rusty.

Humanity is nowhere near the end of science, but they have pretty much solved every problem. Primary drivers are moderate performance improvements, scale, distribution and access, and most importantly, efficiency. The most pressing issue facing the universe right now is figuring out how to perform the most complex calculations using the least amount of energy. It’s profoundly important, and will only become more so further down the timeline as entropy progresses, but it’s certainly not fun, especially not for her. She pivoted to Administration and Operations because it was a challenge.

Now she has to go back to her old self to understand who this self-proclaimed embodiment of the population of this universe is. But if she’s gonna do it, she’s gonna do it her way, and her way...is not the normal way. Instead of trying to recall the procedural memory that she has lost over time, all she has to do is call forth a younger version of her who still has the required skills. She playfully calls it instantiating her panda.

“Why do you call it that?” Sora questions as he’s watching her prepare.

“Inside joke,” Pribadium explains as she checks the imaging chamber’s integrity.

“So you’re going to contact yourself from another time? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It would be, if that were it,” Pribadium begins. “Any time travel risks irreparably throwing off our current conditional state. This is more like a revision history.”

Sora nods. “So you’re still trying to do the mobile command center thing.”

Pribadium stops working for a moment. Though everything has changed about their circumstances, nothing has changed about their objectives. Well, at least not Pribadium’s goals. She still wants to separate this pocket of the universe, and she still wants to travel the bulk with it. “I can’t think of anything more important than that right now. Understanding that amalgam in the other room is only in service to that end.”

“I see,” Sora says. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, mister.” Pribadium is still not looking at him, in favor of focusing on the work. “You stole my tech and abused it. Don’t think I forgot about that. I don’t know if it led to what happened with the Stonehenge model, but that’s exactly why you’ll have to be tested too.” Now she looks at him like a shushy librarian. “You placed this whole lab at risk, not to mention the universe. I forgive you on a personal level, but you may yet pose a risk, so you’re next on the list.”

“Okay,” Sora agrees with his tail between his legs. He sits down on the bench.

Pribadium is ready. She boots up the machine, and waits for a previously saved state to appear in the form of a hologram that both of them can see and hear.

Pribadium!Zero’s image slowly renders at first before completing in a blink. She looks around to orient herself before looking at Pribadium!One. “Whassuuuuuuup!!!!!!!”

“Aren’t they supposed to say, report in these situations?” Sora questions.

“I was an ornery little bitch.” Pribadium looks at her self. “Listen up, Egg. I got some work to do, and I need your brain to do it.”

“Fuck you, Chicken.”

Microstory 2731: The Choices We Make

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Pribadium!Two offered to explain to Sora what happened to his alternate self, but he decided that he didn’t want to hear it, at least not right now. They all three split apart, and went to their separate corners. They need to decompress from everything going on, and process all the new information. If they miss their window to create a mobile pocket universe, then so be it. It was never going to be an instantaneous endeavor, and it’s prudent to wait a bit anyway. This is a huge undertaking, which will have massive ramifications in this universe, and who knows how many others?

Pribadium!One is lying in her equilibrium chamber now, thinking about Sora. When they first met, he was a clear opponent. She was trying to get him to calm down and see reason, but she never thought she would feel bad for him like this. The story he told about his crush on Proxima Doma was heartbreaking. She teased him with the chance to get some closure, and then about immediately took it away from him. It wasn’t fair, and she’s going to have to figure out a way to apologize for it, besides simply literally saying the words. He obviously needs some space right now, though.

A door alert. It’s Sora. When she commands the AI to open the door, he walks in. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were sleeping. I can come back later.”

“No, it’s okay.” Pribadium!One stands up and hangs there mid-air.

His eyes widen. “How are you doing that? I thought antigravity was impossible.”

She lowers her legs one by one like she is climbing down a ladder, towards what’s considered down. “It’s not really antigravity, per se. Though, I suppose we could make that happen too if I figure out how to contain quintessence. I have some friends who built a machine that uses it, but it was awkward between us, so I never got the chance to study it in depth. Anyway, no, this is an equilibrium chamber. Another friend of mine developed it, and now they use it extensively on Varkas Reflex. People stay in simulated environments for years on end. This perfectly distributes the pressure on your body, so you don’t suffer the negative health effects of extended immobility.”

Sora stares at the apparatus, curious enough, but obviously not really thinking about it. Their goals are unaligned, and one of them might have to relent one day.

It’s not just about him, though. He’s not the only person they have to worry about. Thousands of colonists who just so happened to be on this side of the host star have the right to decide what to do with their own lives too. She’s just glad that most people escaped the bubble. She placed her lab away from the activity even though it placed her in the line of fire of the upcoming obliteration blast, because she knows exactly when it will arrive, and has ways of avoiding it. Now that doesn’t matter anymore. “Did you want to talk about something?” she asks as she’s stepping out.

“I don’t need to talk to Elke,” he answers. “Before you say anything, I realized that she made her choice. Whatever her reasons, I wasn’t worth sticking around for. We knew each other for years. Her suicide took years, but she never gave up. If she survived it—if she didn’t end up killing herself again on the other side, then that still has nothing to do with me. It never did. So you two go ahead and do whatever you need to do with the weird universe thing. I’m not much help, but I’ll be here. I’ll support you.”

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with what she said about us?”

“About how we were together in another timeline? No. This is my choice.”

“Okay,” Pribadium!One says. “I’ll speak to my alternate self in the morning.”

Microstory 2730: Time Spent

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Time may be an important factor. It is hard to tell how delicate their position is. The dimensional barriers could snap under the gravitational and quintessential weight as the two opposing forces fight each other for supremacy, with the Gatewood Collective caught in the middle. Pribadium!Two believes that their laboratory sits on the very edge of the unique spatial bubble that the star system is in. She selected this secret location specifically because of its distance from everyone and everything else.

“Why wouldn’t it be in the center? This is where the time machine is,” Sora notes.

“Exactly,” Pribadium!Two agrees. “It was not omnidirectional. The spatial warping spread out from here, towards the gravitational barycenter of the system, which is in Barnard’s Star. That’s why half the system isn’t in the pocket universe.”

Sora regards her in disgust for a moment before redirecting his attention to Pribadium!One. “So you just let her out of her cell, and we trust her now?”

“She’s helping us. We need her,” Pribadium!One explains. “Sorry to brag, but two heads are better than one if they’re both my head.”

Sora scoffs. “She’s the one who told me that I couldn’t speak with Elke.”

“For now, it’s true,” Pribadium!Two starts to say.

Sora holds up a dismissive hand. “I was talking to the real Pribadium.”

“She’s right,” Pribadium!One explains. “It’s not just a calibration issue. If we disturb the balance that we have managed to achieve here, it could all fall apart.”

Pribadium!Two nods. “Yeah, and—”

“Zip it,” Sora interrupts again. “What exactly does that mean? What happens if it falls apart? Do you mean we all die? Because you don’t seem too distressed about it.”

Pribadium!One sees how Sora is treating her alternate self, but she feels compelled to ignore it, and answer his question. “People here will be fine, as long as the star stays inside of the pocket too, which I don’t see why it wouldn’t. It’s holding every atom together so the quintessence doesn’t pull it apart. What we’re trying to do is create a permanent equilibrium, and to do it in an extradimensional realm called the bulk.”

“I don’t care about that. I want to see Elke again, I want to reunite with my people, in whatever reality it is, and I want us to settle down in a new home,” he reasons.

Pribadium!Two starts to talk as quickly as she can. “And you can still do that—”

“I don’t wanna hear from you again!” Sora shouts. “Your opinion doesn’t matter!”

“Hey,” Pribadium!One jumps in. “Sora, I know you got some rest, and that put you back to your old self, which I find...incredibly annoying, but I have seen a kinder version of you. You have it in you to show respect at all times. You’re not Mr. Hyde.”

“I don’t know who this Hyde guy is, but this is the real me,” Sora contends. “This is who I am. The man I am when I’m tired is weak, and a pushover. I hate him. He’s—”

“Thirteen months,” Pribadium!Two interrupts, giving him his own medicine.

“What?” Pribadium!One questions.

Pribadium!Two looks directly at Sora. “We were together for thirteen—I mean, we weren’t together. We...well, we weren’t nothing. I just mean...I didn’t know how much time we needed to fix the past, so I intentionally overshot it. We spent over a year making sure that the Teaguardians never had any reason to destroy Doma Tertia.”

“Then where am I now?” Sora pressed. “You never did say. I find that—”

“You’re dead! You sacrificed yourself!” Pribadium!Two breathes. “For me.”

Microstory 2727: False Convictions

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Sora stares at Pribadium for a moment. “We can’t use your machine to go back in time to stop the Teaguardians from destroying the world, but we can do it to visit my dead friend?” He shakes his head at the apparent contradiction.

“We don’t need a time machine for that,” Pribadium!One notes. “Do you remember how she was talking about other universes; how ours crashed into another?”

“Yes,” Sora confirms.

“I don’t know what universe that would have been,” Pribadium!One begins, “but it’s not the only one—not by a long shot. In fact, a couple of them are our siblings. One of these universes, which are known as branes, was named Fort Underhill. Its, uhh...” She hesitates. She’s not really supposed to talk about this stuff to the humans. That’s an antiquated word, but it just refers to people who don’t know about things like temporal manipulation or psychic abilities. But that ship has sailed, so she might as well go for it. “Fort Underhill is where you go when you die. Actually, you go to a virtual simulation first, but at some point, you get moved to the other brane, which is in base reality.”

Sora stares at her again, narrowing his eyes. “Who goes to this place when they die? Your mind? Immortals like Tertius Valerias and Aeterna Valeria?”

“No, everybody,” Pribadium!One clarifies. She sighs. “You may think you’re undigitized, but you’re not. You were born this way. I can’t explain the biology, I never got much into it, but it’s part of how humans are. We’ve been this way for millennia.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No! No, it’s not true. If humans have always been digitized, we would know. We would have to.”

“I think we kind of did,” Pribadium!One says. “I don’t know how well you know your history, but when researchers were first trying to figure out how to do it, they made a quantum leap in progress. It was the most apropos use of that term ever. It was when they proved that consciousness existed in the quantum realm, and I think this is why.”

Sora stands, and starts to pace out of frustration. “So my convictions—my refusal to become like all of you—they mean nothing? I can’t die anyway? Elke isn’t dead?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she explains. “That was some time ago, and I believe there is a way to die for good in Fort Underhill, but that would be a choice.”

“Yet you have some unique way of contacting the dead?” Sora scoffs.

“I know people in high places.” She’s friends with the people who are responsible for it, but she has never told them that she found a way to access it. She kind of thought they might find out eventually, and when time travel is involved, eventually is synonymous with always. They have never brought it up, though she has had to use it on occasion. There was one time where a man from Castlebourne asked her to reunite an undigitized friend of his with her dead parents. They evidently gave her advice, and now that woman is an immortal flying superhero. So she doesn’t take this for granted.

“It won’t work,” Pribadium!Two says. She’s opening the medical pod, and slowly making her way out of it. “As I told you, this is a parallel reality. Your interversal communicator was calibrated to the main sequence.”

“Good point,” Pribadium!One says. “That would prove if you’re telling the truth.”

“If?” Pribadium!Two questions. “I definitely am.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.” Pribadium!One walks over to the communicator.

Pribadium!Two violently grabs her wrist. “If you try, I’ll have to kill you.”

Microstory 2725: When Branes Collide

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The time machine draws a lot of power. If you utilize it, that energy gets used up for the trip, but if you don’t, it builds as waste heat. There is no point in letting it run if they’re not going to be able to travel back in time in the foreseeable future. They have to first find out who this other Pribadium is, and what she wants. So Pribadium!One shuts down the machine while Pribadium!Two gets comfortable. She looks exhausted.

“I did what you were planning to do,” Pribadium!Two begins to explain. “I went back in time, and successfully saved Doma Tertia.” She gestures towards Sora. “We both did. He did most of the talking. But then things started to go wrong. The Teaguardians were asking a lot of questions. They showed us astronomical and astrophysical data that pointed to something being wrong. I don’t know what we thought when we decided what tech we would give them, and what we would hold back. But obviously the government started developing their own tech. They can evidently detect shifts in reality. It’s crude and unreliable, but I saw the data. They were right. So I went back to my lab, and spent time figuring it out. I barely made it here in time to stop you. If you had been allowed to go on, you would have created a runaway domino effect. Infinite realities, piled on top of each other, siphoning cosmic energy, withering away. The destruction of the universe.”

“Wait,” Pribadium!One says. “Are you telling me that you’re from a parallel reality? It’s concurrent with this one; not just a previous timeline?”

“That is correct,” Pribadium!Two confirms. “They finally got rid of all the other concurrents, and shunted the survivors into a new universe. Then I went and made a brand new parallel. There’s no name for it. I think I’m supposed to call it the Ninth Something, or other, but I don’t know what that would be, or if it’s my job.”

“How could this happen?” Pribadium!One asks. “We’ve traveled through time before, and it’s never caused this. Countless timelines are being collapsed and replaced every day, and it doesn’t happen. Why now? Why us?”

“It’s because we are different,” Pribadium!Two claims. “We don’t travel the same way. We access the bulk. And it was a one in a trillion coincidence that we did it today.”

Pribadium always knew that her method was different, but it has never resulted in this. How should she feel about it? As unsettling as it is that the timeline you leave behind collapses behind you, at least the changes you make definitely matter. “What is that coincidence?” she presses her alternate self. “And how long will it last?”

“How long will it last?” Pribadium!Two laughs. “Forever, I think. Had it happened on its own, no one would have noticed, but the proverbial stars aligned, and now we’re stuck. We’re literally stuck against the membrane of another universe. They were supposed to collide, cause a little chaos, then bounce off each other. But we linked them in a way that’s never been done before, and now we’re joined at the hip.”

“So, is that the parallel reality?” Sora asks. “This neighboring universe?”

“No, it’s different.” Pribadium!Two talks with her hands. “Our universe collided with another at the exact moment that you and I used this machine. The universes got stuck together, and in between them is an extra layer of reality. That’s where you are.”

“Wait, us?” Pribadium!One questions. “We’re the ones in the new reality?”

“That’s correct,” Pribadium!Two says.

“What does that mean?” Sora asks innocently.

“I don’t know,” both Pribadiums say at the same time.

Microstory 2724: Report Back

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As far as the Teaguardians—and everyone else, for that matter—knows, Pribadium is dead. She died in the destruction of Doma Tertia, along with the Doma Tertians. That’s quite all right. She doesn’t need anyone looking for her, or watching her as she travels to her secret laboratory. It takes them a long time, since they have to teleport there without a ship, but since they’re about to go back in time, it’s fine.

“If it’s a secret, does that mean no one knows, or just not the public?” Sora asks.

Pribadium looks at him with a side eye. She’s going to be taking him with her into the past. He can’t know about the hot pocket—how she stores up waste heat in another dimension, and purges it periodically, perfectly timed with the transit of neighboring and distant stars. “Only you and I know about this place. Will I have to kill you later?”

Sora laughs. “Honey, if you can travel through time, I’m not stupid enough to get on your bad side. I just thought you were immortal, like Tertius and Aeterna. I had no idea that there was so much more out there. No, you won’t have to kill me.”

Pribadium starts running her preflight checks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Did you name that planet after him? Was he a friend of yours, or...?”

“It’s a coincidence,” Sora responds. “I didn’t name it myself. Proxima Doma means next home. Doma Tertia means third home. I tried to argue, but I didn’t want to tell anyone about the immortals I met, so I didn’t have a leg to stand on.”

Pribadium nods, then flips the time machine on. She hoped never to use this thing again. She doesn’t take any of this lightly. It’s only for emergencies. Messing with the past is dangerous, which is why she rarely does it. It’s also why she doesn’t spend much time with other travelers. She will manipulate time and space all day, but she would rather do it in the present. The circumstances call for an intervention, though.

“It is exactly as I pictured it,” Sora says. “A sleek, well-lit chamber, about the height of a normal ceiling, wide enough for several people. Like the old movies.”

Pribadium sometimes gets ultra excited, talking about her science. She can’t trust very many people. “This works differently than the ones you see in films, which are powered by radioactive materials or phlebotinum. This is powered by vacuum energy, which means as long as the universe exists, so does this machine. Except not for long,” she explains. “Since you know about it, I will have to destroy it on the other side.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Sora reasons. “I don’t even know where we are.”

“I can’t take that risk,” she says. “You know enough. I shouldn’t even be showing you at all, but I need you. If I try to go back and replay the scenario, it will probably end about the same. The Teaguardians have their own access to certain advanced technologies. Going against their plans requires finesse. Can you do this, Mr. Shimizu?”

“It depends on what happens to the other me when I go back in time,” he decides.

“I can’t describe the exact process, because I genuinely don’t know it, but one of you will simply stop existing. The way I understand it, the one with fewer memories usually disappears, but I’ve heard of cases where they sacrifice for their younger selves.”

“That is not always what happens,” a voice from behind her points out.

Pribadium turns around to find an alternate version of herself standing there.

“Whoa. Did we already do it?” Sora asks. “Did we go back in time?”

“No,” both Pribadiums reply to him simultaneously.

There is a protocol for this. “Report,” the Pribadium who belongs here instructs.

Microstory 2556: Web Developer

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I knew what I wanted to do with my life from a pretty young age. I taught myself HTML and CSS when I was in fourth grade, and started three surprisingly successful websites that demonstrated my skills. They were stupid, and thank God, defunct now, but they were my first little babies. I took all the computer classes I could in high school. I had to ask my guidance counselor to waive the language requirement, because I did not have time to learn it. I was learning javascript. That is a language, and these days, some schools which also have a language minimum include it in their lists. I never went to a four-year program, because it would have been a waste of time. I would have gotten a degree in art history, or something, and cost my parents tens of thousands of dollars for nothing. Again, I knew what I wanted to do. I earned an associate’s degree in Web Development and Graphic Design, which was helpful because graphics have never come easy for me. I’m much better with deep coding, and logical operations. After I completed that, I felt ready to really lean into my specialization, and ended up being accepted into a Coding Bootcamp. Unlike other programs, this one lasted for eighteen months. What they do there is teach you how to write code from scratch, and build your own libraries. It’s kind of this open secret that most coders don’t write most of their code. They copy and paste, and there’s nothing wrong with that, except there is, because that’s where the bugs come from. If your phone ever randomly closes an app on you, or two separate programs claim that they’re compatible with each other, but you can’t get them to share data properly, it’s probably because the developer didn’t know how to do a thing they needed to do. To make it work, they found a resource. This other resource gave them something similar to what they needed, and they were smart enough to adapt it for their needs. The problem with this technique is there’s no cohesion in the code. You can tell either that that’s how they did it, or multiple people worked on different sections, and then they had to stitch everything together. Mama don’t play that way.

My code is mine, and it works flawlessly because I wrote it all myself, and I did it using consistent conventions, which promotes flow and compatibility. Now, I’m not saying things don’t go wrong. People are still accessing my site from browsers that I have no control over, and with extensions that interfere with it, but for the most part, it’s a well-oiled machine. I keep a watchful eye over it, and man do I pay attention to those bug reports and complaints. A lot of tech companies don’t do that, because they don’t want to spend the time on it. Fixing bugs doesn’t make them money. Only signing up new users, or generating more traffic, can do that. The application process is complicated. The way you answer one question changes what questions are asked of you afterwards. This is not easy to program, but I can do it, because I worked hard, and I’m passionate about perfection. Candidates do not want to get all the way through the application, only to be kicked out because they missed a question, or because their internet cut out for a millisecond. I prevent those disruptions. I save their work. I don’t make mistakes. Because if I make a mistake, they make a mistake, which gives the evaluators the wrong information, which leads to no healing, which leads to death! I can’t have that on my conscience. I won’t allow it. I live and breathe this code. It’s my one and only baby now, and I won’t let anything bad happen to it. I promise.

Microstory 2475: Fashiondome

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If you’ve ever been to Bot Farm, you know how much work goes into creating all the androids that populate the domes to make them feel real and lived in, even when there aren’t very many visitors. Eventually, I believe the droid population will begin to decrease as more and more people move here, but for now, production does nothing but ramp up. That’s not about the bots themselves, though. It’s about their clothes! It’s also about your clothes. Every garment worn anywhere on the planet—unless you brought it with you—has been manufactured here. We’re talkin’ IMS units. We’re talkin’ themewear. We’re talkin’ bathing suits. If you go to Wild Wild Dome, you’re gonna see a lot of cowboy outfits, won’t you? Well, they made those here, and shipped them off when they were ready. You get it, I don’t need to list any more examples. You know what clothes are. In one sector, there are just rows and rows of industrial printers, fiber class. In another sector, there are rows and rows of racks where the finished products are stored. It’s precisely what you would expect out of a place like this. They don’t only make 3D printed clothes. It’s not even just about the products that need to go out to other domes. You can actually come here to design and fabricate your own clothes, at whatever level of technological advancement you prefer. They have electrical sewing machines, mechanical machines, and even just needle and thread. You can knit a scarf or crochet a hat. It doesn’t even have to be good, it just has to be fun. They also have fashion shows. Some of them are recreations of real shows from the past, while others are entirely original. They’re all produced by visitors like you. Nothing is made by a superintelligence, because that wouldn’t be very interesting, would it? If anything you can think of is even remotely tied to the fashion industry, both past and present, it’s here somewhere. Come here, and find your bliss. Funnily enough, however...clothing optional, just as it is anywhere.

Microstory 2429: Capital

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

Microstory 2426: Waterworld

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There is an ancient movie called Waterworld, and this has absolutely nothing to do with it. The only connection is the abundance of water. I kind of feel like they did that intentionally. It was one of the first domes ever to come into commission, obviously because water is so important. It makes me think that they knew about the movie, and deliberately used it as the name for this place so they wouldn’t have to adopt the franchise for a themed dome. Do you think that’s possible? Maybe I’m just being stupid and paranoid. I didn’t come to this planet specifically for it, but I got excited when I saw the dome on my brochure, and then my heart sank when I quickly learned that it’s only a Utility dome. I guess I really am dumb, because I was in the wrong section of the catalog. All the fun ones are listed completely separately. So. What is this? It’s a water processing plant. Not so exciting now, is it? They send a ship out into the outer solar system, where water can’t exist in liquid form (for the most part). They drag the ice that they harvest from the smaller celestial bodies, and transport it back to us. I went to Waterworld because it was already in my brain, and when I make plans, I tend to stick to them. Then I stayed to learn about it anyway. They don’t just lasso the ice chunks in a net, and pull it along behind them. They encapsulate it in a highly regulated tank, which is only partially insulated. They adjust this insulation and pressure accordingly as they’re on their way back. This allows the ice to melt into a liquid, and drain into a second tank without sublimating into gaseous form, which is what it would typically do in a vacuum. It’s the sun that accomplishes this for them, allowing them to get a little bit of free energy. Obviously, it still takes power, but it sounds like a pretty cool system at any rate. Pun intended. By the time they get back, the ice should theoretically be fully liquified, so they can dump it into Waterworld. The dome itself is basically a giant fish tank...without any fish. I’m oversimplifying it, because that’s what it looks like from the outside, but the truth is that the water is divided into compartments, which protects the system from total and utter cross-contamination. If there’s an issue with one compartment, at least it doesn’t ruin the entire thing. All told, we’re talking a volume of 145 billion megalitres. I mean, just picture that. You can’t, can you? Well, just take the vactrain to Waterworld, and they’ll show you. It’s evidently never filled to the brim, but it still looks interesting. You’re not gonna want to spend a lot of time here. It’s not closed to the public, but they clearly haven’t set it up for visitors. Don’t get me wrong, they’re ready for you, but I don’t think they could handle it if it suddenly became super popular. If you’re only mildly intrigued, I think reading about it on their prospectus is probably good enough, but if you really want to, you can come take a little tour. It won’t take much time out of your stay on Castlebourne, and might be a nice reprieve from the exhilarating activities. I’m still mad about that name, though.

Microstory 2425: Industrial Farm Dome

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A bunch of domes are dedicated to farming. Some of them are designed for necessary food production, but others are just for the sake of it. Industrial farming describes the kind of farming that they did during and after the industrial revolution. They used machines to farm giant fields for massive numbers of people, and even used electricity, but they didn’t have computers. There was absolutely no hint of automation. Lots of farm hands still had to do all the work, and that’s how it goes here. Nothing gets done if there’s no one here to do it. If that means the crops die, then so be it. There’s actually plenty of waste, because the rest of the current population of the planet doesn’t really want to eat this stuff. Everything they could ever want is provided for them. They got their lab grown meat, meal bars, food printers, and dayfruit. They don’t really care how hard I worked out here in the hot sun, and the Castlebourne leadership isn’t incentivizing them to choose us over those other things. I think they really should have worked this out differently. Screw that other stuff. If you have the real thing—and people are willing to labor FOR FREE—why would you choose anything else? Those should be a last resort. If they want this planet to be self-sufficient, then we have what you’re looking for. I don’t blame the other visitors for doing this wrong. There is so little awareness about what we can do for them. I guess what you really need is cooks. Some domes have culinary components, or so I hear, but I can’t find a dome that’s dedicated to the culinary arts. If they did that, we could work closely with them to make the supply chain a real thing. See? I got ideas, and I’m just a dumb regular human. I came here on a ship with one of these new reframe engines. I can’t even upload or transfer my consciousness to a new body. This is the real me. These other people don’t always even need to eat, so they have no appreciation for any of this. Some changes need to be made around here, because I don’t want to go back to the stellar neighborhood. I shouldn’t have to. I should be able to find what I’m entitled to on this planet. People just need to do the right thing.

Microstory 2401: The Terminal

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You know what? This place is big. They call it the Terminal because everyone who quantum casts their consciousness to this planet runs through here. It’s mind-boggling how large it is. I think I heard someone say that every cast-capable individual could upload their mind to a new substrate here at pretty much the same time, and there would be enough room for everyone. I don’t know about that, but I saw this thing from the outside, and I think I believe it. But in the end, the principle remains the same. You get in an egress pod wherever you’re coming from, hook yourself up to the machine, and zip across the interstellar void. You wake up about an hour later, and start moving around in your new body. You’re a little shaky at first, because I admit, it was a new experience. The technology they use to transfer your consciousness is a little different. They have to worry more about things like interference and signal degradation. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t afraid, and I don’t regret it. I just mean, the end result may be a bit different than what you’re used to. It’s just a little harder to acclimate, even if you’re a seasoned caster. Fortunately, they were prepared. They have nearby acclimation rooms that are designed to help you figure things out. They have bars to hold onto and treadmills; basically everything you would find in a physical therapy gym. I was told that they do offer mech subs, if you want that instead of an organic. I’ve never personally used one of those kinds of bodies, so I can’t speak to that experience, but if you choose that route, you may be able to move around just fine right away. Anyway, I didn’t need to use any of the equipment. It was helpful just to have a place to sit and relax. They also had an orientation theatre. Some of it was in person, surely from an android of some kind, while other parts were on the holo-screen. There are way too many domes for them to go through them all, but they do teach you how to search through the catalog, so you can find the exact experience that you’re looking for. But I won’t get into specifics here. I’m sure once I start going to the domes, I’ll review those too. This is just about The Terminal. You should know, they do have medical facilities here, and hygiene stations. I didn’t use any of those, but they’re there if you need them, and they looked nice. I set my trip up ahead of time, so I pretty much received my orientation packet, and bounced. It looked like some people were hanging out there for a little while, though there are plenty of domes that offer relaxation options.

Microstory 2376: Vacuus, October 14, 2179

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Dear Condor,

It’s nice to hear from you. I know that you weren’t writing that open letter directly to me, but it felt very personal, even though I’ve never experienced anything like what you did. I’ve heard more about you from Corinthia. I’ve known about your whole situation almost as long as she has. You and I have a lot in common. My grandfather was the Chief Helmsman of the ship that brought us to this planet, and before that, he was a space shuttle pilot, and before that, an airline pilot. I spent a lot of time on the bridge with him at the helm as we were on our way out here. He would tell me stories about all the places that he used to travel to back on Earth. I’m younger than you, so I have never set foot on your world before. I guess that’s what fascinates me so much, because I feel like I have all these somewhat similar personal experiences. I know that they’re not my own, though. I dunno, I suppose I just felt a connection with you that I’m probably making up in my own head. As for clothes, I do like them, but not necessarily any more than anyone else. I gravitated towards this job partially because there was an opening, and partially because I probably have even less of an interest in going outside than Corinthia does. I just want to stay in my little room where it’s safe. My work area doesn’t even have a window, because some of the rooms have to be on the interior sections, and they can’t all be lavatories and closets. My job is really not that hard. It may be more involved than your sister’s on a day-to-day basis, but there’s a whole lot less pressure. If I mess something up, I can usually fix it before anyone else sees it. The truth is that anyone could do this, because the fabricators do most of the work. I don’t even know how to sew by hand all that well. I did learn, but I don’t use those skills at work. I’m mostly there in a supervisory role. The machines aren’t hard to operate, but rather than training everyone who needs clothes, they only worry about making sure that I know them, and I make sure that nothing gets screwed up. It’s pretty low-key. I have some free time, which I typically spend making up new designs. I’m not exceptional at it, but there are no deadlines, so I eventually figure out what it needs to look like. Corinthia has actually tested out a lot of my own clothes for me. She says she likes them, but you never really know, right? She could just be being polite. I did design the outfit that I’m wearing in the attached photo, so you can tell me what you think. Be honest. Cori thinks there’s too much cleavage, but maybe you have a different opinion?

Hugs and kisses,

Velia

PS: I like your outfit too. It fits you well, though I would imagine just about anything does with a body like that. Trust me, I'm a professional.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 8, 2490

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Everything had changed about Castlebourne when the team came back to the timeline in 2490, and it was pretty much what Mateo had predicted years ago. Team Kadiar started going on their rescue missions about three weeks after Team Matic disappeared. They started out slowly and strategically. They spoke with the people of New Welrios to see if they would be interested in relocating yet again. While most of them didn’t want to leave as their new home had since been established, they weren’t combative, and understood what the crew of the Vellani Ambassador was trying to do. Some of them did ask to leave, particularly the older ones who were more used to not getting attached. A few asked to join the operation, and some of them were even taken up on their offers, following some training that Darko, Mirage, and others devised. The core five that made up the executive crew were still running the show, but the new people had their own responsibilities. If nothing else, being able to give their next prospects real evidence that rescue was possible was more valuable than nothing.

Things started out slow as they struggled to convince enough people that this was the right thing to do. One reason for this was that they didn’t know if there was anything to fix. People living in the Goldilocks were oppressed, but that didn’t mean they were unhappy. They were indoctrinated from birth to believe that this was as good as life could get. The Exin Empire didn’t even have to use force to gaslight them into thinking this way. It was how their parents lived, and how their parents’ parents lived, and so on. The whole of society, on each world, and across the worlds, was built around Bronach Oaksent’s vision. Showing them a better way was no easy feat. The pitch was by far the hardest part of each job. Loading them into the ship wasn’t easy either, nor was Tertius’ work controlling everyone’s memories, but they were simple and easy compared to the social aspect. The new pocket dimension that Ramses designed could fit almost 500 without untenable power drain, but they were only ever able to get about 300 to 400 people each time they tried to reach out to a new population. That still added up to around 130,000 people over the course of the last year, accounting for much-needed breaks, and other delays, but they wanted to do more. They wanted to save more.

The pitch speeches and videos were constantly being refined and reworked, however, and the data showed that these changes improved effectiveness. The most recent missions returned with higher capacity than the first ones. By the end of the 25th century, the total population of Castlebourne could number in the millions, even before visitors from the stellar neighborhood were brought in to enjoy the domes. Mateo was so very proud of his daughters, and wished that he could see them in action. Unfortunately, he was still a liability. His solid holograms were not yet powerful, nor reliable, nor understood well enough. And the new emergent suit that Ramses injected into his body added a new variable that Leona surely wouldn’t be pleased with...once they were ready to tell her about it.

As far as those domes went, Hrockas seemed pleased when he walked into the yearly briefing that he always had with Team Matic. “Is it safe to say that gamma testing is going well?” Leona asked.

“Not as well as I had hoped, but I can’t make them do it, even if I wanted to,” Hrockas replied.

“They’re not going to the recreational domes?” Leona pressed.

“They are, but a lot of domes remain untested. The South Pole is the most popular attraction. Apparently, the despot who runs the empire didn’t make oceans on very many of the worlds that he created. Honestly, I can’t blame him for that; it was not easy for me. Still, I would like them to try out some of the other domes, so I get some feedback on them too. I know what the problem is, though. They don’t really have any sense of pop culture, so the scenarios don’t mean much to them.” Hrockas dismissed his own remarks. “But that’s my problem; not yours, and certainly not theirs. I didn’t agree to host them for that. I just thought it would be a nice bonus. They’re all welcome to stay, even if they never leave the residences. I didn’t start this project a hundred years ago thinking that any of this would be easy.”

Before Hrockas could continue on—if that was what he was planning on doing—Aeolia placed a hand on his thigh. She leaned over, and whispered something in his ear. After he nodded, she stood up, and left the room. Before Aeolia’s past and future were erased from the timeline, she did office work for a number of employers. She was using the skills she picked up in those roles now as Hrockas’ personal assistant. Most of what he needed done could be automated, because this was the late 25th century, but he still liked to have another person there to bounce ideas off of. He couldn’t be in two places at once, so she also often served as his eyes and ears.

“What about the central archives?” Mateo suggested. “Have they been granted access to the vonearthan databases, particularly the grand repository of entertainment?”

“They absolutely have,” Lita answered. She was placed in charge of helping the refugees figure out how to live outside of the Exin Empire, which was all they had ever known up until this point. It was her husband, Mario who came up with her title, Director of Transition, acting as head of the Department for Cultural Transition Assistance. “I’m not—” She paused, looking for the right words. “I’m not discouraging them from browsing the repository, but I generally nudge them towards the aggregate records. They’ve never heard of Earth, and I want them to know where they ultimately come from, even if we don’t technically consider them vonearthans. I want them to see that oppressive governments are wrong, and that they all fall...eventually.”

“That’s understandable,” Leona said. “You know what they say about those who cannot remember the past. They’ve been deliberately shielded from theirs as a means of control. They need to see the truth, or they’ll never really be free.”

They moved onto other business, discussing the general state of the planet. The numbers had shifted since they were last here, as they always did. At this point, roughly 30% of the domes were completely unused. They were sealed up, but still nothing but desert. About 45% of the domes were themed to some degree, but still working through alpha testing, which robots performed due to the potential danger. Around 15% were in the beta testing phase. Some of the more enthusiastic refugees signed all the necessary paperwork, and were helping by exploring these recreational and leisure spots. The remaining 10% of domes were currently being gamma tested by the rest of the refugees, some of which were probably ready for delta testing by the early adopters during and after the grand opening.

Aeolia came back in, and whispered something to Hrockas while Samsonite was pitching his idea of a formal educational institution. “Sorry, Mr. Bellamy, I’m gonna have to pause you for a moment. I’m afraid that Team Matic will have to leave us.” He looked up at Aeolia. “You can handle it, right?”

Aeolia nodded.

“All right, go on,” he requested of Samsonite as most of the members of the meeting were exiting.

“What’s goin’ on?” Leona asked.

“An unauthorized visitor appeared in one of the pods,” Aeolia began to explain. “We don’t know how she broke through our firewalls, but she’s asking to speak to you. Specifically, the...uh...”

“The smart ones?” Mateo suggested.

“Great,” Angela said. “I need to get back in there. This presentation is important.” Without waiting for someone to give her permission, or argue, she stepped back into the conference room, followed by her sister and Olimpia.

Mateo shrugged when Aeolia looked at him. “I’m curious. I’m sure I’ll follow the conversation well enough.”

Leona took Aeolia’s hand, and they all teleported to the only operational acclimation room of The Terminal. Hogarth Pudeyonavic was sitting in an armchair. Leona walked over to her. “Madam Pudeyonavic, it’s nice to see you again.” They shook hands after Hogarth stood up.

“You got my message?” Ramses asked.

“I did, but I was not planning on answering. I’m only here now to get some distance from my own problems before I tackle them.”

“What problems are these?” Leona asked with concern.

“Not yours,” Hogarth answered with kindness in her voice, not dismissiveness.

Leona nodded respectfully, then looked back at her engineer. “You asked her about our interference with the slingdrive?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “I can’t crack it. I know The Vellani Ambassador is not our ship anymore. Another team has been using it for longer than we ever did. But I still think it’s something that we should understand. It’s a unique form of space travel, and I want to remain the foremost expert on it, if possible.”

“Take me to it,” Hogarth asked.

They teleported again, right into the engineering section.

“Welcome,” Mirage’s voice said through the intercom.

Hogarth took a brief look around, narrowing in one component in particular. She reached for the coherence gauge, and unscrewed it. After looking into the data port, she said, “give me an hour. But I’ll need a couple of guinea pigs.”

“That’s my job,” Mateo volunteered proudly.

“It would help if you could procure a human too,” Hogarth clarified.

“Jericho?” Ramses suggested.

“His body doesn’t metabolize temporal energy, but he was once exposed to dark particles. Does that matter?” Leona asked.

“Shouldn’t,” Hogarth replied. “Those don’t travel through the qualium realm. Bring him to me.”

“What’s the qualium realm?” Ramses questioned.

“I’ll explain in an hour.” Hogarth was frustrated with having to repeat herself all of one time.

An hour on the dot after Jericho was brought here reluctantly, Hogarth was ready to give her answer. She had extracted a little bit of blood from them, but otherwise left the guinea pigs to just stand around and wait. She spent most of the time taking the slingdrive apart, and putting it back together, as if the task alone was enough to provide her with answers. She didn’t even really seem to examine the parts, or anything. She only needed to go through the motions. They were sitting around the table in Delegation Hall now. Hogarth was twirling some kind of plastic tube between her fingers.

“Is that the issue?” Ramses asked.

“Oh, this? Nah, this is just an erroneous part. I cut it out, because it was slowing down the quintessence transmission function, and making the drive less efficient. It didn’t have to be this long.”

“That was there to prevent bottlenecking,” Ramses tried to explain.

“You already have two redundant regulators in each intake valve. Trust me, you don’t need this.” She carelessly dropped it on the table.

“Is that valuable?” Mateo asked.

“It’s only tubing,” Ramses assured him. “The containment comes from the specialized pocket dimension, which can be housed in just about anything. But it must be housed in something,” he reiterated to Hogarth, “not nothing.”

Hogarth brushed off his claims. “I’m here to tell you that you were right.”

“About us being the problem?” Leona figured.

“There’s a workaround, but it comes with a limitation,” Hogarth went on. “Earlier, you asked about the qualium realm. I’m honestly astonished you’ve never heard of it, because based on the specifications of this ship, and the upgraded substrates you built for yourself and your friends, you’ve been working with it for years.”

“I know what qualia are,” Ramses said, “and I’ve heard of the quantum realm, but I’ve never combined them.”

“You have. You just didn’t know it.” Hogarth threw a hologram into the space over the table. It was a silhouette of a human being. There appeared to be some kind of aura pulsating from it. Animations utilizing this diagram changed by her narration. “Humans are composed of three major components: mind, body, and soul. The body is the physical material that interacts with reality in four dimensions. We’re all looking at each other’s right now. Information is interpreted through the brain, which is of course, also a physical entity, but that’s not where data is processed. That happens in the quantum realm. This was part of a number of related, but competing, hypotheses, regarding the nature of consciousness. It was only after we figured it out that we were able to manipulate the properties of the quantum mind, and allow for technologies such as mind uploading, and memory retrieval. What present-day researchers still don’t understand is that there is a third aspect. The soul, if you will, exists within the qualium realm. It is how we process personal thoughts, emotions. It’s where we come up with original ideas, and our worldviews. More to the point, it’s also how time travelers metabolize temporal energy.

“We are connected to the universe in a way that normal people, like my new friend, Jericho here, aren’t. This is how different flavors of time travelers come about. The nature of an individual’s qualium realm—their connection to the cosmos—dictates what they can do, and what they can’t. You, Ramses, were not born with a qualium realm sufficient for time travel. You replicated it using someone else’s connection. None of you could teleport until you figured out how to adjust your qualia accordingly. I could go on and on about the study of qualium realms, and how to change your perceptions of time by accessing this special dimension, but that’s not what this meeting is about. The issue is that your connection to the qualium realm is indeed interacting with your slingdrive, which necessarily also has access to this realm in order to function. There are two options here; you can manipulate your own connection, and alter how this interdimensional interaction occurs, or you can modify the machine to block it.”

“What’s the downside to the second one?” Leona asked her.

“No more time travel,” Hogarth answered. “The machine is shockingly versatile, but it has its quirks. As it stands, it accesses all four dimensions, and it is the fourth dimension that is getting screwy. You’re interfering with it because of your inherent connection to time, which is nonlinear. You can’t program it to travel through the fourth dimension, but somehow ignore you, because people like us are an extension of time, not simply living in it. You would still be able to go anywhere you want in the universe, but you would have to stay in the present.”

“We don’t really want to travel through time,” Leona determined. “But it’s not our ship anymore. How hard would it be to adjust our qualia, for those situations where we may need to use the ship?”

“Very hard,” Hogarth replied, “and unpredictable. There would be a lot of trial and error, and you would probably end up as regular humans. I don’t know if that’s what you want, or...”

“You mean we could control our own pattern?” Olimpia asked. “We would stop jumping forwards every day?

“I guess,” Hogarth said. “I would have to study you more, and invasively, but technically anything is impossible. With enough time and energy, I could turn anyone into a traveler, or take it away.”

“Thank you, Madam P,” Leona said, standing up. “We will need to discuss our options amongst ourselves. Can you stay a year?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Hogarth said, also standing up, “At the very least, I’ll be back in a year.”

She ended up staying the year.

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