The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 19, 2532

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It wasn’t really accurate to say that the slingdrive explosion sent the space station to somewhere else in the universe. They were actually not in the universe at all anymore, and in fact may not have even really moved, in the three-dimensional sense. The totality of the cosmos include a seemingly infinite bulk of universes called branes, floating around, occasionally colliding with each other. The stuff that the bulk was made out of was known as bulk energy, but it went by other names. When bulk energy would leak into a brane, it essentially created a tiny new pocket of space, and this phenomenon was once known as dark energy, because scientists couldn’t explain why it was a thing. After settling into a more stable quantum state, it became known as your average, everyday vacuum energy. Each of these leaks caused the universe to expand, which stretched the brane out, which caused it to thin, which caused more leaks. That was why the universe was not only expanding, but why this expansion was accelerating. But if the outside of a brane was bulk energy, and the inside was vacuum energy, and these two things were virtually the same, what was the difference? What was the barrier? What was the membrane part of the brane? Well, it used to be called dark matter, but it was now known to be quintessence. As the fifth fundamental force, quintessence was repulsive, and served as the mirror image to the attractive force of gravity.

Quintessence was there to hold everything together. It didn’t like to touch anything else, but it liked to touch other quintessence. So it naturally formed clumps, like two raindrops sliding down a window, ultimately coalescing into a single, larger drop. This was why 3D space existed, because it was being contained. Without it, matter and energy would just be floating around that bulk as formless blobs at best, inherently at its own equilibrium, and having no reason to make anything of itself. You owe your entire existence to quintessence. But was still dangerous and unforgiving, and despite being so repulsive to baryonic matter, it wasn’t a one-dimensional sheet, but a massive clump with thickness. This was how the slingdrives worked, not by escaping the universe, and then returning to it, but by only piercing one layer of the membrane, and sliding alongside it to a new destination. And if it was possible to get into it, and get out later, it was possible to succeed at the first thing, but fail at the second. It was possible to get stuck. Team Matic, and a few opposing individuals, were stuck. To make matters worse, they weren’t all stuck together. To make matters even worse, they weren’t all stuck with friends.

They were alive, and had been for about a year, but divided, and communication was difficult. The space station was supposed to be a sphere, but it wasn’t like that anymore. It had become unraveled, as if God herself had come by with a grapefruit peeler, and spiraled it out to slurp it up like linguine. Lots of metaphors here, but when there was nothing to do, they came up with such things to occupy their time. When this happened, all pocket dimensions, and other temporal anomalies, burst apart. Reserve water flooded the chambers, dayfruit smoothie spilled out, and slingdrive components broke apart. Everyone had the basics, like carbon scrubbers, food synthesizers, and the power to run them, but they weren’t left with ways to retain their sanity. No inter-sector talking, and no teleportation. Not even their team empathy could penetrate the barrier.

Romana and Franka were alone together in one sector, having to figure out how to be civil with each other, if not sisters. Mateo and A.F. were in another sector, and it took everything they had not to tear each other apart. Marie was all right as she was with Dutch. They met Dutch years ago in another universe. They didn’t really know how he ended up here, but in order to survive, he ended up having to go into stasis with Romana during the period where half the team was in the Goldilocks Corridor, and the other half was on Castlebourne, which had been physically moved to another region of space. Truthfully, they had kind of forgotten about him, and just sort of left him there in his pod. He didn’t seem upset, because no time had passed for him, and he was a pretty easygoing guy. The sector with the most number of people contained Ramses, Angela, and Octavia. They weren’t hostile with one another, but it was rather awkward, and the two members of Team Matic had to learn to get along with this stranger whose alternate selves they didn’t even know very well. Leona and Miracle were trapped in the fifth sector, and that was weird too, but unlike with Mateo and A.F., they weren’t too worried about killing each other. Fittingly, Olimpia was alone again in the final sector. When was this girl gonna catch a break?

The spirals of the space station were not uniform, which meant that some of them were able to see each other some of the time. They didn’t understand why at first, but there were some theories floating around about passing suns, which they tried to share with each other during optimal times. While it didn’t feel like they were moving, they maybe were. It was dark the majority of the time, so the windows showed them absolutely nothing but the black. Periodically, however, light from some unknown source would bounce off of them, allowing them to peak into other sectors. They would leave messages for each other by gluing pieces of paper together into shapes, mostly letters. If they were lucky, they would happen to be there at the right time, and could use hand gestures to convey information. There was no quantum communication, nor even radio signals. These brief moments of connection were the only way for them to know that everyone was still alive and well enough, albeit depressed and pessimistic. The smarties worked through the problem, though they couldn’t do it together, so it was slow-going. They finally thought they had a solution, but it would take coordination.

“Do you have any idea what the hell you’re doing?” A.F. questioned.

Mateo sighed. “My wife was clear on how to do it. I wrote it down.”

“You’re the worst person to be responsible for this.”

“Yes, well, Ramses is in the cargo bay, and Leona is basically in a bathroom.” That was the worst part of all of this. The other sectors had the means to access the sewage lines, but not officially or...pleasantly. Leona and Miracle weren’t actually in a bathroom either, but the stasis chamber was equipped with better access.

“I’m saying that I should do it,” A.F. reasoned.

“I’m not trusting you with it, and I’m taller.”

“Oh, by, like, a centimeter.”

They had done something similar to this before. When trying to escape the kasma—from A.F. and his army—the quintessence was trying to crush them too, or let them crash into it. Olimpia used her magical Sangster Canopy to create extra space in front of them, cutting through the membrane until they were free, and in the greater bulk again. They would come to realize now that she was channeling bulk energy. It wasn’t easy back then, but even harder now. Olimpia’s window appeared visibly the least often, and she reported issues with her umbrella. As it turned out, it needed some power. She had to tap into the fuel cells of the station, which was not something she knew how to do right away. All these little studies, experiments, and instructions were why it had taken months to solidify the plan. It was now finally time to implement it.

Olimpia’s would be the toughest job, but Mateo’s was not voluntary either. Right now, a magnetic field was the only thing preventing the quintessence from crushing them into what Leona was calling proton soup, and that was keeping Mateo up at night. While the field was great, it was also what was trapping them in the membrane. What they needed was to make it spit them out, and that was a delicate and nuanced procedure that he didn’t know if he was prepared for. The field couldn’t simply be switched off. It had to be oscillated and directed, matching progress with Olimpia’s work at creating an opening for them, because there was no way to steer. They still couldn’t talk, so Leona and Ramses came up with a very tight schedule, and taught it to both of them beforehand. If they both started at the right time, and followed the plan correctly, they shouldn’t need to communicate.

He was standing on a ladder, staring at his watch, waiting for the right moment. There was a very small margin of error here. He could start adjusting the field generator a few seconds early, or a few seconds late, but no more than that. He was breathing deliberately now; in through his nose, out through his mouth. He noticed A.F. copying him, but didn’t say anything. Six, five, four, three, two, one, go. Mateo reached up, and tried to connect the wires together. A paralyzing sensation spread throughout his whole body, and sent him flying backwards, onto the hard surface of the floor, but not before slamming his head against the edge of the counter.

Meanwhile, Olimpia was having her own troubles. The blasted umbrella wouldn’t open. There wasn’t a problem with the mechanism, it was just that her hands were sweaty, and she was incredibly nervous. Oh, no. She was late. She was too late! No, she had to just start. If she didn’t get on it, there was no going back. They couldn’t just wait until the next communication window, and try to coordinate again at a later date. There was no way for Mateo to know that she had given up. And if he made his adjustments thinking that she was creating space when she wasn’t, they would all die. Proton soup, she didn’t like the sound of that. Open, open, OPEN! It opened. NOW!

Mateo opened his eyes. Well, he opened them as much as he could. His eyelids were heavy, and were his lashes clinging together like Velcro? His head hurt and felt sticky. He lifted his hand and reached for his neck. Some kind of fluid. Was it blood? Red. Yeah, it was blood. He could surely live, in this superadvanced substrate that Ramses has cloned for him. There was something else wrong, though. He was meant to be doing something. It felt very urgent and important. What was it? He shot up at his waist. “Magnets!”

“Yeah, buddy, I got it,” A.F. replied.

Mateo looked over to see A.F. on his ladder, his arms buried in the ceiling access panel. He didn’t look back over his shoulder, but kept his focus on the wires. If he wasn’t fulfilling the plan, what else would he have been doing? “Are you doing it? Are you doing it right?”

“Yes, I’m not an idiot,” A.F. replied, sighing with annoyance.

“I didn’t know you were paying attention to Leona’s messages.”

“Again, not an idiot. If there were nine other people here with us, I would have expected them to learn the procedure too.”

“Well...I appreciate it.”

“Do you think I wanna die any more than you? You think I wanna kill you so bad that I would sacrifice my own life to do it? I’m not crazy either. I doubt there’s an afterlife simulation relay module anywhere near here.”

“No, probably not.” Mateo massaged the back of his head, knowing that he was risking getting an infection from all the touching, but confident that his body would survive that too. He paused awkwardly. “So...is it going okay?”

“I’m doing what we were told to do, and we’re still alive. Maybe you can look through the windshield to make sure we don’t accidentally pass our turn?”

“I’ll get on it,” Mateo joked back. A.F. wasn’t such a bad guy when he wasn’t trying to kill all of them. They obviously called a truce because it was profoundly irrational for them to try to reenact Hell in the Pacific, but Mateo didn’t know how long that would last after they got out of this mess.

“Right,” A.F. replied quietly.

Mateo suddenly started to hear something. It was a crunching, crackling sound, but only in one ear. He stuck his finger in it, and tried to scratch out the noise. He looked at the tip, worried that blood was pooling in his ear cavity, but it seemed to be okay. It didn’t even quite sound like it was in there, but more behind it. Oh, the comms disc. It had been so long since he had been able to use it. He tried to regulate that instead, standing up, and wobbling around as he searched for a better signal. Voices began to emerge, and become clearer. “Hello?”

“Mateo?” Ramses asked.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“That’s my dad, everybody, he’s here too!” Romana said jovially. 

“Is that the whole roster?” Marie asked.

“Yeah, the whole station is out of the membrane. We’re in realspace now.”

“How is Olimpia?” Mateo asked.

“I’m fine,” Olimpia answered. “I’m still using my umbrella. I’m afraid to let go. I still can’t see anything.”

“A little extra vacuum energy never hurt anybody,” Leona promised. “Nonetheless, you can indeed let go. I assure you, we’re free.”

“Are we still a spiral?” Angela questioned.

“Nothing to be done about that,” Franka said. “My station is a spiral now.” When did she get her own comms disc? She responded too quickly to not have heard it herself.

“I can help you seal up the damaged sectors so the bulkheads open again,” Ramses offered.

“I’m sure I can figure it out on my own,” Franka said.

“So, uh...” A.F. began. “Since you’re talking to people, can I stop futzing with these power crystals?”

“Oh, sorry,” Mateo said, embarrassed. “Can confirm, we’re safe now.”

A.F. let go, and climbed back down the ladder. He took a breath, and stared at his enemy for a moment. Finally, he reached out with a friendly hand.

Mateo looked down at his own. “It’s a little bloody.”

A.F. chuckled. “I’ve been trying to get your blood on my hands for decades. This will have to be good enough, I guess. Let’s call it a draw.” He shook Mateo’s hand.

“I would love to not have to run from you anymore.”

“This doesn’t make us friends.”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Mateo agreed. He took a beat. “What happens now?”

“Now...I leave you in her hands.”

“Whose?”

“Proserpina’s. Good luck.” And with that, A.F. disappeared.

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Microstory 2569: Second Voldisil

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I was the first Voldisil to step forward after Landis Tipton started the trend. Some of us have tried to reach out to him since, but he doesn’t seem interested. Or at least his people don’t, because they keep saying no. First of all, you have to understand that we are not superheroes. No one is flying around in the sky, or turning invisible, or shooting fire out of their hands. I know one young Voldisil who has access to certain information regarding what I’ll simplify and call the multiverse. Out there, on other worlds, there actually are people with some obvious and overt powers. They are usually the mutants, because the things that they can do are sourced from their bodies. There are also witches, who control their abilities via their minds, because something is special about their neurology. Their abilities can also be quite apparent, but still not as conspicuous as mutants. Voldisil belong to the third class, known as spirits. We’re not the only spirits in the multiverse, we’re just the ones who live here. Our gifts come from our souls. Yes, can confirm, souls are real. It’s not just an abstract synonym for the mind—it’s a separate thing, which completes the trinity that is a living being. Your soul is responsible for your emotions, and grants access to the fabric of the universe as it pertains to other living creatures. We’re all connected, and we make these connections through what essentially boils down to another dimension. And that brings me to what my Voldisil gift is. I can sense the spirit dimension. To put it another way, I can feel your soul, and I can tell how you’re linked to everyone else.

For the most part, Voldisil stick to themselves, unless they happen to meet someone who they feel they can trust with their truth, or someone who is also a Voldisil who feels a sufficient level of trust. As I’ve said, our gifts are not clear. They are abstract, ethereal, unreliable, and even vague. You can’t just film someone using their Voldisil gift, and send that footage to a news outlet. It would have been tough for any of us to prove what we could do. Landis found a way, but he only did it by using his gift—specifically, his healing ability—over and over again. If he had only done it once, most of you would have brushed it off as a stunt. If he had sprouted blue wings, and flown over a sports stadium, well, that would have been a different story. The rest of us couldn’t demonstrate in the way that he did. As a soul-searcher, I have been able to find other Voldisil, and have consensually built a sort of support network, which is unprecedented in history, to my knowledge. I don’t know how long Voldisil have been around, but I know where we come from, and I happily explained it in my book, which you can find for free in the link below. You should know that we are out there, but not all of us want to be in the public eye. Some that I have found didn’t even want to be part of the network, and we should all respect their wishes. We’ve been working to try to make the world a better place in our own small ways, and inspired by Landis, I hope we can ramp up our efforts to make far more substantive changes. But we can’t do it without your help. You have to want things to change. So let’s start a dialogue. We can’t knock a train over that’s about to hit a child stuck on the tracks, but we can help. We’re sorry to have kept you in the dark for so long, but we’re ready now. We’re listening now. What do you need?

Microstory 2565: Would-be Assassin

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I do not care about Landis Tipton. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I never wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill the disease that he’s carrying. I still do, and one day, I’ll get out of here, and finish my mission. About five years ago, I was minding my own business, cleaning our streets, when five randos showed up and started talking about trying to make me “a better man”. I’m already who I ever needed to be. I answered my calling when I was sixteen years old, and I’ve never regretted it. I’ve never regretted anything, except letting them get away... I allowed them to try their new psychology on me because I didn’t understand that they had magical powers, and by the time I realized that they were the real deal, I couldn’t stop them. They started messing with my head; making me see things that weren’t there, and feel things that I didn’t want to feel. I tried to fight back, but they used their witchcraft to subdue me. It took everything I had in my soul to break free. They would get tired, you know. Their abilities don’t work forever, so I was able to overpower them eventually. I was so angry. They didn’t get who I was. There was nothing broken in me. I thought they were going to make me better at my job, but they wanted me to give it up. Not only that, but they wanted to convince me to turn myself in! Can you believe that? After all their talk about a holistic healing, it wasn’t to make a difference, because in their minds, I belonged in jail anyway. Well, as they were screaming for their lives, they told me that I would feel better about myself, even while I was locked up, but I couldn’t have it. They somehow knew what I did, and I couldn’t let them keep on living, or they would tell everyone. I’m not even entirely sure if they did, but it was too much of a risk after my failure, so I went into hiding. I went into deep hiding. I was so far off the grid that I had no clue what was going on with the rest of the world. No radio, no TV, no phone. I was trying to lay low for a while so when I came back out, no one would be looking for me. I don’t think that my attackers knew my identity; they just knew what I had done using their voodoo woowoo. Anyway, I was badly injured, ironically enough, and it was bad enough that I had to go into town to get supplies. That was when I saw the headline. It was about this guy who could heal people. One of my attackers healed me, because they didn’t want me to be physically injured. They were more into the mental torment. I knew he had something to do with it. Maybe he was one of their sons, or whatever. I did some more research, and pieced together that he must have gotten all of their powers. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but they likely went into hiding too, and I had no idea who they were, so how was I gonna find them? I figured he was the next best thing. I soon caught wind that he was gonna make an appearance on a talk show, so that was my opportunity. I had it all planned out perfectly, but I underestimated the amount of security they would have for a guy who seemingly can’t even die. They caught me. They didn’t even publicize it, which will make it easier when I try again, so that’s a plus, I guess. People love this guy, but I know that its all part of his plot to lull us into complacency. He won’t get away with it. They never do...not when I’m involved.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 4, 2517

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The wedding was going to be a lot smaller than the last one, and much more intimate. When Mateo and Leona married in the replica of The Colosseum on Tribulation Island, over 48,000 people attended. This was at the behest of Arcadia Preston, who was forcing them to marry. It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other, but it wasn’t on their terms, so the event would always have that asterisk next to it. This was their choice. The two of them wanted to marry Olimpia, and she them. Hrockas assumed that they would want to choose a venue in Party Central, but they weren’t really interested in that. Sure, it had plenty of options. It could be indoors or outdoors, rustic or modern, big or small. But they wanted something different; something special. They chose Mythodome for Olimpia’s affinity for fantasy stories. It wasn’t the safest dome on the planet, but it was a lot of fun, and one of the more interesting ones. They also came up with a system to protect the ceremony from outside interference. Thanks to a program which Hrockas instituted, the wedding party shouldn’t have to worry about it.

Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia were getting dressed in their fancy stylish outfits in front of a wall of mirrors, the former in the middle. She was working and reworking her hair. “Where are we again?”

“Hall of Hephaestus,” Leona answered, straightening the collar of her dress. “You don’t have to keep doing it manually. Here.” She took Olimpia’s hand, and placed her palm on the glass. She turned it to the right, prompting the image to change. Olimpia still looked like herself, but her skirt was now a pale mint green.

“Ugh,” Olimpia said. “Pastels are not my colors.”

“It’s somewhere in your subconscious,” Leona explained. “I’m not making the image change. You are. It’s powered by your intuition, so just imagine what you want to look like, and this will show you.”

“Done.” Mateo playfully adjusted his bowtie.

“Great,” Leona replied sarcastically. She faced Olimpia again. “I like your hair the way it is, but if you want to change it, find your preference in the mirror, and we’ll ask Medusa to style it for real.”

Olimpia laughed. “This place is wild.”

“Hey, guys, look. I have cold feet.” Mateo was playing around with the Protean glass now too, making it look like he was standing on the snow and ice. Actually, it was probably Jotunheim.

The gigantic doors to their left opened up. Angela walked in and approached them. “I don’t want you to be mad. Romana is considering this to be her wedding gift to her father, but she doesn’t know how you’ll take it, so just...be nice.”

Mateo stepped away from his mirror. “What did she do?”

“We met two twins called the Ashvins. I don’t know how they did it, but they seem to have retroverting abilities.”

“What?” As Mateo was trying to figure out how he was going to react, Romana walked in, but it was unlike how he knew her. She was about seven or eight years old. It was quite alarming. “Romy! What a surprise!” He still didn’t know how he should feel about this.

“Before you freak out,” Romana began, “this is temporary. I just wanted to be a flower girl, instead of a flower woman.”

“I didn’t want you to change for me,” Mateo contended. That was all right to say to her, right? Right?

“I know, but you had a little ring bear at your first wedding, and I just think this will give it a better look. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Mateo replied. Yeah, that was definitely the right thing to say. He stepped over to hug his little girl. “I never got to see you like this. It’s a lovely gesture, and we appreciate it.”

“This is just for you,” Romana said. “You each get your own gift. Them’s the rules.”

“We don’t need gifts at all,” Leona reasoned.

“Then you don’t need to get married,” Romana volleyed, playfully, but still trying to win the argument, since they were getting gifts, whether they wanted them or not.

“Thank you very much, little girl,” Olimpia joked. “Do you need to go potty before the ceremony?”

“It will wear off,” Romana reminded her with a frown. “I do have to go get my basket, though.” She spun around a few times like a ballerina before hopping away.

“Kind of wish it wouldn’t,” Mateo admitted. “...wear off, that is.”

“She’s still your baby,” Leona assured him.

Magnolia walked in from the other—smaller—door on the other side of the room. “Hey, wadya’ll still doin’ here? We gotta keep things moving. Where are your other escorts?”

“I believe Ramses is inventing a gift for us,” Mateo answered.

“We don’t have time for that. Gifts later. Chop-chop,” Magnolia insisted.

“Your hair,” Leona said.

Olimpia changed the mirror back to being a true reflection. “You’re right, I’ll keep it as it is. Let’s get out there.”

Angela stuck her elbow out, and let Olimpia take it. Even though it was only the three of them who were getting married, everyone on the team was involved. While Romana was throwing flowers on the ground before them, they all walked down the aisle together. Angela was escorting Olimpia, followed by Ramses with Leona, and Marie with Mateo. This wasn’t their version of a father giving away her daughter, but an expression of the love that they all shared for each other, and a reinforcement of their bond. No chief attendants, nor honor attendants; just seven people up there to advance their dynamic in a loving and meaningful way.

The Officiant was officiating, having already conducted her compatibility meeting earlier this morning. All of their closest family and friends were in the audience. Gavix was here too, as he had invited himself years ago, having known that it was coming. Three invitees weren’t in their seats, but up and about. Mythodome was an unpredictable, and potentially dangerous, place. Mythological creatures and figures from all sorts of cultures were basically tossed into a melting pot. Their customs and responsibilities were often naturally contradictory, and so a new culture emerged. There were different types of beings with the same name, for instance, coexisting here in as much harmony as anyone could expect to find. There were political alliances, and tensions threatening to break them apart. Individuals had their own motivations and agendas. Learning any given mythology wouldn’t help you all that much here. Not even studying them all would do a whole lot of good. The combination of these disparate and diverse customs created something new. A unique civilization was taking shape, and not everyone would be pleased to hear about the wedding. They chose to hold it in Takamagahara. Not only was it gorgeous and serene, but on an upper level of the dome, and not somewhere that just anyone could travel to.

To protect them from outside interference by troublemaking locals, they conscripted the help of Kallias Bran, Aeolia Sarai, and Jesimula Utkin. Everyone on Team Matic was what Hrockas decided to call a Regent. For programmed intelligences who were not cognizant that they were living in a simulation, a Regent could essentially control them. If a manticore, for instance, made their way here, and started trying to eat the guests, a Regent could simply command them to stop. The manticore wouldn’t understand why it had to obey such commands, but it would do so without question, and leave if asked. Since all Regents were part of the wedding party, they asked their friends to take on the role temporarily. They chose these three to be proxy regents because they could be trusted, they lived here, and they wouldn’t feel left out for not technically being part of the wedding. They also all knew how to protect themselves, in case their commands didn’t work. Nothing should go wrong, but if it did, they would be here to insulate the event from attack, or just from being bothered by a trickster god, or a kitsune.

The vows were about to begin when they heard a commotion in the back. “Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop!” Jesi cried.

There was nothing that she could do, though. A man with wings soared over them in the air, swung around, and landed off to the right side of the little stage.

Kallias jogged up, and placed himself between the man and the wedding party. “Get out of here right now.”

The man chuckled, and dismissively said, “please. That doesn’t work on me.” He lifted a perfume bottle up, and sprayed it in Kallias’ face, causing him to fall down to his side. “Fear not,” the stranger said when some in the audience started to get defensive, particularly Darko. “He is only asleep. My name is Daedalus, and I run this dome.” He looked around at their surprised faces. “That’s right, I am aware of the dome. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? If you walk far enough in any direction, you will hit a wall that looks like a sky. Do not worry, however, as I have not told anyone else. I am not here to cause trouble. It is actually to my benefit that I should be the only one to understand what this world truly is. But my silence and compliance does not come without a price. Two, actually. Number one, I insist on respect, and a formal recognition of my authority over these lands, internally speaking. To prove to me that I have it, you must ask for my blessing to allow these nuptials to continue.”

Mateo didn’t remember much from his western civilization class, but he remembered that Daedalus wasn’t an evil guy, and he definitely remembered Leona’s Rules for Time Travel. There was no reason to antagonize this guy, whether he was an antagonist, or otherwise. “Kind sir, Daedalus. May we have your blessing to marry?”

Daedalus was a bit shocked at how easy it was, and how quickly he received a positive reaction. “You have my blessing.”

“I thank you.”

“What is your second condition?” Darko pressed. He was still ready to take action.

Daedalus smirked. “I’ll let you get on with it. You’ll find out later.” He spread his wings, jumped into the air, and flew away.

“Wow, that was weird,” Marie noted.

“Sorry, guys,” Olimpia said.

“You didn’t make him do that,” Leona replied. “This is a lovely place to hold the ceremony. I couldn’t have chosen somewhere better. Go on, Officiant.”

The Officiant opened her mouth to continue, but a small wooden box suddenly fell from the sky, and landed in the grass. “Wedding gift!” Daedalus shouted down to them.

Ramses pointed his fist at the box. Part of his suit emerged into what looked like a weapon. He fired one laser shot at the box, and it disappeared.

“Did you just destroy that?” Mateo questioned.

“Teleporter gun. I placed it in quarantine in one of my pocket dimensions. We’ll worry about it afterwards. Please, proceed. No more interruptions.”

There weren’t any other interruptions. The vows were relatively short, despite there being three people getting married today. Both Mateo and Leona were relieved to have the chance to make up for their less than stellar speeches at their previous wedding. They really took the time to make sure they came up with beautiful and profound words. They were older and more experienced now, and not feeling Arcadia’s pressure, so that had a lot to do with their success. Olimpia’s vow was just as lovely. Once it was over, Magnolia had the audience stand up, and move off to the back. She generated her black hole portals under all of the chairs, spiriting them a few meters away, so they were each now circling tables. The center area was now a dance floor, which everyone was able to begin crossing within seconds.

People were eating and dancing during the reception, and enjoying the incredible views. Kallias woke up near the beginning of it, feeling rested and energized, and ready to get back to work. He and the other proxy regents apologized for not being able to stop Daedalus from breaching the perimeter, but really, what were they gonna do? He had wings, and was reportedly a genius. Mateo tried to have fun at the party, but he couldn’t think about anything but that little wooden box. What was inside? What could it possibly be? In their world, you could fit an entire universe in there, but surely Daedalus had his limitations. Surely he didn’t know anything about that stuff. He was programmed to be familiar with ancient times, and to only be ahead of his peers from that frame of reference. “Man, I gotta see what’s in there.”

“I wouldn’t,” Ramses argued. “I’ve been scanning it, but it’s shielded. Whatever it is, it’s not something you would expect to find in Ancient Greece. Since magic isn’t real, a guy like Daedalus should still be working within the laws of normal physics.”

“If he knows about the dome, maybe he knows about temporal manipulation, and the like. He’s not the real Daedalus, since the real Daedalus didn’t exist. Correct?”

“You think that’s a better reason to open it, Matt?”

“Come on, it’s my special day,” Mateo insisted.

“Oh...you can play that card once. It won’t work tomorrow.”

“I don’t need to play it tomorrow. I’m playing it right now.”

Ramses turned his hand, and apported the box into it. “Open at your own peril.”

“You’re here too. So is everyone else.” They both looked over at the party-goers, and thought better of it simultaneously. Without speaking, they teleported a few hundred meters away, to the middle of a meadow. Mateo took a breath and opened the lid of the box. Some sort of something or other that moved too quickly to spot flew out of the inside, and latched itself onto Mateo’s chest. It spread like nanites, wrapping itself around his chest, with the two ends meeting each other in the center of his back. They continued to spread from there, though Mateo obviously couldn’t see. Suddenly, wings appeared from behind him, and spread out to the side. “Hell yeah!”

“Hell yeah!” Ramses agreed.

“Hell yeah!” they repeated in unison.

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Microstory 2441: Power Crystal Factory (PCF)

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Not to be confused with scifi examples of power crystals, or examples in fantasy where crystals have magical properties. Disclaimer over. For the most part, ships and orbiting stations in the system fleet are manufactured in outer space. The only reason we ever did it on Earth was because we were not capable of space manufacturing in the early days. Once we built up some infrastructure, and bolstered the industry overall, we were able to free ourselves from the gravity well. We still needed ways to actually get up to these vessels, but that was easy after everything. There doesn’t seem to be a name for the host star, or the star system as a whole, so we’ll just call it a Castlebourne thing. They build their ships on a secret moon base, which is easier for them to take off from. I caught a peek from a telescope once, and saw the mass driver that they use for launching. That’s all I know about that, and the crystal regulators. Every ship, no matter how big or small, or what powers it, or what it’s used for, has a need to distribute its power. Our ancestors used to use various technologies, like adapters, to control the flow of electrical power. These were crude by today’s standards, but the principle remains vital to the safe and efficient operation of a moving vehicle. Crystals have a variety of uses in this regard. I won’t bore you with the details, but some of them serve as conditioners, which maintain the smooth transference of power, where it’s needed. It makes sure that everything, no matter how remote, is powered at all times. But sometimes it’s too much power, so you also need crystal capacitors, which can buffer the power temporarily, and release it more gradually. If it’s buffered too much, then they can also redistribute it safely, if only to a waste heat ventilation system. Crystals are also used as nodes, redirecting or splitting the power when powering multiple independent systems at once. I say all this so you understand why this dome has to exist. So now you know why the crystals themselves are important, but that doesn’t explain why they need to be manufactured here, instead of the moon, where nearly everything else is made. It has to do with gravity. Crystals aren’t made, they’re grown. They start small, and build themselves from there, almost like a plant. For some types, this process requires 1G surface gravity, or close to it. There’s some evidence that Castlebourne’s slightly lower gravity is beneficial to the process, but they’ve not completed enough studies on this phenomenon, and there are a lot of other variables to account for. What we do know is that Castlebourne-grown power crystals are at least as good as any others. You may be asking, why don’t you just grow them in a cylindrical habitat? And I’ll tell you, that’s not real gravity. It’s only simulating gravity. For everyday living, if the spin is programmed correctly, everything feels normal. But crystals are more finicky. They also need to be still, and they can tell when they’re in motion, which is presently the only way to fake gravity. So for now, they’re grown on the surface of a full-sized planet. That’s what we do here in this dome, and we do it well. Most of this is automated, as one would expect, but I still have an important job to do here. They still like to have humans inspect the merchandise. If you ever ride in a ship that uses my power crystals, you can rest, assured that it’s been created using the highest of standards, and you’re safe. At least from crystals. Any other components, I don’t know...that’s not my department.

Microstory 2440: Heavendome

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No one knows what real heaven is like, or even if it exists. Come to this place recognizing that this is but one specific interpretation. I see these other reviews criticizing it for its Christian-centric roots as if the creators had any obligation to be secular and all-inclusive. If you want to find your own personal idea of heaven, then either build it yourself with your own two hands, or do the same in a virtual environment. I mean, what did you expect, that this would be all for you, or that your concept is the best one, and we should be following that one instead? The point of this dome is to simulate to the best of science’s ability to simulate conditions of a heaven that was purported to be in the clouds. That’s not real, folks. You can’t walk on clouds. I don’t know if real Christians of the past were just dumb enough to not know that clouds aren’t solid objects, or if they thought that God was magic, and he could let you do anything just ‘cause. Still, it’s a powerful image, a cloud city in the sky. How do you even do that? Well, you start with an aerogel matrix that extends the entire area of an upper level of the dome. So it’s solid, but still soft and cushiony, which you would expect a cloud to be if you could somehow walk on it. Below that is a layer of clouds. I’m not sure if they’re real water vapor clinging to the aerogel ceiling, because that would not be out of the realm of possibility. Above the aerogel surface is a dense fog that you wade through. I think that was really important, to suggest that the floor of a magical cloud isn’t just like a bunch of pillows lying next to each other. This fog is supposedly the lighter, whispier cloud “material” (suggesting again, that clouds aren’t condensed water vapor, but some sort of independent stuff that you can grab onto, like cotton). You actually kind of can grab this fog, so I think it’s made of nanites, but you won’t be able to carry it around with you. It sort of melts and drifts away? It’s a funny feeling, you should try it. They really thought it through in a fun way. And to explain, you can push this fog away from you with your hands. And you can push away the lower level of the clouds below you by punching the aerogel surface. That would seem to suggest that the lower level clouds are nanites too, not real. This whole cloud layer is around two kilometers up in the sky, which is where real clouds like this would be. Below that is land. I don’t think it’s a hologram. I think it’s really what the bottom of the dome looks like. I can’t see anyone walking around down there, but I’m wondering if they’ll let people in one day, so there can be two sections. Perhaps you combine Heavendome with two different layers, and the lower one is just regular people who live on “Earth”. Or hey, what about a third layer? The one underground could be a Christo-centric version of Hell. That would be insane. I’m not sure who would go down there, but it could be scary in a fun way, like Bloodbourne. For now, though, we only have Heaven, and that’s good enough. There are other components for ambiance, like rays of light, pearly gates, and “angels” with wings. They’re pretty stunning creatures, and often exhibit traits of a slightly more universal definition of anyone’s heaven...if you know what I mean. They don’t speak, and I don’t think they can really fly, but they really add to the ethereal vibe that they’re trying to evoke here. Overall, I give it a five out of five. It’s not really a place that you live, so you might as well take some time to check it out.

Microstory 2293: Hits Some Harder

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New plan. Dutch has been presumed dead as well, so I’m planning a single memorial service for the both of them. They were good friends, I think they would have liked that. People have been commenting on social that it’s some sort of money-saving scheme. Trust me, we don’t need to save money. We’re millionaires, remember? Well, I am, anyway. I’ve not spoken with the lawyers yet, but I believe all the money goes to me. Yay, I’m rich! I’ve always wanted to lose my best friends so I can live alone in a big empty house. In case you can’t tell from the written word, that’s sarcasm. I hate this. This was never the plan after Dutch opened that door, and cured Nick with space magic. Nothing will be changing. Nick decided where he wanted to regularly make donations, and I have no reason to alter that plan. We invested some of it, to make it grow, so we can keep donating beyond what we already have. That’s why we didn’t just disperse the lump sum, and walk away. All right, I better get back to work. It takes me a long time to get anything done, because I often have to stop and cry. I can’t provide you with details about the memorial service right now, but I’ll make an announcement shortly on my own social media account. We need to gauge how many people will want to come. He wasn’t the kind of person who needed a lot of people to attend, but he told me that it’s not about him. If a large crowd shows up, then whatever, so I have to make sure the venue can accommodate them. We all have a different relationship with death. Most people obviously don’t like it, but it hits some harder than others. They can feel grief for those they’ve never met. Some even feel it when they learn of a person’s death who they had never even heard of before. Who are we to judge their reactions? I’m getting a lot of messages from people who are interested in being there, so I think we’re gonna have quite a large audience. I’ll let you know when I can. I’ll probably have to get our publicity firm involved since I’m sure they have experience with this stuff.

Microstory 2139: It Was the Crystals

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Oh my God, it’s finally over. My fungal infection is clear, and I’m cleared to go back into jail tomorrow. A part of me thinks that the real therapy session I had is what fixed me, like it was my own hang-ups that were preventing me from recovering completely. It may seem stupid, and I would have agreed with you back in the day, but I’ve seen a lot of things across the bulkverse, so the ability for my brain to alter my physiological condition actually doesn’t seem so weird anymore. Now, I’m not saying that it is definitely the explanation. New agey people do that all the time. They take antibiotics, and also pray to crystals, and when they get better, they decide to believe that it was the crystals, instead of the real medicine. But it’s not impossible either. To be sure, in this universe, where my immortality is gone, I’m disinclined to believe in anything but provable science, but I remain open to other possibilities. Maybe special abilities are perfectly acceptable in your world, and there’s some other reason why I’ve lost it. Anyway, I still think it’s best to not leave my apartment just yet. I would rather sleep on it one more night to make sure that it’s all been flushed from my system. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. I’m still working hard at work. I’m almost to the point where I can do my job effectively without having to reach out to colleagues. I always get in my head about that. It’s like this little game I play, where I try to go as long as I can without having to send someone an instant message. It’s always a relief when someone else messages me first, as long as they’re not pointing out an error that I made, of course. I would like to get to the point where I don’t have to say nothin’ except to ask them how they’re doing. I think that’s pretty much it today. Nothing else is going on in my life right now. You can follow me on social to hear about the baby birds living above my balcony. Besides that, peace and namaste, or whatever.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 9, 2398

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Marie badges herself in, and heads for Ramses’ area of the lab, which is farthest from the elevator. His hair is mussed up, and the table is full of chemicals, some of which may be drinkable, placing the whole operation—and his life—in danger. He doesn’t even notice her approach. “Rambo.”

He’s startled, but he doesn’t make eye contact. “What?”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

“I can sleep when it’s over, Angela.”

“I’m Marie.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“Have you made any progress?”

He laughs at the very idea. He’s run so many tests on the Insulator of Life, and the Livewire, trying to figure out how to get Trina back, or at least confirm where she is. He hasn’t worked on anything else since the incident, and he’s no closer to solving the problem. Cheyenne is going to need the Insulator back pretty soon, so either she’s going to have to come to them, or he’ll have to find another way to the answers. “Nothing. I have absolutely no idea how either one of these things works. No moving parts, no obvious unusual properties. If I didn’t know any better, I would call it magic.”

“Maybe that’s what it is,” she offers.

He scoffs.

“Why not? When I first found out that time travel was a thing, I immediately started questioning everything I thought I knew about the physical world. Ghosts, sorcerers, even God; perhaps they were real. I’ve not seen any evidence of such things so far, but maybe these two objects are evidence of something.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Time travel is crazy, but it’s not magic. Magic inherently doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t have rules. If you need something done, there’s a way to do it, and any failure to accomplish it is based solely on your lack of imagination. Science has rules, whether we’re cognizant of all of them, or even any of them, or not.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue with you about it. I’m your elder, but you’re much smarter. I’m not here to convince you to stop trying, just to take a break.”

“I can’t do that. People are counting on me.”

“I’ve spoken with Bridgette and Cheyenne. They’re moving into the Lofts.”

Now he finally looks directly at her. “They are?”

“This floor is exclusive to travelers, which Cheyenne is. Angela is moving back in with Kivi, even though Kivi just moved out of Angela’s place.”

Ramses is happy for a moment before he realizes that this only solves one issue. “It doesn’t matter. The McIvers need me to find their sister. Yeah, it’s great that I can keep working with the Insulator, but I still can’t waste time sleeping. Trina needs me.”

“She needs you to be at the top of your game,” Marie corrects. “Sleepy Ramses is sloppy Ramses. Who knows, you might even come up with a new angle to tackle the problem when you let your brain rest a little.”

Ramses argues more, but Marie calls Leona to ask her to give him an order, so he reluctantly goes upstairs to sleep on it. She was right, a weird dream gives him an idea.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 4, 2393

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Mateo looked at his wife, who was seething with anger. He was worried she was about to jump up and tackle this McCord girl, or whatever her name was. Thack seemed as lost as him, but then it apparently dawned on her. “Oh. Oh, that’s right. I forgot you went to their universe once.”

“It was not a pleasant experience.” That was the day that Leona learned she was just a character in a role-playing game, being moved around time and space by a group of children. She spent a lot of time in therapy with Bungula’s once-leader, Eight Point Seven because of all that. The one good thing about the situation was that she and Mateo were temporarily off of the Matic pattern, or Leona would still be in therapy today, working out her issues, it having only been six months since the trauma in that hypothetical scenario.

“What is this?” Mateo questioned. “I don’t know who this is. I should know everything you know, since Nerakali gifted me your memories during the time that I didn’t exist.”

“This was after that,” Leona said, not breaking her gaze from Xolta. To be sure, Xolta was one of the younger players she met, and the only one to express sadness over learning the truth about their game. If she had to run into one of those again, it was best that it was her. “This was when you were on Dardius, and I was on Bungula.”

“Oh, right,” Mateo recalled. “You didn’t talk about your time there.”

“Maybe it’s time I tell you the truth,” Leona said to him, finally looking away from the target of her fury. “Do we have time?” she asked Thack.

Thack bowed slightly. “Time has no meaning here. Miss McCord can wait.”

Leona went off to another room to explain what had happened to her those years ago. When they returned, the rest of the audience had cleared out. Only the team was left, along with Thack and Xolta. No one was talking, nor looked like they had been talking that whole time.

“Okay,” Thack continued, “as I was saying, this is Xolta McCord. She is a witch from Universe Prime, and she can age you up.”

“I haven’t actually agreed to that,” Xoltra reminded her.

“Yes, you have,” Thack corrected. She was not one to be argued with.

Ramses stood up, and shook the witch’s hand. “Ramses Abdulrashid. Mid to late twenties, please. I would very much appreciate it.”

Xolta waited a moment to see if anyone protested, but they were all just waiting to see what it would look like. Then she shut her eyes, and prepared herself. She quite slowly moved her hands around, like she was trying to find the exact right position.

“Is this gonna take very long?” Leona asked after a few minutes of this.

“I’ve never done it in the outer bulkverse,” Xolta explained. “I don’t know how to reach the gods from here.”

“The gods?”

“That’s just what we call them,” Xolta defended.

Thack placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need the gods for this. It’s a local engagement. Just sense his body.”

Ramses opened his eyes back up, having closed them instinctively, and sported a certain look.

Thack reached over, and physically moved Xolta’s hand to Ramses’ chest. “Connect with him. Remember what I taught you about soulwork. Craft and spirit articulation are not so different.”

Xolta kept trying, until something apparently clicked. “I have it.”

“Now, don’t summon the gods. Use the words, but don’t worry about them. Use them to command Ramses to change directly.”

Xolta took a breath, and whispered, “eesa..avra..turo.”

Ramses did begin to change. He rose a couple inches taller. His hair lengthened. His skin wrinkled. By the time Xolta reopened her eyes, he was an old man.

“Oh no,” the witch lamented.

“What is it?” Ramses asked.

“Shit,” Thack said, which sounded very unlike her.

Embarrassed, Xolta held her left hand in front of her eyes, palm outwards. She then clapped it with her right, turned that palm outwards as well, and slapped them back together a second time. Finally, she slid them away from each other—quite abruptly at first, then smoothly—right hand downwards, and left hand up a little. Xolta’s face was gone, replaced with Ramses’ own. She turned herself into a mirror image of him. “I’m so sorry,” she told him.

“Is it not reversible?” he questioned.

“It is,” Thack promised.

“No, it’s not,” Xolta argued, “because this is one of the easiest engagements. I’ve done it a million times before, so if I messed it up, it means I just can’t do it.”

Thack put Xolta’s hands back together, and wiped Ramses’ face away. “That was one of the easier engagements, and you performed it beautifully, with no hesitation. You just need to concentrate harder on the one you really want. Do it again, but in reverse. We all believe in you...right?”

“Yeah,” and “we do,” the group confirmed, not all that convincingly.

Xolta took a breath. “Okay.” She placed her hand on his chest again, and reconnected with him. “Asee...arva...turo.”

That did it. As requested, Ramses was back to his twentysomething self.

“There,” Thack said happily. “Now the other five will be easy, ‘cause you know you can do it.”

“I would like to be a little younger than that,” Angela asked, bashfully. “If that’s possible.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Xolta said.

“And I would like to be older,” Marie asked. “Just to tell us apart easierly,” she explained when people looked at her funny. “I’ll be the older one.”

“I’m the older one,” Angela pointed out.

“By a few days, Marie contended. “Please, let me give this to you. I promise I won’t fall on my sword ever again. I’ll look thirty-five, but I won’t age beyond that, will I, Ramses?”

“No, sir,” Ramses agreed.

And so Xolta continued her magic, except that she was clear it wasn’t magic. Craft, as it was called—and very much not called witchcraft—was not magic. Nor were the gods. They were people who were in charge of certain technologies in her home universe, having used this technology to tap into a higher level of physics than most other cultures ever grew to understand. Craft was a way of hacking into this tech, except that the so-called gods were aware that this was happening, and rarely withheld it, though they surely could. They didn’t interfere with the regular people in the main dimension, for reasons no one could say, so this was kind of their loophole. Witches studied enough about the cosmos to learn some of their secrets, and that was fine.

Before too long, the whole team was back to where they belonged, not necessarily at the age they were before they died, but it was close enough, and exactly what they were looking for. Mateo was particularly relieved, more so than Leona, who had been trapped in a body younger than them all. That was precisely why he was so relieved. Ever since they transferred to these bodies, they were too busy with other things to dwell on how uncomfortable it was, looking so illicitly young. There was one specific thing it robbed them of. “Now we can have sex again,” he mused...in mixed company. 

“Mateo, damn,” Leona scolded.

“What, you’re my wife.”

“And we no longer have access to our grave chamber, so it’ll have to wait. We can’t even get back to our home universe.”

“Yes, you can,” Thack said. “Though I admit, I can’t get you back to your reality.” She ushered them into another room, where a young man was sitting in a recliner, reading something on an e-reader. “You can go home now. Your passengers are ready.”

The man shut off his device, and stood up. “Whatever.”

“Gang, this is—” Thack tried to say.

“No, no,” the young man stopped her. “Rule Number Two...”

“Never be surprised, but never assume you have the whole story,” Olimpia recited proudly.

The man shook his head, and at the same time as Leona, recited, “no names.” He was pleasantly surprised by this, which was slightly ironic.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Leona said.

“Where does he live?” Mateo asked.

“Fourth Quadrant,” Thack answered. “It’s the best I could do. I pulled a lot of strings just to get him here, and it cost me. He was not invited, so it was not received well. Getting you six in was easy by comparison.”

“Do you have a way back to the main sequence?” Leona asked of the man.

“Not personally. I’ll point you towards someone who might.”

“Thank you,” Miss Collins,” Leona said. Then she turned. “Thank you, Miss McCord.”

“Forgive me what my friends and I did in our youth.”

“I do not blame you,” Leona admitted. I blame him,” she said, implying The Superintendent.

Like Saga and Vearden, the way back to the man’s home was through a doorway. Evidently, the system was designed to prevent people from even realizing that they had traveled the bulkverse at all. The target left their house that day, was spirited away to another brane, and continued down the street, under the impression that nothing special had happened. Perhaps that was where the doorwalkers’ power came from, as some kind of extension of Westfall.

The man threw his keys in the bowl by the door, and plopped down on the couch. “I suppose you’ll be wanting me to offer you drinks?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Angela said. “Could you just take us to who might be able to help us?”

He leaned his head back all the way, farther than was medically wise. “I’m so tired. Can you just go yourself? Call a RideSauce.”

“We don’t have cell phones,” Marie explained.

He whined some more, and muttered unintelligibly. Now they could see the strings that Thack pulled. He wasn’t witness to the birth of a Boltzmann Brane material.

“That’s quite all right,” Leona said, pulling Marie away. “We’ll figure it out. Thank you for letting us hitch a ride back, Mister Mystery Man.”

They left his house, and stepped down to the sidewalk. Leona squinted her eyes in the sun, and got her bearings. “I can see downtown from here. We’ll just walk, it’ll be fine.”

“Do we get tired?” Olimpia asked Ramses.

“Yes, but after longer,” he answered. “Plus, we can teleport.”

“I keep forgetting about that,” Marie noted.

“I would rather just walk, though,” Angela said. “Despite the fact that the outer bulkverse is the greatest expanse than even a whole universe, it feels so claustrophobic, with all those lights swirling around.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Leona concurred.

“Walking it is,” Mateo said cheerfully.

The Fourth Quadrant looked mighty different than it had before. While the main sequence chose to tighten themselves up into fewer and fewer megastructure habitats, this was more like what science fiction writers proposed for their stories set in the future. The buildings were sleek and shiny; more rounded, and less straight up and down. Each one was made of wildly different design, but they were seemingly constructed of the same materials. They fit together like a puzzle, as if someone had planned the entire thing from the start, and hadn’t begun until they knew exactly what they wanted it to be in the end. All of the cars that passed them were hovering half a meter over the road, while others flew overhead, possibly as drones, or maybe automated taxis. It was beautiful, and sprawling; clean and environmentally conscious.

Night had fallen by the time they reached The Capitol. It looked pretty much as it had the last time they were in this reality, though now with that new, advanced metamaterial. Two guards were standing at the entrance. They stepped forwards as they approached, and made it clear that they weren’t so much as allowed to enter the building.

“Hello,” Leona began. “My name is Captain Leona Matic. We are here to speak with someone who can help us return to the main sequence. Is President Natasha Orlova still in power? We’ve worked directly with her before.”

The guards looked at each other. “President Orlova is dead,” one of them answered in some kind of slavic accent. “Long live President Orlov.”

Mateo turtled his head towards them. “Like, a relative?”

“Her brother,” the other one answered. He checked his watch. “He’s the daytime president, at least.”

“And who runs the show at night.”

“That would be my brother,” came a voice from behind them. It was a woman, surrounded by her own posse of bodyguards. “Thank you, Arsenio, Stan. I’ll take it from here. Hi,” she said to the team. “My name is Skylar Spout, and we have all been expecting you.”

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